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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Note

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #can't believe queue've done this

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kiraakirana · 4 years

Text

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩'𝙨 𝙚𝙮𝙚 | h. kakashi

─────────────────────♡──────────────────────

Tonight, a firework display will be held to celebrate Lady Tsunade's inauguration as the 5th Hokage. After going through vulnerable and unstable days after Orochimaru's attack and the 3rd Hokage's death, the villagers of Konoha finally come together to witness a new beginning under a new leader. A new light finally emerged from the brim of sadness, once again giving everyone hope towards a bright future for Konoha.

It was the talk of the village for the past few days, everybody was deciding what kimono to wear and who to invite. As you would be working late that night, you agreed to meet up with your friends at the firework display after you're done with everything.

You could hear the distant laughter and cheeriness while you were walking towards the venue. You smiled to yourself, happy that the depressing days after the attack is over and that the villagers are back on their feet. You had a purple kimono on with your hair down and a white flower clipping as an accessory. You were quite in a rush, so you didn't really put that much thought into it.

After talking with your friends for a while, you felt uncomfortable being a 5th wheel as it turned out that they each brought partners. Excusing yourself, you searched through the crowd for a certain shinobi with a distinct white hair. You weren't sure if he attended or not as he's not that much of a people person. But you were relieved when you saw him near one of the food stands with none other than Guy-sensei.

"Hi," you said as you gently tapped his shoulder. He was wearing a blue kimono with his mask, as always, still on.

"Hey," he replied as he put down his Icha-Icha tactics. "Eh? didn't see you earlier."

"Yeah, I just arrived a few minutes ago, had to work late for an impor- shit," you said abruptly. Panicking, you hastily went behind Kakashi's back to hide yourself when you saw the two guys who asked you out yesterday.

"What happened?"

"I'll explain to you later, help me hide please," you said quietly. Seeing how pathetic your hiding strategy is, Kakashi pushed you softly into an empty alley nearby and positioned himself dangerously close to you. He put his right hand on the wall next to you as an attempt to hide your face from whoever you were trying to hide from. Although it was considerably effective, it wasn't good for your heart, afraid Kakashi could hear its loud beating. Leaning close he said, "This way people wouldn't even try to approach."

You could only nod, looking down to gather your thoughts as you felt your cheeks heating up. Damn this copy ninja! Does he realize the things he could do to you? You have the hots for him and has been desperately trying to keep it oblivious, but right now, you weren't sure if you could keep your feelings in check from how close you two were.

"Well, if this isn't convenient," you muttered under your breath. Not wanting to waste this chance by looking away, you looked up to see Kakashi giving you a smile. "Well, if you don't tell me who you're hiding from, we would stay like this until tomorrow morning," he added, "Not that I have any problems with that."

Embarrassed, you pushed Kakashi and stomped away, "They're gone already." You then looked back at him who looked nonchalant about the entire thing, much like his usual self, walking behind you. To you, it seemed like he was acting indifferent, but you failed to notice that Kakashi was a nervous wreck. Even when his fingertips would brush your skin subtly, it would send shivers down his body. He was giving it his all to hold himself back and not get caught up in the moment.

How could he not? You were a famous kunoichi known for your intelligence and beauty. Despite being younger than him by a few years, he admired your maturity and tendency to remain cool-headed at all times. It's not rare that he overhears his comrades complimenting you. You were a truly skilled and hardworking shinobi who earned everybody's respect.

"Thanks," you said quickly.

"Couldn't hear you," he teased.

"I hate you," you replied while turning away. Kakashi was your senior in ANBU and because of your great chemistry and teamwork, you two were often sent together on missions, therefore explaining your close relationship. He was always there to give you advice and comfort you whenever you felt homesick during long missions.

It wasn't until Kakashi was discharged from ANBU that you felt his great impact on your life. You were in denial for quite some time, until you came to the conclusion that the reason you were constantly worrying and missing him was not because you were simply his friend, no. It was a feeling much stronger than that.

"Is this the thank you I get for saving you?"

You swiftly grabbed his hand and took him to the rooftop across the one where Guy and his team were sitting. This was the best place to see the fireworks and it also meant less chance to encounter the two guys you saw before.

"I saw the two guys that asked me out, they also asked me to go to the firework display with them."

"And you rejected them?"

"Yeah, I said I couldn't go tonight," she shrugged, "I mean, I'd rather go with someone else."

"Then why aren't you with this guy right now?"

That question caught you off guard. "Well, he's definitely here right now," you said awkwardly, "But I wasn't brave enough to ask him to go with me. Besides, I wasn't sure if watching firework is his thing," you said, letting out a laugh. Knowing him, you were sure he'd rather stay at home to read his books. You made a mental note to thank Guy for dragging him here.

"Oh."

"You're not going to press me further about who that person is?"

"No," he shrugged.

"You’re no fun," you said jokingly, although it was an attempt to persuade him to ask you more questions.

He laughed and said, "Okay then, who's the lucky guy?"

"Well there's no fun in it if you directly ask me who he is, you have to guess."

"Then, what's this person like?"

"Um, let me think," you said as you carefully thought about him, "He may seem very nonchalant at first, but deep down he's someone who cares a lot for his comrades."

"Hm, that wouldn't narrow the options by a lot. How does he look like?"

"He has a distinct hair, tall..."

"Why do you like him?"

"I feel safest around him. He's a truly wonderful person, I wish I had the guts to tell him that. I feel like he doubts himself a lot. He needs to know that a lot of people are grateful for him, including me. I've never liked anyone else the same way I like him."

"As your senior, I say you should just straight-up tell him about how you feel,” he gave you a smile and a thumbs-up to encourage you.

“Ah, so she has a special someone. I mean, it’s no surprise right? Someone like her couldn’t possibly be single forever. I guess I was too late, huh?” thought Kakashi.

"Well, I don't know if he feels the same way..." you said, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

"But there's no telling unless you tell him right?"

"Yeah, I guess...”

To hell with pride.

"I like you, Kakashi."

"Wait, I mean you should tell him that, not me."

"Huh? This whole time I was talking about you, damn it."

"Uh? So you?" he looked at you, surprised. You didn't know what made him so surprised though, wasn't that obvious hints? Who else has distinct hair in Konoha? Okay, aside from Guy and a few other people... Yeah, maybe you should've just said 'white hair' but it would be like giving it away.

"Yeah, whatever you're trying to say. If you're going to reject me, at least wait until the firework's over so you don't ruin it."

It was silent for a while and all you wanted to do was throw yourself to the river. Just kidding. You should've stayed home. But then again, there's no better time than right now. It’s either now or never. You had to get the weight off your chest and you’ve prepared for the worst possible outcome for years. "You know what, I'm sorry. I know it's ridiculous for me to like you when you have so many other-"

"I like you too, Y/N."

"Girls fawning over-" you froze for a moment and looked at him in disbelief, "Wait, did you just?"

"Come," he said as he stood up and gave her his hand, "I know a place where you can see the fireworks much better." It was one of your favorite Kakashi smiles, the one where you couldn't see his eyes. Despite not being able to see the rest of his face, this was enough to put the butterflies in her stomach.

It was a place near the river, far from the busy crowd. The water moves calmly and the fireworks could be seen clearly. "You know, I was serious when I said those things. I really see you as a wonderful person."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a very lucky guy."

"But don't get too full of yourself," you said jokingly, landing a weak punch on his arm.

You looked at Kakashi, who was laughing wholeheartedly, in awe. This was truly a sight to remember. Feeling entirely grateful, you gave him a shy hug, hiding your face on his kimono. Y/N who was usually a confident, collected person, became a mess whenever he's around. Only he’s able to do that.

Kakashi ran his fingers through your hair soothingly and rested his head on top of yours. Despite the loud cracks of the fireworks, you could subtly hear Kakashi's soft voice saying, "Thank you, Y/N."

A/N: this is inspired after seeing Kakashi on episode 306 of Shippuden called ‘The Heart’s Eye’. It was so cute seeing Kakashi in a kimono, I just want to give him the biggest hug:(

#kakashi #kakashi hakate #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi headcanons #kakashi hc #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #Naruto Shippuden #naruto #kakashi scenario #kakashi imagines

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

Text

karate kid: “because of you” ₊˚ ⸝ johnny x reader

❝but it can all get a lil’ crazy, unless there’s something to hold onto. for me, that was true love.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lana del rey - because of you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: johnny lawrence (1984) x reader

warnings: angst, language, mentions of sex, themes of depression, the overuse of the word ‘baby’ lmfaooo

summary: despite johnny’s reputation, you still weren’t expecting him, your first and only, to be unfaithful. but you were only a blind fool in love, after all.

“.. What the hell is going on here?”

You stood back on the beach overlook with your friend, watching the scene unravel before your eyes.

Below you, there Johnny was, along with his little Cobra Kai gang. The small crowd of teenagers around him shouted and cheered as he brawled with a smaller kid in a red sweater, who was obviously getting his ass beat.

“Dammit, Johnny, stop!”

A familiar high pitched, girlish scream caught your attention. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they stopped on Ali, who you knew to be Johnny’s old flame. Despite them being over for a while now, you knew Johnny still had feelings for her. But it was something you buried in the back of your mind. You were too in love with Johnny to acknowledge or care about the fact that he hasn’t moved on.

Now, watching what was happening, you didn’t know what to think or how to feel. You’ve barely talked to Johnny at all over the week, and now you find him here?

Instead of intervening and chasing after Johnny, you gestured for your friend to follow you back to the car and head elsewhere. She didn’t protest and based on the heartbroken expression on your face, she knew better than to question you. Now was not the time to talk it through.

Since that night, things were not the same. You explained your situation to your parents who were aware of your relationship, or now former relationship with Johnny. Johnny would call a few times a day, but you never bothered to pick up. His calls started to get more and more frequent, so you ended up blocking his number. Because of this, you started to fall out with the Cobra Kais, who you made good friends with because of your relationship with Johnny. So knowing you’d run into them at school, you stopped attending and would spend the days locked up in your room, only going out to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen. By now, Johnny knew something was up, and went as far as to pick a fight with your dad whenever he’d drop by your house, asking to see you.

“Come on! I just wanna see Y/N, dammit!”

“She’s none of your business anymore, young man. Now get the hell off my property!”

“Man, fuck you! Let me see her! I need to talk to her!”

“You have three seconds, Mr Lawrence!”

“Y/N, I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me!”

The days became gloomier and gloomier. Weeks had passed and you hadn’t talked to anybody. You shut everyone out and would spend the days alone in your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

How could you be so foolish?

To think you could be the one to fix Johnny.

To think he loved you as much as you loved him.

To think he would want a future with you as much as he wanted your clothes off.

But the reality hit you; you were just a rebound. And you let him use you. It was all your fault.

An overwhelming feeling of nausea and anxiety overtook you. You jumped off your bed and ran to the bathroom, pushing open the toilet lid and vomiting. You flushed the contents down and got to your feet to straighten yourself up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes widening in disbelief. You didn’t even recognize your reflection.. The person looking back at you was a stranger.

You lifted your hand up to touch your face as you analyzed your appearance. You had dark bags under your bloodshot eyes, your hair disheveled, skin pale and dry.

“That’s just great.”

Sighing, you stooped down to the sink to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. As soon as you were finished, you flicked the light switch and trailed back to your room. However, you were stopped in your tracks by the sound of your father’s voice.

“Y/N..? Oh, wow.. Wow, girl, I haven’t seen you in days.. How are you feeling now?” He stared down at you, searching your empty face for answers. You avoided his gaze, crossing his arms and looking down at your feet. He sighed, “The school called. You need to return by this Monday.”

You felt your heart sink. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to speak until he cut you off.

“I know you’re still healing but... This isn’t good for you. When you get back to school, you’ll at least get to hang out with your friends again, right?�� You weakly shrugged, causing him to let out another heavy sigh. He patted your shoulder. “It’ll get better and soon, you’ll be back to your normal self!”

“What day is it?” you asked.

“It’s Sunday..”

You groaned, “Oh, gosh.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll run into my ex and his little posse, who I ghosted, and then have to explain to my friends why I look and feel like shit. Great. Thanks dad,” you scoffed sarcastically, and stormed off into your room, slamming it shut.

Today was the today. Exasperatingly, you dragged yourself out of bed, showered, brushed your teeth, and tied up your hair into a long braid that cascaded down your back. You figured you’d put on a bit of concealer to hide your dark circles, and topped that off by applying dark red lipstick. You dressed yourself in a white shirt, the collar sticking out of the green sweater you layered on top of it. You matched that with a white pleated skirt that stopped mid thigh, and slipped on a pair of black knee high socks.

Finished with your look, you shrugged on your backpack and headed downstairs, putting on your Mary Janes before pulling open the front door. You ignored your mom’s calls and ran out to the driveway, about to get into your vehicle to head to school. However, the plans seemed to change when a familiar red car idling on your street caught your attention.

Your heart began to thump loudly in your chest when you met Johnny’s burning gaze as he waited for you in the car. Knowing how stubborn and persistent he was, you immediately gave up and got into the car, slamming the door shut.

“All right, so you gonna explain where the hell you’ve been?” Anger and rancor dripped off his voice. You knew this would happen.

Turning to look him in the eye, you treated him with the same attitude. “Oh, that’s just golden! Where have I been? No, Johnny, where the hell have you been? I was trying to reach you for over a week until I found you at the beach with Ali.. Not to mention you were picking on that poor kid.”

As soon as you mentioned Ali, Johnny’s demeanor changed. He laid back into his seat, his jaw clenched. He was caught.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?”

When he wouldn’t reply, you broke the silence. “I don’t wanna argue with you right now, let alone talk to you. Now just drive me to school or I’ll be late.”

He scoffed. “Since when did you care about being late? You were absent for more than a week!”

“Jeez, wonder why,” you retorted. “You know what? This was a mistake.” You pushed open the car door, about to step out, when Johnny gripped your wrist, pulling you back.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said softly, begging you to stay. Worry filled his big baby blue eyes as he waited on your decision. “Please, Y/N.” You could never say no to him, especially when he was giving you that look. You got back into the car and shut the door, but faced away from Johnny. You swatted away his hand, causing him to recoil and put both hands on the wheel.

