#nothing. he turns his head to snap nicky only to realize that nicky's not here
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Nobody's Gonna Know
(Part One)
Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).
Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?
Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?
Word Count: (Part One) 4,100+/9,000+. Sorry, lovelies, I couldn’t stop😆.
A/N: Yes, it’s lengthy, but the idea snowballed into something unexpected. I hope you all enjoy it!
Inspired By:
Lounging lazily on your king-size bed, you laid on your back comfortably in an oversized t-shirt. You silently scrolled through Instagram. Your breath hitched at the feel of fingertips gently stroking your calves. Still staring at the phone screen, a wicked little idea popped into your head. You smirked, tapping the add a new post button. Using your free hand, you positioned it atop the head that rested on your pelvis and between your thighs. Not wanting to give him reason to stir, you gently stroked his head, and he relaxed into your touch. The movement of your hand paused long enough to snap the picture. He was none the wiser as he continued to search for something to watch on HBO Max. Eyes still searching the screen, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.
“Soft ass thighs.”
A soft moan fell from your lips. You made sure Yahya’s face wasn’t in the shot. Your digits glided across the keyboard, adding a Nicki Minaj lyric as the caption, “My man full, he just ate💦😘.” You tapped the post button and laid your phone on the nightstand.
Yahya had just licked you to tears. No one knew about the two of you. That you started as best friends turned into a sneaky link. The both of you have secretly been trying to figure out what this was morphing into. Unsure of where things were going, you decided to keep things quiet. You both enjoyed teasing the people in your inner circle on IG (they were all extremely nosey). Thus the reason for posting said pic—that it would sometimes get a rise out of the other person was a bonus.
Yahya received a notification that you had posted. Still lying between your legs, he teased, “What thirst trap are you posting now?” He froze, seeing a picture of his current position. He huffed, “You for real?”
Yahya rolled over, still lying on top of your stomach. His hand rained down on your thigh.
“I thought this was supposed to be on the low? You damn near ripped my head off for telling my bro I was over here in the middle of the night. I guess the rules only apply to me,” Yahya grumbled. His face changed from frustration to a sly grin.
“Boy, calm down. Nobody’s going to know that’s you. That’s what makes it so exciting, you teased. “And why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”
“I just noticed the caption, so I’m your man now?”
“Don’t do too much. They’re just lyrics. Relax, my guy.”
“Yeah, right. When are we going to stop playing this game?”
“What game, Yah'?”
“Stop acting like this isn’t more than just a sneaky link now. I’ve been blowing your back out for over four months.”
“And I greatly appreciate it. Why do we have to get into specifics? We have amazing sex. No need to make it more complicated.”
“Are you dating anyone else? I know you better not be fucking anybody other than me, Y/N.”
“I’d hardly call a few dinner dates that haven’t gone past friends, dating. It’s been nothing but innocent, Yah'.”
His jaw ticked at the revelation of you being in the presence of another man’s company.
“For the record, I don’t make a habit of having more than one sexual partner. That’s your thing, not mine.”
“You refuse to let that shit go, huh? I slept with her one time! We had just started whatever this was at the time. I cut her off once I knew this wasn't a one-and-done situation. Who exactly did you go on a date with, sweetheart?”
The question and term of endearment dripped with jealousy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for more confrontation. There was no doubt in your mind that the answer would upset him.
“Michael. I know you don’t like him. We just went on two dates. Nothing happened, Yah'.”
He pulled into a seated position on the mattress.
“Out of all these thirsty ass dudes that beg for your attention. He had to be the one you said yes to. How many times have I told you that’s a waste of your time? How do I get you to understand that he just wants to knock you down?”
“Is that not what you’re doing with me?“
“Stop that shit. You know how I feel about you. Your ass doesn't want to hear it because you’re scared. We both know this could be so much more.”
“This is stupid. Why are we arguing? We’re not a couple. This is supposed to be easy and chill.”
“There you go deflecting as usual,” he sighed.
“Do you want me to delete the damn picture, Yahya? It’s the reason this conversation even took place.”
“No, no. Leave it up. You know what? You’re right, love. Lay back down. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”
Yahya was the least bit worried about your IG post. It was only for close friends, and he wanted them to wonder. Acting angry was just a means to an end. He had a reason to get his lick back. Now, he had an excuse for what he was planning.
Hearing you went on two dates with Michael sent jealousy coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to keep his enemies closer. Seeing that you were focused on the show, he went to Instagram. Yahya went to Michael’s page and added him to his close friends.
He wanted to see how your friends were reacting to your photo. He pulled up your page and skimmed through the comments. Yahya chuckled at your best friend's comment. In bold letters, she said, “Okay, best friend! I see you! No clue who that is, but get that head in your comfortable bed! Yaaasss👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾. I expect full details and a face reveal when we link tomorrow. I’m tired of all this damn anonymity.” Yahya laughed, knowing that you weren’t giving up any information.
Yahya waited two days before he put his plan in motion. He hit your line, inviting you for a movie night at his place. You were sure the night would end on your back with Yahya between your thighs. Anytime the two of you were alone, your hands always seemed to roam. Every time you two gave into temptation, it would go for rounds. Knowing this, you brought an overnight bag. He knew just how to put you to sleep.
Only twenty minutes into the movie, you were already at the edge of the mattress. Yahya placed you on all fours with your box braids wound tightly around his hand. He tugged at them, pulling you into the most perfect of arches. His free hand crept to the top of his nightstand. You were plunged deep into the throes of passion and hadn’t noticed him pick up his phone. The only light in the room came from the television. Pistoning in and out of your tight walls, he managed to open Instagram. Yahya needed it to be pitch black to pull off his scheme.
“Nobody watching this shit for real, baby. Alexa! Turn off the tv in the master bedroom,” he groaned.
The tv shut off as he pulled out and slammed back into your slick heat.
“Ye-yes. Fuck, baby,” you cried, arching your back deeper.
His face lit up at that. He continued giving slow, deep strokes as he recorded you both in the dark.
Yahya made sure this was for close friends only. With confirmation, he laid the phone on the mattress next to the two of you. He proceeded to put in work, going crazy in your walls. Your sweet, soft, and sensual moans were like music to his ears. You were used to Yahya laying some good pipe, but tonight he was on demon time. This man was trying to tear your walls down and ruin you for any other man.
“Feel me deep in your shit, baby?”
You moaned in response.
He thrust so deep that your hands instantly flew to his abdomen. You tried to push back against his stomach, wanting him to take it easy on you. He growled, binding your wrist with his free hand.
“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he half moaned, half growled. His hand let go of your hair and rained down, smacking and grabbing your left cheek. He slapped the right cheek before burying his digits in your braids again. “I thought you could take all of it, baby? That’s what you begged for. Right, love? Hmm? This ain’t what you wanted?”
You whimpered.
A faint “Please, Daddy” escaped your lips.
“What is it, baby? Use your words.”
“I can-ah!”
“Yes, you can, baby. You gon’ be my good girl, and take it,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your back, fully sheathing himself inside you. His length tapped that spot deep within you.
“Y-yes, baby, I’ll take it, g-give me that di-Yes, Yah'!”
Yahya tapped at your spot repetitively, sending you spiraling. You buried your face in the mattress, clawing at the bedding. Your release approached, barreling toward you like a freight train as you attempted to muffle your screams in the sheets.
“Good. Fucking. Girl. Each word was highlighted with another thrust. “Yeah, come just like that, mama.”
Satisfied with himself, Yahya ended the video and posted it to his stories. He hoped none of your closest friends would recognize your voice. There was only one person he needed to figure it out, Michael. Yahya knew you were going to throw a fit, but so long as nobody could see you. He felt he could get you to be cool with it. Leaning against you, he licked, nibbled, and kissed your shoulder. He was still plunged deep inside you and solid as a rock. Yahya’s lips trailed over to your ear. Releasing a deep groan, he rasped, “Hope you got one more in you, love. Daddy needs to come too. He pulled out until it was just the tip. About to respond, he plunged deep inside, forcing you to gasp. Yahya pulled two more orgasms from your body before spilling inside you.
He made quick work of getting a warm cloth to clean you up. You moaned at the sweet actions of his aftercare. Yahya smirked at how easily it was to turn you on. He swaggered into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself up.
Collapsing into bed, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours. Rolling onto your side, you pushed back against him, making yourself the little spoon. Yahya’s hand crept from your thigh and up the side of your body. His large palm found its destination as it gently cupped your breast. His lips left light kisses on your shoulder and neck.
“You’re always trying to cop a feel,” you sassed, sucking your teeth.
“You know this is my emotional support Titty.”
“Shut up, Yah',” you giggled.
Yahya bit his lip and smirked as he tweaked your nipple.
“Uhn-uh! If you’re going to be on my body like this, your ass needs to behave and sit still. I’m exhausted thanks to your big dick bandit ass,” you teased.
“You know you like that shit,” he responded, tugging at your nipple again.
He pressed his semi-hard erection against you. The action caused your breath to hitch.
“Tell me you don’t want me again, and I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.
About to reply sarcastically, you lost your train of thought as he dipped his hand between your thighs.
“You were saying something, love?”
“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” you panted.
“Come here, mama. Want you to ride me.”
Sliding down his length, it became clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.
“Yah', baby,” you whined.
“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make you feel good. Ride me, mama,” he urged, guiding your hips.
Though he had fallen asleep satiated and peacefully, his morning was the opposite. Yahya jolted out of his sleep as he struggled to breathe. You had covered his face with a pillow while chastising him.
“I just know your big-headed ass didn’t record us fucking and post it to close friends! Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”
Yahya's hand tugged at the pillow over his face. He snatched the pillow, throwing it across the room. He overpowered you, flipping you onto your back as he smirked.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want your side hoes to find out about me?”
“The only side hoe I have is you.”
“Naw, sweetheart. I’m your main dude. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“Whatever! You better hope nobody recognizes my voice, freaky ass,” you kissed your teeth.
“Oh, I hope they do,” he smiled. “You’re not even mad, for real. I know that shit lowkey turns you on. Listen to those pretty little moans, mama.”
You did your best to bite back a smile but lost. Yahya licked his lips, giving you a million-dollar smile.
“I know I sound good. You ain’t gotta sweat me or nothin’.”
“I should’ve left the lights on while I recorded that shit. Give them something to really talk about.”
“You want to tell people we fuck so bad,” you teased.
“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I’ma make you mine, shortie. You can continue to run from it but in the end. You’re going to be mine.”
Wanting to avoid such a touchy topic, you switched the subject.
“Boy, shut up and feed me. I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast, best friend?”
Yahya smiled devilishly, “This dick.”
“Nasty ass. I want food, Yah',” you whined.
“That’s a whole ass meal, fuck you mean?”
Eyes rolling and smacking your teeth, he laughed.
“I forgot how cranky you can be in the mornings. Let’s get the baby’s tummy full. What do you want to eat, baby girl,” he responded in his best baby voice.
“Can you make french toast and bacon? You make it better than I do,” you asked in a cute tone.
“You know I can’t say no to that voice and face. Come on, spoiled brat,” he teased as he slapped your thigh.
Yahya scooped you from the bed, dangling your body over his shoulder. His hand grabbed a handful of your behind, giving it a loud smack.
“Ouch, Yah'! That hurt,” you whined.
“I didn’t mean to smack it that hard. My bad,” he smirked, rubbing the pain away.
“Lying ass.”
Carting you off to the kitchen, he got you fed and full. Neither of you had anything planned. The two of you spent the remainder of your Sunday binging television and ordering takeout.
When the time came for you to head out, Yahya felt his chest tighten. He was sad to see you leave. If only you two could figure out where to go from here. He’d have you sleeping in his bed every night. Little did you know, your best friend’s feelings for you had existed as long as the friendship had. He just never knew how to tell you. The chemistry and attraction lingered between the two of you. That is, until one drunken night, he did something about it. He fell back on his couch, missing you already, as his mind drifted back to that night.
You were spiraling down a black hole of heartbreak. Yahya came running to offer support and a listening ear to vent to.
His fist balled up, jaw flexing as his memory replayed the image of you opening the door.
Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy as you did your best to keep from crying again. Yahya’s heart sank seeing how distraught you were. He stepped closer to you, and in a low baritone, he said, “Hey, mama.” The sympathy in his soothing voice sent a fresh trail of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Yahya’s chin rested on your head as you curled into his chest, body trembling as the tears flowed. “You’re going to be straight, mama. I promise I got you,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He gave you a minute or two to let it all out. Releasing you, he bent back, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears. Yahya leaned forward, sweeping you up bridal style. “Let’s get you comfy on the couch. I’ll fix us some drinks and snacks. Then you can tell me everything, alright?” Giving him a faint nod, Yahya kicked the door closed. He made quick work of getting you situated on the couch. Yahya wrapped you in your comfort blanket. Gently kissing your forehead, he whispered, “Be right back, love.”
He called from the kitchen, “Are you in the mood for something light or heavy?”
“This calls for the hard shit. Bring the tequila. I don’t even need a damn chaser. Give me something that will make me forget the last twenty-four hours.”
Yahya strode back into the living room, alcohol in hand.
“What are you about to tell me, love?”
“Maybe you should take a couple of shots first.”
Yahya set the shot glasses and bottle on the coffee table. His hand ran down his face as he took a deep breath, “Am I going to have to beat his ass?”
You sat up straight, dropping the blanket around your waist. Pouring two shots, you answered, “Just promise me you won’t lose your temper.”
“No.”
“Yah', please,” you begged, voice trembling.
“The desperation in your voice tells me that I’m going to regret this, but fine, I promise not to lose my temper. What happened?”
“Drink first.”
Shots were thrown back, and you grimaced, pouring out two more. After the second, you started to pour another round, but Yahya’s hand gently grasped your wrist, “No-.”
A small whimper fell from your lips as his eyes grew. Yahya’s eyes darted from your weary ones down to your wrist. His hands were like lightning as he slid your sleeve up a bit.
“No, fuck that, mama! Is this a bruise?”
“You promised, Yah'.”
“Promises are meant to be broken. Where the fuck is his punk ass at?”
He sprang from the couch, searching his pockets for his keys.
“Where’s he at?”
“No, please, Yahya. You promised! I handled it.”
“Why are you protecting his bitch ass? Has he been putting his hands on you this whole time?”
“I’m not protecting him. I know he’ll press charges against you. It’s not worth it. This is the only time it’s happened, honestly!”
“Don’t lie for him. Tell. Me. Where. He. Is.”
“I’m not lying, Yah'. This is the first time. I handled it, I swear. You should see the side of his face. I smacked the shit out of him.”
“Did he hit you anywhere else,” he asked, checking your face and body for more bruises.
“No, I’m telling you the truth. We were arguing about him getting caught up in his lies and cheating. I told him I was done and that he needed to get the hell out of my house. This dude had the nerve to snatch my wrist, demanding I hear him out. I told him he was hurting me. His response was he didn’t give a fuck. That pissed me off, so I slapped him. He charged at me, and I kicked him in the nuts. How do you cheat on me with a bitch I called a friend and have the nerve to be mad that I no longer wish to be with you? The audacity!”
“I pray he tries to show up while I’m here.”
“He won’t. It’s over, and he understands that now.”
Yahya looked at you, not quite believing it.
“I told his ass if he tried contacting or coming near me again that you’d beat his ass. That or he was going to have a chat with Nina.”
“Thought you didn’t want me to put hands on him. You swear your ass is tough with that baby Glock. Who the fuck puts hot pink on the butt of their gun,” he retorted.
“I don’t want you to, smart-ass, but he knows you would. It was only said to get my point across that I was done with him. Not too much on my baby, Nina.”
Yahya sighed, frustrated that he’d have to keep his promise. He reclaimed his spot on the couch, crossing his arms irritated. You kissed your teeth, “I know you're not mad at me for keeping you out of trouble?”
“It’s whatever. He needs his ass beat, though,” he sulked.
“Just leave it alone, Yah'.”
“I heard you the first time.”
The room grew quiet. It stayed that way for a little while. That was until he heard you sniffling.
“I’m not mad at you, love. I just really want to rock his shit.”
“I know you’re not mad at me. It’s just.”
“What is it, mama?”
“Am I not good enough? Dudes do me dirty, and people I call friends turn out to be grimy. You’re the only person who has always been down for me. I’m so thankful for your years of loyalty and friendship,” you rambled, tears sliding down your face.
Yahya pushed his anger aside, taking a deep breath. His hands reached for your arm, pulling you into him. His palm cradled your head, guiding you to lie against his chest. He kissed your temple, speaking words of encouragement.
“That’s just god's way of making room for the real ones to come into your life, mama. You’re going to be alright, love. You’ll shake back from this. You’re strong, girl. The right man is out there. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
As he held you, speaking enlightenment into you. Something shifted inside you. Not quite sure what the feeling was, you shook it off.
“More tequila,” you offered.
The pair of you went shot for shot. It only took a short time for you both to get drunk off your asses. In a drunken stupor, you both laughed as you recounted the numerous times you had to fake a climax with your ex. Yahya was in tears, holding his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.
“This man had to be talked through eating the box. Every. Single. Time. At what point do you finally get the gist of eating pussy? I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.”
“Why did you stay?”
“The dick was big.”
A hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips, shocked at what you had just revealed.
“Sorry. That was probably too much information. I need to stop drinking,” you slurred, no longer able to look him in the eyes.
Yahya cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“Not too much. That’s some pretty useful information,” he rasped.
Your breath hitched as you looked into his chocolate orbs.
“I don’t follow.”
“That’s what you like, mama?”
Yahya’s hand trailed to your neck. His fingers circled your throat, giving a light squeeze. You knew you should pull away, but your mind and body said two different things.
“Yahya,” you whispered.
“Answer me, mama. That’s what you like?”
You moaned, nodding your head yes. Yahya licked his lips at your response.
“I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to make sure you understand what I’m trying to say,” he groaned.
The liquor urged you to take it further. You leaned closer, his hand still squeezing your throat. Lips only inches apart, Yahya watched in awe as you answered, breath tickling his lips.
“I love a big, long, thick di-.”
Before you could finish the sentence, Yahya groaned and devoured your lips. Not giving it a second thought, he slid you on top of his lap as your tongues battled for dominance. Hand still placed around your neck, you ground against his lap, loving the groan he released.
“I can see why that was useful information now,” you purred.
It was evident, even inside his jeans, you could feel that he was massively large. You pulled back, slipping your shirt off, dropping it to the floor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your breast as he cupped them, kissing and suckling your neck.
“Are you sure this is what you want, mama?”
“Yes, I want you, Yah'. Fuck the pain away, please.”
Kissing your lips again, he held you close as he raised from the sofa. Arms wrapped around his neck. You tasted each other's lips as Yahya carried you to the bedroom. The following morning wasn’t even awkward. That’s probably because you woke up with Yahya’s head between your thighs. A serious discussion occurred over breakfast. Though you both decided it probably shouldn’t happen again, time would reveal that it was too late to turn back.
I know I left it on yet another cliffhanger, but that's my specialty😆. I got my lovelies, though. The fic is complete, so slide on over to part two. Before you go, leave a comment and tap the love button. Reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏾!
Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.
Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.
Tagging a few lovelies:
@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz
@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh
@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie
@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae
@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean
@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly
@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy
@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove
#berberriescorner#nobody's gonna know#part one#daddy yahya#yahya abdul mateen ii#yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction#yahya abdul mateen ii x black!reader#yahya abdul mateen ii x reader#black writer#black fanfic writer#black fanfiction#yahya fanfiction#yahya fic#yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfic#yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction#spotify
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Whumptober #5
Day 5 - The Old Guard - Pinned Down
*
“Anything yet?” Andy asked over the comms.
“No, boss,” Joe said, he and Nicky carefully sweeping the section of the building they were in.
“Nothing here,” Nile replied.
“Dammit.” Andy cursed under her breath for a moment. “Alright, regroup in the main hall.”
“We had all exits covered. They shouldn’t have been able to escape,” Nicky said as they turned and made their way back to the meeting point.
Joe shrugged, though he didn’t like it either. “There were only a handful left. Could’ve had a secret place we didn’t know about to hole up in til we leave. We’ll blow the place before we go.”
Thankfully, none of them had been killed during the initial fight. Even if these guys got away, they weren’t a threat to the group or their secret.
Andy and Nile were waiting in the hall when Nicky and Joe got there. Andy was pacing, looking frustrated.
“I want this job finished,” she said.
“Technically, it is finished, boss,” Joe pointed out. “The stragglers are henchmen, not big players. We got all the heads of the operation.”
“Still. I don’t like any of them getting away,” she said.
“We could try to smoke them out?” Nile offered.
Andy shook her head. “No. This place is fairly remote, but if anyone saw the smoke, they’d call emergency services. Even if it took a while for them to make it, this hideout is too big to guarantee we’d get them smoked out in time.”
Joe glanced at Nicky eagerly. Nicky sighed, but Joe didn’t miss the twitch of his lips towards a smile.
“We blow it up,” Joe said eagerly. Andy rarely let them play with explosives on this scale. It had always been Joe and Booker’s favorite thing to do to these big hideouts. There was something fun about quickly calculating and executing the best way to take it down in one go. Even without Booker here, Joe figured Nile would be game to help.
“I guess we’ll have to,” Andy said. “You and Nile get it set. I want this whole place down. No room for mistakes.”
“Are there ever?” Joe said with a grin. “Nicky and I found explsovies in a room at the end of the west hallway. C’mon, Nile, and we can-”
They found out, in a blinding flash of light and a defeaning roar of sound, that the stragglers had devised a similar plan.
When Joe sucked in a gasp of breath, he was bloodied on the ground. His body ached where skin had been shredded by the debris flung about in the explosion. Broken bones snapped back together as he struggled to sit up, relieved he hadn’t been too wounded. He was bad, but he would be able to move well enough in a few minutes.
He looked around, smoke and dust choking him. He yanked his shirt over his nose and mouth and crawled forward, hand feeling for Nicky. Nicky had been right next to him. He shouldn’t be far.
“Andy? Joe? Nicky?”
“Nile!” Joe called, and had to stop to cough as the dust rushed into his lungs. He crawled until he felt the wall, following it to a window and sticking his head out of its shattered glass to suck in fresh air. When he could take a breath without coughing, he turned back to the ruined hideout. “Nile?”
“Here,” Nile called, limping into his view. Blood stained her clothing and hair, but like him, she would be well enough to escape in just minutes. “Andy? Nicky?”
“Nicky was right next to me. He can’t be far,” Joe said. “Andy?!”
His voice rang through the destroyed hall. He was relieved to hear Andy’s annoyed voice calling back weakly.
He and Nile stumbled their way to her. She’d thankfully been mostly sheltered by a pillar that had withstood the blast. She was cut up and bloody, but nothing fatal and nothing seemingly broken.
“Joe?”
It was Nicky’s voice, pained and weak. Joe’s head snapped up from where he was looking over Andy. Andy shoved at his legs.
“Go grab him and let’s get out of here,” she said. “Emergency services will come soon.”
Joe limped and stumbled his way to where he’d heard Nicky’s voice. “Nicky? Nicky, call out again.”
“Here,” Nicky choked out.
Joe came to a sudden stop, realizing he’d almost tripped right over Nicky. As he looked down, his relief gave way to alarm.
“Oh, Nicky!” Joe dropped to his knees, clutching at Nicky’s hand. “Hang on. Just hang on. I’ll get you out.”
Nicky was pinned down by his legs, a heap of the marble staircase from the hallway collapsed onto them. Part of the railing had impaled him through the side of the abdomen, and blood bubbled between his lips as he rasped for breath.
Joe smoothed Nicky’s hair back. “Stomach or legs first?”
“Stomach,” Nicky all but pleaded. “C-Can’t heal around it. Hurts.”
“Okay. Alright.” He squeezed Nicky’s hand. “Let me just…it’ll…oh, you know it’ll hurt. Dammit. Here, hold on to me.”
He needed both hands, but Nicky clutched at Joe’s thigh as he grabbed onto the railing. Joe took a deep breath and felt down it, taking in its design and just how badly it was going to hurt Nicky to pull it free. Thankfully, it had broken off at the ends and should come out with one determined pull, but it was going to be agonizing.
Joe gave a single nod of warning before yanking with all his might, as smoothly up and out as he could. Still, Nicky’s scream of pain tore at his heart as the railing came free and blood gushed forth.
Joe didn’t even try to stop the blood flow; Nicky was dead shortly enough.
“Wake up, Nicolo, wake up,” Joe whispered, tossing the railing away and clutching at Nicky’s hand again.
“Nicky?!” Andy said, hurrying over with Nile. “Oh, shit. Shit!”
“He’s pinned down,” Joe said, gesturing helplessly at his legs. “He was impaled, too. Prying it free…he’ll wake up.” He looked to Andy for confirmation, eyes wide and frightened.
“Of course he will,” Andy said confidently. “While he’s out, let’s try to get this off his legs. At least he won’t feel it for the moment.”
The three got to work trying to free Nicky’s legs, but to no avail. When Nicky sucked in a breath and tried to sit up, he groaned in pain.
“Easy,” Joe said, dropping back next to him and holding his shoulders, easing him back down. “We’re working on it, Nicky. I promise. You’ll be out of here in no time.”
Nicky put a hand over the nearly healed wound on his abdomen. “Thank you, Yusuf. Much better.”
Joe let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Ah, yea, much better. Now it’s just your lower half being crushed.”
He couldn’t heal with his legs crushed like that, and Joe couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony he must be in. And yet, Nicky offered him a smile of comfort in that moment, weak but genuine.
Joe kissed Nicky’s forehead. He could hear sirens in the distance, hear Andy’s panicked cursing, hear Nile’s frantic efforts to free Nicky’s legs.
He could not hear himself crying, though, and only became aware of it when Nicky began to wipe the tears from his cheeks. They were running out of time, but they redoubled their efforts, not a single one of them willing to leave Nicky behind, and not a single one of them willing to leave Nicky in pain for a second longer than they had to.
#whumptober2023#no.5#pinned down#the old guard#fic writing#andromache the scythian#nicolo di genova#yusuf al kaysani#nile freeman#joe x nicky#yusuf x nicolo#jtdoeswhumptober
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Quick drum solo on my knees
Anyways, here’s Nevermore (snippet)
~~
Nicky pulled up short, forcing Neil to twist right to avoid running into his back. “Oh,” he said, voice high with an automatic cheer Neil hadn’t heard in months. But it was the fear threaded through the word that caught his attention, his head turning to find what had stopped their progress back to Foxhole.
A man stood in the alleyway, so pale he was almost ghoulish under the failing street light. As Neil watched, he slowly pulled his gaze away from the dirty wall to land on their group, the movement near mechanical. That, paired with a carbon copy of Aaron’s face wiped of any and all emotion, sent a pickling shiver down Neil’s spine. There was something terribly unnatural about him, with the way his mouth pulled into a sickening grin at the sight of them, even as his eyes stayed dark. The grin only lasted only as long as the next flicker of light behind him, quick enough that it might have been a trick of the shadows. If not for its afterimage still burned into Neil’s mind, he might have believed it to be imagined.
He said nothing, his head twitching cocked. At the motion Nicky breathed a quick prayer learned from his mother, no louder than an exhale. Neil had the distinct notion of being cornered, even with no wall at his back. There was a predator lurking beneath the surface of that dead stare, and the knife in Neil’s pocket felt flimsy in the face of it.
With a steadying breath, Aaron stepped forward. “What are you doing here, Andrew.”
“They’re supposed to warn us when you’re off base,” Nicky said, fingers flitting across his pockets and shirt. In a rush, he added, “Not that we aren’t excited to see you!”
Andrew’s gaze slowly shifted from where it had locked onto Aaron to pin Nicky in place. He said nothing, but stepped forward.
Even with the space between them, Neil could feel how tense Nicky and Aaron grew with each step Andrew took. He was silent as he moved, not even a whisper of noise against the pavement. He stopped less than a foot before Nicky, head tilted back. This close, Neil could see the dark scaling of his clothes, how they fit him as a second skin.
Nicky flinched violently when Andrew’s hand reached for him, and it was Aaron who snatched the paper pinched between his fingers in the wake of a stammered apology. Scanning quickly, Neil watched Aaron’s face set into a carefully neutral mask, the one he only used when his emotions were close to breaking him. Neil knew if he scented the air he would find it thick with anger and fear. But he stayed still, unwilling for Andrew’s attention to shift to him.
Aaron’s grip tightened enough to threaten the paper he held. Eyes snapping up, he swallowed. “They released you.”
“What?” Nicky cried. “But I thought-“
“Seven years.” They froze at the sound of Andrew’s voice, the words quiet and flat. His finger came up to brush his cheek, over where Neil knew Nicky carried a faint scar. “Did you forget?”
“No,” Nicky nearly shouted the word, his hands shaking as they rose in an abortive motion. “Of course not, Andrew. It’s just-“ he let out a laugh, tight and strained. “I guess I hadn’t realized so much time had passed.”
The finger on Andrew’s cheek twitched, a sharp press down and release. What Nicky had said was a misstep, the air rushing from his lungs in a pained hiss.
Without acknowledging the words, Aaron shoved the letter into his jacket pocket and stalked past Andrew, seemingly tired of the interaction. It was effective, Andrew’s gaze snapping to follow him. With Andrew’s attention off of him, Nicky darted away, giving Andrew a wide berth. Breaking the tension was a controlled detonation, and Aaron appeared to be well versed. Though, Neil should have known it was not without sacrificial casualties.
Throwing his thumb over his shoulder, Aaron said, “That’s Neil. Don’t kill him.”
As Andrew’s empty eyes landed on him, Neil felt his body bristle at the threat. This time, the grin stretched wide enough Neil’s own cheeks ached. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered if he had any control over it.
“Neil,” Andrew said slowly, as if testing how the weight of the word felt on his tongue. He leaned forward, close enough his breath fanned over Neil’s collar. Andrew’s grin grew impossibly wider, and something flickered, a shadow shifting. In a whisper, he said, “Someone’s looking for you.”
The words sent a bolt of cold fear through Neil’s blood, his brain screaming with the old need to run. His hair and eyes were different, countless cities and names between him and his past, but Andrew spoke with promise. Clearly it hadn’t been enough, the scraps he had left behind a trail for the bloodhounds.
Mary would break him blue for it, but she was dead, and he refused to fall into her legacy. Steeling his spine Neil let his fathers smile carve itself into his face. His eyes flicked over Andrew once more, the familiarity of his suit clicking into place. “Nevermore,” he breathed.
Andrew clicked his tongue. “Not anymore,” he sang.
Swallowing, Neil curled his fingers around the blade tucked into his pocket. By the huff of breath Andrew let out, he knew the move didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you here to kill me, dog?”
Finally, Andrew leaned back out of his space, face falling blank once more. “No.”
There was no reason to believe him. Andrew blinked, slow and challenging, eyes locked onto Neil’s face, knowing as much. Thumb brushing over the edge, just shy of cutting, Neil blinked back.
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
Andrew shrugged, and the motion looked odd. “Where else does someone like me go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” Andrew said. “No one does.”
#aftg#all for the game#the foxhole court#the raven king#the kings men#andrew minyard#neil josten#para's fics#aftg fic wip#aaron minyard#aftg fanfiction#aftg fanfic#twinyards#the foxes#nicky hemmick
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And now to some headcanons and stuff from here about Jason inhaling the fossilized vampire and worried Salim. Nothing super-original, just some things I would love to share. Enjoy 😁
/warning: it gets kinda angsty/
***
As soon as Jason realizes that he might be infected, he makes Salim promise to kill him the moment they see that Jason really is turning into something.
“Even if the others are still alive, not one of them has the balls to end this,” he says. “You’re the only one who can do it. You have to do it.”
He can't help but think about Clarice and Joey. He saw what happened to Joey, he saw the thing moving under the skin of Clarice's throat. He's fucking terrified.
"I don't wanna die, but even less I wanna turn into a fucking vampire," he says. "The last thing I wanna do is rip your head off. Your son is waiting for you."
Salim does try to argue. "They did not bite you," he says, "it might be something else. We will get out, you will get some fresh air, you will feel better."
They both know that's not true.
"Just… promise me, Salim," Jason says. It takes some effort to add: "Please."
Reluctantly, Salim does make that promise.
***
Every time Jason starts coughing, Salim looks at him, worried. At some point, Jason snaps at him, really pissed off, because he is so sure that Salim is worried about the coughing being too loud so the creatures can hear it.
“I can’t fucking keep it down,” he says, “stop looking at me like that! You’re waiting for me to start turning or what?”
Salim looks at him, confused because of his anger. “I’m worried about you,” he says. “That does not sound good.”
Jason stares at him, puzzled. He was almost ready to say something like “fuck off and go in there alone, if I’m dying too fucking loudly for you"; now he feels a bit awkward. He has no idea how to respond to that.
“Oh,” he says and just keeps walking.
***
When Nick joins them like a fucking knight in shining armor, Jason is… not as happy as he thought he would be. Don't get him wrong, he is glad and relieved to see Nicky alive, but… Nick is mentally fucked up already, and some shit has happened today, and Nick has a tendency to overthink stuff. Jason just can't be vulnerable and scared around him; Jason has to be that badass marine, has to be the strong one — confident enough to make Nicky keep it together.
Jason is scared, probably dying and so fucking tired. It was so much easier with Salim alone, when there was no need to pretend he's okay.
All Jason wants is to get Nicky and Salim both to safety. Is that too much to ask?
***
When Salim asks him to tell Zain his last words, Jason almost laughs out loud. That requires some really fucking impressive level of optimism to think that Jason can last long enough to be able to go to Salim’s house after all what happened.
He is absolutely sure he's gonna die. He knows that even if he makes it out of here, no one up there is gonna give a fuck about finding a cure for him. He’s probably going to end up in some laboratories or something and die during some fucked-up experiments.
It doesn't really matter if he dies now or later. He just wants his death to not be in vain.
To go out with a bang, fighting vampires for a vague chance to save Salim — that's not the worst option. He’s okay with that as long as Salim survives.
They both make it to the lift, and that’s a fucking miracle.
***
Jason gets hurt during the fight in the shepherd's hut. He could anticipate that from the beginning: the cough made him throw away his shot, the creature attacked, and he wasn't able to dodge that or to protect himself.
Salim saves him. Of course it's Salim who saves him. Jason has almost got used to seeing this fucking metal stake right in front of his eyes.
Nicky is not that lucky. Nicky is dead, lying on the floor with his eyes gouged out, and there's some sick fucked-up irony in this. Jason gets to survive the fight only to be dead in a couple of days at best, coughing his lungs out, and Nicky is dead.
That's so fucked.
Jason isn't really paying attention to what's going on around him. Salim asks if he can dress Jason's wound, and Jason just nods, not moving away from Nick's body. Salim takes off his backpack and vest, cuts up the sleeve of the T-shirt to get to the wound on his shoulder.
A touch on his skin makes Jason flinch — or rather the sudden realization: he’s vulnerable, he can’t fight, and someone got close to him while he wasn’t paying attention. Salim says sorry, moving a bit away.
Jason is too tired to really care about it — or explain it to Salim, for that matter. He just lets Salim finish patching up his wound.
That doesn’t feel that wrong and uncomfortable, to be honest.
***
Jason doesn’t really think about Salim being an Iraqi soldier of the fucking Republican Guard — until he does. It didn’t really matter down in the temple. Here, on the surface — that's where it becomes a problem.
“You have to go,” he says.
He doesn’t even hesitate. He probably should’ve. That's probably treason.
Jason doesn't give a fuck about treason right now.
“I can’t leave you like that,” Salim says almost angrily, as if Jason insulted him. “You’re hurt. The shepherds may come back. What was that thing you kept saying? Semper Fi?”
“For fuck’s sake, Salim.”
Jason knows he has to make Salim go away. Jason would physically push him out of the hut if not for the wound and blood loss; Jason is too weak and tired to even argue.
Jason wouldn’t go away. How can he expect Salim to do that?
“Just… take my watch,” he says, holding out his hand. “Don’t fuck around for too long and get the fuck outta here before the cavalry arrives. Even if I…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, coughing.
***
Jason does his best to stay awake, he really does, but the infection and the wound take their toll. His eyes are closing; he struggles to keep them open.
“Stay here,” Salim says.
“Ain’t going nowhere,” Jason mumbles.
He feels like he has to say something. He knows damn well he’ll never see Salim again; even if he will survive somehow, there’s no chance they’ll ever meet.
He’s never been any good at heart-to-heart chit-chats.
“I’m… glad I didn’t shoot you,” he says, causing Salim to smile.
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t shoot you,” Salim answers, chuckling.
Fair enough. Jason shakes hands with him, trying not to start coughing again, and leans back against the wall, trying not to pass out.
***
Jason loses this battle. He is half-awake, half-aware of his surroundings, leaning on Salim’s shoulder, unable to move or to speak or to open his eyes. At first Salim was trying to talk to him, keep him conscious, wake him up; now Salim is just sitting there, muttering something to himself from time to time. Jason can feel the warmth of his body and his hand that is placed on Jason’s back.
Jason spent hours wearing a vest and a backpack. Now a touch on the back through only a T-shirt feels… weird. Vulnerable.
Comforting.
He manages to cling to reality due to pure stubbornness. Salim is not safe here. Jason has to make sure he gets the fuck out before it’s too late.
There’s nothing he can do about that, really.
It feels like an eternity — definitely not a pleasant one — until something starts to happen around him. Salim gently helps him lie down, head on his backpack; Jason can feel Salim’s hand on his shoulder as Salim says something. Jason doesn’t understand a word of it, but there’s definitely guilt and regret in his voice.
“Just go,” Jason wants to say, but can’t make a sound.
He can hear a quiet “goodbye” and retreating footsteps. Salim’s gone — to his son, to safety. Nothing to worry about anymore; nothing to fight for.
The lights fade.
#i don't have nearly enough confidence to write in English anything bigger than small silly posts#this one is not that small but you get the idea#i just really hope that my English sounds like normal human speech#it’s understandable at least i guess that’s a good thing#i am also kinda experimenting with the format here and hope that it might be interesting for someone maybe?? i dunno#the imposter syndrome is so fucking real#sorry i'm rambling#jalim#jason kolchek#salim othman#house of ashes#the dark pictures house of ashes
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Okay, I know I've already sent asks (and made sure to pick the most difficult ones 😂) but this time it's the other way around. 2, 3, 11 and 17? Two of those are literally canon with Andreil 😂.
No pressure, of course!
~ Nem
ayyo these prompts are mad cute i can't thank you enough for picking them
2: interlocking pinkies
3: smiling into a kiss
11: back hugs
17: tugging on the bottom of someone's shirt
~
2.
This was getting out of hand.
The flashing lights and pulsing bass did nothing to take Andrew's eyes off of Neil. Neil, who looked unbearably attractive in a tight black shirt at the bar. Neil, who's hair looked like a beacon in the middle of Eden's.
Neil, who was currently being flirted to death with by a stranger.
Said stranger was a little too Playboy-eque for Andrew's liking. Tall, curly black hair, muscular — he was basically the reverse-Exy version of Kevin (which made the hotness increase from the negatives to embarrassingly high).
Andrew gripped his glass so tightly he thought it might break. Actually, who care if it broke? He'd get glass shards in his hand, they'd have to call an ambulance, the club would clear out, Neil would come back, and Bar Bitch would get the hell away from Neil.
Maybe he was being a tad dramatic.
Taking a deep breath, Andrew tried to relax. This was fine. Neil could handle himself, and he knew Neil wouldn't act on any offers this guy made. Besides, Neil probably didn't even realize he was being flirted with; the man was incredibly oblivious. It would be fine. He was fine.
Andrew was just about calmed down — he was still staring at Neil just to make sure nothing happened, not at all because the lights were reflecting on the glitter on his cheek or anything — when his personal demon from Hell popped up.
"Watcha looking at?" Nicky plopped next to Andrew, his voice slurred from drinks. Andrew wrenched his neck away, but Nicky beamed when he saw the original target of Andrew's gaze. "OMG, so cute! Keeping an eye on your bae. That's so fetch."
"None of those words are in the Bible," Andrew grumbled. "Also, stop trying to make fetch happen, it's not going to happen."
Nicky giggled for long enough that it was weird. "Riiiiight, but currently you're literally too gay to function. So I win."
Andrew rolled his eyes and leaned back in the booth, deciding to ignore his highly drunk cousin. Nicky barely noticed, choosing to hum a random tune as he stared into the crowd. After what felt like hours of this, Andrew finally snapped. "Nicky. Shut the hell up."
"Nooooo," Nicky whined. "I'm like a siren. I'm luring your tiny little boyfriend here."
"He is not my— wait, what?"
"See?" Nicky waved in front of himself and slapped himself in the face. "He's right there!"
Andrew was a bit embarrassed at how fast his head turned.
Sure enough, there was Neil, in all his 5'3" glory. And there — there was Bar Bitch! Following Neil!
Andrew had just about had enough.
When Neil reached close enough to place the tray of drinks on the table, Andrew hooked his fingers in his belt loops and yanked Neil into the booth next to him. Resoutly ignoring Neil's startled intake of breath and Nicky's oddly hard kick to the leg, Andrew linked his pinky with Neil and delicately placed their hands on the table.
Subtle, yet effective.
Neil blinked at him in confusion, but Andrew only had eyes for Bar Bitch. He narrowed his eyes at the tall man, tightening his grip on Neil's finger, until the bitch threw his hands up and stumbled away.
Ha. Take that, asshole.
"What was that all about?" Neil nudged him softly.
"Nothing," Andrew ground out. "Absolutely nothing."
He didn't let go of Neil's pinky the rest of the night.
~
3.
Andrew was a sucker for roof time with Neil; he couldn't deny it. What he wasn't a sucker for was Neil bringing sheets of plays and team stats during said roof time with Neil.
He tried to subtly hint to Neil that he wanted the Exy gone. He laid down on the roof, letting his hair cover the papers (Neil very gently brushed his hair away but continued reading). He placed his head on Neil's legs (Neil rubbed a calloused finger across Andrew's cheek but continued reading). He wiggled up into Neil's lap (Neil wrapped him in a warm embrace but continued reading. Even worse, Neil moved the papers into his line of sight, as if Andrew was interested).
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned forward and snatched the papers out of Neil's hand, throwing the sheets behind them. Neil blinked in surprise at his now-empty hand before looking over at Andrew. "What's wrong, Andrew?"
"Nothing," Andrew said, despite looking obviously annoyed. At Neil's unimpressed silence, Andrew sighed. "Stop ignoring me."
Andrew could practically hear Neil's eye roll.
"Yes or no, Drew?"
Just to be contrary, Andrew huffed out, "No. You can go back to your precious Exy."
He decided to ignore Neil's grumbles that suspiciously sounded like 'drama queen.' "I wasn't ignoring you. I wasn't," Neil insisted at Andrew's glare. "I was just... focusing on Exy at the moment."
"Make a choice, Neil. Exy... or me."
Neil looked a little too panicked at that for Andrew's comfort. "Uh... "
"The fact that you actually have to think about this is very telling," Andrew scowled.
"No, wait!" Neil shook his head frantically. "I mean... Exy is what got me to stop running, but you were what got me to stay. If I have Exy, I'll also always have you, and vice versa."
Andrew jammed a very fierce elbow into Neil's gut. He relished in the misery Neil was feeling. "That was more of a love letter to Exy than me."
"Oh, is that the problem?" the junkie annoyingly perked up. "I can definitely write a love letter to you. Where should I start? You have really pretty eyes, your hair is so soft, your arms are crazy strong, you— "
"Shut. Up."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Fine. But you'll have to make me."
Andrew barely held back a sigh and tried to calm his treacherous heart. "What, did you become the lead in a romcom when I looked away? That was so cheesy."