“If we’re gonna talk, let’s not do it here,” you said.

After that, you both stayed silent as he started the car, driving off to wherever. As you drew nearer to your destination, the surroundings started to look more and more familiar. It hit you; this is where you and Johnny had your first kiss, and maybe a little more than just that.. You found yourself smiling at the memories. Then again, maybe some things are just better as memories.

You were laid beside Johnny on his car, watching the sunset. When the sun went down, instead of heading back home, you ended up stargazing together. You both entirely forgot about your surroundings and the time, getting lost in conversation. Conversation turned into kissing, which eventually lead to something much more heated.

“You’re so damn beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’re all mine,” Johnny hummed, beaming and grinning widely. You giggled, continuing to pepper his pretty face with kisses.

“Well, you better believe it then, babe,” you said in between kisses. “Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

Johnny sighed in satisfaction, pulling you closer to him. “Good, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Johnny managed to catch your lips, capturing you in a deep, passionate and loving kiss. He held you tightly against him as you straddled his lap like his life depended on it.

Johnny pulled over, snapping you back into reality. You overlooked the city as he shut off the car engine with a heavy sigh, preparing himself for whatever was to come out of this conversation.

“So? You got anything to say for yourself, Lawrence?”

He took a moment to think, before opening his mouth to speak.

“Y/N.. I’m sorry. I fucked up big time.” You scoffed at that, rolling your eyes and looking away from Johnny. “I’m sorry! I really am! I know I shouldn’t have gone after Ali when I had you.”

“Had,” you pointed out, chuckling.

“Oh, just listen to me, will ya? I told you I’m sorry and I admit to my mistakes!”

“And lemme guess; you’re telling me all this just now because Ali once again rejected you?” Johnny stayed silent, a sheepish and guilty look on his face. You groaned, “For fucks sake, Johnny. Do you ever mean the things you say? This was a complete waste of my time.”

“I didn’t wanna lose you, Y/N.”

“If you’re still loving Ali, then you’ve already lost me.”

“Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious. You ghosted me! At least I tried to make things right between us instead of running away!”

“You really are an awful person, Johnny Lawrence. My friends were right about you-” you blurted out. Your throat ached as you tried to keep yourself together. “You’re really nothing but a player! There is no ‘us’. You don’t give a damn about me. You never did. So just drop the act and take me to school,” you whispered the last part, not wanting Johnny to hear your voice break. But he could easily see through your anger and sense the sadness in your voice.

You faced the opposite direction from Johnny.

“Please look at me,” Johnny said after a while. You refused to glance his way, your eyes fixed on your fingers as you anxiously twiddled them together. The rage built up inside of you and the thoughts fueled by heartbreak, you kept to yourself. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want to show Johnny how much he truly hurt you. But all that was gone when tears began to stream down your face.

“Oh, Y/N, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I-” Johnny trailed off, his voice cracking. He felt so lost. He had never been faced with a situation like this, even with Ali. And he’s never seen you cry before. You were always tough and strong in front of him, and to see you bawl like this, he thought it really must be that bad.

“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” you sniffled. “Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

“Then I’m gonna keep apologizing because I mean it! With all my heart, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you cry. I can’t stand seeing you like this because of me.”

You turned your face slightly towards Johnny’s direction, curiosity and hope sparking inside of you.

“I was told that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. And even if you leave after this, I’m not gonna hide the way I feel, Y/N. I’ve never felt this way about a girl. Even with Ali. That’s why I was confused at first, but I knew I wanted to make it work with you.” Johnny squeezes your hand in his significantly bigger ones. “I hated to admit it at first, but I was and am smitten with you. You cross my mind everyday, and every song reminds me of you. And- And even if you shut me out after this.. If you go, I’ll stay. Even when you fall out of love, I just want you to know I’ll always have feelings for you.”

You didn’t know what to say after Johnny’s confession. You had all these emotions; betrayal, heartbreak, anger, confusion. They clouded your mind. You didn’t know how to properly react.

“Do you really mean that?”

Johnny chuckles sadly, “I may be a douche, but I’m not a liar.”

You leaned back into your seat, replaying everything that just happened in your head. Johnny’s confessions, his declaration of love for you. You knew Johnny had a rough life and wasn’t one to be open about his feelings. And you also knew you loved that boy, even after the pain he caused you. Did you really wanna risk it and be with him?

After being silent for a while, the uncomfortable stillness in the air prompted Johnny to speak up.

“You- I- I’ll just.. I can take you home. Wherever-”

“No! Wait, don’t,” you placed your hand over Johnny’s before he got the chance to start the car. You locked eyes with him, your heart beat beginning to speed up suddenly. You were stuck on what to do at that moment.

“Oh, fuck it,” you thought to yourself, and cupped Johnny’s face, bringing him closer to you. Now without the support of your hands, you were caught off balance and ended up stumbling atop Johnny. And in the heat of the moment, you crashed your lips to his. Okay, that was totally intentional.

Johnny didn’t waste a second and immediately kissed you back, holding you steady above him. You really didn’t want to, but you had to break the kiss for air, giving Johnny the chance to let out breathy words.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

You pressed your forehead to his and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while you tangled your fingers in his hair. He cupped your face, placing gentle little kisses on your nose.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen to us, baby, I promise.”

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

It's Yours - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Unprotected Sex 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

‘You’re what?’

That wasn't the reaction you were expecting. You stand there for a moment, holding the positive test in your shaking hand and you form your words carefully in your mind. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches and waits for you to answer him, surprisingly calm considering what you’d just told him.

‘I’m pregnant Peña.’ You state, taking a shaky breath before throwing the test at him ‘See for yourself. I have another back at the motel.’

‘And it’s mine?’

‘Yes.’ You reply plainly, giving him a small nod as you watch him process the information.

‘So you’re telling me that you didn’t fuck anyone else after I left?’

‘No Javi I didn’t.’ You spit, angered by this question ‘Was kinda busy taking down Escobar.’

‘Okay.’ He shrugs as he throws the test back to you ‘What do you want from me? A lift to the clinic?’

‘I’m keeping it, Javier.’

This grabs his attention, his head whipping up as he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

‘You’re what?’

‘I’m keeping it.’ You reply nonchalantly ‘I came here to tell you because you have a right to know. It’s clear you want nothing to do with this baby and that’s fine. We won’t be bothering you again.’

You pocket the test and turn to leave, feeling your heart ache a little from how this conversation had gone.

‘Hermosa!’

You stop, but you don’t turn to face him.

‘Why did you leave without saying goodbye?’

His question takes you by surprise and you do then turn to face him, noting the hurt expression on his face.

‘I couldn’t stand the idea of saying goodbye to you.’ You answer honestly, one traitorous tear slipping down your cheek ‘Assumed you wouldn’t care. Not like you hadn’t snuck out on me in the past.’

‘I did care.’ He stated as you looked at the ground.

‘Who knew that that last night together would leave me with a part of you permanently.’ You say, a small smile crossing your lips as you rest your hand on your stomach ‘I don’t want anything from you Javi. I just wanted you to know about the baby in case you wanted to be a part of their life.’

‘I-.’

‘It’s fine Javi really.’ You interrupted ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be excited about it. You’re not the committing type.’

He stands there speechless, watching you as you climb into your car and drive away. He feels numb. He’s dreamt about the moment that you’d be reunited, your lips crashing against his and body’s tangling in sweaty passion. Instead, you caught him feeding the girl he’d been fucking to distract himself from the thoughts he had of you and he let out a frustrated yell as he watched you speed down the track, dust floating in your wake.

‘You partner left in a hurry.’ States Chucho as he watched his son staring out the window of the truck ‘What did she want?’

‘To tell me she’s pregnant.’ Replies Javier plainly, not taking his eyes away from the window ‘And the kid's mine.’

Chucho pulled over and turned his head to look at his son, taking in his dejected countenance and watery eyes.

‘So you were sleeping with her?’ He asks.

‘Pops-.’

‘Did you love her?’ He interrupts as he turns to face his son, his eyes searching him for the answers he seeks.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you still love her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why did she leave in such a rush?’

Javier said nothing, just gave his father a guilty look and Chucho looked away as he let out a large huff, knowing exactly what he had said.

‘You’d assumed she was going to get rid of it.’

Javier nodded.

‘But she’s going to keep it isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to be involved?’

‘God I don’t know!’ The agent grumbles ‘What kind of father would I make hmmm?’

‘A damn fine one.’ His father answers and Javier snorts in reply ‘You’ve always been good with kids, liked kids and I know that if you gave yourself the chance. You’d make a damn good father.’

‘Well, she doesn’t think I want to have anything to do with it so…’

‘Did you tell her otherwise?’

Javier’s mouth opens but no words left his lips, giving his father all the answers he needs and he lets out an exasperated huff.

‘Well, you need to find her and tell her Javier.’ He practically yells ‘I’m not going to have a grandchild of mine growing up without a father.’

You find yourself in that bar again only this time you’re sipping on lemonade. You fiddle with the rim of the glass as the barman, who you'd discovered was called Si, from the other night comes to stand opposite you, watching you intently for a few minutes before speaking.

‘You’re thinking very loudly.’ He chuckles and you look up at him in surprise.

‘Sorry, I uh… I have a lot on my mind.’

‘Perhaps you need something a little stronger than lemonade.’ He suggests as he lets out a small chuckle.

‘Oh, I definitely do Si.’ You laugh ‘But I just learned that I’m pregnant and so I won’t be able to have anything stronger for a while.’

‘Well, shit.’ Si exclaims as he looks at you in surprise ‘That fella you told me about. He the father?’

‘Mhmm.’ You nod.

‘You tell him?’

You nod again.

‘And?’

‘Wants nothing to do with it or me.’ You reply as you take another sip of your drink.

‘What a fucker.’

You let out a loud laugh that takes you both by surprise and you cover your mouth in embarrassment, Si smiling at you as your cheeks flush.

‘Look I’m off in 10.’ He starts as he places the glass he was polishing back on the shelf behind him ‘Why don’t I take you for a walk and you can tell me all about it.’

You think about it for a moment, eyes studying him as you consider his offer and then your mind wanders back to what you'd seen this morning. Javier with her, holding her hand, stroking her knuckles and you decide.

‘Sounds good.’

Sure enough, he gets off ten minutes later and he leads you out of the bar with his hand resting on your lower back. You walk through the empty streets, relishing the cool breeze after the blistering heat you’d experienced that day.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Asks Si as he throws his arm around your shoulders.

‘Well, I’m keeping it is that’s what you’re getting at.’ You chuckle, looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye.

‘Well, I'd assumed that… What I meant was are you going to raise it alone or?…’

‘Well my parents are dead so I won't be getting any help from them.’ You chuckle as you take hold of the hand handing by your shoulder ‘So unless I meet someone that’s willing to be with me and accept my baggage then I guess I will have to.’

Si looks down at you a moment before giving you a sweet smile and coming to a stop beside your motel's flashing sign.

‘Well.’ You start, looking at your motel and then back at him ‘Thanks for the walk. Certainly helped clear my mind a little.’

‘You’re most welcome.’ He replies as he places a soft kiss on your cheek ‘Can I walk you to your door?’

‘If you'd like.’ You chuckle as you start making your way up the stairs towards your room.

When you stop outside the door you look at Si and you smile, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you blush at the way he looks at you, despite knowing you're pregnant. When your eyes flit to his lips he goes for it, crushing his against yours in a bruising kiss that goes straight to your core. Suddenly it becomes heated, your hands fumbling blindly as you desperately try to open the door whilst he kisses and nibbles at your neck and one of his free hands travels past the waistband of your pants. You’re already so wet for him so it makes it easy for him to rub your clit in circular motions, making it impossible for you to focus on anything but what his hand is doing. His mouth swallows your moans and as you cum against his hand you let your head fall back against the door, his lust-blown eyes looking down at you make you thirst for more.

‘Want to come in?’

‘Definitely.’ He growls against the shell of your ear as he kisses your neck again and when you finally manage to get the door open you’re both tumbling inside in a mess of moans and kisses.

Little did you know you had an audience.

Javier watched as the barman for the bar he frequented fucked you with his fingers for everyone to see before you dragged him into your room. His heart broke as he watched it all unfold and then he felt nothing but anger before he turned and left. That hadn't taken long.

‘Good morning.’ Came a soft voice beside you and you let out a pleased hum as you felt his arms tighten around you.

Arching your back you felt his erection digging into the plushness of your ass and it goes straight to your core.

‘Shit sorry about that.’ Chuckles Si as he tries to move away but you shake your head.

‘May as well do something about it.’ You chuckle as you reach back and take his length in your hand, grinning at the pleasured growl you receive in return.

Grabbing your leg, he lifts it slightly before lining himself up with you, pushing in with one swift movement that has you both moaning loudly. His movements are slow but deep and he has you mewling as he hits that perfect spot with each thrust of his strong hips. You turn your head to kiss him and he presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly as he continues to pump himself in and out of you.

‘Fuck.’ You whine, scrunching your face up as you feel your orgasm fast approaching.

‘You gonna cum for me gorgeous.’

‘Mhmmm’ You reply as it hits you, your walls clamping down so hard that you take him right along with you.

‘Fuck.’ He growls as he pants against the shell of your ear ‘I’d love to do that to your every morning.’

‘We’ve only just met!.’ You say with feigned surprise ‘At least buy me dinner first.’ You finish as you give him a cheeky wink.

‘How about tonight?’

‘Hmmm, I think I can move some things around.’ You reply as you grin at him.

‘Great.’

You weren’t expecting to hear three knocks at the door as you left the bathroom, towel drying your hair, you stepped towards the door and pulled it open.

‘Javi!’ You fail to hide your shock upon seeing him stood there.

‘Can I come in?’ He asks plainly and you nod, pushing the door open wider so he can step inside.

‘What are you doing here?’ You ask as you step into the bathroom to pull on some clothes other than your bathrobe, emerging a few moments later in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt.