Neil just shrugged. "Did it work?"
"No," Andrew scowled. "Maybe. Yes or no?"
"Yes, alwa— "
Andrew cut Neil off with a kiss (no matter how bruised his tough-guy reputation was becoming now). He could feel Neil trying to smother a soft smile against his lips, and if Andrew had any shame left in him, he would be a bit embarrassed at how fast his heart starting beating when he realized that.
Because humans unfortunately needed oxygen, Neil pulled back a few moments later but stayed close enough that Andrew could smell the minty gum he had been chewing before they came up on the roof. "See? If you weren't so damn stubborn, we could have been kissing when I first asked you."
Ignoring this logic, Andrew pulled his the junkie back in for another kiss. He wondered in Neil could feel the small upturn on Andrew's lips too.
~
11.
This was just about the worst fucking day of Kevin Day's life, and it all started the day before.
He had been up for hours, starting with Exy at sun-up and ending with Exy at sundown. Except it didn't end with Exy, because he realized humanity was incompetent and then he was forced to catch up on a History essay his groupmates were behind on (5 hours after his detailed schedule!) and then he became too invested in the ruins of Mesopotamia and then he didn't sleep on time and then he missed his pre-alarm for his actual morning alarm and then he wasn't awake enough for his actual morning alarm and then—
Well.
Point was that Kevin was simultaneously cranky, sleepy, and frantically late, which is a shitty combination for anyone but especially for a person named Kevin Day. Which is to say that his perfectionist tendencies were starting to show their negative sides.
And to add company to misery, his fucking roommates had to be the absolute worst.
Kevin stumbled out of the bathroom (and crashed into three walls but that's neither here nor there) with a sock on his arm and one eye shut to make half his face feel rested when he came across the one thing that could possibly make his morning worse. As he sluggishly walked into the kitchen to get at least 3 cups of well-needed, strong-as-shit black coffee, he saw his two roommates directly blocking his access to the coffee pot.
Andrew was fiddling with the pot handle while Neil had his arms wrapped around his back. He was practically leaning all his body weight on Andrew and whenever Andrew murmured something to him quietly, Neil would give him his "Andrew-laugh" and somehow press in even closer. To make matters even sappier, every few seconds he would kiss Andrew — on the shoulder, neck, cheek, even going as far as to bring his hands up and kiss his knuckles!
It was disgusting. Kevin had never been more horrified to have these horribly-in-love-even-though-they-won't-admit-it-yes-he's-happy-they're-together-no-he's-not-happy-he-has-to-witness-this roommates.
Andrew and Neil were fully engrossed in their weird back-hug position, fully disregarding Kevin's coffee withdrawal. Irritated that he was being ignored, Kevin let out a highly unattractive noise that was half-groan, half-shriek, causing the two most hypervigilant people he'd known to jump apart. Except that Andrew was facing the counter so his diaphragm got fully smushed against it, causing the blond to let out an "oof" and Neil had open space behind him so he flailed around until he eventually fell onto his butt on the floor with a groan.
Massaging his stomach, Andrew turned a terrifying glare towards Kevin, who was suddenly waking up enough to realize how bad of an idea this was. Kevin slowly backed away, his hands up in a placating manner.
"Don't mind me," Kevin said. "Keep hugging or whatever. I'll just... go to Matt's room and get coffee."
Stumbling out of his dorm, Kevin crashed his way into Matt, Nicky, and Aaron's room, where Nicky was sitting on the couch on his laptop.
He winced when he saw Kevin zombie-walk to the coffee machine. "Andrew and Neil sexile you?"
As the machine whirred, Kevin groaned. "Something like that. Honestly, the two of them are so affectionate in the morning, it makes me sick."
At that, Nicky's eyes widened. "They're what?! Tell me everything."
Kevin sighed. Maybe he should get a second cup of coffee going.
~
17.
Neil didn't notice the cats until Andrew pointed them out.
The two of them were on a walk walking back over the hill in front of the Fox Tower after their classes. Andrew had made it a habit to pick Neil up after his Spanish class and his own Sociology class every Thursday, and the two of them would drop their stuff off at the dorms and go out to lunch together.
It was very nice, to put it lightly.
Andrew's hand was warm where it was threaded with Neil's, swinging lightly between their bodies. The two were so close to each other that Neil could feel their shoulders brush every few steps, could practically count every faint freckle on Andrew's cheeks if he wanted to.
So he did just that.
"Staring," Andrew glared.
"Yeah," Neil said shamelessly. "You like it."
Andrew squeezed Neil's hand. It was probably more out of annoyance than adorance, but he'd take it.
"You know, in class today," Neil started, mainly so he could hear Andrew's voice when he responded. "This absolute bit— ow!"
Unexpectedly, Neil promptly fell down.
"Typical," Andrew grumbled. "He can come back alive after being tortured by a serial killer but can't walk straight."
"To be fair, it's not like you walk any straighter than me."
After an appraising moment, Andrew shrugged.
Neil finally moved himself into a sitting position while Andrew watched with sheer disappointment oozing out of him. He tied his undone shoelace and was just getting up when he felt a sharp tug on his shirt.
Neil looked at Andrew in confusion, but Andrew had his sights set on something in the distance. Naturally, instead of explaining, he began dragging Neil, who was still halfway bent-over from tying his shoe.
"Andrew!" Neil yelped. "Do you want to let me know where we're going?"
"No."
Fair enough. Neil should have expected that.
Finally, after his shoes untied yet again from the stumbling he did over the hill, Neil finally saw what had caught Andrew's attention. There was a sign advertising a nearby cat adoption, with the directions showing it to be only about 5 minutes away.
Andrew tugged on Neil's shirt again. "We're going."
Neil blinked. "We can't have pets in the dorm."
"We'll sneak them in, it's not like we've never broken the law before."
"Kevin is going to lose his shit."
"You just incentivized me even more."
Neil had to bite back a smile at that. "Fine, fine, we'll visit. But we are not adopting any animals until we can figure out the rules."
"Eh," Andrew turned around, twisting his fingers into Neil's shirt so he'd follow the blond. "I can be very convincing."
"Andrew."
"Neil."
"We are not getting a cat."
"Nah."
"You can't just— Andrew!"
#the way i literally looked up when mean girls came out to make sure if the timeline matched#not gonna lie this was so fun to write#even if it took ages lol#i feel like i get too invested in this short plotlines#and like 90% of these could be actual fics at this point#oh well#andreil#andrew minyard#neil josten#andrew x neil#andreil hc#ask response#aftg hc#aftg#aftg headcanon#all for the game#tfc#the foxhole court#kevin day#nicky hemmick#do i add too many tags#oops
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booker x ‘my tears ricochet’ gifset
and i can go anywhere want
anywhere i want
just not home
#this is all i can think about#this applies to pre-exile booker and post-exile#pre-exile: booker wakes up somedays and mistakes nicky's humming for his wife's#joe and andy practicing sword fighting sounds eerily similar to jean-pierre and paul messing around#'my love' he whispers 'please go control our sons'#there's no response#'my love?'#and then his brain catches up and it's 2001#their cottage in marseilles is gone#his family is dead#post-exile: book's on his 5th bender of the month#and he wakes up to a horrible hangover#the cuckoo clock he bought the first month of his exile in a rare fit of sentiment will not shut up#he's half awake groaning#'nicky please turn off that fucking clock. cuckoos don't even sound good'#nicky doesn't respond#'nicky please. it's so loud'#nothing. he turns his head to snap nicky only to realize that nicky's not here#nicky's not gonna be here for another 100 years#anyway that's all i had#ran out of juice#smth smth booker doesn't realize the team is family#smth smth he's never getting over the death of his wife and kids#smth smth during his hot girl summer with quynh he learns how to manage#booker#sebastien le livre#tog#the old guard#movie.rambles#ignore my attempts at writing in the tags
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about nick clark and troy otto
just to get this clear, i love troy and i love nick. i love them both individually but i also love them together and i love this really weird thing that they have going on between them. be it a friendship or whatever, i love it. they had so much potential together and i still can't believe they killed troy just like that.
in the beginning they disliked each other. nick may have even hated troy because of what he did to luciana and that's okay, he had every right to. i think troy disliked nick because he wasn't with his family and for troy the ranch and his family were everything for him. so the thought that nick had left his family on his own volition was very alien to troy. it's not something he would've ever done so he judged and disliked nick because of it and didn't want him on the ranch.
but even though nick heavily disliked troy, he didn't kill him. he had two chances to do so and in the second situation he could've actually gotten away with it but he still didn't kill troy. and troy wasn't even mad at nick for threatening him. he just took it in stride like it was a normal tuesday, he even encouraged nick to do it and later on said that they now could be friends after nick destroyed his notebook. i think that was some kind of turning point for both of them but more so for troy. he didn't necessarily start to like nick after that but his opinion about him wasn't as negative as it was before. nick on the other hand started to tolerate troy a little more after that. he still probably disliked him and thought he was rather dangerous but he wasn't as averse to him as before.
then luciana left and nick stayed. shortly afterwards nick and troy have this little talk down in the pantry and troy tells nick "it's just good you didn't take off after her", and i really loved it when he said that. i think he was being genuine and it shows that he has come to accept nick as part of the community. he doesn't necessarily like him but he accepts him. nick on the other hand is still a little defensive and wary of troy. it shows at the end of the episode when madison tells everyone that walker killed the trimbols and nick confronts her afterwards and tells her not to forget what troy is.
in the next episode while alicia is with walker, nick joins the militia. troy asks nick if he's got permission from madison which shows that he still doesn't really like nick. he accepts him but doesn't seem to want to be around him more than he has to. nick later tells madison that part of the reason he joined the militia is to keep troy, an enemy, close, although madison doesn't completely believe him. later in the episode comes one of my favourite scenes when troy asks nick "you feeling blue, nicky?", he then tells nick to "go kamikaze another day", which to me shows that he genuinely doesn't want nick dead. i don't particularly know why he didn't want nick to die at that moment but i don't think it was for madison's sake as he couldn't have cared less for nick at the beginning even though he is madison's son, whom he seemed to like almost instantly.
nick and troy are now in the militia together and do some bonding, like the poet talk or when they share their experiences and feelings about their father's deaths. around that time somewhere was a turning point for nick when he realized that he didn't actually want troy to die or maybe started caring for him in some capacity. he actually contemplated telling troy that he was the one that killed jeremiah even though madison thinks that troy would kill him for that but nick's not so sure. then comes the highlight of the episode when troy refuses to give up his weapons and nick actually stays back with him. he could've gone out with the others but he stays inside with troy because he wants to. he chooses to do so. because he knows troy, he knows that this will end bloody but he doesn't want that, he doesn't want troy to die. he himself even almost dies because of it when crazy dog gets the drop on him but troy is there and saves him although he gets hurt in the process. he doesn't want nick to die either which we already saw as he didn't want to shoot nick when he was standing between him and the rest and asked him to get out of the way. although troy doesn't want nick dead he still doesn't seem to have realized that nick cares about him as he asks nick why he would care what happens to him. furthermore it comes as a surprise to troy that nick stays with him and he tells him as much but also thanks him for keeping him company. nick then tries everything to get troy to back off, he even tells troy that he doesn't want him to die but troy doesn't listen. only when he confesses that jeremiah didn't commit suicide but that he actually killed him troy finally backs off. and he doesn't seem to be angry at nick.
i think that for troy the thought that his dad would commit suicide and leave them all behind was unbearable. he just couldn't accept it and that's why hearing nick's confession was such a relief for him and made him stop. doesn't matter that nick killed him because he at least didn't kill himself as that's not something that jeremiah would ever do and it's also not something that troy can live with.
now that troy knows that nick killed jeremiah i think he starts to see him in a new light. he later accuses madison for not being the one to kill his father but to let her son do the job and feels like she wronged him somehow by not killing his father. he thought she was like him but now he's not so sure about her anymore and seems to divert his attention even more towards nick. also something worth mentioning is that other than at the beginning troy never tried to kill nick again while he did contemplate killing madison after her cruel words about his mother.
up next comes something that i really can't wrap my head around, which is nick's hallucination of troy. how did his subconscious come up with troy of all people? why did he hallucinate that troy saved him? why? i don't understand. i love the hallucination and i love the fact that he hallucinated troy but i still don't really get why. maybe it's supposed to show us that nick feels safe around troy or that he trusts that troy would save him if he had the chance?
troy's now gone from the ranch but nick still seems to worry about him and alicia calls him out on it. she tells him that he doesn't owe troy anything but likes him and nick never refutes that. alicia also says that they "share the same self-destruction", to which nick replies "maybe i'm as sick as he is", and i love that. he admits that he thinks they might be similar and for me this whole talk just again proves that nick really does care about troy. what makes the whole talk even better is that not even five minutes later troy shows up at nick's to warn him from the horde. he was exiled but he sneaks back in just to warn nick of something that he himself is responsible for. he still doesn't seem to believe that nick cares about him though because when nick says, "it's good you're alive", he answers with "i don't think you believe that". and that's just sad. that after everything nick's done for him troy still can't believe that nick cares about him. what i also love is when troy says, "but you saved me in your own way", and that he'd like to return the favour. i'm not entirely sure what troy means here though. does he mean that nick stopped him from going kamikaze and saved his life or does he mean something different? if he'd simply told nick that nick saved him then i'd have an easier time believing it but he also says "in your own way", and i can't wrap my head around that. it just feels like he means something else with that than just nick saving his life.
another thing about their nightly talk that i love is that nick doesn't even think to rat troy out, not for a second. he says he can hide him or he has to sneak out, these are the only options.
the next day nick and jake then go out together to search for troy and find out what he meant with his warning. on the road jake's intentions regarding his brother are made clear when he takes out his gun and tells nick the story about the rabbit. when they finally reach troy nick again tries to talk him down but to no avail. troy doesn't plan on surviving this one and nothing nick could say can change that. jake then finally attacks troy and nearly kills him but is stopped by nick which results in jake's death. again, nick stands by troy and doesn't want him to die. even though troy just led the horde towards the ranch and literally destroyed everything that they had built there and nick knows it. but he still can't give up on troy and jake has to pay for it.
almost everything troy does from now on in my opinion he does for nick. nick wants him to help save the ranch so troy helps him. not because he wants to or cares about anyone there but because nick wants him to help. so he does. and those couple scenes really are everything. troy has fun doing what he does and nick has fun too. they're both being crazy together and they are loving it. when they are saved by madison, strand and walker nick covers for troy and lies about the horde. he knows that if he'd tell what had really happened someone would snap and troy would most likely end up dead and nick can't have that so he lies. even though a couple episodes back he wasn't happy with madison when she did the exact same thing when lying about the trimbols.
i also couldn't miss the fact that when alicia says everyone deserves to carve something out for themselves in this life troy and nick exchange a very quick glance. it could mean nothing but you can't deny that they looked at each other when she said that. and then when they have their talk in the car comes troy's most famous line: "all right, you stayed at the ranch because you love me." i think it's meant as a joke but again, nick doesn't refute troy's statement and they both just chuckle. like nick admitted to alicia that he and troy may be similar, troy says the same to nick now. and like before, nick doesn't say anything against it. it's not just troy who thinks like that, nick himself already came to the same conclusion.
at the bazaar we then come to some of the most bizarre scenes ever when nick and troy get high together. this is another thing that troy does just for nick. he doesn't really want to get high and seems to be rather uncomfortable at the beginning but he still does it because of nick. nick does have to remind him though that he saved troy's life but in the end troy does it for nick. again. surrounded by the infected nick then confesses to troy that he doesn't want to go back with madison and troy comforts him and hugs him. he hugs him! this scene as well as the couple ones before when they were staggering around together, arms slung around each other's shoulder, are everything. they are definitely friends by now, rather close ones actually, genuinely care for each other, and i really love the place that their relationship is at in that moment.
the next day nick then informs madison that he and troy plan to stay at the bazaar. we don't know troy's opinion on this but i think he only stayed there because of nick but i'll talk about this later on.
when troy hears that the proctors plan to attack the dam he is the one to yank nick out of his stupor. i'm not entirely sure if he wants to help madison for nick's sake or because he still kinda likes her. but it is worth mentioning that back when nick joined the militia troy asked nick: "is madison okay with this?", while now he tells nick "your mother's in trouble". back then he says 'madison' while he now says 'your mother' which kinda strikes me as odd. to say 'your mother' is more personal and it feels like troy acknowledges the fact that madison is nick's mother and that's why they should go and save her. so he might be doing this for nick's sake because even though nick doesn't want to stay with madison she's still his mother and he still loves her so troy might wanna save her for nick. still, i'm not entirely sure.
while nick is questioned by daniel troy tries to reconnect with madison, at least it seems to me like that's what he's doing. like i said before i think that troy only stayed at the bazaar because of nick. and here's the reason why: he tells madison that the bazaar wasn't a good place for him and nick. he probably already realized that after the first night because how could he not but he still decided to stay there, all because of nick. so again, he did that for nick. he then confirms to madison that he and nick are indeed friends and to troy they are actually closer than friends, like brothers, and that he genuinely likes nick. when troy asks madison if they're good she says they are but i didn't believe her, not for a second. she needed too long for her answer and was too quick in changing the topic. at the same time daniel questions nick and again, nick lies for troy and covers him. but this is a different situation, this is daniel. nick knows what daniel can do but he still lies to protect troy.
in the end it's all for nothing though because madison is the one that finally kills him after finding out that he was the one who led the horde to the ranch. nick did everything he could to protect troy and then madison, nick's mother, is the one to actually take troy's life. nick does look horrified when she does it but i feel like he could've been a little more shocked. he just looks horrified, turns around and walks out of the room, and after that i was a little disappointed in him for not showing more emotions. later when nick and madison are hiding he then starts arguing with her about it but the argument was more about the fact that madison can just callously kill someone and not necessarily about her having killed troy. although when madison says she killed him for her kids, she made that call for them, nick tells her "not for me!", and i really liked hearing him say that because he seemed angry but also sad and hurt so he's obviously not okay with what she did. later when john asks him about troy and he says that troy's dead and his mom killed him he also sounds a bit accusing which i also loved to hear. the way john asked, "is your friend here, nick?", i loved that as well. it again solidifies that nick and troy were friends because nick answers the question without refuting the statement and saying that they weren't friends or something like that. so at least troy and nick both acknowledged that they were friends.
but of course we also cannot forget nick's suicide note. i really love the fact that he called it his 'suicide note' because that was a reference all the way back to his talk with troy and the rest of the militia when troy didn't want him to go all kamikaze on them. i see it as nick kinda honouring his friendship with troy when he calls it his 'suicide note' because nobody knows the story behind it but it's obvious what it means. i've heard people say that now that troy's gone nick's all suicidal and troy's not there to stop him like he did before. but i'm not sure. you can certainly interpret it as that because nick does seem to be rather disillusioned and he's definitely still grieving troy. there is however no other option at the moment if he wants his mom and sister as well as strand to survive so i don't think he's just suicidal because troy's gone. to me it seems like he's accepted his fate and made his peace with the fact that he would die and i think it would've been a great end for nick if they'd actually let him die there.
i will definitely miss them though because their dynamic was great and i really do think that nick could've helped troy become a better person. he'd never be a good person but he could've gotten better, if they had just given him a chance. as i said before, i really think that most of the things troy did after the horde he did for nick so i genuinely believe nick could've helped him be a better person.
#fear the walking dead#troy otto#nick clark#nick x troy#troy x nick#analysis#daniel sharman#frank dillane#ftwd spoilers
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FATWS One Shot #1 - Back to the Beginning
Word Count: 1644
Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Intoxicated Automobile Accident, Steve Being a Slight Puppy
Setting/Characters: Directly after Captain America: The First Avenger, New York City; Reader, Director Nicholas Fury, Captain Steven Rogers
A/N: Here it is! The first One Shot that goes along with my FATWS Series! Keep in mind; it doesn’t take place during FATWS. There are NO SPOILERS in this and there will be NO SPOILERS in any of the One Shots. I do recommend still reading the Series, though, to understand the Reader more. These are more like…prequels to the Series. And it won’t be a series. It’ll just be a collection of One Shots based on what I think is important and what you guys wanna see. I also WON’T BE DOING A TAGLIST FOR ONE SHOTS! (Only those in my All Works Taglist will be tagged!) I’ll be adding them to my FATWS Series Masterlist under a ‘One Shot’ section, so you’ll be able to find them there, and I’ll also be tagging them with #fatws series oneshots. Feel free to send in requests for what you wanna see. I’ve gotten a few already, so I’ll be writing those tomorrow. I’ll say that they’ll all be shorter like this one, but...knowing me...we’ll see.
(Also, I’m aware of the theories that SHIELD chose the woman because the resemblance to Peggy, but just ignore that for this.)
As always, not beta’d so please excuse mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and each other! Enjoy and stay tuned!
FATWS Masterlist
cjsinkythoughts Masterlist
You knew. You knew the moment his eyes raked over your form. You knew when he looked over his shoulder at the radio playing some baseball game from 1941. You had done your homework, just like you did with every mission you worked. Granted, this one was a little different, but when Fury called you in personally, you couldn’t say no. You told them your uniform was wrong. You told them the game was too close to when he went under. You told them.
So you weren’t surprised in the least when he smashed through the wall, running out of the room. You didn’t necessarily regret pushing the button; you did it because you knew your cover had been blown, not because you were threatened. But you regretted calling out Code 13, not realizing that they’d chase him out into the middle of Times Square of all places.
Before you could head outside, wanting to know what happened, Fury’s name flashed across your vibrating phone.
“Y/L/N.”
“We’re heading back.”
An eyebrow raised, showing your confusion. “That was quick.”
“He’s fine, if you’re insinuating what I think you are.”
“I’m not insinuating anything, sir.” It was a lie, of course. You wouldn’t put it past Fury to slow down the Captain anyway he could, especially if the Man Out of Time was putting up a fight. “Sir, with all due respect, I tried-”
“I know, Agent. When We get back, we’ll set up in Conference Room C. I want you to join us.”
Your eyes narrowed, free hand on your hip. “You only called me in to ease him into this whole new century thing-”
“And he’s not eased.”
“It’s not my fault, Fury. I told your guys that it was wrong-”
“I know, Agent. Introducing him to the new century obviously went less smoothly than we anticipated.”
“Ya think?”
“Conference Room-”
“C. I heard you the first time. I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes.” He hung up without any farewells, making you roll your eyes. The director had pulled you off an assignment - in the middle of it - and promised you could get back to it once you finished helping him with the Star Spangled Man problem; help Captain Rogers integrate into the new times. But it was starting to seem that Fury didn’t just mean when he woke up.
You quickly changed, switching the old fashioned uniform for the tighter SHIELD-assigned one, before heading up to the level with all the conference rooms. You understood doing this in New York instead of the HQ in DC - the captain was from New York and, as much as it changed, some things would be familiar - and you definitely understood not doing this on the Helicarrier since Rogers didn’t even know about smartphones yet. And you definitely weren’t complaining; you had an apartment here in the City that you hadn’t slept in for months now.
Glancing at the room plaques, you paused in front of ‘C’. You took a couple breaths, relaxing yourself just as you did before any mission, before opening the door and stepping in.
Fury and Rogers were sitting at the table on opposite ends, the blonde looking around warily, eyeing the few agents lining the walls. You shot Fury a look, disapproving of the firepower in the room.
“Captain. Director.” You nodded to them in greeting.
Roger’s eyes snapped towards you, recognition lighting up his features. “You-”
“Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Sorry about the act.”
He nodded hesitantly, watching you as you sat down a couple seats from Fury. “I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll make this quick. To help you adjust, it’s been decided to assign an agent to help you for the next few months. Agent Y/L/N, here, will take that position.”
You blinked, turning to Fury, not expecting that. “What?”
Fury ignored you, standing up and setting down a file on the table in front of you when he passed. “The file has what you need to explain to him. Start now.”
“Fury.” You snapped, eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the file. Looking back as the door opened, you scrambled to stand when you realized he was leaving. “Fury! Excuse me.” You pardoned yourself from the captain, chasing after the director without waiting for his reaction. “Nicholas!”
That got his attention, his stride pausing. He spun on his heel, an eyebrow quirked. “Agent-”
“You didn’t mention anything about months helping him. I thought you meant, at most, a week!”
He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “You’re the first person he saw when he woke up. You’re the best option.”
“First off,” you mimicked his position, popping your hip for good measure. “Even though I was the first person he saw, I deceived him. Why would he trust me? Second, why me? I understand having me for the little show you put on. I get that. But me? Of all people? You know I don’t do personal stuff.”
Fury narrowed his eyes. “You’re on this, and that’s final. He needs to know politics and technology. Settle him into the apartment in the file.”
You gaped as he turned around and started towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. “What about-?!”
“Your mission is being taken care of!” He called over his shoulder. “Politics and technology!”
You huffed, stomping your foot, frustrated, well aware of the fact that you were throwing a mini tantrum. You worked behind the scenes, acting as someone other than yourself. You didn’t help 93 year old super soldiers settle into new houses, teach them about current politics, and explain what cell phones were.
Walking back into the conference room, you found it empty besides Rogers, who was looking through the file, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Sorry about that.” You apologized, moving around the table to plop into the seat next to him.
He gave a half hearted shrug, glancing over at you. “It’s okay. He didn’t tell you the plan. I don’t blame you for being annoyed.”
“Yeah…it’s nothing personal. I’m not annoyed at you, and it’s not because of you. It’s just-”
“You don’t do personal stuff.” At your quirked eyebrow, he tapped his ear. “I could hear you.”
You cleared your throat, feeling slightly embarrassed at being heard. “Oh. Right. Enhanced hearing. Um, so, I guess you’re already starting without me.”
The tips of his ears turned red as you gestured to the file he was scanning. He dropped it, moving it over to you. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “It’s your schooling. However you wanna do this, whatever pace you want, we’ll do that. Fury just wants you to know-”
“Politics and technology.” He shot you a small smirk. “I heard that too.”
You chuckled a bit, nodding. “Right. Okay. Let’s see here. Nickie said there was an apartment they got you…”
“Page six.” He informed you as you flipped through the pages.
You hummed, looking at the small apartment, perfect size for one person, right here in Manhattan…in the same building as yours, you noted. “Of course.” You rolled your eyes. You’d basically be his babysitter, and you knew neither of you wanted that.
“What? What’s wrong?”
You sighed, shaking your head. “This is my building.”
He blinked, looking down at the picture of the apartment. “Oh. Well, if you want I can request a change-”
“No, no. It’s fine. I just - I wish Fury told me.”
“Can-can I ask you a personal question?”
You shrugged, thumbing through the rest of the file. They basically wanted you to give him a government lesson starting with the fifties and then go over military technological advancements - a lot of Stark Industries stuff. “You might as well. We’re gonna be spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Why don’t you do personal?” You stopped your reading, tapping a finger on the table as you chewed on your cheek. “Sorry. You don’t hafta share if it’s too personal. I get it. I was never really into sharing my emotions, either.”
Turning your head to him, your lips pursed thoughtfully. His head was ducked, his blonde hair previously parted and styled was falling into his eyes, which were trained on his linked hands in his lap. His forehead was still creased, but it was more contemplative than confused as it was previously.
“I specialize in undercover operations.” Ignoring the way he whipped his head to you, slight surprise in those blues that you were answering his question, your head dropped back to the files, trying to act nonchalantly. “Before that I grew up in foster homes. My parents died when I was little. Drunk driver. No one survived. I was…two. I think. Maybe three. I learned to keep my head down to stay out of trouble; be the kid whoever had me wanted me to be. Anyways, I’m used to playing other people. I’m not really used to being myself.”
The room was blanketed with a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, either, but it was welcomed as Rogers processed what you had just told him. His voice was quiet, almost shy, when he spoke up. “You can be yourself with me…if you want.”
You looked over at him again, your lips turning up slightly as you met his sincere gaze. “Thanks. You can be yourself with me too, Captain Rogers.”
“Let’s start with you calling me Steve, Agent Y/L/N.”
Your features broke into a bigger grin as you nodded, accepting his terms. “Alright, Steve. I don’t really have a preference. Just don’t call me Agent. I get flashbacks to every conversation with Fury.”
Steve laughed and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes shut, his nose scrunching up. “Alright.” He agreed with a beam. “I think I can avoid that, honey.”
All Works Taglist:
@happygoreading
@bibliophilewednesday
#cjswriting#fatws series oneshots#falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots#fatws series oneshot 1#fatws series#back to the beginning one shot#steve rogers x reader#kinda#💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪
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Sick of Losing Soulmates
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: Months after you and Peter have broken up, you run into each other at Harry’s Christmas party.
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: Both fluffy and angsty. Mentions of alcohol and sex. A mild amount of curse words.
A/N: I’m ALIVE! I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season, and Merry Christmas to everybody that celebrates it! I am so happy to be able to share my work with all of you! Enjoy <3
“And maybe we got lost in translation
Maybe I asked for too much
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece
Till you tore it all up”
-All Too Well, Taylor Swift
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Harry had promised you that his roommate would be spending the holidays with May back in Queens. But here he was, wearing the sweater that you had given him last year with his arm snaked around another girl’s waist.
“Hey!” Betty grinned, throwing her arms around you. She had a half-empty glass of mulled wine that you could tell was doing a good job of getting her tipsy. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. We never see each other anymore.”
She pouted, a pair of reindeer antlers where her signature black headband usually sat. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” you assured her, still staring at Peter effortlessly carrying the conversation with a bunch of people you didn’t recognize. “Uh, who’s the girl with Peter?”
“Gwen Stacy,” she muttered, obviously not a very big fan. You figured it was because there was only room for one preppy blonde girl, and Betty didn’t feel like sharing that position with anybody else. “Don’t worry though! It’s nothing serious. Peter actually hasn’t really dated anybody ever since the two of you…”
Her voice trailed off as you locked eyes with her, silently communicating for her to drop the subject. It was a relief to know that he hadn’t moved on, but the fact that he was wrapped up in a fling with somebody else still made your heart hurt.
“Come on, Y/N. I’m sure MJ and Ned would love to see you! They’re over in the kitchen.” She reached for your hand, dragging you along through Harry’s expertly decorated apartment.
You dropped the box of cookies that you had baked on the counter before tapping MJ on the shoulder. She was turned away from you, lecturing Ned on why his secondhand Beyblades were not acceptable Christmas presents.
“Who the hell is touching me?” she snapped, turning around with a look on her face that told you she was ready to throw hands. “Holy fuck. Y/N! How long have you been here?”
MJ’s frown faded into a smile as she pulled you into a side-hug, her other hand busy nursing a glass of Harry’s infamously terrible eggnog. “Only a few minutes,” you laughed, your face smushed into her torso.
“Hi,” Ned piped up, offering a small wave. You could tell he didn’t really know where he stood ever since his best friend basically ripped your heart out and threw it on the floor. Well, it wasn’t actually that dramatic, but he had a flair for exaggerating stories. “Remember me?”
“Of course, stupid,” you grinned, offering a fist bump that he happily accepted. “How could I forget those iconic fits of yours?”
“True,” he said, popping his collar and doing a little twirl that made Betty and MJ roll their eyes. “You look pretty fly too, though.”
“Thanks,” you replied, holding the edge of your dress as you curtsied, something you and Ned had made a habit of doing as the so-called best dressed members of the group.
“You two are just as ridiculous as ever,” Betty mused, happy to see you still fit in just as perfectly as when you were Peter’s girlfriend, even if you weren’t around as much.
The reunion was interrupted by the loud chatter of a certain couple, and your heart sank as you watched a very drunk Peter and Gwen stumble towards the kitchen, a giggling mess. They situated themselves under the archway that separated the two rooms, a piece of mistletoe conveniently hanging above them.
You could tell that MJ was ready to put a stop to her friend’s embarrassing behavior, and the looks on Ned and Betty’s faces told you that they had no intentions of holding her back.
“They’re so gross,” MJ complained, setting down her untouched cup before excusing herself to drag Peter out of his drunken makeout session. “I can’t believe he’d do that when you’re right here!”
“Wait, MJ,” you blurted, grabbing onto her wrist to stop her. She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay. I don’t care about it. I’m just going to head to the bathroom, alright? I’ll be right back.”
You did your best to stop yourself from tearing up, although you realized you had made the utter mistake of forgetting that the very arch that Peter and Gwen were sucking each other’s faces under was the only way out of the kitchen.
Not even a few moments of you awkwardly standing next to them, occasionally clearing your throat, made them notice you. Eventually, the discomfort grew too heavy, and you tapped Peter on the shoulder. He finally pulled away from Gwen, her lipstick smudged across his mouth and a dazed look on his face.
Gwen whimpered at the loss of his kiss, obviously annoyed at the random girl that had just interrupted them. As soon as Peter recognized that it was you, he stepped away from her, wiping his mouth and fixing the hair she had been running her hands through, just like you used to.
“Y/N. I didn’t know that you’d be here,” he reasoned, a blush spreading across his face as a sense of regret settled into his stomach.
“Obviously,” you sighed. This wasn’t the Peter you knew—the sweet, shy one that you had fallen in love with. “You guys are blocking the hallway, by the way.”
“Shit, sorry,” he stammered, stepping aside to allow you to pass in between them. He followed you, leaving Gwen irritated and confused as to who you were. “Y/N. Can we talk later?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nice sweater, though,” you quipped, not even turning back to meet his gaze before climbing the stairs towards the guest bathroom. Everything felt all too familiar, memories of you and Peter stumbling up the same steps after a date flooding your brain.
The first time Peter had kissed you was after MJ’s birthday party. Neither of you had been drinking, since you hated alcohol and Peter refused to touch any before he turned 21. This meant that you got to spend the whole night laughing at everybody else’s drunken mischief.
In the middle of his performance of some Nicki Minaj song, Ned managed to spill a whole can of beer on you and Peter, which resulted in many cheers as the two of you ran to his room to grab a change of clothes. Shirts came off, confessions were made, and the party went on without you guys.
You took a deep breath, shutting the bathroom door behind you and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. If you had known Peter would end up being here, you would have never accepted Harry’s invitation. There were so many old wounds being opened up that you had spent months trying to heal, and you weren’t sure some stupid Christmas party was worth it.
But you didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t fair how much the break up had stolen from you. All of your friends were here and you were tired of shying away from going out with them anymore because you were too scared to see Peter. Too scared that you would never be able to stop being in love with him.
By the time you rejoined the rest of your friends, Harry was announcing that it was time to start the game of White Elephant. You bit the edges of your fingernails as the party guests filed into Harry’s living room, hoping that Peter wouldn’t somehow pick your present.
“What’d you bring?” you asked Betty, squishing in next to her on the couch.
“Gift card to In-N-Out,” she giggled, satisfied that her present could only be used on the other side of the country. “But Harry’s rich friends might not have any trouble flying their private jets to California, so maybe I’m not as clever as I thought.”
“Heard that,” Harry said, leaning behind you on the edge of the couch. He placed a quick kiss on your cheek, something the two of you had always done as friends but stopped once you started dating Peter. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it.”
“Hey, you,” you replied, smiling back at him, your leg bouncing impatiently. “We doing this thing or what?”
“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” he laughed, running out of the room. Moments later, he came back wearing a fake beard and a Santa hat, complete with a miniature sack of toys.
“Alright, boys and girls. Let’s get this game started! Hopefully you all know the rules, but I’ll repeat them anyway. I draw a name out of the sack, you pick a random present and open it up for everybody to see. The next person that goes can either steal your gift or pick a new one. If your gift gets stolen, you get to do the same. No stealing twice!”
The first couple of people you didn’t really know, and they had all pulled presents that were relatively uninteresting. A scented candle, toilet paper, a pair of socks. Nothing you really considered worth stealing, although Ned ended up taking a framed, autographed photo of Harry from MJ, which resulted in her stealing Gwen’s mini waffle iron.
By the time it was your turn, there weren’t many gifts left. Going with your gut, you grabbed the bag covered in glittering polar bears. Reaching past all of the tissue paper stuffed inside, you pulled out a red sweatshirt that you unfolded to see had a large graphic of Spider-Man printed on it.
“Oh,” you said, a little confused. The only people you knew that wore stuff with the Avengers on it were little kids, but you figured that was part of the joke. “I mean, I prefer Captain America, but thanks, whoever this is from!”
Peter’s face blushed to a shade of red, amazed that out of all the presents, you picked his. The only issue was that you didn’t know that he was actually the guy on the front of it. Nobody except Ned knew, although he was sure that MJ and Harry had caught on to his secret identity by now.
“Okay, two people left. Jake, you’re up next, buddy,” Harry called out, happily bouncing around the room, his Santa hat now replaced with a baseball cap that had “I Love Ned!” embroidered on it. You watched nervously as he walked around the room, eyeing up all of the presents before settling on the tiny, golden box that you had placed under the tree when you first arrived.
“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he smirked. Your thoughts raced, immediately feeling a sense of regret over the gift you had picked. “Oh, shit. Sweet! I’ve got a date with Y/N!”
“Sup, baby,” Jake continued, his words slightly slurred. He pointed at you and winked, and you offered him a polite smile in return. “We’re gonna have a good time. Just name the time and place and I got you.”
“Awesome, congrats, man,” Harry said, obviously ready for the game to be over. It had been going for way longer than any of you had expected, mostly due to the fact that two girls wouldn’t stop arguing over a piece of rose quartz. “Okay, we’re nearly finished, guys. Peter, you’re up. Pick any of the gifts that haven’t been stolen yet, or the last one under the tree.”
You locked eyes with him, a familiar scowl on his face that told you he was thinking really hard about which gift to pick. His spidey-senses felt your heartbeat pick up as he walked around the room before stopping in front of Jake, who was busy gloating to his friend about how “hot” you were. Your face heated up as you watched Peter take the little note that you had written out of Jake’s hands, smugly gesturing for him to pick up the present under the tree.
He waved sheepishly at you, and you felt both relieved and angry at his decision. Did you want to go on that date with Jake? No. Were you still mad that, technically, you now had to go out with your ex-boyfriend? Yes.
The game ended and the party-goers dispersed throughout the apartment. You lingered in your spot on the couch, your arms crossed and heart full of mixed emotions. Peter, whose gaze never strayed from you, walked over to where you were sitting.
“We don’t actually have to go out,” he whispered, hoping that you’d actually look at him this time. “I just didn’t think you wanted to go out with that guy. He seemed like kind of an asshole.”
“Yeah, well, it would have been nice if you let me decide that. You’re not my boyfriend, anymore Peter. We aren’t even friends. You don’t get a say in who I go out on dates with,” you grumbled, your eyes focusing on everything in the room except for him.
Before you could say anything else, Peter had already grabbed you by the hand, dragging you away from the rest of the party. Strangely enough, you went along with it, a little curious to hear him out.
You started to remember your first date, and it was almost like you could hear his excited laughter after you finally managed to knock a pin down. It became a tradition that whenever you had something to celebrate, Peter would pick you up and twirl you around until you had to beg him to stop.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Peter slamming the door behind him and cornering you against it, his heartbeat racing. He had pulled you into the laundry room. “I can’t stand seeing you with anybody else,” he panted, eyes flickering down towards your mouth.
His hand pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and your breath hitched as you felt his rough fingertips against your skin. But before he could lean in to kiss you, you were ducking underneath his arm and backing away.
“Peter, we really shouldn’t,” you whispered, watching the disappointment wash over his face. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him, you just couldn't forget how he had broken your heart months ago. “It’s over, okay?”
“Y/N, please. I—”
“You what? You love me? Because last time we were together, I told you how much I loved you and you said that we should break up. Remember?” you cried, embarrassed at how you couldn’t control your emotions anymore. “You’re just… you’re too late.”
You fumbled with the door, slipping through the opening before rushing towards the balcony. As soon as the cold air hit you, a wave of relief washed over your body, and you laid your head against the metal railing. Your breathing slowed and time seemed to stand still as you watched the snowflakes flutter through the wind.
“Peter’s an idiot,” you heard a voice call out from behind you. You turned to see Harry holding an extra coat in his arms, and you started to wonder just how long you had been standing out there. He draped it over your shoulders before leaning next to you against the balcony’s edge.
“Huh?” you asked, wondering if he knew what had just happened. You looked at him, the multicolored Christmas lights reflecting off his shiny hair. “What do you mean?”
“He’s stupid for ever letting you go,” he remarked. He had a look in his eyes that made you unsure of what he actually meant. “I mean, look at you. You’re so beautiful, and smart, and funny. And if he was dumb enough to throw all of that away, then yeah, Peter’s an idiot.”
“Oh, thanks, I guess,” you shrugged, your voice faint under the music that was still playing inside. You looked at him, his cheeks a rosy hue, which you couldn’t tell was from the cold or whatever he was trying to tell you.
“You know, I used to have the biggest crush on you,” Harry admitted, laughing a little bit at how nervous he was. Everybody knew that he was a player, so being flustered over a girl was uncharted territory for him. “I never told you this, but you were my first kiss.”
“Wait, really?” you asked, a little shocked at his confession. “But I thought you kissed Sarah Emerson on the playground in the fifth grade?”
“Nope. I was just a liar,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “It was right before our eighth grade formal, when you asked me to teach you how to kiss because you were scared that Jeremy Pellegrino was going to try and french you.
“Oh! I forgot all about that,” you laughed, suddenly remembering just how long you and Harry had been friends. “Hold on a second... You gave me kissing lessons without knowing how to kiss!?”
“Guilty,” Harry chuckled as you punched him on the arm. “Ow! Damn, Y/N. When did you get so strong?”
“I have a lot of rage,” you mumbled before the two of you burst out into laughter, which slowly faded into a comfortable silence.
“You don’t feel that way anymore, right?” you wondered out loud. Harry looked at you, smiling softly.
“No, not anymore,” he affirmed, and you let out a sigh of relief. You knew what it felt like to love someone and not be loved back. “I think what really helped me get over it was seeing how happy you and Parker were when you were dating.”
“He misses you a lot,” Harry continued, his tone more serious than before. “He keeps this scarf that you left behind under his pillow because it still smells like you. I found out because he was having a pretty bad dream one night and I had to try really hard to calm him back down. And we both thought Gwen would help him move on and get his mind off of you, but I think she only made him realize just how much he still loves you—”
“Harry,” you interrupted, cutting his rambles short. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because you and Peter should be together.”
“You think so?” you asked him, pulling the jacket tighter to keep you warm.
“Yeah. We all do.” It took only seconds for Harry to realize his fumble, accidentally admitting that the whole thing had been planned by him and your friends.
“We?” Your frowned, all of the coincidences from tonight suddenly making much more sense. “Wait, did you know that Peter was going to be here tonight all along?”
“Uh… yeah, about that. MJ, Ned, and I have kind of been pulling a Parent Trap on you guys.”
“HARRY!” You glared inside to see them not-so-secretly watching the entire exchange from behind the Christmas tree. Ned did some awkward finger guns, which MJ immediately swatted down. “I am so going to get you guys!”
You marched inside to where your friends were attempting to hide, the rest of the party guests too drunk and oblivious to notice what was happening.
“The eagle has left the nest. I repeat, The eagle has left the nest!” Ned yelled, ducking behind MJ, who was already shielding herself with a throw pillow.
“What’s going on?” Betty whined, half-asleep on the couch. “Is this that stupid plan about Peter and Y/N?”
“It’s not stupid!” Harry grumbled, his voice cracking a little bit. You could hear MJ snorting about it from her hiding spot. “Whatever, Michelle.”
“Shut up!” she shouted back.
“No, you!” he said, crossing his arms and standing his ground.
“Make me,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes and shooting daggers at him.
“Uh, guys. This isn’t about you two,” Ned interrupted, snapping them out of their mini argument. There was a weird tension between them that you just knew you would have to address some time in the future.