‘Well, I came to talk to you about the fact that we’re going to be having a baby together.’ He states plainly ‘Seeing as you didn’t really give me a chance to have my say yesterday about whether or not I want to be involved.’

‘Javi-.’

‘Swung by last night but you were otherwise engaged with the local barman.’ He interrupts, eyes fixed on a photo on your nightstand of you, him and Steve on one of many nights out in Bogota.

‘You were here last night?’

‘How long has that been going on?’ He asks, his tone cold.

‘Could ask you the same about the girl that I saw you with yesterday.’

‘I have been seeing her about two weeks.’ He answers plainly ‘Broke it off yesterday though after I saw you.’

‘What?… Why?’

‘Are you serious with him?’

‘We fucked one time Javier.’ You growl ‘He’s taking me out for dinner tonight but I can't say that I have had a chance to think about whether or not he's THE ONE’ You finish.

‘Right.’ He nods as he takes a seat on one of the bucket chairs opposite the TV set ‘Well I want a chance to be a part of this baby’s life. Whatever that involves. We have a guest house on the ranch, was doing it up so that pops could move into it as it’s all on one level but you are welcome to stay there until you find somewhere to live.’

‘You expect me to stay here?’

‘Well, I assumed you’d want to now that you’ve got a new squeeze.’

‘Fuck you, Peña.’

‘You’ve got Si to save me from that.’ He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, your face crumpling as tears start to fall from your bloodshot eyes ‘Shit… I.’ He scrubbed his hand over his face as he let out a sigh ‘I didn’t come here to be an asshole and fight with you. I came here to tell you that you don’t need to be alone in this. I want to be as involved as you’ll let me be. Come to the scans if you want, shopping for baby stuff, whatever else this all entails.’

‘Okay.’ You reply as you wipe away your tears ‘I haven't really had a chance to set any appointments up.’ You continue as you sit down on the edge of the bed ‘It’s all kinda happened so fast. I came back for you, found out you were with someone else. Discovered I was pregnant with your kid and then met someone myself. Nowhere in there have I had time to visit the doctor.’ You chuckle and he smiles in return.

‘Why did you come back for me?’ He asked, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to answer.

‘Honestly?’ He nods and you sigh ‘Because I fell in love with you and I kinda hoped that maybe you had feelings for me too.’

‘I do have feelings.’ He replies and you glance up at him before looking back at Si’s number ‘But you like him too don’t you?’

You nod, biting your lip as you remember last night. How tender he was with you, focusing on you and your pleasure before his own, then proceeding to fuck your brains out and leaving you limp and sated. You’d talked then for a while. You learned he’d been engaged a little while ago and that his fiancé had been pregnant. You’d admired him as he smiled whilst talking about all the things he’d done to get the nursery ready for when they arrived but then tragedy had struck and she was killed, along with the baby, in a head-on collision. Your heart had broken for him and you’d felt something twitch in your heart as you watched a single tear escape from his ocean blue eyes as he recalled the memory of learning he’d lost them both.

‘I can’t lie.’ He says suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts ‘He’s a really great guy. Been through hell although I’m sure he told you.’

You nod and he scrubs his hand over his face again before sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his things.

‘If there’s anyone that will treat you the way you deserve it’s him.’ He finishes as he gets up from his seat ‘I uh… Let me know when you make an appointment for a scan or whatever. I’d like to go if that’s okay with you.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I was serious about the guest house.’ He continues ‘Pops wouldn’t mind. Kinda insisted actually.’ He chuckled ‘It’s up to you of course. The offer is there.’

‘Thank you, Javi.’ You nod, taking a few ginger steps towards him ‘I appreciate it and if it’s okay with you I will take you up on it. This place is costing me a fortune per night.’ You chuckle nervously ‘I’m paid up till tomorrow.’

‘Sure!’ He exclaims, it coming out a little more excitable than he’d meant it to ‘I’ll uh… I’ll get it straightened out then can come get you tomorrow?’

‘I have the rental car.’

‘Right yeah.’ He replies, shaking his head a little ‘Course you do.’ He pauses, licking his bottom lip as he looks around ‘I’ll see you tomorrow Hermosa.’

‘See you tomorrow Javi.’

‘So the father came by today.’ You say as you take a sip of your drink.

‘Oh yeah?’ Asks Si as he looks up at you in interest.

‘Yeah.’ You nod ‘He’s decided that he wants to be involved after all.’ You say as you take a bite of your food ‘He also saw us last night.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking. Who is the father?’

‘Javier Peña.’

‘Peña? The DEA agent who took down Escobar?’

‘Hey, I helped!.’ You exclaim and his expression changes.

‘You’re DEA too?’ He asks, eyes growing comically wide.

‘Yeah.’ You reply ‘That okay?’

‘Well yeah.’ He replies, smiling at you ‘Actually it’s pretty hot.’

‘Oh really?’ You ask as you give him a devilish grin.

‘Very.’

You ate the rest of your food pretty quickly after that before you were practically dragging him back to your motel room, kissing him with fervour as you ripped his clothes off and he yours. There was no foreplay this time, the two of your too pent up and so when he pushes inside you feel like you could cum just from that, hitting your spot instantly with the first thrust of his hips. The sex goes on for what feels like hours. You cum three times before he gifts you with his seed and then you lay there in his arms, drawing circles on his chest as you breathe him in.

‘I don’t want to get in the way.’ He says out of the blue and you look up at him with a confused expression ‘I like you. I like you a lot and I think this could lead to something really amazing but I also don’t want to get in the way if you want to try and give it a go with Peña. I mean it's his kid after all and-.’

You stop him by placing your index finger on his lips before cupping his cheek and kissing him softly, grinning when he smiles against your lips.

‘I really like you too.’ You reply ‘And you aren’t getting in the way. Surely you know that Javi is not the settling down type. Yes, we’re having a baby together but that’s as far as it’ll ever go. He doesn’t love me. He’ll love this baby. That I am sure of but he’ll never be able to commit to the two of us.’

‘I can.’ He says suddenly and you grin at him ‘I know that it’s a little soon to be saying that but I just want you to know that I'm not just looking for a lay. I want something real and I’d like to think that maybe we can have that but…’

‘Just stop talking baby.’ You chuckle as you shut him up with a kiss and he rolls on top of you as the kiss gets heavy again.

Pushing inside you again, he makes love to you before you both fall asleep in each other's arms, revelling in post-coital bliss. Meanwhile, Javier is laying in bed, staring at a photo of the two of you together. His lips are to your ear and your face is contorted in laughter. He can’t remember what it is that he’d said to you but he could remember thinking how your laughter was like music to his ears and how he could listen to it for the rest of his life. He wanted to but he knew that he was too late now. Si had captured your attention so you were lost to him now. He could never be as good a man as him. Pulling the photo to his chest he let out a small sob, tears rolling down his cheeks as he mourned the future he could have had with you. If only he’d told you he loved you.

Chapter 3

#javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

120 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Rumors

Request: Could you please do an intense Tommy Shelby angst that ends up in kisses n all? Umm, any one of your choice, if you may. Or just lemme know and I'll think of some scenario? Thank you!

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of accused cheating, mature mentions(?)

Words: 1,116

Summary: (See request)

Note: Hope this was what you wanted! Sorry if I’m a little lacking in the intensity 😅

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee, @fandom-puff, @peakysputain, @darling-i-read-it, @cai-neki, @thewarriorprincessxo, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

“You slept with her!” Y/n yelled as she threw one of the throw-pillows. Tommy could not be bothered to pick up anything she’d thrown, much too determined to calm his wife.

“I’ve told you before, again and again, Y/n! I didn’t sleep with Lizzie!” Oh how his mum would’ve scolded him now. Yelling at a woman. “What must I do to prove it to you?!”

The situation was complicated. Thomas and Lizzie worked together, Lizzie being his secretary. Somehow, a rumor reached his wife. The rumor’s contents were false, but there was no way his wife would know that unless he told her. Unfortunately, he’d only got the chance to tell her after she’d learned of it.

A rumor of his secretary and himself was one of the few things he feared, something he honestly never thought he would end up fearing. He married Y/n, confident they’d be together until they died. He hired Lizzie, knowing she was in need of a job. But never did he think their worlds would intertwine in such a severe conflict.

He could find a new secretary.

But...

He could never find a new Y/n.

“Nothing! You can’t prove it’s false if I already know it’s true!”

He stopped in place, watching Y/n as she ran to the other side of the room. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, how do you know then? What’s your source?”

Y/n paused. She opened her mouth yet nothing but small stuttering sounds left it. Tommy raised a brow and urged her to continue. “Lizzie.”

The blinder threw his hands in the air dramatically. “Lizzie? Fucking Lizzie?”

“Yes, fucking Lizzie!!”

Thomas stomped towards Y/n, a new wave of furry washing over the both of them. Her back hit the wall but the way her chest puffed up and her eyes remained open with a hard glare told him she wasn’t backing down. No matter how close he got to her face, she refused to show any other signs of weakness apart from her backing into the wall.

“And why would you believe her?”

“I-” Her furious expression seemed to fade slightly. “I...I don’t know... I...” Then it returned. “It doesn’t matter though. If you did, you would tell me the same fucking thing!”

“No, I wouldn’t! I love you, Y/n, and I would never do anything to hurt you.”

The fact that she believed Lizzie rather than her husband was difficult for him to handle. Anyone believing such nonsense that left Lizzie’s mouth was questionable in Tommy’s opinion, however, he never said so as he surely had done the same at least once in his life.

“Bullshit!” She moved sideways so she could step away from him. In front of the desk, she knocked a stack of papers of the table, ignoring his shouts. She continued to fling stuff off the wooden surface.

“Y/n!” He shouted again, for the tenth time. “If I were to fuck a whore, do you really think it’d be Lizzie?” A dumb question, sure, but it was worth a try. Anything to get her to see his point.

Annoyed by her ignorance, he swung his arm turned her quickly as he blocked her leave from the now messy desk. It’s surroundings would be a pain to clean up, but he could worry about it later. He could worry about it years from now if it meant she would stay with him. He just could never worry about it if it meant their relationship would be repaired.

He would do anything for her.

But now was not a time for the romantic confession. “Fuck off.” Y/n shoved him back harshly. Her shoes clicked against the floor as she made her way to the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

“To find your brothers. Maybe they’ll be fucking honest with me! Unlike some people!”

Tommy ran to her, swooping her away from the door before she could even touch the knob. “Do you think I tell them about my sex life?”

“So you did fuck Lizzie!”

“No! Goddamnit woman!” Y/n tore herself from Tommy’s grasp, but his hand was quick to snatch her wrist. He too was at a loss for words upon opening his mouth, but he wasn’t ashamed of the things he had to say, it was because he’d found himself entranced by Y/n’s beauty. Their eyes connected and even Y/n’s angry features began to soften.

If only he was as quick as she was when it came to snapping out of that trance. “Thomas Michael Shelby, let go of me.” She growled through gritted teeth.

“No.”

“Let go of me!” He didn’t. He continued searching her face a while longer, despite her swatting at his shoulder. “Damn you, Shelby! Let,” she shoved once, “go,” another time, “of,” it turned into a fist colliding with his coat, “me!” She screamed as she shoved him harder than before, knocking him into a plant that was sitting in the corner. Her eyes widened and she gasped in fear.

Their e/c orbs held each other before she turned, beginning to walk away. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

She didn’t see him as he scrambled up, tripping on the plant slightly in the process, and raced to her. His hands turned her around faster than she could process and his lips collided with hers.

Her hands pushed him back for perhaps the sixth time that day, but it was only a little. Only a little bit to allow him to see herself as she asked the question that almost immediately sparked into her mind. “Why- why did you kiss me?”

“You’re my wife. I am your husband.”

“And? What difference does that make, Thomas...” Though the tension was very much still there, it seemed to hide under the softness of Y/n’s voice. “You can still be my husband and break my heart in such a cruel way-”

His hand cupped her cheek softly. “And I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. When we wed, I swore my loyalty to you. Do you believe I would lie?”

“...Some men do.”

“I’m not some men. I’m a Shelby. And as a Shelby-”

“Your aunt would help me gut you... Or do it herself.”

He tilted his head, taking the comment far too seriously. It seemed like it didn’t even occur to him as a joke, despite Y/n snickering in front of him. “That too, but my point was-”

“I know what your point was, Shelby. I was only kidding.” The smile on her face was genuine, but didn’t reach her eyes. He couldn’t care less though. For now, he would savor her company as they cleaned the office, and later they would talk about the rumor.

518 notes · View notes

libsterslobsters · 4 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Note

What about a fluff scenario when kai and his s/o both were out on the street when they were kids and pops took kai in and not his s/o so kai helped her out while she was still on the street until one day she stop coming to their spot. Kai in his early 20s and going to a meeting with pops and saw his s/o. She is the same but she's an highly skilled assassin and could kill you in an blink of an eye. (I can't figure out an ending😢😡)

"I found some food!" He flinched at your scream before seing you, upside down... hanging from a tree on the park you two usually met.

"You dont even know if that's safe to eat." He mumbled with a stoic face as you giggled, jumping perfectly back down.

"Bla bla bla you always need to make sure not to get sick, bla bla bla-!" You tried to mimicked his voice, smiling widely at the annoyed look he gave to you before snatching the fruit out of your hand.

"You're such a pain.." he mumbled whiel rubbing the fruit on the cleanest parts of his shirt... he knew it wouldn't clean although he could at least fool his pickup stomach enough.

"Oi!" You exclaimed with a mouthful "I am the pain who got yourself some food okay?!"

"Forgot about that part since it isn't always necessary." He smirked at the extremely offended look you had on as he took one careful bite out of the fruit-

He gasped as you tackled him on the ground with some screams as you two fought to at least mantain some balance... yet both of you rolled on the ground like cats playing on the mud. And just when he fought he won you pinned him on the ground as he let out a "oof" when his head hitted the grass.

"You're the worst on fights Chisaki~" you playfull teased him as he pushed you away from him with a huff as you laughed.

"I rather much prefer the nicknames you gave me than this stupid surname." He mumbled while patting himself as you got up with a frow but smiled.

"So I am THAT close to you to call you by your first name? Kai?" You singed his name and muffled your laugh as the pale cheeks of Chisaki started to flush.

"You are most like my only company. Unfortunately..." you scoffed as you got up with crossed arms.

"Since is such a pain to be my side then why do you follow me around huh?"

"Experience on the streets. You have those while I am still... learning." He muttered as you scoffed again. Such a lame excuse to being around you... Kai couldn't lie even he wanted to...

"Yeah yeah right. I'm going to search some food since after that play fight we pretty much lost it..."

"And whose fault is that?" He arche done of his eyebrows up as you poked your tongue at him.

"I will be back soon."

He nodded as you trailed off... although the least he could have expected it was to appear a man to offer him a home... a place to stay...

He was so shocked that for one moment he fprgoted about you... The old man said he was going to get the car just when he was about to ask if you could come along as well...

"So you got the locks now." He widened hsi golden eyes and turned around to see you smiling sadly at him.

"I will ask him if you-" you lifted your hand up with a shake of your head.

"No Kai. The man choosed you. So only you will go."

He furrowed his eyebrows before hearing the man calling for him. He turned his gaze back at you to see you were already walking away.

"I will help (Y/n)!" You stopped on your track and turned to him, with a determined look on his golden eyes "Just meet me on our usual spot and I will help! Just like you did for me, I own you!"

You frowned and smiled, before letting out one of the sweetest laughs he ever heard.

"You dont own me anything. But I will accept that!"

With that you walked away as he felt the man's hand on his shoulder to call him.

He sighed as he stared at the streets pacing by as he and Pops were sitted on the car. The last time he saw (Y/n) was only a few weeks after Pops took him in... it passed more than ten years since he searched that damn city for you...

It's funny how you never seemed to dissapear from his mind... ever time he passes by your meeting spot, he feels a ache on his chest yet a hidden feeling of hope to just see you back... waiting for him.

He blamed himself for it... he should had been more persistent on taking you back with him to the yakusa... you would have a better life than that oen you had.

"We're here." Pops voice broke out of his thoughts as the old man patted his shoulders "Try to not kill anyone, for our sake yeah?" It was meant as a joke but it came out as a scolding.

Pops would never leave it down his... outbursts on fights for the Shie Hassaikai.

They entered the underground ring and he cringed at how dirty it was that place... blood, sweat, tears, drool, food you name it. All sprawled out on the floor.

Pops sitted down on a table as he mentioned for Kai to stay back as the elders talked and he traveled his gaze around the place in judgement...

"So what about that my fella?"

"I dont rhink is a good idea. My son can be quite... harsh when it comes to these things." Pops muttered while eyeing Kai with a scowl.

"Dont worry buddy. My jewel can pretty much face your kiddo." The man with a cigarette spoke between chuckles as Pops made a thoughtful face before looking at Kai whose only sighed and nodded, already taking his jacket off.

"If your man there defeat then you will have our partnership."

"For sure. But this will happen on a secluded place. We're not animals." Pops spoke on a harsh tone as the other man laughed but nodded.

Kai only scowled at the audacity of the other male as he followed them and listened to Pops instructions on to NOT use his quirk to kill his opponent.

He was tired of listening to those rules.

He entered the place and it was quiet as Pops took his seat and the other elder took his. For a moment he was sure that it wasn't going to happen anything before he dodged with a grunt a chain that came on his way.

A woman with a metal mask covering half of her glace appeared as she dropped from the ceiling and glared at him through her hair.

He mantained on guard yet was eyeing her like she was no other than a piece of dirt.

She came at him running before he grabbed the chains on his gloved hands and twisted them around to cage her and throw his opponent in the air.

"Not so smug now huh?" He muttered to himself before tsking at how easily she freed herself from hsi grasp and landed on the ground on a crouched position.

E blocked her punchs and kicks easily despite from how fast she was being. It didn't even sounded like she even needed sto take a breath.

He used his quirk on the ground to push her all the way and cage her on the wall by the construction. For one second he thought it was all over before a explosion happened and his barrier of concret were broken as she took a knife out of her pocket.

"What's is the meaning of this?!" Pops shouted at his partner whose only laughed.

"Everything is fair on the wat my friend!"

Chisaki only scoffed and dodged all the attacks she made, wincing at when she actually manage to cut his cheeks as he lost his patient and grabbed on her wrist, already preparing to use the overhaul. Although on a moment of distraction when he pinned her down she kicked him so hard on the guts that he coughed as she was pinning him on the ground now, his head hitting teh concret with a grunt... her weapon discarded far away since he kicked.

Only one person would be able to do all of this and not provoke any hives to break out from his skin...

And staring with wide eyes better, he noticed the color of her eyes... (E/c) bright ones...

"(Y/n)?" He panted as he noticed her surprise on her feautures as she unthighten her grip on him and slowly got a bit away from him.

She arched one eyebrow at him, her face was only readable because of her eyes and the way her eyebrows moved.

Still on the ground. He got half of his body up, eyes still wide as the elders asked what was happening.

She slowly took off her mask and thoughts were confirmed. The one he was fighting was (Y/n)...

"Do I... know you? No one calls me that unless..." she slowly got up from him and maintained a safe distance as he grunted while getting up.

"Can't recognize me I see." He sighed, regret could come later as he slowly took his mask off and looked at her features widening in shock. "Kai Chisaki, ring any bells to you?"

It was silence for a bit before you gasped with a laugh and almost tackled him on the ground again if it wasn't from him being prepared this time.

"Oh my GOD! Is that really you?!" You shouted while hugging him as he awkwardly lowered his arms down to give you a proper hug.

"I could ask the same? What happened? You look so different than I remember!" He chuckled wearily as you gave out a hearted laugh, one he missed to hear.

"I could say the same thing to you! Look at how you got! The bony boy I met didn't had those muscles!" You circles around him before stopping and muttering "and such a nice package..."

He scoffed, ignoring the forming blush before twirling around to meet your gaze.

"More impulsive than you used to be, I see." You laughed before noticing the two elders entering, Pops with a confused as heck face as teh other opened his arm in confusion.

"The hell is going on here?"

"Chisaki my boy, you know this lady?"

"The girl I searched for years." He showed his palm at you "Is her, (Y/n)"

"Ah, lovely reunion between two killers. How adorable." You two let out confused noises before looking at eachother.

"You killed someone? You? Whose is scared of cockroaches?" He asked in disbelief and arrogance as you furrowed your eyebrows with crossed arms.

"(Y/n) happens to be one of my favorite and best assassins." The man spoke as Pops furrowed his eyebrows.

"So that's why we couldn't find her. You never reveal your assassins names to anyone, not even bussines neither of partners." Pops spoke as the man nodded.

As the elders talked they stopped to see you two, Pops smilling as the other furrowed his eyebrows at the way Chisaki looked at you and you looked back...

Oh, they can tell how this is going to end by only seing the two old friends reuniting...

#overhaul imagine #overhaul scenario #overhaul x reader #overhaul #overhaul chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #bnha villains x reader #bnha villains #bnha fanfiction #zuffer writings

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

heiress - 2

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: this is part two of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

previous chapter

His memories had always been foggy. Even after slipping from HYDRA’s control, his memories were still foggy. He could remember almost everything through a sepia-like filter yet his memory as even more distorted the moment he looked at her. He had this gut wrenching feeling he had known her yet his foggy red tinted memories gave him no answer as to who this woman was and whenever he tried digging deeper into his subconscious. he would just get tired. Almost as if his own mind did not allow him to know her but he knew he must’ve seen her face or her figure somewhere and if he hadn’t then he must’ve known her in another life because whenever he looked at her, he felt comfortable. It was an odd sensation to explain, a deja-vu like feeling, a feeling which made him want to run up to her and held her into his arms but she was a stranger. Everything was strange here even Wanda who despite him having shared a few words with, looked so distant.

- When did Wanda have time to have two ten year olds? - Sam threw himself to one of the beds in the room the two of them had been assigned to. Sharon had gotten a different room yet Sam and Bucky were bunking together like 13 year old campers. - Also can she resuscitate people now? I mean, he’s an android but nevertheless. Oh my god, how did an android and a human had kids?

- Do you trust them? Sharon isn’t too convinced.

- Well, Wanda fought by our side so did Vision and Fury and Hill are with them. Unless they all turned evil, I think we can somewhat trust them.

- I don’t know, Sam. I ... I don’t trust the girl.

- They’re almost all girls, cyborg brain. Be specific. Did specificity did not exist in the 40s?

- The one who dropped her gun first.

- Maybe, she’s Pierce’s kid or so says Sharon. Maybe you used to babysit her.

- No, I ...

- Sergeant Barnes ... - Monica knocked on the door before allowing herself into the bedroom. - There were some letters in the file written by you. We believe it is not our right to intrude onto your privacy so we wanted to give them to you.

- God, every time I discover something about you, it makes you sound even older than you are. - Sam leaned against the bed frame as Bucky warringly took the letters from the Monica who left the room once her job was done.

The paper had grown old with time, yellowing around the borders of the Red Room envelopes they used to give the girls who behaved well enough so they could send their parents some news. He remembered stealing a few to try and write any memories which came through so he wouldn’t forget them when the officers erased him. Somehow they always found the letters yet there it was in his hands, a big stack of letters which seemingly hadn’t been destroyed. It was his handwriting that much he knew, however he did not know who Daisy was, he did not know who had the name to which the letters were addressed to.

- Who did you write letters to? Steve?

- Daisy. - he didn’t mean to reply but those words just seemed to flow naturally from him and he was entranced by the name in his handwriting alone.

The snow felt step onto the ground, it was cold, cold enough everyone was wearing jackets inside despite the heater being on and he seemed to have been transported back into his memories. Everyone was cold and covered but not her and no matter how hard he tried to make up her face, it was fogged up in his memory but he could see her, he could see her in her strap black ballet top and worn out pink ballerina shoes which she had particularly asked Madam B not to be replaced. He could see her, but he couldn’t make her out, he didn’t know who she was.

- Daisy, you’re going to get sick. - Bucky could hear himself speak but he wasn’t speaking, he wasn’t there, he was just reliving a memory.

- Don’t call me Daisy. I hate it when you call me Daisy.

- Hey, cyborg brain? Are you ok? - Sam’s voice was echoey until he touched his shoulder and then he was harshly brought back to reality. - Don’t bug out on me, I don’t know how to reset you.

- Yeah, just thinking.

The night was long, too long and he spent every minute of it reading every single letter he had written this woman until they were all spread out across the floor of the room; but we loved with a love that was more than love me and my Daisy, I’m sorry Daisy, I miss you Daisy. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, Daisy. He had read that name more than a hundred times and he still couldn’t remember who she was yet he knew he loved her or that he had loved her. The more he tried to remember it, the more his head hurt, the more the blurry memories turned red. He didn’t known who this woman who had meant so much to him was. He shoved those letters under the bed and left the room while Sam was sleeping. He need to clear his head, clearly this woman hadn’t meant that much to him if he couldn’t remember her, but he knew it was a lie. He knew she mattered.

The sounds of his shoes against the floor made him forget about her, her the ghost of a woman he loved. He continued to walk, watching the walls surrounding him until a glass wall broke the continuous light blue of the walls. He peeked through it and there it was, the woman he felt he knew in a black suit on pointe. He was hypnotised by the constant plié to on pointe as if it was nothing. Bucky went around, opening the door to watch her more closely.

- How do you do it? - he asked, taking her by surprise. Turning around, she had fear in her eyes as she took a step back, something Bucky was used to. It no longer hurt as it used to. - The feet thing. I ... my sister used to watch ballet and they always did that.

- Oh, uhm ... it’s all about supporting your body weight onto your toes and wearing the right pair of shoes.

- I’m Bucky, by the way ... Uhm, thank you for not killing us.

- I’m Y/N. - she extended her hand to shake his. - Is the room alright? Do you need anything?

- Do you know who Daisy is? Sharon said your father is Pierce so I thou ...

- I don’t. - she interrupted him. - I don’t really know a lot about my father’s private life. I’m sorry.

- You’re too early for ... - Yelena entered the room in tactical gear, stopping once she saw someone other than Y/N. Her eyes searched for Y/N’s who were begging for help. - Fight training. Closed off fight training.

- Right, I ... I was just looking for the kitchen. - he said but was still gazing her eyes

- I’ll take you. - the blonde Russian gave him a tight smile, pointing towards the door and exiting with him.

The air that seemed to have been previously held on her chest came out almost in a wave and she felt herself slide against the mirrored wall until she was sat on the floor, head looking at the tall ceiling as if she were in catatonic state, and maybe she was, she didn’t know. How could she know if whenever he spoke to her all she could hear was that piano, that damned low piano and the mirage of him, the mirage of the life she wanted with him in Westview. She looked at her shoes, worn out, the pink satin which one was shiny new had black worn out spots over where there used to be an embroidered daisy. She was glad it was gone, she was glad it wouldn’t return. Nevertheless, she could still feel her ... Agatha, poking at whatever protected her mind. She could almost hear her calling out to her with promises of all she wanted. They had always gone after her ... the weak link, the one whose will was easy to break. It was no mistake the red room had given her the nickname Daisy out of all flowers they could’ve picked. She was easily broken, manipulated to be a strong fighter but easily broken by those who knew. She wondered if the Red Room was still out looking for her, looking for Yelena ... she wondered what control they still held over her, what control her father had over her. Both knew she was alive, both had tortured her with tapes of ... him. They knew she was alive, it was only a cat and mouse game until they took her away. Their experiment. Their unsuccessful successful experiment.

- God, he’s awfully chattier than I remember. - Yelena walked into the room, eyes lowering to where she was. - Who told you to take a break? Get up and fight me.

- He knows.

- Chill, Y/N. He didn’t even know what a waffle maker was until now. He’s not gonna break through whatever you made Wanda do to him which, by the way, I’m against. - the blonde sat next to her. - You let Monica hand him the letters, of course he’s gonna wonder who Daisy is. Terrible name.

- I’m sorry, Yelena, not everyone had the pleasure of having the code name Hyacinth. - Y/N teased.

- It was a great code name. The best code name.