“Right,” MJ continued, sticking a middle finger up at Harry before turning to you. “Y/N. You should go talk to Peter.”
You nodded, exchanging hopeful looks with each of your friends before walking away. They might be dramatic goofballs, but you loved them so much that you didn’t really care.
Wandering around the party, you spotted Peter trapped in a conversation with Brad Davis, who was explaining his conspiracy theories about the Denver Airport and its demonic horse statue.
“So, all I’m saying is that they’re totally planning the end of the world over there. I mean, the Freemasons built an entire bunker for when they activate the nukes!” he rambled, Peter politely nodding along to his nonsense.
“Hey,” you said, tapping Brad on the shoulder and batting your eyelashes at him. “Can I borrow Peter?”
“Uh, yeah, totally, Y/N,” he stuttered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk. You could smell the peppermint Schnapps on his breath.
“Great. Thanks, Brad!” you smiled, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him towards the staircase. By the time you made it to his bedroom, he had already asked what was going on about ten times.
“Why’d you dump me?” you asked, the two of you sitting together on the edge of his bed, your knee brushing against his. He could tell you were wasting no time in getting to the point. “Be honest.”
He stared at the floor, unsure of how to answer your question. You reached for his hand, running your thumb across his knuckles until he looked up to see you smiling at him. His eyes were starting to water. “Just tell me, Peter. It’s okay.”
“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was scared of how much I love you. I mean, Liz was just a crush, and Gwen was a hookup. I’ve only ever loved you, Y/N. Before we met, I had to watch May’s heart break day after day when we lost Uncle Ben, and when I realized how much I loved you... I just wasn’t sure if I could handle ever losing you like that. And so I felt like I needed to protect you from all of the people who would want to hurt you.”
“Hey, Peter. Calm down. I’m right here,” you whispered, wiping a tear from his face. You watched as his breathing slowed, eventually evening out. “Why would anybody want to hurt me?”
“Because…” he started, hesitating a little bit. “Because I’m Spider-Man.”
Your eyes grew big as you mulled over what he had just said. “Are you being serious right now?”
He nodded, feeling a weight lift from his chest. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to his closet, digging around through piles of clothes before he found what he was looking for.
“Holy shit,” you breathed out. Peter was holding up Spider-Man’s suit. His suit. The sweatshirt from earlier made a lot more sense now.
“I would never lie to you,” he said, folding it up and sitting back down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought I was doing the right thing—that you’d be safe—but I was so stupid. I, uh, I think about you all the time. I worry whether you’ve gotten home alright and how your little brother’s doing and if your mom got the promotion that she wanted and—”
You cut him off with a kiss, something you had been dying to do ever since you shut his bedroom door. “I forgive you,” you sighed, gently playing with his hair.
Peter stared back at you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Does this mean that we’re back together?”
“Yep,” you confirmed, before leaning into another kiss. And another. And another.
“Wait,” Peter said, breaking away from you. “I have a present for you. It’s actually from when we first started dating, but I was waiting until Christmas to give it to you.”
He moved to his desk, digging through one of the drawers before pulling out a flash drive. “Here it is,” he smiled, dropping it into your hand. It had your name scribbled on it next to a cat sticker. “It’s a playlist. Of all the songs that make me think of you. I think it’s got around a hundred on there?”
“Wow,” you beamed, marveling at the little piece of plastic in your hand. “You’re making me look bad. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Not true. You owe me a date, remember?” he reminded you, wiggling his eyebrows and pulling you into his lap.
“You’re right. Let me think,” you hummed, running through all the ideas of what the two of you could do. “Oh! I got it. The Central Park Squirrel Census for this year just got released. What if we analyzed the data? You could do the wrangling and I could do the visualizations!”
“I love you so much,” he laughed, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose. You giggled as Peter buried his face into your shoulder, his grip around your waist tightening. “But you are such a nerd.”
“I’m your nerd, Parker,” you agreed, leaning further into his embrace. “Always have been and always will be.”
—————-
Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @parkerlovebot @alytavzla @yourbiggestspiderfan @silentium-tais-toi @jailcalledlife @orangesodafoam @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideydreamers @taciturnspidey @harrisonsoceaneyes
P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#peter parker oneshot#peter parker imagine#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman#spiderman x reader#mcu#marvel#tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst
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Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Part 10]
Booker’s “reunion” with the immortals.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue
Tagged: @lucy-sky, @city-of-weird, @all-the-right-regrets, @alannister-always-pays-her-debts
Warnings: none
Gif Source: thompsonconnors
You yanked the knife out of Nicky’s chest and shifted back a few paces, keeping your gun pointed in the general direction of the others. Booker immediately shoved his into his pants, presenting his empty hands to his fellow immortals. You lowered your gun, appearing relaxed. But that feline grace clung to your movements, letting Booker know you were still in attack mode.
“I can explain,” Booker said, then hesitated. Could he?
“First you sell us to Merrick, and now you are trying to kill us again?” Joe cried.
“No, I’m not—”
“Who is your friend?” Nicky wheezed as the wound in his chest closed.
Their voices pounded against Booker’s skull. Raking a hand through his hair, he tried to find the words, tried not to shout back.
“Book.” Andy’s voice rose above the clamor. “Why are you here?”
He passed another hand through his hair again, feeling sick. His palm came away slick with sweat and grease, a tremor rolling through his hand. He wiped it on his pants, clenched it into a fist to hide the shaking.
“Booker?” Nile prompted.
Clearing his throat, his gaze directed at the floor, Booker managed to say, “I didn’t know it was you. I wasn’t told I was being sent for you.”
Joe snorted, shaking his head incredulously. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t! She didn’t tell me.”
Their collective gazes turned on you. You didn’t waver beneath them, one eyebrow arching. “I wasn’t made aware that you were his family.”
“Who is this?” Andy asked.
“This is…she is my friend.” The words were utterly sincere to Booker’s ears, surprising him. He met your eyes for a split second before turning back to the others. “She was doing me a favor.”
“By trying to kill us? She could have killed Andy!” Joe stormed toward Booker.
Suddenly you were there, interposed between them. Joe look at you in surprise, startled. Booker glanced at the others, saw the confusion in their faces. You had crossed the entire room in a split second without seeming to run.
“I didn’t know!” The words were old and tired, but true. “Quynh didn’t tell me.”
Tension snapped tight in the room.
“Quynh?” Andy asked, her voice tight, guarded.
“She got out,” he said. “I don’t know how. She just did. She showed up at my apartment—”
Joe snorted. “Why should we believe you?”
Booker looked past him to Nile. “Do you dream of her drowning?”
She hesitated, realization dawning on her face. “Not in a while now.”
Andy’s attention snapped to Nile. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t really think about it. I was just…relieved.”
“She’s out,” Booker repeated. “And she sent us here…to hurt you.”
~~
The immortals watched you warily as you leaned against the far wall, hands held loosely at your sides in your least intimidating posture. They had gathered around the dinner table, seated as they digested the devastating news Booker had brought. Andy took it the worst, her face drawn and pale, a mild tremor rolling through her now and again.
Booker felt awful, his guts roiling, his chest constricting. He didn’t know what else to say, so he sat in the silence, afraid to look anyone in the face. Joe’s anger had diminished, though Nicky’s remained, a quiet undertow that Booker could sense despite Nicky’s placid face. Only Nile didn’t seem to mind Booker’s presence, though her aura of pity sickened him just as much.
The urge to drink was so strong he was itching in his own skin, on the verge of clawing it off with his own fingernails. He felt your eyes boring into the back of his neck, willing him to work through it.
“Why would she send you?” Nile asked, looking past Booker’s shoulder.
“I’m assuming she thought I could withstand all of you,” you answered quietly.
The looks that passed between the immortals told Booker all he needed to know. You had put each of them down except for Andy. If Booker hadn’t burst in, you would have been on Andy before the others could recover.
“What are you?”
“A weapon,” you answered thickly. “Designed to kill.”
“That’s what we do,” Joe pointed out. “You’re different.”
“Can you break a man’s sternum with one hand?”
“She broke both my wrists,” Booker added, “the first time we met. We hit a tree and she got back up.”
“An immortal?” Nile asked.
“No, a super soldier. Think Captain America,” you clarified. “Quynh asked Booker to break me out, and she wanted me to pursue you. Specifically Andy.”
Andy shoved herself away from the table, paced away. The others looked at her with sympathy, though all Booker could feel was heart-wrenching guilt. He was doomed to bring nothing but misery to everyone he knew.
“I shouldn’t have stopped looking for her,” Andy whispered, burying her face in one hand. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” Nicky assured her. “You didn’t know how to find her. You tried for so long and found nothing. It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is. And she wants me to suffer for it.”
“Is there any way we can talk to her?” Nile asked. “Booker, you know where she is. Couldn’t you take us there?”
“She’s probably moved by now,” you said. “She knows what she’s doing. I’d wager she is actually nearby, waiting.”
“You don’t have a rendezvous point?”
“We were to go to the airport. I doubt we’d take off, though. She would probably pick us up in a car and lead us elsewhere.”
“And you’re such an expert?”
You met Joe’s hard gaze. “Yes.”
Booker stared at his hands, numb.
You pushed off the wall and stood beside Booker’s chair. “I have a plan, if you’d like to hear it.”
#Booker x Reader#Booker#Booker imagine#Sebastien le Livre x Reader#Sebastien le Livre#Sebastien le Livre imagine#Matthias Schoenaerts x Reader#matthias schoenaerts#Matthias Schoenaerts imagine#The Old Guard
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this thing
pairing: luke patterson x julie molina
julie's new assignment in her music program is to write a duet with a partner. her partner? nick.
a simple fic all about a jealous luke patterson.
“is it terrible that i want you all to myself?”
masterlist || ao3
When Caleb’s curse was broken, and Luke could finally touch Julie, he thought that everything would change.
It was no secret to anyone that they had a connection; it was evident in everything they did. And after their emotional embrace when they thought it was the end, he thought nothing else could go wrong. This was where he was meant to be, with Julie and his best friends by his side.
He was wrong.
Things slowly went back to normal. They continued playing local gigs, and Luke and Julie continued writing songs together. It was different now. They could touch each other, but they weren’t sure how to go about it. They mostly stuck to light touches; shoulders pressing on the piano bench, fingers brushing against each other or Luke throwing an arm around her shoulders when he got super excited about something.
It was a slow going process, but he was working on it.
Well, he was trying. But every time he made some progress, a roadblock would always come up.
Julie’s new assignment in her music program included writing a song; she had to write a duet with a partner.
“A duet?” Luke snorted. “Perfect. We can write one right now.”
Julie shot him an awkward smile, patting his arm so he halted on the piano keys. “No,” she explained. “I have to write a duet with a partner from my class.”
“Oh,” Alex exclaimed, wondering why she looked so nervous. “Are we finally going to hear a Double Trouble original?”
She laughed nervously. “No,” she repeated again.
“I can’t be the only confused one right now,” Reggie replied, “how is this conversation taking so long?”
Luke looked up at her from his position on the piano bench. “Yeah Jules, what’s going on?”
“My partner is Nick!” She exclaimed in one large breath.
Alex dropped one of his drumsticks, Reggie tripped over his amp cord and Luke pressed down harshly on the piano keys, resulting in a cringe from the whole band.
It was something out of a movie, honestly.
“Oh,” Luke murmured. ‘Oh’ is something you say when you are gifted socks, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say. “That sounds uh — like fun. Sounds like fun.”
Alex was sharing a look with Reggie, as Julie avoided Luke’s eye contact.
“Uh — when are you guys doing that?” Alex asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. It was too late; it was already way past the point of awkward.
Julie busied herself with grabbing her songbook. “He should be here soon, actually. Do you think you guys could — uh, disappear?”
Luke wasn’t expecting that to hurt as much as it did.
“Uh, yeah, we can do that,” he replied in a clipped tone. He moved away from the piano, grabbed his acoustic and shot a pointed look to Alex and Reggie. “Come on boys, let’s disappear.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from Julie to poof away.
Alex shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. We’ll catch you later.”
Reggie wished her the best with the song and they both poofed away.
x
Julie wasn’t completely clueless. She could tell that Luke was a little bit put off by her news, and while she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, she knew that wasn’t normal Luke behaviour. Unfortunately, her mind was a little too preoccupied with Nick and the current song they had to write.
She was honest with Nick. She told him she had feelings for someone else, and he understood that. And now she had to write a duet with him? Most likely a love song? That just made things weird. And confusing.
But to her surprise, things actually went much better than expected.
She was used to writing songs with Luke, and only Luke; so, this was a completely new experience, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Nick was fun and understanding, and didn’t push her. Now that their feelings were out of the way, she could really see herself becoming great friends with Nick.
But then Luke poofed into the studio unexpectedly, and she wasn’t so sure.
Julie and Nick were sitting on the piano bench, and she was playing with the keys, trying to find a suitable melody. Luke was hoping Nick would be gone by now, but instead he was faced with Nick, in his place next to Julie.
It lit a fire inside of him.
“Well, isn’t this cute?” Luke exclaimed, a slight tease of sarcasm in his tone. “How’s the song going?”
Julie shot him a tense smile while Nick was looking down at her fingers splayed over the piano keys.
“Oh, right,” he smirked, “you can’t talk to me while Nicky-poo is here, or else he’ll think you’re a little crazy.”
Julie shook him off, focusing on the notes she was playing.
“So, what kind of song is it?” Luke was suddenly right beside her, in between her and Nick. She rolled her eyes, trying to refocus once again. “Does Nick even know how to play the piano? He looks pretty clueless.”
She huffed in frustration and caught Nick’s attention.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, looking at her in concern. Luke appeared beside him, mimicking his expression.
Julie gritted her teeth together. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine,” she explained, “I just have this horrible, annoying headache that won’t seem to go away.”
Luke placed a hand over his heart and pulled a frown. “That hurts, Julie,” he pouted, “but not as much as this. Does he really think these are good song lyrics?” He was looking over Nick’s shoulder, at the lines he’d scribbled into a notebook. “Jules, you can’t be serious.”
Her fingers pressed extra harshly on the keys. “Is he trying to write you a love song?” Luke gasped, crowding her space now. “Is Nicky-poo trying to express his love for you in a song? Is he really trying to do that with these lyrics? Because honestly, they’re worse than Reggie’s country so—“
“Oh my god!” Julie exploded, smashing down on the piano keys. The constant buzzing in her ears coming from Luke caused her to snap and within seconds, she was turning to Nick apologetically. “Oh my god,” she added, softer this time, “I’m so sorry. I —“
Nick shook his head, smiling politely. “No, it’s alright. I think I should go. We can meet up some other time.”
Julie watched him go helplessly. “Okay — I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it Jules, see you at school.”
Luke hopped onto the piano as Nick closed the door to the garage. “Finally, he’s gone! Honestly Julie, I think you can do better. Also, why is he calling you Jules? That’s reserved for the band only. Oh, and Flynn.”
Julie trained her murderous glare onto the boy sitting obliviously on the piano. “Luke, what the hell?”
“What?” He asked her thoughtlessly, reaching for his journal and flipping to a blank page. “We should really start on this new song; we have a show on Friday and the phantoms are expecting some new material. I think Flynn —“
“No Luke, what the hell?”
He just blinked at her.
“You knew we were writing a song! Why did you come back here?”
Luke merely shrugged. “I thought you guys were done.”
“And then when you realized we weren’t done, why didn’t you leave?” She asked angrily. He seemed so oblivious and nonchalant; it was starting to drive her crazy.
“This was just too precious to miss,” he smirked. “Plus, I figured you’d need help writing that song. No one does it like us, and his lyrics sucked.”
Julie stood up from the piano bench and started pacing. “Why are you being so mean? You don’t even know Nick.”
“I don’t need to,” he shrugged, “he’s clearly just into you and using this as an excuse to hit on you.”
She sent him a confused look. “What are you even talking about? Nick and I are just friends!”
“Sure,” he snorted, refusing to make eye contact.
Julie stopped in her tracks, turning to him with an amused, yet nervous expression. “Luke, are you — are you jealous?”
Luke’s head snapped up and his hazel eyes narrowed. “Jealous?”
“Yeah, jealous!” She argued. “You showed up here when you knew I was busy with him, you insulted him I don’t know how many times and you basically drove me crazy until I drove him away!”
Luke pursed his lips. “That sounds like a you problem.” Julie raised an eyebrow. “I learned that from Alex. You know what else I learned? He taught me what a ‘simp’ is but honestly, I really don’t get it —“
“Why are you changing the subject?” Julie asked in a demanding tone. She moved in front of him, where he was perched on top of the piano. “You’re acting like a jealous bo—“
Luke’s eyebrows raised up underneath his fringe. “Like a jealous what?”
“Like a jealous boyfriend!” Julie exploded. She threw her arms up in frustration, nearly hitting his knee.
Luke rolled his eyes and slipped around her and off the piano. “Okay, Julie,” he frowned, “I am not jealous. I just have a duty to save the world from terrible lyrics.”
“I was writing the song too. Are you calling my lyrics terrible?”
Luke furrowed his brows, pausing in his stride. “Wait, no. That’s not what I said.”
“Terrible lyrics. That’s what you said.”
“Yes, okay. That’s what I said but not what I meant,” he replied, looking extremely confused. “This conversation is getting away from me.”
Julie rolled her eyes, grabbing her songbook and heading for the door. “Good, because I’m finished with it.”
“Wait, wait — Julie,” Luke groaned, rushing to move in front of her and block her exit. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Julie pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Okaaaay,” he dragged out, the corner of his lips quirking up nervously. “That’s obviously not good enough.”
He waited for her to say something and sighed when she didn’t.
“Okay, yes, I was jealous,” he huffed, avoiding eye contact. “I just thought — I thought you were over him and I thought there was something here. You know,” he mumbled, motioning between the two of them, “between us.”
“Luke,” Julie sighed, “Nick and I really are just friends. He asked me out and I said no, and he’s okay with that. We’re solely working on our assignment.”
Luke nodded, meeting her eyes in an awkward glance. “Oh.”
“You have no reason to be jealous,” she grinned, “you’re still my favourite song writing partner.”
He puffed out his chest, leaning back against the door with a charming smile. “I better be.”
They spent the next moment staring into each other’s eyes.
“I’m sorry I acted like an idiot,” Luke apologized quietly. “Is it terrible that I want you all to myself?”
Julie rolled her eyes, attempting to mask her sudden shyness. “Not when you say it like that.”
“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour for your next writing session,” he replied with a cheeky smile; Julie raised an eyebrow. “Right, yes. I’ll be sure to be nowhere near here.”
Julie shook her head, laughing and pushing against Luke’s shoulder as she walked away. It was still unusual to be able to touch him, even for little things like shoulder touches. But now that she could, it happened without her even thinking about it.
“But seriously, can we write our song now? I’m feeling extra inspired.”
Julie rolled her eyes, but made her way to her seat beside him on the piano bench where he was waiting expectantly. “Why is that?”
“Because I have this thing with this really beautiful girl, and I think it’s about time we wrote a proper song about it.”
#julie and the phantoms#jatp#jatp au#jatp fic#jatp fanfic#jatp fanfiction#juke#juke au#juke fic#juke fanfic#juke fanfiction#julie x luke#luke x julie#luke patterson#julie molina#alex jatp#reggie jatp#nick jatp#alex mercer#reggie peters#jatp masterlist#juke masterlist#palina#fics
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Hello! Can I request andreil Christmas morning with the foxes? Or just them?
Yes, yes you can <33
(Technically I have one more prompt before this one, but consider this my contribution to your asks for happy things~)
-----
Sleepy, cozy mornings were a new thing for Neil. Not that he’d never been tired in the morning, or had never been warm and comfortable. There was a difference. Sleepy, for one, implied a certain level of inherent safety and lack of urgency that even throughout his entire first year with the Foxes he had never had the luxury of. Similarly, cozy was a foreign notion to him that carried a downy reassurance of safety he’d never been privileged enough to even consider.
Right now, though? Right now he was basking in what was decidedly a sleepy, cozy morning.
Light was filtering through the slatted blinds of Andrew’s bedroom in the house in Columbia like ghost-breath, pale and ephemeral in the early morning. Neil’s eyes were open, but only just, and his mind was so peacefully blank that he spent what could have been ten minutes and could have been a full hour just watching the light steadily warm and brighten, igniting the floating specks of dust like tiny fireworks in a celebration of such unfathomable ease. Behind him were the low, steady cadences of Andrew’s breathing against his shoulder and his heartbeat against his spine -- a duet that Neil idly thought he’d be happy to play on repeat for the rest of his life.
So yeah, he was cozy. He was sleepy. He was... happy. And he was content to bask in that for as long as he could. Stray thoughts filtered through the haze of his only half-awake mind, none of them sticking, none of them elevating his own heart rate above its slow, relaxed beat. It was more that he just... noticed things, then let them go. He noticed the shifting of the light, he noticed the creaking of the house, he noticed that warm, pleased feeling that pulsed in his chest and spread all the way down to each finger and each toe when Andrew sighed and nuzzled his face against his shoulder, the arm around his waist tightening slightly.
He allowed himself to wake slowly, and when he did feel alert and fully conscious, he remained in place to bask just a little bit longer anyway.
“Hn..”
Behind him, Andrew made a small, sleepy noise of his own and tightened his arm around him again, fully hiding his face against the back of Neil’s neck. Since Andrew couldn’t see him anyway, Neil didn’t bother hiding the smile the action conjured.
“Morning,” he offered in greeting, knowing the difference between Andrew’s unconscious movements and signs that he was actually awake but resisting it.
“Too early.” Andrew’s response was muffled, grumbled as it was against Neil’s skin, but decipherable.
Neil shifted slightly, and Andrew instantly loosened his hold so that Neil could roll onto his side to face him. As much as he enjoyed being held by Andrew sometimes, it was still his favorite to lay facing him. He liked to be able to look at him, to watch his face and see the way light brought out new hues in his hazel eyes. They were almost green this morning, but flecked with brown that flashed gold when he narrowed his eyes into a glare.