- No, it wasn’t.

- Want the morning off? I could spar with Monica or Alexei. - Yelena gave her a kind look and an offer she couldn’t refuse. Last thing she wanted to do was to spar with anyone in her mindset. Yelena understood it, her too having dealt with her own trauma inflicted by the Red Room. In times like these, both girls had learned to leave each other alone to cope with whatever demons they had.

Y/N dragged her knees up to her chest like a kid, hair falling in front of her eyes as she fished for the dog tags under her shirt. She ripped them from her neck, letting the old metal tags slide through her fingers. She clenched the memorabilia of past emotions against her chest.

- Yelena said you were gloom. - Wanda walked into the room still in her pyjamas. - Besides your shield is down and your thoughts are loud. You ought to learn to control it someday.

- Well, you seem to love getting in people’s minds.

- Not yours. Whenever I get the particular pleasure of doing it ... - she sat next to her, still in her dressing gown. - You’re either feeling guilty or in such pain. I think it’s time you speak about it.

- She’s still in my mind ... Agatha. She lingers.

- What does she know? She couldn’t even give you an actually accurate mirage of Bucky. Two arms? Please.

- She’s gonna be after us non-stop, Wanda. She will pair forces with Ross to get what she wants and then all of this will be as worthless as it was. With Zemo if she needs too ...

- She can’t get to you, okay? - Wanda gave her a kind smile, the type of smile she gave the twins whenever one of them was sad but this time it didn’t help. She could hear her voice calling out for her, she could see the purple tint in her nightmares and while Monica and Wanda had learned to deal with it, mostly ignoring it, she could fell the witch’s influence in her stronger than ever.

She remained laid against the wall of the training room even after Wanda was gone. She looked at the ceiling, fingers toying around with the humidity in the air making it fall onto the ground like rain. Fitting, she thought. Yet again, whatever she could do always seemed to mirror whatever she thought or felt like. It was past midday when she made her way from the gym to her bedroom to get dressed. She knew better than to leave the hex unaccompanied but what surrounded it was wilderness and she always felt at peace in wilderness, the soft sounds of birds chirping and the water falls always made her forget the screams from the red room, the purple aura from Agatha ... it just didn’t make her forget Bucky. She had always wanted to see him again, to apologise ... to ... she didn’t know what to do, she just knew she got tongue tied whenever she saw him, the guilt eating her alive.

- Well, hello dear. - Y/N turned around, eyes shining white behind her iris as Agatha stood there in her purple peplum dress. - There’s no need for a fight, dear. I just want to talk.

- Well, I don’t ... - she took a fighting stance but the woman merely shrugged.

- I just came to give you a shoulder to cry. Word on the street is that your Bucky is around. Isn’t that wonderful, dear?

- Based on your illusion of him, I’d think you wouldn’t even recognise him.

- You know, you’ll always be my favourite out of the three girls. You and I are very similar, my dear. Besides, I can help you, I know how your powers work and it’s not for cheap tricks. I can help you with him, I know what it is like to have someone take the person who you love the most be taken for you but I can help you, dear. You and me, we can get what we want, what it’s rightfully yours.

- He’s not mine. - she meant her words to come strong, swiftly like the thunderstorm winds yet they faltered, as if they were only now registering in her mind.

- You know, dearest ... the good thing about the soul stone is that it made you who you are. The bad thing is, you’re not gonna be able to control what it gave you if your soul is in disarray. The more your mind battles, the more your ability will take hold of you.

- What do you mean?

- Why do you think Wanda got more powerful when things were falling apart in Westview?

- Y/N! - Monica’s voice made Agatha disappear in a cloud of purple mist. Y/N turned her head to the side to see Monica make her way through the trees, decked out in her fighting outfit. - What are you doing here? You missed the early morning brief and you’re in ... whatever you’re wearing.

- I just needed some time off. - she smiled. - Why are you in battle gear?

- Darcy’s sure one of the books must be in the Red Room ... the one where you were trained. - Monica sighed, less than happy to have to bring Y/N back to that place but if there was someone who could navigate it, it was her. - Yelena was not trained by ... him, so she does not know. Y/N, I don’t think ... I think you and him should talk.

- There’s nothing to talk about. - she forced a smile, following Monica back into the hex. - We are different people, besides ... I don’t think he would forgive me at all.

- Can you at least tell me what happened? What happened with him, what happened in Westview? Wanda says you’re in pain and I don’t want you to be in pain. You helped me when I was in pain, I wanna help you too. We’ve known each other for what? Five years discounting the Thanos thing? Six?

- I will talk about it someday. Just not today.

- Are you in the headspace to go with us? We can always try and see what Sergeant Barnes remembers if you’re not up to it.

- I am a professional agent. - she smiled. - I’m always prepared.

The sooner we get this book situation sorted, the sooner she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. At least that’s what she thought and as such she had no problem returning to the place which she had escaped from years and years ago. Nevertheless, she was first and foremost an agent, someone who fought for others and for once she had to do just that. Be professional.

She got dressed in her traditional black tactic gear and jacket before heading down to the room where they kept most of their ammunition. It had been Jimmy’s idea to arm everyone involved in a mission just in case despite Y/N, Wanda and Monica being capable to hold their own without it. Even so, having a knife or a gun on them had made wonders before. Normally the people they go against aren’t exactly fair and she had learned that the hard way. As she opened the door to the ammunition room, she came face to face with him lacing up his boots. It was the most common action yet it felt so foreign to see him do it, to see him be in control of lacing up his own shoe laces. Part of her was happy for him, happy he was happy, happy he was his own person but the other part of her screamed for her to let it go of her insecurities, he was not the same man she had known and she was definitely not the same woman. She was guilty for more than half his pain and that, that remained the same.

Y/N ignored him, sliding past him to grab her own utility belt which was really nothing special except for the fact she had gotten everyone important in her life to carve their initials in them. Her point was if she was dying on the field, she had least had something which reminded her of the love which regardless of every bad thing she had done, still remained. She wrapped her belt around her waist and thigh, yet nevertheless it was still too loose. Damned belt.

- You’re putting it wrong. - Buck mumbled.

- Pardon?

- The belt. - he got up and walked up to her. - The second strap ... it’s too low on your thigh, should be higher.

- Oh ... - she moved her gaze away from him.

- Here. May I? - he asked her, hoping to meet her gaze but she merely nodded still looking the other way. Bucky unclasped the strap from her thigh, bringing it up further up, his knuckles brushing against the fabric of her trousers. She slowly moved her gaze to look at him and he fixed her belt before he moved up, eyes staring into hers. They seemed to look at each other for a lifetime, before he cleared his throat. - It should be better now.

- Uhm ... thank you, Sergeant Barnes.

- Cyborg brain, how long does it take to lace up some boots? - Sam’s voice reverberated through the room making the two take each a step back going back to the distance between them.

- I have to go. - Y/N grabbed her jacket, exiting the room as fast as she could.

The plane ride was equally unbearable with her sat in front of him, catching his eyes every once in a while. God, she used to love his eyes. She still remembered being tangled in grey worn out sheets, laying across his chest just looking at him, looking at those eyes which always looked the same even when he forgot her. Those blue eyes, they were always the same despite the two of them being different people from who they were in the Red Room. Speaking of the devil, it no longer looked like one. It was falling down, the once crown jewel of HYDRA had worn out with time. The red walls were fading to brown, the spotless rooms were now filled with dust and ghosts of memories. It was gone, so how come it still haunted her?

- Wanda and Sharon will take east, me and Sam west, Alexei and Yelena south and Y/N you can take north with Sergeant Barnes. - Monica suggested. Y/N shot her a way too familiar look, almost as if she were about to argue with her yet she understood the basis of her decision. After all, not everyone had ... a something controlling power.

She took charge into the very familiar north wing of the building. They kept most off the girls who were yet to pass to the red room there and it had been her home for years. Bucky however, was remembering things which he couldn’t fully understand. He knew this place yet he didn’t remember walking these halls, he remembered the pain. He could still feel the pain, the much too familiar pain of having all he knew be gone.

- You’ll take the right and I the left? Sergeant Barnes? - she put her hand on his hand, almost magically taking him away from ghosts of his pain. - Do you want to stop?

- Yeah, I’ll take the left. - he rebuffed her, turning left.

The room seemed to take him in, memories of his own strained voice as he yelled out for some mercy returned to his consciousness, memories of things he had said, things he hadn’t said. He swiftly turned around, turning his gun to the door before turning back again to see a woman standing in front of him.

- Woah lower the gun down, dear. - she had an eerily smile on her lips. Buck took a step back slowly but she moved her hand, a purple glow followed by the sound of the door closing. - I’m only here to help.

- Y/N ... - he tapped his intercom but no sound came from it.

- Yes, that’s exactly who we are talking about. You see I know who Daisy is, she knows who Daisy is. - she took a file from under her shirt. - Everyone knows who Daisy is but you. Now, I think it’s really unfair you don’t know so I decided to even out the game.

She threw the file onto the ground before disappearing. God, at least back in the 40s people only removed their faces. Bucky looked around, wearingly of his surroundings much more than he was before. This room. was playing with his mind yet the file laying on the ground proved the woman wasn’t a mere mirage of his mind. He kneeled down too grab the file, opening it to reveal a passport photo of Y/N accompanied by an information sheet. He read through the first lines quickly until one particular fact stopped him. Known aliases: Daisy.

taglist: @lookiamtrying

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.11 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch finally has Edge's address, but as always seems to happen in this town, answering one question only makes two more spring up to take its place.

Read ‘Unconventional Wisdom’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The dog spent all morning napping behind the counter, not rising for broom bristles nudging him nor Stretch stepping over him awkwardly so he could grab a few boxes from the top shelf to fill up the front racks. He did snore loud enough to be heard over the radio, but eh, so did Red so Stretch was used to it.

It wasn’t until the jangling cowbell over the door heralded the arrival of a group of kids that the pup gave up on his snoring and wandering out to inspect the new arrivals, tail already happily wagging. Predictably, the kiddos were enamored of their newest employee, although guard dog might be overstating things a bit. Okay, maybe a lot; it looked like Red hadn’t been able to get back to sleep last night because the once-filthy dog with a mess of tangled fur was now freshly washed and brushed, and he smelled a lot like the shower gel from Red’s bathroom. Cleaned up, he was a handsome dog, looking as fluffy as an enormous toasted marshmallow. Not exactly threatening, fluffykins here was probably gonna spend most of his shift on moral support duty.

The little girl who was currently the main recipient of the dog’s enthusiastic face licking giggled and asked, “What’s his name?”

“uh.” That gave Stretch a pause. He shrugged. “doesn’t have a name yet, i’ll have to ask red what he thinks.”

“Should name him Rover,” one boy put in helpfully.

Another boy chimed in, “Or Bingo!”

“Cheeseburger!” A little gal firmly declared as though no other name would do and Stretch couldn’t help laughing.

“is that a name suggestion or a lunch request?” he teased. All the kids giggled, including the one who’d suggested the name and Stretch gave one of her pigtails a gentle tug. “tell you what, here.” He pulled out a pad of paper from under the counter, flipped past the pages filled with inventory lists and cribbage scores to a blank one and wrote carefully at the top, ‘Name Our Dog’. He set it in one corner of the counter triumphantly, “there! now anyone can suggest a name and red can choose the best one.”

All the kids seemed in agreement that this was the best course of action, each taking a turn to scribble their suggestion on the sheet. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if ‘Cheeseburger’ was at the top of Red’s picks.

The kids eventually abandoned the dog and started a round of intense negotiations over what penny treats to buy today. Stretch left them to it, settling to sit on the stool to wait for them to bring up their selections to the register. His mind wandered idly back to newest side quest: getting to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

He’d already tried to look the address up on his phone’s GPS and wasn’t too surprised to see that it didn’t come up, naw, that would be too easy. So, first was figuring out how to get there and second would be figuring out how to get there. Not like he had a car and somehow, he doubted that Backwater had a thriving Uber economy. Maybe he could hitch a lift with someone? People were always coming into town in those big ol’ pickup trucks and the folks around here were pretty friendly, plus Edge seemed to be pretty well known. They all probably knew exactly where Edge lived and stopped by for pie and tea all the time. Surely someone would be delighted to help out, particularly if they were one of the lookie-loos from Mama’s who wanted to see Stretch and Edge on another man date, thank-you-but-no-thank-you.

That would probably be the easiest way to go about it, but Stretch found he was strangely reluctant to take that route. It felt a little like cheating, considering the roundabout way Edge went about handed out his address.

Anyway, if he’d wanted to go down that path, he could’ve simply asked Red days ago, but that right there was an entirely different can of worms that he didn’t want to share with any of the early birds. Red never forbade him from hanging out with Edge, but he’d been pretty clear time and again that he wasn’t too keen on it, either. Might be best if he kept any mentions of Edge to a minimum unless Red brought him up first.

He’d just figure it out himself, thanks, and he wasn’t any puzzle master, not like his bro was, but he had a little pride buried around here somewhere. Edge set him a challenge, damn it, and he was gonna see it through.

His absent gaze strayed down to the pile of bicycles outside the store, kid-sized, sure, but hey, wait a second—

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, and the debate on whether to get two packs of everlasting gobstoppers or three paused as a half-dozen heads perked up like prairie dogs from a sugary plain. “if i wanted to buy a bicycle around here, where would i go?”

Heads ducked down again in a hastily whispered conversation, then the spokeskid popped up again and said, decisively, “Try over at the thrift shop. Miss Maggie always has old bikes for sale.”

“thanks.” He should’ve known. The only other option right in town was the tractor supply shop and while driving up on a John Deere would make a hell of an impression, it was probably well out of his price range. The kids crowded over with their handfuls of spoils and Stretch dutifully rang them up and if he tossed in a dime of his own to cover them, eh, wasn’t like they’d ever know. He handed over a paper sack of treats to a chorus of thank yous and the divvying began before the kiddos even got out of the shop.

“Oh, Edgar Allen said to tell you hi!” One little girl called back to him. She was gone out of the door before he could even think of a reply, all of them clamoring onto their bikes, their faces chipmunk-cheeked with their spoils.

Edgar Allen, shit, yeah, that was right. He’d pretty much been the first stop on this questline and Stretch’d been meaning to do something for him. He’d already rethought the magazine idea; what if it turned out that scarecrows couldn’t read, kinda insensitive there. He’d have to think of something, though, owing someone didn’t sit well with him even if that person didn’t qualify for traditionally alive.

In the meantime, the dog, bereft of childish companionship, wandered back behind the counter and flopped down with a huff, sighing deeply.

“yeah, go on and take a break,” Stretch told him, “you were working pretty hard there.” He stretched out a leg to pet the dog carefully with his foot and wasn’t too surprised that it didn’t care one bit about his shoe, only pliantly rolled over to give him better access to the belly region.

Stretch obediently kept petting, hell, he obeyed better than the dog. But his thoughts were still on the upcoming journey to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

~~*~~

Red relieved him in the shop a little later than normal, looking a lot like he’d just hauled ass out of bed. His shirt was the same one as earlier, only with a fresh crop of wrinkles and his eye lights were still bleary with exhaustion.

Almost, Stretch offered to stay later and let Red get a little more sleep, considering it was his fault Red got woken up in the middle of night. But the baleful glare Red sent his way was an unspoken warning that such an offer probably wasn’t gonna go over well. He kept his jaw shut tight and took the paper sandwich bag Red handed over before heading out the door. Time to get this side quest rolling, literally, he hoped.

The few times he’d met Magdalen May he’d figured right from the get-go that she, like Red, was a partaker of the Sheriff’s son’s prize cannabis crop. Not only because of her dreamy demeanor but also whenever she came into the store, she was surrounded by an almost visible cloud of pot stank so strong that Stretch got a contact buzz while she was shopping through the meagre selection of yarn that Red kept. By the time she left, Stretch would have a craving for Cheetos so strong he’d be ready to start gnawing on his fingerbones for a cronch.

Stepping into the thrift shop was a little like hot boxing in a hoarder’s closet but Stretch soldiered on, squinting as his vision adjusted from the bright light of day to a dimness barely above attic-levels. He went past shelves of gewgaws and boxes of dusty records, old clothes hanging from racks that looked like they’d been commandeered from a lot of remaindered furniture. There were tables piled high with ancient radios, cameras, electronics that Stretch didn’t know the name of and surely didn’t work, existing only to be parted out by an amateur scientist or an electrician in search of cheap parts. Antique glass was set high on the shelves, catching dusty light and sending a kaleidoscope of color to scatter over the room, freckling it in greens, reds, and yellows.

The entire store radiated a glorious sort of chaos and if it weren’t for the fact that he already felt a little woozy, he would’ve stayed for a while and poked through some of the wares. Maybe even find a new book for Red buried in the nearby piles, see if he’d be willing branch out into cowboy romance for a change.

He heading to the back of the shop where Miss Maggie was sitting in a rocking chair surrounded by boxes and shelves, knitting with flashing speed despite the foggy miasma hanging in the air. Her long white hair was smoothly braided and pinned up on top of her head, her weathered skin tanned dark and leathery. The weave of bright yellow yarn trailing from her needles was spread across her lap in an incongruous contrast to her dark, billowing skirt and the light sweater she wore against the chill of the air conditioning.

“Hello, Papyrus,” she greeted him with the sort of rough, croaky voice made over the years by a thousand packs of Marlboros. She didn’t look up, her attention completely focused on her knit and purl.

That gave him one hell of a pause. “how did you—” Stretch stopped. Great, he was in the soothsayer chapter and hadn’t even had time to prep. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really have any room in his life for another side quest, maybe let this one go. He didn’t actually want to know where she got her intel, not really, especially not with his head already spinning a little. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide the way they wanted to curl into fists, rocking back and forth on his heels. “heya. i haven’t gone by papyrus in years, it’s stretch, thanks.”

“A wise choice,” Miss Maggie said. She sounded…different, somehow. He’d talked to her a few times now and strangely, today he couldn’t seem to place her accent. It wasn’t like the other townsfolk, all of them had a certain warm, down-homey charm, and usually so did she. Her words today were crisp, sharp-edged, nothing like the dreamy peace he was familiar with when she came into the store for coffee creamer and vanilla wafers. She glanced up at him over the wire rims of her glasses, her gaze as sharp as her tongue. “Names have power. A wise man keeps his true name to himself.”

“um. sure,” Stretch couldn’t stop himself from giving the door a longing glance. This was starting to seem like a bad idea, Miss Maggie seemed to be having a personality crisis, maybe he should come back after lunch. “that’s some very handy wisdom, but i’m here about a bike?”

She ignored that. “You have issues with names,” Miss Maggie told him. She kept knitting, needles flashing furiously in a rhythmic clickity-clack as steady as a metronome. “don’t you.”

“huh?” Stretch didn’t exactly have any flesh to get goosebumps with, but he felt a chill nonetheless, prickling maddeningly over his bones. His head was whirling, everything around him seemed to blur except the old woman in front of him. His tongue felt strangely thick as he whispered a question he didn’t want to ask, “i don’t…what do you mean?”

“Mmm, yes,” Miss Maggie sighed out, “so many names you’ve had and rejected. Had and left behind when you ran away, far, far away.”

“stop,” Stretch said weakly. His soul was starting to pulse with aching intensity behind his breastbone. The room filled with an electric heaviness like a coming storm, the rich green smell filling the room suddenly nauseating. “please, don’t.”

“Brother, lover, yes, but never father, not even once.”

“shut up,” Stretch said thickly. Or tried to, the words seemed to clot and stick at the back of his throat, refusing to travel over his useless tongue.

“And now you’re taking on new names,” she raised her head, and here in the dim, her eyes seemed like dark pools of pure blackness that reflected nothing of the flickering overhead lights. Her grin seemed unpleasant and wide, showing pale pink gums in an endless maw. “Is it friend you seek or something else, I wonder?”

As she turned towards him, her sleeve caught on the sugar bowl set on the table next to her, sending it tumbling to the floor. The burst of sound as it shattered pushed through his dazed distance like the snap of dry twig broken over a knee. Stretch jerked, blinking hard, and all the nebulous emotion in him surged forward, gathering and coalescing into real anger. He was starting to get sick of this shit, if everyone in town wanted to act like this place was Sleepy Hollow’s second-cousin, that was fine by him. He was happy to play along, but not if they were gonna keep sticking their shovels into his past to see what other skeletons they could dig up.

“look, fuck you,” Stretch snapped out. He turned back to the door, tossing over his shoulder. “never mind, i’ll figure out something else!”

“Wait!” And he didn’t want to wait, he wanted to push on through the door, but his stubborn feet suddenly refused to move. Miss Maggie clumsily thrust aside her knitting, hardly noticing her teacup wobbling, spilling tea and leaves out into her saucer in a wild splash. That funky weird woman vibe abruptly eased and so did some of the stench in the air, flavored instead with lavender tea. She waddled over to him, her long skirt dragging on the floor. Even bent over with age, she was impressively tall, hardly shorter than Stretch was, and he was a mini-skyscraper to most Humans. She looked up at him, her eyes a watery, pale blue, surrounded by a sea of wrinkles, how could he ever have imagined they were anything else?

Miss Maggie reached up to touch his cheekbone with fingers nearly as thin as his own.

“Oh, sweet child,” she said with mournful gentleness, and her voice was the smoky-sweet, grandmotherly one he recalled. “S’all right. Ain’t nothing wrong with setting aside a name you’ve outgrown, nor in taking on a new one.”

All his bright, burning anger collapsed inwardly, a card house with the center support removed, and hurt welled in him instead. He was crying, he realized distantly, tears stinging in his sockets, running down his cheekbones to gather on wetly his chin. He didn’t realize he was going to speak until he did, choking out, “it feels wrong.”

“How you feel and how things are don’t always match,” she agreed. She held out her arms, her gnarled hands open to him and Stretch leaned into them, burying his face in the soft, knitted shawl draped over her shoulder. She smelled like weed and lavender, a strange, exotic mixture. “i’ll get you all wet,” Stretch mumbled, muffled into the cloth.

She petted his skull gently, “It’s all right, child. I’ll dry.”

He held on tightly for a long time and when she finally drew back, she lightly touched his forehead with the tips of two dry fingers.

“You can get to his home through the forest,” she said, and it seemed to Stretch he could almost see it, clear as a picture someplace behind his sight. “Follow the exchange down about a mile, you’ll see a turnoff on the left. Don’t you stray from the path, you hear me, sonny?” Those pale, rheumy eyes searched his face for understanding. “Easy to get lost out there.”

“i won’t.”

“Good.” She let him go and shuffled back to her chair to picked up her knitting again. “Now, you mentioned something about a bike.”

For a moment, Stretch stood there, practically wobbling on his feet. He felt like he’d woken up from an unexpected nap, still floating in between the sleeping and waking worlds. Then he blinked, snapping awake, and looked around almost wildly. Until his gaze snagging on one of the shelves, or more specifically, something sitting on it, and held.

“a bike, i did.” Stretch walked over to the shelf where a bandana was sitting, a bright turkey-red plaid, and picked it up, holding it out for Miss Maggie to see. “how much for this, too?”

By the time he left the shop, he was in a fine mood despite his savings being a little lighter. He was pushing a rattly old bike with a squeaky chain and a horn that let loose with a hoarse ‘awhooga’ when the dusty rubber bulb was squeezed. The bandana was stuffed into his short’s pocket and the first thing he was gonna do was deal with that, then he’d worry about some maintenance. Probably better to find out if his new bike was streetworthy before taking his act on the road.

He used the walk back to the store to draw in a few deep, refreshing breaths of the heat-smoggy air, letting it clear his head.

“miss maggie sure smokes some strong shit,” Stretch muttered to himself. He left the bike leaning against the porch around back and headed over to the main road, taking his normal walking route down towards the corn. There were no kids on the makeshift baseball diamond today, looked like they’d headed off somewhere else to enjoy their penny candy.

The grass was yellowed and dying under his sneakers as he went off the beaten path, heading towards the rustling corn. Was it his imagination, or did those whispers get louder as he approached, even eager? The corn got lonely sometimes, Edgar Allen had said, but it didn’t mean any harm.

Somehow, he didn’t think the skeleton they’d found in the fields back in Doris’s day would agree.

“um, hi?” Stretch tried. There was no one around to see him and he still felt ridiculous, talking to the damn corn. “look, i dunno if you can understand me, but if you do, could you see that edgar allen gets this? i wanted to thank him for helping me out and i thought it’d look good on him.”

Carefully, he laid the bandana over a crux of green leaves and stalk, tugging to make sure it wouldn’t simply blow away. He left it there and turned back to town, hoping that the scarecrow got the message; as much as he wanted to thank the guy, he really didn’t feel like taking a second go in the corn maze to do it. He didn’t look back until he got back to the side of the road and there he paused, frowning. The splash of red should’ve been vivid against the sea of green but there was nothing, not so much as a glimpse.

He craned his neck, searching, but it hadn’t fallen to the ground and the wind wasn’t strong enough to carry it off. Maybe the corn had gotten the message after all? Yeah, he was going with that, and he headed back to take a look at his new bike, hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, which was a heck of a trick for someone without lips.

Yeah, he felt pretty good today and why not? He had a place to stay, a job, someone looking after him, and a dog. And now he had a bike. Things were looking up, Stretch decided.

Things were looking up.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

61 notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Acceptable Risk

Art trade fic for the extremely patient @theheroofoakvale, exploring if Shepard’s recruiting Thane had gone a little.... differently.

-----

The door opened with a quiet hiss, and Shepard’s entry was greeted with the raised barrels of several assault rifles. The mercenaries, however, paused before opening fire, despite being confronted by three heavily armed individuals pointing guns back at them.

The asari in the middle of the cluster--clad for business rather than combat--spun to face them, her eyes widening. “Shepard?!”

Shepard smirked, centered his pistol on her. “Nassana.”

There was a muffled clatter in the ceiling that had the mercenaries’ attention swiveling upward. Her posture shifted defensive. “You’re dead.”

“I got better,” he retorted, and shot her in the throat.

Her bodyguards zeroed back in on him and his team, torn between them and the threat above, and that was their undoing. A dark figure dropped from one of the ceiling vents, and Shepard used that moment of distraction to take out two of them. When the remaining mercs focused in on him, the dark figure punched one in the throat and shot the other center mass. The few that were left went down quickly.

Massani and Vakarian kept their guns up, leveled at the late arrival, a drell, as he stood in the middle of the carnage, eyes fixed in an unblinking, regretful stare at Nassana Dantius’ body.

“Sorry if I stole your kill,” Shepard said after letting the silence go as long as he could tolerate. His pistol hung at his side in a loose grip, ready if he needed it. He didn’t think he would.

“I was not here for her, though the galaxy is no less for her removal,” the drell said softly, finally looking up from the dead woman and blinking just before he met Shepard’s gaze. “I am here for you.”

Behind him, Massani muttered a quiet curse and Vakarian tightened his grip on his gun, but Shepard didn’t even flinch. “I did wonder. Dantius hardly seems worth the time for someone of your... reputation.”

“And yet you still came,” the drell said, clasping his hands behind him and looking in no rush to kill anyone.

“She used me.” He let the barest edge of a snarl color the words. “I can go along with a likely trap if it gives me an excuse for payback. Also,” he took half a step forward, “seemed the best way to meet you, Krios. We need to talk.”

Thane Krios did not look at all perturbed that his target knew who he was. His expression remained impassive as he studied Shepard’s face. “Do we? What about?”

“I need your help on a mission. You can feel free to continue trying to kill me after we’re done.”

“Why?” Krios asked, still studying Shepard’s face.

“Why, what?”

“Why do you need me? Why should I help instead of killing you now?”

Shepard laughed darkly. “The fucking galaxy is at stake, I need the best of the best, even if they are out for my blood.” Another half step forward, Vakarian and Massani following this time until he waved them back. “As for the second question.... I know some things about you, Krios. I know you’re dying, and I know you have a son.” His pistol folded in on its clip as he crossed his arms and stared hard at the assassin. “And where he is. I imagine you’d hate for something to happen to him before you had a chance to mend fences.”