“What?” Andrew accused.
Neil debated telling Andrew that he was beautiful, that getting to see his face first thing in the morning was his favorite thing about waking up in Columbia, that if it was the last thing he saw he’d count it worth it every single time.
Instead he shrugged and said, “Nothing.”
Andrew’s glare narrowed and by the accusatory glance at Neil’s mouth, Neil supposed he must be smiling or making some other offensive expression that he knew Andrew must either like more or even less than he said, considering how often he would kiss it away.
Not this morning, though, which was preferable. Neil loved kissing Andrew. He did not like the particular vintage of ass that occurred first thing in the morning before either of them had a chance to brush their teeth.
By the annoyed sigh Andrew made, Neil supposed he had come to the same conclusion. He didn’t resist when Andrew put his whole hand on Neil’s face to push it into the pillow, only humming in an amused way that he knew would annoy the other man. Andrew was already rolling out of bed when Neil heard the scoff that told him he’d succeeded on that point.
Pleased with himself, Neil took an extra few moments to stretch, burying his face into Andrew’s pillow and inhaling deeply, allowing himself to go a little light-headed on the rush he got when his senses were flooded with Andrew’s scent. Andrew was gone by the time he’d fully roused himself and was back by the time Neil had changed out of his pajamas and into some lounge pants and a fresh t-shirt. They didn’t have any real plans for the day that he knew of and he was planning to hold onto this cozy feeling for as long as possible even if the sleepy bit had faded.
Andrew was waiting for him in the hallway when Neil got out of the bathroom, holding a red bundle of knitted fabric in his hands. When Neil only raised an eyebrow, Andrew shoved it at his chest and said, “Nicky’s stupid tradition.”
Neil might have asked, except that he could now see that Andrew had pulled on a sweater over the shirt he’d been wearing when Neil had entered the bathroom. It was dark green with a gold and white tree on it, loopy knitted lettering proclaiming ‘Happy Holidays!’ with aggressive cheer. Now he knew he was grinning, and he didn’t even press a hand to his mouth to hide and cover it, because it felt nothing like his father’s smile. This was something entirely different, born of shock and awe and humor and affection in a combination Neil didn’t think he’d ever actually experienced before.
“Put yours on before you come down,” Andrew ordered with a flat expression Neil didn’t believe for an instant. “I do not want to listen to Nicky’s whining.”
Then he turned and marched down the stairs, where Neil realized he could hear the sounds of quietly chipper holiday music and the rustle of bodies moving around.
Neil looked down at the bundle in his hands and shook it out to see the design. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan at the image, which was probably the ugliest-looking rendition of a reindeer he’d ever seen in his life. Neil would never say that he had an eye for fashion or art, but this was just... sad. The shade of the nose was just slightly darker than the background of the sweater and he was pretty sure the animal was cross-eyed.
Ah well, it wasn’t like he’d have to look at it if he was wearing it. With a shake of his head, he tugged it on and turned to head downstairs. At least it was warm. It was also big on him and knitted with something soft, so if Neil were to call it anything, he might say it was... cozy.
“Neil!” Nicky cheered from the stove when Neil entered the kitchen. He was wearing a bright green sweater with an elf on it. Or at least, he thought it was an elf. To his knowledge, elves didn’t wear purple eyeshadow, but hey -- he wasn’t here to judge. “You wore it! I knew it was the perfect sweater for you.”
Neil raised an eyebrow and tugged on the sweater, looking down at it. “Huh. It’s that Christmas deer, right? Randolph?” he asked, full well knowing the correct name. He’d lived on the run for half his life, not under a rock.
Nicky made a pained, whimpering sound. “Dead. I’m dead. You’ve killed me. Neil, don’t... don’t tell me you’ve never heard of... of Rudolph..?”
Neil looked up at him and affixed something between innocence and confusion on his face. “Isn’t that the guy who makes that snowman. Uh. Freezy or something?”
“Frosty! No, he--”
“Nicky, he’s fucking with you.” This from Aaron, who had no right to ruin his fun when he was sitting there with (a distinctly cross-eyed) Santa Claus on his own sweater. Why did all of these characters have a vision impairment?
Nicky looked from Aaron to Neil, who just shrugged and moved to make himself a cup of coffee.
“Aww Neil, you asshole,” Nicky whined, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the grin on his face as he turned back to the stove, where he was just finishing up the bacon. It appeared to be the last thing on the menu, because the table was already laden with every single breakfast food Neil could fathom. Three different kinds of eggs, toast, waffles, sausages, biscuits -- it was a regular feast and Neil’s stomach rumbled at the sight.
“Wow Nicky, what’s with the spread. Did I forget someone’s birthday or something?” Neil asked as he took his usual spot next to Andrew, who’d been watching the whole previous exchange over the rim of his own coffee cup.
Nicky turned around with the plate of bacon in hand, his expression stricken. “Neil you.. you do know what today is... don’t you?”
Aaron sighed and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again and glared at Andrew, who must have kicked him. Neil bit back a smirk and frowned instead. “Uh... December twenty-fifth? Probably?” He looked toward the fridge, where Nicky’s calendar hung. The twenty-fifth was circled in green and red marker with two smiley-faces and at least six exclamation points.
“Shit, it’s your birthday isn’t it? Sorry Nicky, I forgot. I’ll make it up to--”
“It’s CHRISTMAS, Neil! Christmas!!” He set the plate down, like he needed to get it out of his hands before he dropped it. Or maybe so he could fee his hands to gesture emphatically at the sweaters they were all wearing. And the paper snowflakes in the window. And the Christmas lights strung around the cabinets. And the little snowman figurines arranged in various places around the kitchen (even the salt and pepper shakers were a Mr. and Mrs. Snowman now).
Neil followed each gesture obediently, then met Nicky’s eyes. “Oh. Is it?”
The sound that came out of Nicky was something between a scream and a sob. Neil reached across the table and pilfered a piece of bacon, munching on it as the twins also started to fill their plates and Nicky pulled himself back together again.
This time, it was Andrew that took pity on his cousin.
“Neil knows what and when Christmas is, Nicky.”
Nicky looked from Andrew to Neil, then to Aaron (who rolled his eyes and took two extra links of sausage), before finally settling his gaze back on Neil.
Neil blinked at him, then smiled -- because.. well, he couldn’t think of a reason not to, and wasn’t that a weird reason to smile? Instead of commenting on any of that he stole two sausages directly off of Aaron’s plate and put them on Nicky’s, ignoring the affronted cursing from the other man.
“Merry Christmas, Nicky,” he said pointedly, then went about loading his own plate.
Neil had never thought much about Christmas before, it just hadn’t been anywhere close to his list of things to worry about. But now... now that he was able to think about things that, well, that weren’t worries he thought that maybe it was something he could kinda get used to. Maybe it was something he could like -- especially if it meant sleepy, cozy mornings and times like this, where he could be so comfortable, so happy, in the circle of his family.
#aftg#aftg fanfic#asks#100 followers#my writing#wolfstsrshipper#neil josten#andrew minyard#aaron minyard#nicky hemmick#christmas morning#christmas fic#holiday fic#nicky made those sweaters#he made them by hand#the twins have a silent agreement that they've never talked about#but christmas is the one day where they've always indulged nicky#its now they show their appreciation to him#they just kinda let him go nuts on christmas#and they go along with it#not without complaint#but without any real resistance#because of that christmas has kinda become the Ultimate Day Of Happiness for Nicky#and i just really like that hc
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Hi< so I've just watcher the old guard like three times and consumed all the stories like five times and I'm obsessed. I love your stories and I wanted to share and fic idea I have that want to share with you and anyone else who loves this movie. So I had an angsty thought of what if rather than Andy and Quynh that were captured it was Joe and Nicky. Thus one of them were placed in an iron maiden under the sea. And post-movie the one who was trapped goes after the one who got away?
Nile shot up in bed gasping for air. A moment later the lights in the room turned on, the others having woken up. “Sorry,” she panted. There was no reason for her to be out of breath, no reason for her to pant and gasp like she needed every lungful she could get, and yet.
Once it was apparent that there was no danger, the man known as Booker flopped back onto his bed with a grunt. “Get some sleep,” he told her. Nile nodded at him in reply even though he wasn’t looking at her. She knew she wasn’t going back to sleep, not after that nightmare, but some part of her was hardwired to be polite to a man who had welcomed her into his home and given her a place to sleep.
“Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone.”
There was a world weary sigh from the far bed. “What was it?” Nile looked over to see Andy sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing at her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Nile tried to brush off. “Just a bad dream.” Booker stilled in the bed next to her, his fruitless shuffles to get comfortable ceasing at her words. Nile looked at him then back at Andy to find the older woman eyeing her carefully. “It’s nothing,” she said again.
Andy looked like she was going to let it drop then at the last minute shook her head. “Tell us,” she urged. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“I don’t remember that in my job description,” Booker scoffed. Andy reached out and smacked him before nodding at Nile in encouragement.
Nile cleared her throat. “There was a man-”
“Oh that kind of dream, huh?” This time when Andy reached out to smack Booker, Nile kicked out and hit him on the other side.
“He was drowning,” Nile continued. The others froze. “He- he was in a coffin? I think? And he was drawing and- and trying to scream. And trying to get out.” The others exchanged looks, half misery, half pained. “Did- do you know him?”
“His name is Yusuf.” Nile whirled to find a man standing in the doorway behind her, his face shrouded in a hood. Underneath, his eyes were old and weary and a little bit broken. “And you must be Nile.”
Nile didn’t know what to say. There was a rustle of fabric as Andy threw her blankets off and rounded the beds, her arms outstretched to greet the man. “Hey,” she said quietly, far softer than Nile had ever heard her speak. “You made it.” The man let her hug him but only offered a half-hearted embrace in return.
“You said it was important.” The man’s voice was accented, like he wasn’t used to speaking in English.
“It is,” Andy told him. She stepped back and waved at Nile. “We’ve got a new one.”
“I see that,” the man nodded at her in greeting but offered nothing else.
“Nile, this is Nicky,” Andy introduced. “He’s like us, too.”
Booker got out of bed, apparently resigned to not getting any more sleep tonight, and strode past the man with barely a nod in greeting. “Nicky,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Sebastien,” Nicky replied. Nile furrowed her brow. Sebastien?
Andy sighed. “Coffee?” Nicky nodded in acquiescence and when Andy turned to her, Nile did too. She left for the kitchen with a gentle squeeze of Nicky’s shoulder.
She and Nicky stared at each other for an awkward moment before there was another rustle of fabric as Quynh got out of bed. Nile looked over her shoulder only to turn around again immediately when she saw that Quynh had to pull on some clothes. Nile watched as Nicky softened under Quynh’s approach, his shoulders sloping slightly and his eyes lightening.
Quynh didn’t say anything in greeting, just wrapped both of her arms around his neck and let him hug her tightly in return. When they didn’t pull away, Nile took it as her cue to leave and shimmied her way out of the room without disturbing them.
“So,” Nile said slowly when she entered the kitchen. “There’s more of us?” When she’d met Andy, the other woman had only mentioned Quynh and Booker.
Andy set several mugs full of coffee on the table and sat down with a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
Nile sat down and pulled one of the mugs close. “You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“It’s for your own good,” Booker added. He was hunched over his own mug. “Too much information at once makes your brain hurt. Trust me.”
Nile did, oddly enough, but that didn’t mean she liked being lied to. “How many more are there?”
“None,” Andy replied. “Just Nicky and Yusuf.”
“So Yusuf is…”
“Trapped somewhere on the bottom of the ocean,” Booker told her. He took a long sip. “The dreams won’t go away,” he warned. “Not until we meet him in person.”
Something lodged in Nile’s chest. Earlier, Booker had said he died in 1812 so if he had been having the dreams since then… “How long has he been down there?”
Booker and Andy exchanged a look. “About five hundred years,” Andy admitted. Nile felt like she wanted to throw up. “There’s a downside to not dying,” she said sardonically. “But we weren’t going to spring that on you right away.”
“What happened to him?”
Andy looked past her to where the bedroom was. “Nicky and Yusuf were together in a time and place where people didn’t like two men being together, especially if one of them was brown.” She swallowed thickly. “They tried to kill them. A couple of- well, more than a couple of times. It took me and Quynh weeks to get to them but by the time we did they had decided more drastic measures were necessary. They locked Yusuf in an iron coffin and took him out to sea. Dumped him overboard somewhere.” She shook her head. “We don’t know where. Nicky’s been looking ever since but so far-” she shrugged. “No one on the ship could say for sure where he’d been dumped overboard and with ocean currents and the technology available until recently...it hasn’t been an easy search.”
“But he’s still looking? Even after all this time?”
“He won’t stop,” Booker told her. There was something in his expression that Nile couldn’t figure out but she wasn’t sure it was altogether pleasant. “I’ve only met him a handful of times, when Andy or Quynh can drag him away from his search to help us out on a mission. As soon as it’s over, he goes right back to it.”
“Perhaps I simply do not like your company,” Nicky remarked calmly as he and Quynh joined them. They sat down in the empty chairs between Andy and Nile, Nicky between the two older women.
Booker’s lips twisted and he opened his mouth to say something but Quynh shot him a look that had his jaw snapping shut a moment later.
“So,” Nicky asked,” what exactly is the problem?”
Nile listened carefully as Andy outlined the situation, even though they’d already been through it once before. As she spoke, Nile tried to get a read on Nicky but the man shot her a stony look that had her reconsider.
When Andy was done and Nicky had asked his questions and the conversation disappeared, Nile desperately needed air and some space. It had been a very long two days and she was dealing with it as best she could but finding out that immortality could mean dying over and over again for hundreds of years had hit something deep inside her and everything was starting to get to be too much.
She pushed her chair back and took her mug to the sink before looking around the room, trying to get her bearings. She knew the area they were in was connected to the church but there were several doors leading outward and she wasn’t sure which was the correct one.
“What are you looking for?” Quynh asked kindly.
“How do I get to the church?” Nicky scoffed derisively. Nile frowned. “What?”
He rose from his seat, shaking his head. “The church is that way,” he pointed at a door on the opposite side of the room. “But your god cannot help you. He is not there. And if he is, he does not care.”
“Nicky,” Andy said softly.
Nicky shook his head and went for the bedroom. “Wake me up when it is time to kill people.” The door closed softly behind him.
“What’s his problem?” Nile stared after him.
“He lost Yusuf,” Quynh said, like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Nile didn’t think she was going to get a different answer so she crossed the room and entered the church through the door Nicky had indicated.
It was a world away from the room she had just left. The tension seeped out of her just as she left it behind. She wasn’t Catholic, had never appreciated the setting of a cathedral for her prayers, but she couldn’t deny that the place felt holy, no matter that it had been abandoned. Nile sat in one of the pews and took deep breaths, letting her mind calm. When she felt settled for the first time in days, she pulled out her phone and stared at the contact for her mom.
“That’s a bad idea,” Andy warned. Nile jumped, not having heard her approach. Andy nudged her shoulder and Nile scooted over to allow her room to sit.
“I have family,” Nile defended.
“So did Booker,” Andy replied. “He stayed in touch until they all died and-” she shook her head. “It’s a bad idea.”
Nile sniffed and shook her head. She had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say, that she didn’t know where to start.
“Why doesn’t Nicky believe in God?” She asked. Nile blinked, surprised with herself. She hadn’t realized that was weighing on her mind.
Andy braced her arms on the back of the pew in front of them and dropped her head. “He used to. He fought in the Crusades,” she revealed. “Believed in God enough to fight a war in his name.”
“What changed?” She asked. Will it change like that for me?, she wanted to ask
“Nicky and Yusuf met in the Crusades. They found out they were immortal by killing each other and then waking up to do it again and again. Eventually, they fell in love and after that they were inseparable. For most of us, it took a long time to find each other but Nicky and Yusuf had each other from the very beginning. Nicky used to call it fate or, or destiny.” She smiled sadly. “Then Yusuf was taken from him and Nicky stopped believing in all of that.” Andy sighed and sat back, her shoulders brushing Nile’s. “He used to be different. Used to believe in the goodness of the world.” The man Nile had met did not seem like a man who believed in anything. He didn’t much seem like he even believed in living. “Quynh and I helped him look for about 50 years before we gave up. There was just no way to find him. But Nicky can’t stop.”
“Can you find him now? With today’s technology?”
“We wouldn’t even know where to start looking,” Andy confessed. “Nicky’s looked everywhere we thought even halfway plausible and then he went looking farther out. It’s been five hundred years, Nile.”
“But he’s down there,” Nile protested. “He’s drowning, over and over and over again.”
“I know,” Andy told her. “Booker still dreams about him so we know he’s still there, but there’s nothing we can do. Nicky’s tried everything already.”
An explosion cut Nile off before she could say anything. In an instant, she and Andy were on their feet and running back to the living quarters. There was smoke in the air and a small fire burning in the corner but nothing moved.
“Quynh!” Andy called. “Booker! Nicky!” There was no answer. “Nile check the back rooms.” Andy went for the living room and Nile headed for the bedroom. There was no one there. The kitchen was empty too.
“Book!” She heard Andy yell. Nile rushed back out to see Andy leaning over a bloody form on the couch.
“There’s no one else here,” Nile told her as she came up next to her. She took one look at the body before them and almost threw up. It was Booker, or it had been. His chest was shredded, his guts, or what remained of them, were hanging out, and half of his head was missing.
“Come on, come on, come on!” Andy chanted. She was staring at Booker’s body earnestly, like she could will him back to life. Nile wasn’t so sure he could come back, not with his head-
Booker coughed and then groaned. His one remaining eye fluttered open, trying to focus on Andy. “What-” he coughed. One shaky hand came up his head and pressed at where his left ear should be only to keep going until it hit his brain.
Nile turned and threw up on the floor.
“Quynh and Nicky are gone,” Andy told him, apparently unconcerned with the carnage. “And we’re going to get them back.”
---
The day had not turned out like Nile had intended. It was getting to be a recurring theme in her life, one she didn’t expect to go away any time soon.
Booker had betrayed them. Well, technically she supposed Booker had betrayed all the others since he hadn’t known about her when he set them up, but it was all the same. The four of them were locked in a lab being treated as lab rats and Nile was the only one who could get them out.
So she did.
She was really getting the hang of this whole getting shot thing. It hardly slowed her down at this point.
When she burst into the lab, the four of them had been locked in an argument that stopped the second they saw her.
“Nile?!” Three voices rang out. Nicky just looked at her with grudging approval.
Nile didn’t waste time on pleasantries. She took the keys to their cuffs off the body of a guard on the floor and unlocked Andy’s restraints. Nile let her unlock the others while she guarded the door, fully prepared to shoot whoever came through it next.
A loud crash erupted behind her and Nile spun, finger on the trigger only to find Nicky on top of Booker, bashing his face in. It took both Andy and Quynh to pull him off.
“Hey!” Quynh got in Nicky’s face. “Not the time Nicolo. We need to get out of here.” Nicky didn’t appear to hear her, his eyes fixed over her tiny frame at where Andy was helping Booker to his feet. If looks could kill…
“We’re leaving,” Andy ordered. “All of us,” she added with a sharp look at Nicky.
“We do not need all of us to get out of here,” Nicky countered. Both Andy and Quynh glared him into submission, though, and soon enough the five of them were shooting their way out of the lab.
When they were free, when they had escaped the building and gotten somewhere safe enough to take a moment and breathe, Nicky pulled a sword of nowhere and cut Booker’s head off.
Andy and Quynh shouted at him but he ignored them. Nile thought she might throw up again as she watched Quynh take Booker’s head and hold it in place against his neck until his body stitched itself back together.
Nicky stood over him, sword in hand, the entire time. When Booker gasped back to life, Nicky placed his knee in his chest and his sword at his throat. “Every second I was in that lab was a second that no one was looking for Yusuf,” his voice was soft, gently even. Contrasted with the threat of the sword it was chilling. “You would have had me be locked up for a very long time.” The sword dug into Booker’s neck.
“Nicky,” Andy warned, but she didn’t move for a weapon of her own so Nicky ignored her.
“You would have him be left down there forever with no one to look for him.” The sword dug deeper into his neck and he started spitting up blood. Nicky’s eyes were cold. “Never again.”
Booker nodded, the motion tearing his throat against the blade even more. Nicky didn’t move until Booker stopped breathing. When he was very definitely dead, Nicky wiped his sword on Booker’s clothes to clean it and stood up.
“Do not call me again.” Nicky walked past Andy and Quynh without another word, got into the car and drove away. He had effectively stranded them but neither Andy nor Quynh looked too upset about that. Instead, they focused their attentions on Booker as he came back to life.
“Now,” Quynh crouched down next to him. “What are we going to do about you?”
---
Nile watched Andy and Quynh examine Copley’s research, both seemingly overwhelmed by the evidence that they had actually achieved some good with their long lives.
“Well?” Copley asked after they’d looked their fill.
“Well what?” Andy asked.
Copley struggled to speak. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Andy and Quynh exchanged a look. “We want you to help us,” Quynh answered for them. “Cover our tracks so we can keep doing our jobs.”
Copley smiled, relieved. “I can do that.”
“And one more thing,” Nile added. Quynh and Andy looked at her strangely but Nile focused on Copley. “We need you to find someone for us.”
---
Nicky had been less than ten miles off.
He’d almost hung up the phone when Nile called but she’d shouted Yusuf’s name fast enough that he paused long enough to hear her out. Nile quickly explained that Copley had found something on the ocean floor that had a strong possibility of being Yusuf’s iron coffin and when she’d told Nicky the location, he was already practically on top of him.
Quynh got them out there in time to see Nicky in scuba gear slip under the water with tools in hand. The boat he was on was small and didn’t have any equipment that could haul an iron coffin up from the bottom but he was clearly not going to wait long enough for them to get one.
Nile stood on the boat next to Andy and Quynh and stared down at the water. They couldn’t see very far beneath the surface but none of them wanted to move. Nile was fairly certain the two women were only barely holding themselves back from going after Nicky. They’d given up on Yusuf, on any hope of finding him, and the guilt was clear on their faces. But so was the hope.