Three rapid blinks, a sharp breath, posture unchanged, but it was the most reaction Krios had shown in this conversation. “And would you make this... something happen if I say no, Shepard?”

His calm was impressive. Shepard wondered if it was an easier illusion to maintain with eyes that had neither pupils nor iris to betray strong emotion. “If I have to. I need the best, Krios, which is you. Don’t really care how I get your cooperation.”

Krios was silent for a long moment. “This threat must be grave indeed for you to employ such measures.”

He was nigh impossible to read, but the slight shift of his clasped hands was hint enough. “I’m hunting an enemy who’s abducting human colonies and has ties to the Reapers, I’d call that pretty damn grave. Like I said, you can resume trying to kill me if we survive. What’s it gonna be?”

Another heavy pause, though shorter. “You have left me only one viable option if I care about my son.”

Shepard arched a brow.

“I will assist. Consider this a pause in the contract on your life.”

“Good enough for me.” Shepard cast a smug glance at Dantius’ corpse, then turned to exit the room. “We’re done here, so you can either come with us or meet us at the ship.”

“I will meet you shortly. I have a few personal effects to gather,” Krios said.

“Alright. We’re on a clock, so don’t dilly dally,” Shepard replied, and motioned their departure to Vakarian and Massani.

“What’s to stop him from shooting you on our way down?” Vakarian muttered as they headed for the elevator. “He’s already planning to kill you and you threatened his kid.”

Massani beat Shepard to the answer. “Doesn’t know if there’s a dead man’s switch on that something happenin’ to his boy if Shepard bites it.” He chuckled darkly and smirked at Shepard. “What the hell’d you do to earn a death mark, anyway?”

Shepard shrugged, watching the blur of downward travel out the elevator’s glass-paned wall. “Hell if I know, Massani. Certainly pissed off enough people for there to be some options.”

The mercenary gave a rough laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. “Wear like a badge of fucking honor, kid. Means you got someone real riled up.”

---

Krios was, as promised, aboard the Normandy well within an hour. His personal effects he’d gone to collect were few enough to fit in a small shoulder satchel that he politely refused to let anyone inspect. (Lawson was not happy when Shepard told her to drop it, clearly suspicious of allowing an assassin on board without first vetting his gear.) He settled in life support at EDI’s suggestion, and ruffled no feathers with the rest of the crew, unless you counted Taylor’s mistrust of his career in general.

“What will be expected of me, Commander?” Krios asked, in that same modulated tone he’d used on Illium.

“No shipboard duties, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Shepard said. He leaned against the wall by the door and studied Krios. “You can do as you like here. When we have missions, I may want you to come watch my six, if your skillset seems a good fit.”

“I see.” He folded his hands, elbows braced against the small worktable at which he sat. There was a hesitation under the words that almost rang in the air.

“If there’s something else you wanna say, now’s the time,” Shepard prodded. He didn’t have time to be gentle prying out secrets or whatever.

“My son,” Krios said, words measured and careful. “You say you know where he is. Would you be willing to share that knowledge?”

Shepard mulled it over, weighing the value of his options. “In time,” he finally said. “We have a couple pressing assignments that are more important than family reunions. But if we hit a point with some free time I’ll let you know.”

Krios nodded, his expression unreadable as ever. “Very well, Shepard.”

“One thing I need to know from you,” Shepard began, pushing away from the wall, “is if whatever’s killing you will affect your abilities in a fight.”

“It shouldn’t, not yet.” He paused for the space of a few blinks. “I should have several months at least before the symptoms become noticeable even to myself. More than enough time to complete your mission, if it is as urgent as you make you sound.”

“Is that something you doubt, Krios?”

“Not at all.” Krios pushed to his feet and crossed the room to examine a rack of spare rifle parts. “Even someone of your reputation would have to be on a mission of urgency to blackmail an assassin sent to kill you into helping your cause. I simply mean this threat seems the type where a decisive outcome will be reached swiftly; whether in victory or destruction. Well within the time I have before functionality is... affected.”

“Good.” Shepard nodded. “Not sure when I’ll need you, but I want to be sure you’ll be worth it when the times comes.” He left the room, noting Krios’ undertone murmur as he did, and from the cadence wondered what the assassin was praying for.

---

Shepard first tested him on something that seemed of no consequence; a mercenary base on a backwater planet trafficking stolen eezo. Thane did his job, no more no less, all the while making note of how the man fought. The risks he thought worth taking, the sacrifices that were acceptable cost, the balance of recklessness and cunning. It was not a complete picture, not off one mission, and Thane wouldn’t act on what he’d gleaned even if it were.

Not with the blade the commander had hung over Kolyat. Not with the hope of learning where his son might be. Patience was the hallmark of an assassin, after all; knowing when to strike as well as how. And Thane had been an assassin a very long time. He could wait.

Especially as conversations with others aboard the ship painted a clearer and clearer picture of the mission’s scope. A trip through the Omega 4 relay was very likely to be suicidal just on its own. Destroying whatever these Collectors used as a base doubly so. When Shepard made ‘if we survive’ comments, he wasn’t joking. Thane could wait. He could help with the mission--it was a worthy goal after all, one he would have assisted in accomplishing without the threats--and then resume his contract.

After the mercenary base was eliminated, and easily, Shepard made use of Thane’s skills a few more times. Usually on missions with plentiful shadow coverage and good sight lines.

“How’re you holding up?” Garrus asked on one such mission, the two of them picking off targets from a bit of a distance while Shepard made viciously short work of the battlefield.

“I’ve had worse assignments.” Thane’s rifle kicked against his shoulder and the krogan he’d been targeting dropped. He fired another shot, just to be safe, and watched the body jerk then lay still, before searching out another target. “What of you?”

Garrus snorted, took down his own target. “I’m here because he’s my... friend” --there was a brief hesitation, as if the turian wasn’t completely sure that was the right word--”and I trust that whatever he’s doing is worth whatever it costs to accomplish.”

“You’ve fought alongside him before.”

“Against Sovereign, yeah.” Garrus’ mandible twitched as he focused on sighting in another shot. “This feels different.”

He didn’t elaborate, and it was only a few moments more for them the claim victory and press further on with their mission.

Thane watched Shepard, and wondered what had changed in the eyes of his friend.

---

It was after the derelict Reaper, after adding a geth to their mix, that Thane’s patience paid off. At least in part.

“Your kid’s on the Citadel,” Shepard informed him out of the blue. “Lucky for you, Vakarian has some unfinished business there as well, and the techs need some time to integrate the IFF to the Normandy’s systems. I can spare a side trip for personal issues while they get that squared away. Be ready to go in an hour.”

Thane didn’t protest. Didn’t question. He could ask for details on approach to the Citadel.

They set a cold knot in his gut when he learned them. “He’s here to kill someone,” Shepard said bluntly, and all Thane could think was Like father, like son. That was not a path he’d ever wanted for Kolyat. Shepard didn’t have a lot of details, just that Kolyat was there. Apparently even Cerberus’ resources had limits.

They spoke to a C-Sec officer, then to Mouse at his suggestion--Thane was surprised but pleased he was still alive--both conversations Shepard kept as short as possible. Clearly he was not in the mood to waste time. Thane wished that hadn’t involved the commander breaking Mouse’s nose, but couldn’t muster much sympathy when the same proved true of Kelham once they got his name and interrogated him.

“We have some time, not a lot of it,” Shepard growled. “And we still need to find Sidonis when we’re done with your shit, Krios.” He turned to Captain Bailey. “What can you tell me about this Talid Kelham wants dead?”

The picture Bailey painted--up and coming turian politician, vocally anti-human and gaining support--made it obvious why Kelham would want Talid gone. He had to be very bad for business. He was also in a very vulnerable position currently; pressing flesh on a walk through the Wards with only one or two bodyguards along for protection.

Thane had to admit surprise when Shepard was alright with them splitting up to track Talid and (hopefully) find Kolyat.

“You can’t find him alone any more than I can,” Shepard commented with a sharp smile s he and Garrus headed for the catwalks. “Stay sharp, Krios.”

As if he would do otherwise. Still, he bowed his head and asked Amonkira for strength and guidance before he vanished into the shadows, hoping they weren’t too late to save his son from a very familiar dark path.

Are you really surprised? a voice inside him mocked as Thane picked his route along catwalks and ducts, through shadows and crowds. Even if he hates you, that’s the example you left.

He shook it off. He didn’t have the luxury of internal debate right now. He had to pick out his route on the fly, keep in touch with Shepard and Garrus, plot out several ways to handle the situation that all depended on Kolyat’s behavior. And he didn’t know his own son well enough to predict that, so his solutions were all loosely structured ideas at best. Some plan was better than none.

It was a close thing, despite their best efforts. Kolyat spooked, shot the bodyguards and dragged Talid into his apartment with a gun to his head.

Shepard was only a step behind once Kolyat broke cover and very quickly had a gun pointed at him.

Thane went very still, watching this standoff. He didn’t know Shepard well enough to know what the man would do, but he knew what C-Sec protocols would be, and he could hear their approach. Shepard had been very clear about the limited time they had for this side trip, the fastest resolution--which would also fulfill C-Sec’s mandate to keep Talid alive--would end with his son dead, and Shepard was not a patient man.

Kolyat’s anger blazed, even from across the room, and he was far from willing to cooperate, his pistol pressed to the back of Talid’s head.

The loud crack of a pistol shot nearly made Thane flinch, his chest squeezing in protest at the thought of his failure. Just this one thing, I wanted to fix just this.

But Shepard’s shot snapped Talid’s head back, not Kolyat’s. The turian collapsed in a spray of dark blood and Kolyat recoiled. In that moment of distraction, Thane surged forward and twisted the pistol out of Kolyat’s hands, unsure if the tremor was adrenaline or rage.

Shepard was talking to an incensed Bailey; “No one will miss a racist asshole, I did you a favor”, but Thane’s focus was all on his son.

“This was not the best way,” he said softly.

“What do you know?” Kolyat hissed back, struggling against Thane’s unrelenting grip.

“More than you might think.”

Kolyat yanked away as if the contact had burned him. Fury simmered in his eyes, and resentment, but he was alive. C-Sec would still have to take him in for what he’d been ready to do(attempted murder? That would likely be the charge), there would be consequences for what he tried to do, and Thane didn’t know if they even could “mend fences” as Shepard had put it. But he was alive. And hopefully could be deterred from a path Thane wouldn’t wish anyone to tread.

“Krios,” Shepard barked and Thane pulled himself out of his reverie watching C-Sec lead Kolyat away. But rather than Time to go, the commander nodded after the arresting officers. “Massani can help with tracking down Fade. You have until we’re done. I wouldn’t count on more than an hour or two.”

Thane blinked, thrown off kilter by the gesture, but recovered quickly. “Understood.” He’d taken three steps after the C-Sec officers before he stopped and turned. “...Thank you, Shepard.”

The man waved him off, already walking away with Garrus in his wake.

---

An hour and a half didn’t go very far working through a decade of distance, but it was a start.

“Why do you stay with him?” Kolyat asked when Thane’s comms crackled with a heads-up Shepard and the others were on their way back and he stood. “If... this” --a quick gesture, more a flick of the wrist than anything, between the two of them-- “is so important?”

For you. In more ways than one. “Shepard’s mission is... critical. And there is, unfortunately, a time limit on saving the galaxy.”

Kolyat snorted at his father’s dry humor. “Right.”

“I will keep in touch,” Thane promised. “Perhaps we can meet again once this is finished. If you would like.” If I survive.

“...We’ll see.” Kolyat was staring at the table rather than him, but Thane would take it.

He nodded and headed for the door. “Very well.”

“Does he have something on you?” Kolyat asked abruptly. “With the reputation Shepard’s made, he doesn’t seem the type honorable people would be following.”

“I have made no claims of honor,” Thane said quietly, hand on the door frame. “And with the stakes of mission, some sacrifices may prove necessary.”

“Sounds familiar,” Kolyat muttered.

Thane made no reply, and didn’t look back as he left the room with a cold weight in his chest.

---

It ha been the right call letting Krios reconnect with his son. He seemed more centered, more focused, for having dealt with his baggage. Probably that whole ‘something to live for’ schtick. Shepard only cared that Krios did his job and the mending bond made the kid an even more effective pressure point.

Not that Krios had ever protested. Ever balked. But everyone had their limit, and if he happened to find the assassin’s, it never hurt to have a brute force solution in your arsenal. Especially as they were very close to actually pursuing the Collectors through the Omega 4 relay.

“Just a few more tests,” Lawson assured him. They wanted it to work right, after all. It’d be a real short trip otherwise.

“So,” he asked Krios, “out of morbid curiosity, who wants me dead?” There were plenty of options, he wanted to know who wanted it badly enough to hire an assassin. And it wasn’t like he currently had anything better to do with his time.

Krios cocked his head, a flicker of what might have been amusement crossing his face. “I cannot tell you, Shepard.”

Shepard snorted and arched a brow. “Client confidentiality?”

“Client anonymity,” the drell corrected.

“You let some faceless coward point you at a target with my body count?”

“As you know, I am dying,” Krios said in that implacable tone of his. “Odds of survival were... far from troubling, as a factor.”

“And odds of success?” Shepard retorted.

This time there was definitely a small smile before Krios schooled his expression neutral. Not mocking or cocky, just... amused. “There is a first time for everything.” The faint amusement was gone when he locked eyes with Shepard. “How will we handle this, commander? When we are finished our mission, assuming we both survive, and I resume my contract to kill you?”

“Feel like giving me a day’s lead?” Shepard grinned sardonically.

“I could be persuaded,” Krios said. He shifted in his chair. “Let us see how things progress, shall we?”

You’d never know to look at the man he’d been... convinced to help with this by threat of harm to his son. He seemed perfectly at home, posture easy. He didn’t talk to the crew much, Shepard knew from EDI, but it was hardly surprising an assassin was accustom to solitude.