The captain of the boat Nicky was on told them he only had enough oxygen for an hour’s dive. It was almost two before they saw movement. Nile got a glimpse of a shadowy form that looked vaguely human before Quynh and Andy were both jumping overboard. Nile watched as they slipped beneath the surface, their shoes kicked off and Andy’s overshirt floating to the surface. The men and women on the two boats all rushed to the sides, some shouting, others preparing to go in after the two women. Nile tried to call them off but they ignored her.
A moment later, four heads broke the surface, two of them gasping for air. Quynh had Nicky’s limp form tucked under her arm as she swam towards the boat. Someone tossed a life preserving ring out to her. She put it around Nicky and let them haul him aboard. The next one tossed down she held for the man clutched in Andy’s arms. They were both gentle as they put it around him, treading water as they watched him be pulled up.
Nicky awoke with a gasp and Nile turned from the women in the ocean to check on him. He brushed aside her hand and scrambled across the deck to the other man. He had long hair and a beard and his clothes looked like something out of a Renaissance Faire. Nile looked on as Nicky clutched at him, his hands cupping his face. “Destati, destati,” he murmured. Nile didn’t recognize the word but assumed it was Italian.
The man didn’t move and he didn’t breathe.
Andy and Quynh were both hauled up and they fell to their knees, out of breath, next to Nile.
The man was still.
Nicky had started crying, his cries of ‘destati’ continued mixed with something that sounded like Arabic. He hunched over the man, their foreheads pressed together, the words a never ending stream from his lips.
Quynh grabbed Andy’s hand and held it tight. The two women were both shedding silent tears as they looked on. Nile shook her head, unable to believe the universe could be so cruel as to finally let Yusuf die only when Nicky had found him.
The deck was silent as the assembled crew quietly gave Nicky his peace and privacy. Nile was about to turn and go herself when there was a loud cough and a quiet, “Nicolo.”
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I've got a prompt about Joe & Booker brotp 🤜💥🤛 Joe is still very angry with Booker, but the team needs his help for a mission. While Booker tries again to power through his depression by pretending he's doing okay (like he fears that if they saw how mentally unwell he actually is they might resent him even more for not getting better). For the first time Joe starts to see all the cracks in Bookers facade.
On Nony! All my dreams in this one request!
Joe seeing Booker’s depression break through a bit is gonna break both his and my heart!!!! ahhhhhhh!!
All right, *cracks Knuckles* let’s do this.
—————–
Brothers Fight.
Things happened so quickly.
Joe didn’t have the chance to argue when Andy had suggested they call Booker. Partly because it was Andy, and you don’t argue with Andy. But also because Nicky had shot him a sharp look when he had opened his mouth to argue with her anyway.
The next thing Joe knew, he was sitting on an empty car of a passenger train, staring daggers into the back of Booker’s head.
“Settle down.” Nicky whispered harshly in Arabic.
Joe sighed and shifted in his seat. He relaxed hands he hadn’t realized were clenched into fists on his lap, and switched to looking out the window at the Chinese countryside whizzing past.
It was not at all convenient for Booker to join them from Paris, and they all knew it. It had barely been five years, not to mention the fact that they had already broken his exile once only six months after it started because of the whole Quynh thing.
Everyone else wanted Booker back. Well, mostly Nile wanted him back. At least she was the most outspoken about it.
But Joe could see it on Andy’s face every time Nile brought up that she missed Booker, or wondered aloud what Booker thought of the latest news. Joe had even seen the pain and longing flicker in Nicky’s eyes more than once at the mention of Booker.
Joe just couldn’t bring himself to forgive Booker, not yet.
The train lurched as the track began to turn ever so slightly.
Nicky suddenly got out of his seat and walked to the other end of the car where Nile was sitting. He probably could feel Joe’s mind turning over the Booker issue in his head. Joe knew the whole situation bothered Nicky, but he couldn’t help it.
Andy was stretched across the entire row in front of Nile, her feet barely visible where they stuck out into the aisle.
Nicky sat in the seat across the aisle from Nile. She perked up when she noticed him and immediately passed an earbud to him, leaning partway into the aisle so that the cord would reach.
Joe smiled, despite his sour mood.
Watching the friendship between Nile and Nicky blossom had been a joy over the past five years. They had bonded in their love of music, and their religious backgrounds. When Nicky wasn’t with Joe he could often be found entertaining Nile with tales of battles from hundreds of years ago.
Booker cleared his throat and Joe’s attention was abruptly shifted back to his former friend. He felt an ache grow in his chest.
What absolutely lucky and ungrateful bastard Joe had been. To have been gifted a soulmate in Nicky and a brother in Booker and to not realize what he had.
He had wanted for nothing in his long life, not truly. He had lacked nothing. Family, friendship, safety, love. All of it wrapped up in this group. But he had not realized the space that Booker had filled in his heart until he was gone.
When they first found Booker, it had taken Nicky all of two years to start making jokes about Joe having two soulmates. And as much as Joe bristled at the implication, no matter how joking it was, that anyone could replace Nicky, Joe knew what he meant.
Booker and Joe just got each other. Of course Booker got along with Andy, and though it was less obvious, with Nicky too. But Joe and Booker, they were brothers.
They made each other laugh, and enjoyed watching sports. They shared a distaste for modern music and enjoyed hiking and running together.
They had slightly shorter tempers than Andy and Nicky had. And just as often as not the two of them could be found arguing about some trivial thing or another.
Joe never yelled at Nicky, and he hardly yelled at Andy, but fuck if he didn’t have his fair share of screaming matches with Booker over the years.
Despite that though, or perhaps because of it, Booker was his best friend.
Joe knew he had taken Booker’s betrayal harder than anyone else. He’d talked about it at length with Nicky. Even though Joe hated talking about Booker now. He hated thinking about him too. It hurt too much.
Still, he couldn’t hide this, not from Nicky. His heart knew him too well.
Booker cleared his throat again. And Joe sighed, releasing a held breath.
The train swayed slightly as the track straightened out once more.
Booker had cried into Joe’s shoulder for hours on the night his son finally passed from cancer. Joe had spent probably a fifth of his evenings since Booker had joined them watching the man get sloppy drunk, and laughing with him into the early hours of the morning.
Booker’s betrayal had hurt him, had hurt Nicky, and had almost killed Andy. Nile had been dragged into a fight she had not been prepared for within days of learning of her immortality. Joe had stared down the reality of years, potentially decades, of torture for him and Nicky because of Booker.
All of that hurt. But that wasn’t the reason Joe couldn’t forgive Booker, not really.
It was that Joe had no idea Booker was in so much pain. Joe knew Booker was a bit of a brooder, but he also had so much life, and fire within him.
How could Joe not have known? How could he not have seen the extent of the pain his friend was going through?
To have wanted so desperately to end it all, desperately enough to sell them out, but to still not have confided in Joe, not even once. Fuck- it hurt.
But even as Joe’s thoughts formed he felt guilty. How could he be mad at someone experiencing so much pain?
The endless cycle of anger and guilt he had been locked in for five years continued. Perhaps he wasn’t only mad at Booker, perhaps he was mad at himself too.
Booker had been an intricate part of Joe’s happiness for over two hundred years. Joe had never considered that the brotherhood he thought he had with Booker was one sided.
But he considered it now.
That part of his life was over, or at least on pause. Perhaps he could find it in his heart to forgive Book and to forgive himself. But not yet, the pain was still too new.
Nile laughed at something Nicky said and yanked her headphone cord back, the earbud in Nicky’s ear flying out with it.
“Ow!” Nick said, but there was a small smile on his lips and a crinkle at the side of his eyes.
Joe smiled to himself. Had this been what Nicky had felt watching him and Booker bond?
And just like that, his smile faded and he sighed once more.
“Will you stop that?” Booker snapped at him from where he sat two rows in front of Joe.
Booker turned and made eye contact with Joe over the tops of the seats.
“I can hear you being irritable from here.” Booker’s eyes didn't leave Joe’s as he spoke.
Joe rolled his eyes in response.
“Gee, I wonder what on earth could make me irritable?”
“Do you really want to do this right now?” Booker said flatly.
“No,” Joe spat back, the volume of his voice seemed to be increasing without his permission, “I want to do this in ninety five years! But no one else seems to agree with me, so this is what you get. Irritable, angry, old me.”
“Typical.” Booker stood up, “You’d let your anger at me get in the way of a mission? Put people in danger for the sake of your grudge. Can’t control yourself for, what, how long has it been? Five hours since I got back?”
Joe was up now too, meeting Booker in the aisle.
“My anger get in the way of a mission? My anger? I can do my fucking job Booker.” Joe said, stepping up closer to his former friend. “I would never put my bullshit in front of the safety of my family.”
Booker took a step backwards at Joe's advancement toward him. A look of pain flashed across his face, but it disappeared just as fast.
Somewhere in the back of Joe’s mind a small voice, that sounded very much like Nicky, chastised him for going for the kill with that last sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, he was too angry. Angry and embarrassed. He couldn’t stop the emotion spilling out of him now. A damn was broken.
Still, Joe took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even. He was vaguely aware that the low chatter coming from Nicky and Nile had stopped, but his eyes never left Booker.
“Was everything a lie? Did you enjoy any moment of your life with us?”
Booker turned around toward where Nicky and Nile were seated and then back toward Joe. His face was stern.
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He said as he pushed passed Joe toward the back of the train.
“How can I if you never told me?”
“Hard to tell you anything while in exile.” Booker bit back. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, his back still to Joe.
“You know what I mean, Book. Two hundred years and you never-” Joe started but Booker cut him off.
“I don’t want to have this fight again Joe,” Booker said, his voice finally rising to match Joe’s, “No matter how many times you scream at me about it, I can’t change the reasons I had for what I did! I had- have no one. I have nothing keeping me here.”
“You had me!” Joe shouted back at him.
“What?” Booker said with genuine surprise. He finally turned back to face Joe.
“You had me,” Joe said, he swallowed and took a deep breath. His eyes darted throughout the train trying to collect his thoughts, “You were my brother, Book.”
Booker just stared at him. And after a moment Joe had no choice but to keep talking.
“Obviously you didn’t feel the same way, but I thought we were close enough that you could have confided in me. I would have helped you- at least I would have tried.” Joe finished his sentence, feeling utterly exposed.
“I-uh.” Booker stuttered.
Joe felt his anger drain away rather quickly at the sight of Booker’s complete surprise.
A long moment passed where neither of them spoke. Behind him Joe could hear nothing from Nicky, Nile, or Andy.
Booker stared at him as though Joe had just told him the earth was flat.
Finally, Booker broke the eye contact and stared down at the floor. Joe closed his eyes and brought his hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing to speak.
“You really don’t know, do you?” Joe said, “You were my best friend Book. And I say that knowing Nile and Andy can hear me. You filled a place in my heart I didn’t know was empty. I thought I did that for you too.”
Booker didn’t respond, he just continued to stare at his feet.
“You know, when we were on the plane to London, Nicky and I, and one of the guards told us they had left you open and bleeding at the Church. I took him to the ground and broke a rib before they pulled me off him. The guard who said he’d thrown the flash-bang that killed you? Nicky broke his arm.”
Booker looked at him with guilt and self loathing in his eyes.
Joe’s heart finally broke at that moment. Booker was so much worse off than he had ever thought.
“I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry, I don’t want to add to your guilt. I just- I want you to know I care about you. I don’t know if it would have made a difference if I had been better about letting you know that back then. I don’t know if it does now. But I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear, that we didn’t make that clear.”
“You’re apologising to me?” Booker said.
“Yes.” Joe said and gave Booker a small smile, “I’m still mad at you. But you fight with family, Booker. Brothers fight.”
Booker gave a small nod, and walked back past Joe to his seat.
Joe turned around to see Nile, Nicky, and Andy all staring back at him. Nile’s mouth was slightly open. Nicky’s eyes had a sparkle to them, Joe could tell he was proud of him. Andy sighed and disappeared once more behind the seat back presumably to lie back down.
Joe felt exposed and dangerously close to crying, so he ducked back into his seat as well. And then he did cry. First silently, and then a little louder when Nicky finally came back to sit next to him.
---
The mission was successful. Everyone worked together as if the last five years hadn’t happened.
Once again they found themselves in a slightly less empty train car, this one an open freight car, but full of rescued kidnapping victims.
Nile was telling a group of particularly young children an overly acted out fairy tale. Nicky was at the edge of that group wrapping a bandage around a small boy’s arm. Andy sat with her back against the side of the car, trying her best to keep everyone in her sight.
Booker had just finished telling a group of four teens to try and get some sleep while they could.
Joe and Booker hadn’t said anything to each other that wasn’t directly related to the mission since the conversation on the train. And now that they were out of immediate danger, Joe couldn’t help but feel the hanging question in the air.
“This doesn’t change anything. Not yet.” Joe said to Booker as he walked up to stand next to him.
“I know.” Booker said flatly.
“I don’t think we’ll last the whole century though.” Joe added.
They stood like that, for a long time. Neither man looking at the other, preferring to feign busyness by watching over the increasing number of sleeping children.
“I think you should talk to someone.” Joe said finally.
“And tell them what?”
“The truth. That you’re lonely. That you’ve been in a downward spiral for years and don’t know how to get yourself out again.”
“The truth?” Booker said sarcastically.
“Well,” Joe paused for a moment, “you should probably omit a few details.”
Booker chuckled and Joe felt a warmth in his chest.
Another hour or so had passed before Booker spoke again.
“I feel the same way you know.”
They were the only two still awake in the train car.
“Felt- I felt the same way.” Booker corrected, “I just didn’t want to play second fiddle to Nicky so I pushed it away.”
“Nicky is the great love of my life. Andy is a mentor and fierce companion. Nile already feels- I don’t know- I feel quite fatherly towards her.” Joe chuckled, “ I’m not sure how she would feel about that though.”
Booker nodded, and crossed his arms.
“And you were- you are- like a brother to me Book. You’re not second to anyone in that. I know you have your loneliness, and I know I can’t fix that tonight, but you are not alone. We all love you Book, even after everything that happened.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of their watch. Switching with Nile and Nicky as night turned to early morning.
They didn’t speak again until Joe was walking Booker towards the departures gate for his flight back to Paris.
“I mean it, Book. Talk to someone, at least try and sort through some of your shit.”
“I will.”
Joe pulled Booker into a hug. The first one he had given him since before Nile had joined them.
“I’ll see you in a few years yeah?” Joe said, suddenly overwhelmed with saying goodbye.
Booker nodded, and broke the hug first. He turned and disappeared into the airport.
Joe walked back over to Nile, Andy, and Nicky waiting by the curb.
Andy smiled at him, lines around her eyes already showed signs of age that they didn’t five years ago. He wouldn’t be able to keep Booker away for much longer, it wasn’t fair to Andy. It wasn’t fair to any of them.
Nicky slipped his hand into Joe’s, lacing their fingers together as the group walked away.
“I’m really proud of you,” Nicky said in Arabic.
“I miss him.” Joe said back in Arabic, squeezing his love’s hand.
“We’ll see him again. Sooner than you think.” Nicky said.
Joe believed him, and for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to seeing Booker again.
((Available on AO3 as well, link on my tumblr 💜))
#request#ask#my stuff#the old guard#the old guard fic#joe#booker#brotp#sebastien le livre#yusuf al kaysani#I really wrote this like a romance didn't i#All good friendships are though#you're falling in platonic love with someone#maybe I'm a bit too much of a romantic though lol#lets all applaud the real otp here though#booker x therapy#my fics#Booker & Joe
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I always wondered how the foxes would react to finding out that it was andrew that "hit on" neil first (specially Kevin, since he was just standing right there while that happened)
(now, i don't think they would willing just talk about it but if one of them slip up...)
Btw: i absolutely adored the goodbye kisses series
AHHH sorry for being so MIA lately but i'm absolutely loving this! also i'm realizing that i'm very bad at actually getting to the point so enjoy a shit ton of irrelevant exposition :)
read it on ao3 here
— ··· —
Kevin didn't understand why they had to come to the zoo. It was smelly, there were kids screaming everywhere, and he'd nearly been stepped on three times in the past 10 minutes. He much rather preferred exy to this.
Team bonding sucked.
He trudged along beside Aaron as Dan, Matt, and Nicky actually tried socializing with the new Foxes. Normally, Kevin would jump at the chance to talk about exy with these recruits, but also, normally he didn't feel like he'd just just rolled through a flaming dumpster filled with screeching, pooping monkeys.
Kevin let out a sigh as they passed some sort of mildly interesting snake exhibit. He nudged Aaron, who was on his phone with a red face, which meant he was either texting lovey-dovey things to Katelyn or blasting an idiot in his Ochem class. You never really knew with him.
"Aaron."
Aaron just scowled at him. Kevin sighed again. Conversing was always so much more exhausting than he anticipated.
"Snakes."
"What."
"Do you want to... see the snakes?"
Aaron blinked in confusion. "Okay?"
Kevin led them to the snakes.
There, they shoved past some families and made it to the front of the glass enclosure.
"Well?" Aaron asked. "Now what do we do?"
Valid question, Kevin thought. He hadn't really considered what they were doing. He just wanted to see snakes.
He told Aaron as much, who rolled his eyes aggressively and went back to his phone.
Kevin felt a tap on his shoulder and twisted around, coming face-to-face (well, more like chest-to-face) with some sort of tour or information guide.
"Hi!" she smiled all too brightly. Kevin wanted to cover his eyes. "How are you enjoying the exhibition?"
"Um," Kevin gulped eloquently, then remembered his media training. "Oh yeah, it's great!"
"Awesome," she beamed. "You know, there's a snake feeding session in about 5 minutes if you and your son are interested."
Kevin's face contorted in confusion. He whirled around, assuming some tiny, lost child was latched near him, but when he turned back, the lady — Sandy — had her gaze intensely focused on the only other small person near him: Aaron.
Oh dear.
Aaron seemed to come to the same conclusion as Kevin did because his eyes widened comically and he hissed "I. am. not. his. son."
Sandy blinked owlishly. "Little brother then?"
Aaron threw his hands up. "I am 21! Leave me alone." He then proceeded to stomp out of the enclosure, dragging Kevin along and leaving a very flummoxed old lady behind them.
"I can't believe it," Aaron kept muttering. "Your son. Your son! I hate life."
Kevin was a bit miffed that he hadn't actually been able to see the snakes, but he figured Aaron's plight was slightly more significant than that.
After a few moments of silent walking (Kevin) and angry grumbing (Aaron), Kevin realized he couldn't see any of the Foxes anymore. He glanced around, instinctively searching for Andrew.
"Hey, do you know where Andrew and Neil went?" Kevin asked.
Aaron scoffed. "They're probably making out somewhere."
"Who's making out?"
Aaron and Kevin both gave unholy screeches as they turned around to find Nicky standing between them, a wide, innocent grin on his face.
"What the fuck," Aaron complained. "Don't do that again, you bitch."
Nicky waved him off. "Shut up. Who's making out? Might be able to close some bets."
Kevin rolled his eyes. "We just can't find Andrew and Neil anywhere. Aaron seems to believe they're off deflowering a zoo Port-A-Potty or something."
"Well then, we wouldn't want to interrupt them, right?" Nicky winked. "Anyways, we're all going to the butterfly exhibit right now so y'all have to join us. I'm not taking no for an answer."
It seemed that they had no choice, so after sharing a resigned glance, Kevin and Aaron trudged behind an overly enthusiastic Nicky while he babbled on about some parrots that he saw. It really didn't seem as interesting as Nicky was making it out to be, but Kevin didn't want to say anything lest he was expected to participate in the conversation too.
They finally reached the butterfly exhibit where the other Foxes were waiting for them. They entered as a mass of loud, mildy buff, smelly athletes and got more than a few glares from the parents of young children who moved out of the way.
But in all this movement, the path cleared and Kevin found... Andrew and Neil? He was about to turn to Aaron and tell him that they evidently not making out, until he noticed how still Andrew was standing and the glee on Neil's face.
Nicky's gaze caught onto them a second later, because he squealed and grabbed Kevin's arm, jabbing his finger at the sight.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "Is that a butterfly on Andrew's nose? That is adorable."
Kevin squinted, and yes, that's exactly what it appeared to be. Nicky's outburst had caught Allison's attention, and she began marching over to Neil and Andrew, the rest of the Foxes in tow.
Kevin could already tell this was going to be a mess.
When they finally reached Andrew, Aaron was the first to speak. "What the fuck?" he asked flatly. Andrew glared at him. Slowly, as to not move the butterfly, he raised his hand to gently flip off his brother.
Nicky immediately started cooing. "Aww, don't worry Andrew! I think you look adorable."
Andrew began slipping out a knife.
On Allison's left, Kevin saw Dan practically shaking with laughter as she pulled out her camera and snapped a picture.
Neil opened his mouth, probably to tell off Dan but Nicky rushed in to talk to him.
"Soooo," he waggled his eyebrows. "I didn't know you could see the future, Neil."
Neil stared at him blankly and turned back to Andrew as he pulled out a map, but Nicky rallied on.
"Like, you must have been able to predict that one day Andrew was going to be this adorable. That's why you asked him out, right?"
"What?" Neil asked distractedly. "I never asked him out."
Kevin blinked in surprise. After a moment's consideration, he realized that considering how utterly oblivious Neil could be, it really was no shocker that Andrew had to ask him out first.
"Wait wait wait," Matt shook his head. "So Andrew asked you out?"
Neil waved them off as he continued squinting at the map he was holding. "Yes yes, just go ask Kevin, he was there."
All eyes turned to Kevin. Kevin was very lost.
"What the fuck," Aaron repeated. "I'm so confused."
"Me too," Kevin muttered. "Me too."
— ··· —
After their long day at the zoo was over, the Foxes finally began the trudge back up to their respective dorms. The younger Foxes dozed off immediately, but the older Foxes gathered in the girls' room to drop off the bags they had borrowed for the trip.
In all the commotion, no one really noticed Andrew and Neil leaving together. But right before they slipped out the door, Renee caught sight of them.
"Good night, you two!" she called. Neil turned around and gave her a tired wave, his body slumped on Andrew.
"Wait!" Nicky scrambled off the sofa. "Before I forget: Neil, how did Andrew ask you out?"
Neil blinked sleepily. "Well," he slurred. "He asked if he could blow me."
The room went silent.
Andrew heaved a sigh and dragged Neil out the door, leaving seven wide-eyed, very much awake athletes in their wake. Slowly, everyone turned to Kevin.
"You!" Allison weakly jabbed a finger in his direction. "You knew about this!"
Too late, Kevin realized what Neil's statement meant. Andrew had asked out Neil in front of Kevin. By offering sex. Nothing could have possibly ruined Kevin's night as much as this information had.
He met the Foxes' eyes slowly. Even Renee looked a bit surprised at Neil's admission, but she was clearly biting back a smile. "Trust me," Kevin groaned. "If I had known this had happened, I would have won myself so many bets."
"Damn," Nicky sighed. "I wish Erik and I had such an iconic story. Who knew the quiet, stabby cousin was such a horny gay bastard?"
"I," Aaron announced hotly. "have never wanted to forget a conversation more than this one."
"But Aaron. Andrew asked to blow him."
"Nicky, I swear— "
"OH MY GOD. They're probably having sex right now! Kevin, could you— "
Aaron put his head in his hands. "Please shut up now."
#SORRY FOR BEING GONE FOR SO LONG#i'm here now#aaron is my spirit animal#as is kevin#andreil#andrew minyard#neil josten#aftg#all for the game#tfc#the foxhole court#kevin day#aaron minyard#renee walker#allison reynolds#dan wilds#matt boyd#nicky hemmick#the foxes#palmetto state foxes#my writing#anon request#aftg fanfic#aftg fanfiction#all for the game fanfic
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This Isn’t Hypothetical for Chris
SPECIAL CONTENT WARNING: This piece contains a series of arguments regarding the Box Boy’s whole concept, and a survivor’s reactions to it, that may hit too close to home both for survivors of assault/abuse and also considering American history of institutional violence. Please do not read if you think you are not in the right headspace for this, and feel free to message me for a rundown/synopsis of this chapter if needed.
CW: References to pet whump, institutionalized slavery, Box Boy universe, vague referenced noncon/conditioning, self-loathing, victim-blaming, survivor’s guilt, ableism (both internal and external). Also includes some self-harm/negative stimming including head-banging during a meltdown.
Nicholas/Henry (referenced multiple times) belongs to @orchidscript
“Excuse me, can I ask a question?” The one who raises his hand is… Eshiram, maybe? He lives over in Dalton, Chris knows him, more or less. Sort of. The way you know people who live near you, even on a campus as big as this tone.
“Yeah, go ahead.” The grad student who teaches the discussion meetings for their Social and Political History class waves one hand in a quick, not quite dismissive gesture.
Behind him, there’s a projected photo of a young man sitting, testifying in court, wearing a suit and tie. Above his head, the words, The Human Pet Industry and Human Rights, 1952-20XX, are angled just so, framing the young man’s head like a halo.
Chris refuses to look at the image of the young man, caught mid-speech. They already had to watch the video recording of it, discuss the way the lawyers phrased their questions to make the young man look innocent or calculating, depending on what they wanted the jury to think, when Chris could have told everyone in here it wasn’t fucking possible for a pet to calculate like that.
Or maybe it was, and Chris just wasn’t any good at it, when it was him.
“So, we’ve spent all week sitting in lecture, and here, talking about how the pet industry is absolutely fucked up-”
“Excuse me?” A girl sitting three seats to Chris’s right and a little ahead of him turns around in her chair to give Eshiram a flat glare. “That is not-”
“Wait your turn, Callie,” The grad student says, looking weary. “Next time I have to tell you to let someone finish a sentence… Man, just, don’t make me do that. Go on, Eshiram.”
Okay, good, his name is Eshiram. Chris is getting better at names, but it’s still hard, and on days like today it’s harder than ever. It’s not that he isn’t paying attention, it’s just that the scar on the inside of his left wrist, that pale reminder of the life he lived before this one, itches and burns more and more as he stays silent, listening to them talk about a life he’s lived like it’s an abstract concept and not a nightmare Chris will never be able to completely wash off his skin.
“Thanks. So, we talk about the pet industry, but I just-... why doesn’t anyone fix it?”
“Fix it?”
“Go in and pass laws… the public push is there to outlaw it completely. So why doesn’t it happen?”
“Because money talks, man,” Another student pipes up, and Chris stares down at his notes, which have gone from neat, if angular, handwriting to a jumbled mix of letters that mean nothing to a series of increasingly anxiety-riddled pointless doodles of geometrics and horses that look like dogs and dogs that look like blobs and blue ink bleeding spots around them all.
On the inside of his wrist, he starts, slowly, to draw little triangles over the scars, filling them in with the deep blue ink. Their voices are all starting to have weight, pounding against his ears, and he should ask to leave, but he can’t remember how to form the words.
“It doesn’t matter how fucking miserable the pets are, if rich people want something, they just bribe the fuck out of everybody until they get it.”
“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be like that-”
“Pets aren’t miserable,” Callie pipes up, and this time the grad student doesn’t stop her, just looks… interested. This is just a class discussion to him. To Chris it’s a building pile of rocks slowly picked up and thrown in his direction. He has to sit still, to be good, to not give away why it hurts to hear it.
He has to be good.
He drops his head more, blue hair falling across his face to hide it, and digs the nib of the pen into his skin until it hurts.
“Who wouldn’t be?” The student who spoke up rolls his eyes. “Of course they’re miserable. What, you think somebody cleans your house for no money because they’re fucking passionate about Swiffer wipes? All the bullshit in the world can’t hide what this whole system really is.”
“First off, it’s not like that, and second, please do tell me... what is it, really?” Callie asks, poison in her voice.
“Okay, guys,” The grad student says, hands out. “Let’s calm things down a little.”
“You know damn fucking well what it is,” Another girl speaks, glaring a Callie, and Chris looks up from under his eyelashes, almost smiles. Someone speaking up. He pulls the pen away from his wrist, just a little. “Starts with S, rhymes with-”
“Guys. Calm it down.” Callie and the other three all glare at each other, but the whispering among the class slowly settles down. The grad student stands up picking up some papers he has in his hands, setting stapled packets down on every desk. “I’m glad you’re all really passionate about this, and I want you to carry that passion out of this classroom, but we need to focus on the testimonies we’ve been watching this week. Now, each of you has here a written transcript of four examples of testimony from the individuals we’ve heard this week. I want you to read over what Trenton Denver, Phillipa Venn, Yuki Tanaka, and the former Nicholas-”
“You know what’s bullshit, is that you’re all sitting here judging pet owners when I bet none of you has ever even met one,” Callie snaps, and Chris stares down at the rough, photocopied photo on the front of the packet, sees Nicky’s face there. A photo of him before, standing next to his owners during some kind of press conference, and a photo of him after, years later being Henry now, giving a speech standing alone.
Something in Chris twists with an awful, sick guilt. If he’d only stayed with S-... with Oliver, he could have been a friend to Nicky, whenever he could... and instead, the other boy had had to do everything, to go through it all, alone. It’s not a fair or rational thought, but it’s there, insidious and slithering. His heart wants tries to tighten, to stop beating entirely.
Does he even deserve to breathe, living a life like this one, where everyone rescues him and he never once saved himself?
“Do you need to fucking meet one to know it’s miserable to be kept like a fucking Golden Retriever? People. Aren’t. Pets.” Chris wants to look up, to see who spoke this time, but he just keeps staring at Nicky’s face, his slight smile blurred and pixelated by the copier. Fake, and unhappy, because they were both trapped in lives they didn’t want to live.
“Golden Retrievers are pretty happy dogs,” Someone says, and Chris feels himself choke on their words.
We’re not dogs. We’re people. We’re not dogs. We’re people. We’re not-
“Oh my God, way to miss the point by approximately fifteen thousand miles and also be so insulting to dogs in the process, dumbass. We’re talking about human beings!”
Chris takes in a breath, keeps his eyes down. Digs the pen nib into his skin, deeper and deeper, as hard as he can, trying to drown out the cacophony of noise that is starting to intrude. He can hear their breathing, all of them, huffing in and out. He can hear their words pressing on him, the buzz of the lights overhead is louder for him than anyone else in here, he thinks. He can hear people talking in the hall as another class has let out, he can hear people shouting dimly outside, running to the Student Center, playing frisbee or something on the green space, and he wants to be outside he wants to be outside he wants to move.
Can’t move. Have to be still.
Can’t let them know what he is. Can’t tell. It’ll put everyone at risk. He has to sit still and pretend he doesn’t have opinions on this so nobody looks too close. He has to sit still and stop tapping his fucking foot and stop stop stop moving, stop fucking moving, be still be still be still-
“All I’m saying, is that I have actually met pets before,” Callie announces. Chris wonders why the grad student hasn’t stopped her and sneaks a look up, only to see him sitting and looking bored. It doesn’t matter to him. It’s just something he talks about. He hasn’t had to live it, to see us crying, to know how it feels when they shock you or bring the cane down or make you be still for days and days and days. He’s never seen one of us wake up screaming even when it’s safe.
This isn’t hypothetical for Chris.
“Yeah, Cal, we get it, you’re rich,” Someone says, rolling her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “We hear about it all the time. Let it go.”
“Eat the rich,” Someone else mumbles behind him. “French had the right fuckin’ idea with the fucking guillotines.”
Chris swallows. He wants to hum, to make some kind of noise to drown them all out, but he can’t. When he, when he needs things, when he needs to tap or rock or hum, it draws attention. Too much attention is dangerous. Have to keep it in until class is over. Just a few more minutes, a few more, just, just a little longer…
“Me being rich isn’t what we’re talking about. I’m just saying none of you knows a thing about the industry, and I do! I grew up with pets! And they were the happiest people I’ve ever met!”
“You don’t, don’t know that.” He doesn’t realize the voice is his own until the eyes feel as heavy as their voices did a moment before, and he notices everyone is looking at him.
He swallows again, his heart starting to pound with nervousness, pulling his sleeve carefully down to hide the drawing he made on his wrist. “You don’t know that,” He repeats, louder this time, willing his voice not to shake. “All you, you know is what, um, what… what what what, what, what they-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Somebody says, and Chris almost stops there.
He manages to finish, “-... what they thought it was safe to tell you, what, what they were trained to tell you.”
“You think I wouldn’t know if my own pets weren’t happy?” Callie looks… stunned, is the only word for it. “You really think that?”
“No, I don’t, don’t think you… would.” Chris hates everyone looking at him. He likes to be hidden, to stay behind the scenes, to blend in with shadows. But he feels like a police siren going off, unmistakable and too loud, with the classroom all looking at him all at once. “They-... they’re… trained. To make sure you, you, you-you-you wouldn’t ever f-find out if they weren’t... if they were scared, or, or miserable, or if your f-f-family was hurting them-”
“How fucking dare you?” Callie’s eyes widened, and Chris watched them fill with glittering tears. “Suggest that my family would abuse our pets? What is wrong with you?”
He almost - almost - apologizes.
Then she adds, “I’ve known them every single day of my life! I think I’d know if they weren’t happy, Chris.” Callie rolls her eyes, arms crossed in front of her.
“How?” His voice is louder, and he doesn’t mean it to be, but his mind is sparking with anger and fear. The warning bells inside his mind are being drowned out by the other thoughts, the way he has listened to too many people give arguments like this, and this week he’s listened to four different speeches by pets detailing abuse, and suffering, and starvation, and drugging, and he’s lived all of it and here she is just dismissing Chris’s life like it’s a fairytale the pet lib people made up to sell magazines and documentaries and not Chris’s actual fucking life. And Antoni’s. And Leila’s. And Krista’s. And Kauri’s and-
And Nicky’s.
Or… Henry, now.
“How what?” Callie sneers the words and Chris shoves himself to his feet. She’s up as well, and she’s taller than him, not that it matters. He’s not intimidated by her height, and he doesn’t even really see her, he sees-... he sees Oliver murmuring, the others will all hate you if they know what you are, darlin’, and mostly that hasn’t been true for him, but with Callie… it would be.
Or she’d call someone, turn him in.
She’s the kind who would make the call herself, and she’d say it was for his own good, that he was breaking the law, that he-
“How would you, you, you-you… you know? It’d never be safe to, to, to to to to-... to-to… to, fuck, to-” He groans, smacking himself in the head with his hand, and the sudden burst of sensation soothes the broken words inside his head, he can find them again. “It’d never be safe to tell you!”
“Oh shit,” Someone whispers. The same person who made the guillotine comment maybe. He doesn’t care. He’s too angry, now, and not even at her, he’s angry at everyone who looked the other way at Oliver’s parties, or when Owen put Kauri in that video on the internet, or when they watched Jake get arrested at protests or made fun of him when he got set free later and it took two fucking weeks for him to go back to class just because he put his body between Chris and a living hell.
He’s too angry, now, to stop.
“You’re, you’re s-s-soulless,” He hisses, and there’s an intake of breath. “Every single one, of, of, of you is soulless.”
“Chris, let’s calm down,” The grad student says carefully, moving forward. “Callie just has a different point of view-”
“Is it a, a, a different point of-... of view when it’s someone’s fucking life?” He doesn’t mean to be yelling. He doesn’t know how he started yelling. He’s terrified of his own voice and he can’t stop. The lights hurt, they sit on his skin and they hurt and the world is full of noise and he just wants it to be dark and quiet and better than this.
“Everyone who hurts-” Us “-them is soulless, is, is devoid, you don’t have one, and everyone who s-s-sits, who, who sits around, who-... who does nothing while they hurt us-”
“I’ve never hurt a pet a single day in my life!” Callie shouts back at him, and someone takes her arm, a friend of hers.
No one takes Chris’s arm. No one speaks. They just watch him from every corner of the room, and later someone’s going to write a fucking post about this somewhere, and he’ll be a laughingstock, and maybe someone will see the look in his eyes and guess - and know - and call the cops - and he’ll get Jake in trouble again-
“I’d bet every d-... dollar in my, my, my bank account that you have!”
“Christopher Stanton, you need to stop, right now, or I’m going to ask you to leave.” The grad student steps between them, and Chris’s eyes flicker to the older man’s. Suddenly he’s unsure, and he wants to sit down.
Sit still. Silence is better than stammering. Stillness is better than what I do. Sit down, be good, be good be good be good be a good boy be good a pet be good be good after all-
“I mean… they signed up for it, right?” A new voice, the girl holding Callie’s arm. “Pets? They get told what it’s all about before they sign up. Isn’t this kind of… babying them? I mean, they made the choice to be one.”
“Nothing happens to them that isn’t on their contract,” Callie says, smug with triumph, and the grad student doesn’t stop her. “Besides, they really loved me! It was like having a friend right from when I was born. They signed up for this!”
It hurts so much more when he hears it said outside his own skull.
“They didn’t like you.” Chris is spitting venom, suddenly, terrified of himself, of his own anger. He’s so good at not being angry, at not having feelings like this, at having good days and knowing how lucky he is to escape, but right now… “They, they, they didn’t like you, they were told to, to, to be nice to you! You, you just-...”
“I mean, they wipe their memories and shit,” Someone says. “That’s sci-fi horror movie shit, that is definitely fucked up. You can’t think you can wipe somebody’s memory and make them, like, memorize all those fucked up things pets say and then believe they just… like you, Callie.”
“They didn’t want those memories! They sign up on purpose, to give those memories up, because they don’t want them anymore! I mean, what do they lose, really?”
Chris hitches in a breath.
Everything.
I lost everything.
And I’ll never get all of it back.
“That’s why… why-why-why, why you’re not safe, why it wouldn’t be s-safe to, to, to to tell you if they weren’t h-happy,” Chris says, throwing the packet of papers with Henry’s face on the front into his backpack, alongside folders full of paperwork, his textbook, laptop, pens and pencils. “Because you’ll b-believe any, any, any any… any bullshit you’re told.”
Someone laughs, nervously.
“Or maybe one of us has actual experience with pets, and one of us wears the same five fucking t-shirts on rotation because he doesn’t own any others.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Callie.”
Chris stares at her, and it’s not fear that washes cold down his spine, but a blistering, awful, sick rage. “You, you, you-you-you don’t know shit about, about, about about… about m-me-”
Talking is harder, it’s like trying to push words through a wall with an opening the size of his thumb. The wall is built of all the noise and weight and rage and pain and sound all around him. He wants to rock, he wants to tap, he wants to get all the energy coiled inside of him out and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
Be good be still be a statue boy that’s my good boy trainee keep still for me sweet boy you wanted this you were made for this you signed up for this you knew what would happen to you you wanted this you wanted this you wanted this you wanted it you want it you’ll always want it-
“I know you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Callie snaps. “And that’s all I need to know, isn’t it? Have you ever even met a pet, Chris?”
He wants to start laughing, at the question, and he’s afraid if he starts he won’t stop until it’s tears instead, and he won’t cry in front of her.
He won’t.
“F-for, for, for, for… for y-your, infor-... fuck, for your, your, your-your-... your-”
No, no no no. He is stalling out, stammering, trains derailed and disappearing into the horrible white light that still lived inside his head, he is stuttering silence is better than stammering you have to stop you have to stop you have to stop-
Callie’s lip curls in a cruel sneer and Chris knows exactly what she’s going to do - how she will hurt him - before she opens her mouth.
“I think you should stop trying to talk until you can stop being such a fucking sp-”
“That’s enough.”
Chris had forgotten the grad student was even still here. He jumps, stumbling into his chair as the man pushes forward and blocks Callie from Chris’s view. Chris’s legs catch in the metal legs of the chair and he falls backwards, slamming on his ass into the carpeted floor, barely catching himself.
The carpet burns under his hands.
Only one person laughs.
It’s Callie.
Chris’s face burns bright red, shame and humiliation sweeping over his skin, and he lost nearly all the words, all at once, drowned in the screaming noise inside his head. All he can remember is how to spit, “I fucking hate everyone like, like, like you! You fucking bitch!”
“Leave the room, Chris.” The grad student’s voice is sharp. “That’s over the line. You’re done in this class for now. I’ll email you later and we’ll schedule a meeting to talk about whether or not you should come back.”
Chris’s lungs stop working. He can barely mouth what?
“Hey, wait a second.” Eshiram pushes to his feet, jabbing a finger in the air as he points. “Callie’s the one who worked this up into a fight, Chris didn’t-”
“Cut it, Eshiram, I’m not interested. Chris. Get out of the room, take a deep breath, and cool down. We’ll talk this out later, okay? I won’t mark you absent for class, or mark down participation, or anything. Just… take a walk.”
Chris can’t remember how to speak. All he can do is nod, good boy, take your discipline, discipline is a humane and necessary part of-
He has to get out of here before he calls someone Sir.
“If he goes, I’m walking out, too,” Eshiram says, strong. He was taller and bigger than the grad student, who looked at him, weary, as Eshiram steps over and offers Chris his hand. Chris takes it, skin crawling, and pulls himself back to his feet. “It’s not his fault and I’m not going to sit here like it is.”
“Yeah, me too,” Guillotine-Kid says, pushing to his feet and grabbing his backpack. “I’m out, too. I’m not going to fall for that propaganda bullshit.”
“Me, three,” Says the girl who had very nearly called the human pet industry exactly what it is. “This is bullshit, Darian’s right. She works him up and gets him all mad, and then you kick him out when he fights back? This is exactly the fucking problem we’ve been talking about!”
“Don’t be fucking dramatic, Tali,” Callie says, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be such a fucking nightmare asshole, Caledonia,” Tali shoots back.
“Okay. Okay, okay. Just… class dismissed for today. Look over your packets and we’ll meet next time and talk it out. I can see this isn’t going to get back on track. Chris, we’ll talk about you coming back to class when we meet, but until then… just… just work on the assignments.” The grad student sighs.
Chris yanks his hand away from Eshiram, and Callie’s triumphant little snort hits him in the back like a blow as he stomps out of the classroom and into the hall, the rest of the class streaming out behind him.
Eshiram calls out his name, but Chris doesn’t stop.
He should, he should stop, Jake and Nat always say it’s important to reward people for their work towards changing hearts and minds, and to appreciate the little things like people helping you stand up when you can’t stand for yourself, but he… he can’t stop.
If he stops, they’ll know what he is.
If he stops, they’ll tell someone.
If he stops, he’ll cry in front of them, and Chris has cried too often in his life. He just runs down the hallway, as fast as he can, taking turns and twists and stairways until he’s on a different floor, a different side of the building, and he’s totally, utterly lost in it.
He curls up in a tiny bathroom the size of a closet, lights off, door locked, presses himself into the corner in a room that smells like air freshener and bleach, and starts to rock, violently, forcing his head to smack into the wall with each forward motion, and again when he rocks back.
Again, again, again.
It quiets the screaming inside his head, but it can’t make the last hour not have happened.
Silence is better than stammering, stillness is better than what I do, I signed up for this, I signed up for this, I wanted this I wanted it I was made for it I deserved it we’re happy we’re supposed to be happy I’m broken because I wasn’t happy like this I signed up for it I have to be good to be good I am a good boy be still be silent be still be be be-
His phone starts buzzing an hour or so later, when he misses his lunch date with Laken. Over and over and over again.
He doesn’t pick up.
He wouldn’t be able to speak if he did.
---
Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth
#whump#trauma recovery whump#bbu#box boy universe#box boy#box boy multiverse#trauma recovery#referenced noncon#referenced torture#victim blaming#ableism tw#self-loathing#negative stimming tw#negative stim#head banging tw#head banging#chris the strawberry blond romantic#internalized ableism tw#pro pet girl!#here she is#loathe her in all her glory#referenced institutional brutality#institutional whump reference#please heed content warning
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