As if summoned by his brief thought of her, a glowing sphere materialized on the AI kiosk. “Shepard, Miss Lawson wished you informed that the IFF installation is in its final stage. For the shakedown we will need complete access to the Normandy’s systems, so it is recommended you use the shuttle for whatever you plan to undertake next.”

“Got it,: Shepard tossed in vaguely the direction of the AI. “That’ll make things tight,” he muttered to himself. He had something in mind that would likely need the whole team. They’d fit in the shuttle, but it would be tight. Last thing he needed was Lawson and Jack killing each other before they even hit the Collector base.

Krios was eyeing him with curiosity. “Commander?”

“Gear up,” Shepard said, heading for the door. “Got a search and recover that might take all hands.”

The assassin nodded and pushed to his feet, heading for his locker. “Very well.”

---

Their mission went well. Things on the Normandy in their absence, not so much. Shepard left a fully-staffed state of the art warship an returned to a picked-clean husk manned only by his pilot and the now-unshackled AI.

The Collectors had bloodied his nose, cost him his crew. Again. He’d had it. “Ship’s not getting any more ready than it is. Joker, head for the Omega 4 relay.”

“Aye, aye,” came the determined, hungry reply.The pilot was probably even more eager than Shepard to punch back at the bug-eyed bastards.

Unlike Joker--and probably the others--Shepard viewed getting the crew back as a secondary objective to taking out the Collectors. The threat they posed to humanity ended now.

Get us there was his order, and that didn’t change when they came out of the relay having to dodge starship wreckage, or when they were harried by drones, or even when a fucking occulus busted into the hold.

“Krios, Massani, with me!” he barked, rifle in hand, listening to the scrape and thud of wreckage and lasers ricocheting off the upgraded hull on the way to the bowels of the ship. By the time they had trashed the occulus, Joker had them past the debris field and the drones, and a new problem had arisen.

New, but familiar--the same Collector vessel that he had encountered numerous times before. But this time, the Normandy had sharper teeth. “Let ‘em have it!” he ordered, a command Joker follow with alacrity Darting, looping, dodging, the pilot had them dancing around the larger ship, deftly avoiding the beam that had been their destruction before.

The surge of satisfaction at destroying the vessel was short lived, as it erupted in a fireball more than large enough to knock the Normandy into a crazy, barely controlled descent that could more bluntly be called a crash.

“Everyone alive?” Shepard checked over comms. When that was affirmative, he followed with, “Assemble in the CIC.”

This was it. A quick rundown of schematics pulled from the vessel and what he expected to find inside, a victory whatever it takes reminder, and it was time to go.

---

Than prayed silently to Amonkira as they disembarked from the Normandy. Let our hands strike true, and victory be worth the cost. There would be a cost, of this he was sure. He was familiar enough with Shepard’s methods by now there was little room for doubt. If I am among that cost, please guide my son, that his steps may trace a better path.

He wondered, if he should fall, whether his client would hire someone else to complete the task of killing Shepard or if they would let it go. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He wanted to survive, to speak more with Kolyat before the end, but it would be what it was.

They split into groups, Shepard leading Thane and Zaeed, Garrus the rest of them, to serve as distractions while Tali crawled through the vents to let them pass. It was a good call; the Collectors swarmed thick enough any other plan would likely have been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them. They were not given the luxury of time for sighting in targets, so Thane stuck with his pistol--and occasionally biotics--firing, reloading, firing, with the odd interruption to scrounge more thermal clips because he’d run out.

Shepard’s back and forth with Garrus and Tali was just background noise, like the beating wings of their foes, as Thane gave his focus to the task at hand.

Tali stumbled out of the vent just as they finally reached the heavy doors barring the end of the hall. She beelined for the access panel, teetered as a couple shots ricocheted off her shields.

“Get it open!” Shepard barked as the three of them wheeled to give her cover fire. “Vakarian, where the hell are you?!”

“Almost there, a group of the bastards ambushed us!”

A Collector dove toward Tali and Thane shot it--rushed, imperfect, but the grazing shot knocked it off course long enough for him to try again. This time, it fell and did not rise again.

---

The sense of urgency, pounding Hurry, hurry, hurry through Shepard’s veins thrummed louder as the door beeped and started to hiss open. A muffled burst of gunfire reached his ears a handful of seconds before Vakarian and the others came into view, hauling ass down the passageway toward them.

“Massani, Krios! Through the door!” He rattled off a stream of cover fire, driving the Collectors to hang back for a second. Just a second. But it was enough time for the second fire team to reach the end of the passage and dart through the door.

Krios and Massani maintained some cover fire from the far side of the door, buying breathing room for the others as one by one they darted through the door. Lawson brought up the rear, her barrier shimmering out as the doors groaned on closing.

“They’re stuck!” Tali bit out, shoving one door with scraping, grinding protest along its track. Shepard and Lawson ducked through the narrowing gap just as a final shot slammed into Lawson’s shoulder and sent her stumbling.

“I’m fine,” she ground out, slapping medigel on the injury as the group of them shook off the adrenaline to register what the room held.

The walls were lined with dozens, hundreds, thousands, of the Collectors’ pods. The dingy yellow glow throughout the room spoke to them all being occupied.

Movement caught Shepard’s eye and he swung his rifle toward the potential threat. it was just one of the nearby pods; the dark-skinned, dark-haired woman inside stirred, pounding against the transparent canopy in a futile attempt to escape. Even as Tali and Krios rushed forward to try and free her, the pod hummed and the woman only had time for a single terrified scream before she simply... liquefied into a sludgy brown paste which drained away almost before his crew had time to recoil in horror.

“Commander! Over here!” Taylor fumbled with a nearby pod until a very disoriented figure tumbled out. “It’s the crew!”

That broke the horror that had frozen them, and the group surged forward to free their comrades before the same fate could befall them.

Chambers. Daniels. Donnelly. Gardner. All of them were here, as Shepard ran a mental roster, but Chakwas was the one to explain. Near as she could tell, the humans in the pods were being reduced to genetic material and ...piped elsewhere in the base through tubes, though she wasn’t sure where or why. That sounded like where they needed to go.

“We need to get them out of here,” Taylor said, hovering near a few of the engineers as they stumbled to their feet.

We don’t have time for this. “You wanna take them back, be my guest,” Shepard returned brusquely. “We need to destroy this base, but we can mange without you if it’s that important to you.”

“It is.” Taylor’s voice was firm as he tugged Chambers’ arm around his shoulders and herded the crew back toward the Normandy. “See you on the other side, Commander.”

---

Thane almost offered to accompany them; it was a lot of people for one man to safeguard. But Shepard was already snapping orders for the next stage of their infiltration. He’d be taking Garrus and Zaeed, sheltered from the overabundance of Seeker swarms by Jack, down the shortest route that followed the tubes. “The rest of you follow Lawson on the other route EDI indicated, draw some of the flying bastards off.”

Forward, then. Thane checked his reserve of thermal clips, made sure his pistol was undamaged, and fell in with the others as the door hissed open and they pressed on.

They hadn’t advanced far when the first Collectors appeared, drones and a small number of husks that were easy enough tot pick off. Their numbers only increased as time wore on, but that was the point wasn’t it? Draw them here, so Shepard could get through. Thane stood shoulder to shoulder with Tali as their squad advanced, shared his thermal clips when hers ran out first, lent what strength he could to the biotic barrier Samara had summoned to protect their backs.

“There’s a lot of them, Shepard!” Miranda hollered into comms when they were forced to take cover from a particularly large group, dotted with abominations and led by a scion.

“Good!” his reply crackled back underscored by gunfire. “Keep them the hell off us! We’re almost there!”

She hissed a quiet curse, then, “Yes, Commander!” Her fist flared blue and a pair of husks flew off the edge of the path. “Samara, push them back on three!”

The justicar nodded and the rest of them by unspoken agreement turned their focus to give the women cover fire.

“One!”

Strafing fire raked Grunt’s armor and he bellowed a laugh as he shot back. Thane admired his defiance.

“Two!”

The barrier Samar had been maintaining shrank inward in preparation. Amonkira, guide their strength.

“Three!”

The combined power of two gifted biotics exploded outward in a wash over overwhelming ozone-scented blue. Just as it slammed into the descending Collector horde, a heavy, white hot pain tore into Thane’s arm and side.

He was dimly aware of Miranda yelling for them to move, of a hand closing around his bicep to drag him with them, of his legs moving to keep up until the gave out and he was hauled over someone’s shoulder instead. There was rushing sound in his ears and it wasn’t until it was it was punctuated by gunfire and Miranda hollering at Shepard they were under heavy attack Thane realized it was Collector wings and not the lure of unconsciousness.

“Give us a minute, Lawson!”

“We don’t have a minute!”

Shepard’s curse was broken by static. “Vakarian, get that door open! Now!”

Time was fuzzy with the pain that swirled fresh at each jolted step of whoever (probably Grunt) was carrying him, but it still seemed an eternity before, muffled, he could hear someone calling an encouragement.

He slammed against something and the pain flared so white, for a moment he saw Irikah’s face. There was a dull murmur of voices, then a spike of numb shot through the pain and spread, blanketing, pushing back until he was aware again.

Tali knelt beside him, her omnitool just closing down as he became conscious of her presence. “Good, you’re still with us.”

“Thanks to you,” Thane rasped. He passed one hand gingerly over his injured side. The healing wound was large, like from a plasma- or other energy-based weapon rather than bullets. He could cope much better with bullets.

“You are welcome,” Tali said, pushing to her feet and offering him a hand up.

Thane accepted, but leaned against a wall once he’d gained his feet. It would take a few minutes for the medigel to truly do its work. He cast a surveying glance about as he waited. Mordin was limping heavily, Grunt, Garrus, and Zaeed all had significant battle damage to their armor....

And Miranda lay still, half-slumped against a wall, pistol resting in her limp grasp. Shepard knelt next to her, blood streaked in his stark white hair, but stood even as Thane’s gaze landed on them. “She’s gone,” he confirmed, as if there was any doubt. He half-turned, hand rising to his ear, expression flint-hard. “Got it, Joker.”

Garrus’ mandibles clicked. “The crew?”

“They made it back.” Shepard shoved a new clip into his rifle. “Taylor died getting them there.”

Thane grimaced. He should have gone along.

“It happens,” Shepard said, as if he’d caught the self-reproof without even looking. “According to EDI, this next room’s the core. Vakarian, Massani, you stick with me, the rest of you cover our asses.”

He didn’t wait for agreement or confirmation, just strode to the console for the necessary door and and punched in the command to open it. Garrus and Zaeed followed silently, the former briefly locking eyes with Tali before the three of them disappeared down the hallway.

---

The rest of them hastily arranged themselves in a defensive perimeter, gazes and weapons trained on the two doors that separated them from the Collector forces.

Thane said a rushed but heartfelt prayer to Kalahira for their fallen, working the fingers of his injured arm to test the medigel’s progress. It would do.

The sheer number of Collectors made the task a difficult one--more than once Thane feared running out of clips for his pistol until a brief pause between waves allowed them to scavenge and share from the fallen. This sort of sustained firefight was far from his normal milieu, but this close to the end he was still determined to do his best.

They held as battle chatter from Shepard’s squad broke through the static. They held even though Mordin fell and Legion fell and Jack nearly followed, snarling and spitting curses as she struggled back to her feet. They held until Shepard’s order came over comms, “Move if you don’t want to go up with this place!”

Then they ran, Samara and Jack shielding them from as much as they could, the rest picking off the bolder Collectors even as they ran. They reached the Normandy, adrenaline surging as they gave Shepard’s squad cover fire until they were aboard as well. Joker had them rocketing toward the relay before the doors had fully closed, and the whole ship seemed to hold its breath until they were safely through.

---

As the adrenaline wore off, all Shepard wanted to do was sleep. But he couldn’t. Not yet. There were things that needed to be settled first.

Krios was in the medbay, sitting serenely still as Dr. Chakwas more thoroughly treated the nasty, half-healed burns on his side and forearm. (In sharp contrast to Jack, who was glowering and cursing about both having to sit still to let her injuries heal and being around so many people.)

“Looks like we both survived,” Shepard said without preamble. Chakwas took the unspoken cue and moved off to see to Jack.

“Indeed.” Krios didn’t move, hands folded in his lap as he sat on the edge of a bed.

“You make up your mind about that head start?”

Krios chuckled. “I believe my recuperation will be a bit more than a day, Shepard. A good time for me to visit my son, I think, and a good head start for you as the contract resumes.” His lips twitched to a small smile. “Perhaps my client will reconsider in light of your actions.”

“Doubt it,” Shepard snorted. “I get the sense their beef with me is personal. Doesn’t lend itself to rational decision making. We’ll see, I guess.” Stranger things had happened, but he wouldn’t be holding his breath.”I’m not going anywhere near the Citadel, in case the Council gets any bright ideas about me or my ship, but we can drop you on Omega before we head off.”

Krios nodded solemnly. “A fair arrangement.”

A less intelligent person might have wondered--hoped--leaving him on Omega injured was as good as a death warrant, but Shepard had seen him fight. It would take more than a set of already-healing electrical burns to put Krios at a disadvantage against the thugs on Omega. (And if they did happen to prove too much for him, one thing less for Shepard to worry about.)

“We can have you there in an hour or so,” he said. “once the doc’s done with you go get your things together.”

Krios inclined his head. “I shall.”

---

It had been a while since he was last on Omega and Thane hadn’t missed it in the slightest. Fortunately he wouldn’t be here long. Passage elsewhere was easy enough to procure, and from there he could work his way to the Citadel. He could take some time to mend more fences with Kolyat before he resumed his hunt.

That was one thing about Shepard; he was never a hard man to find.

#queens fic #art trade #seb shepard #mass effect fic #hope you like it #hope i got seb right

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luvrpop · 4 years

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the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it.

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week.

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t.

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in.

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer, though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door.

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business.

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain.

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home.

#i am SO proud of this #modmori #the devil all the time #tdatt #the devil all the time fanfiction #tdatt fanfiction #arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #the end #lenora laferty #lenora laferty mention

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akillysheel · 3 years

Text

TENUOUS. ❜ ( 2 )

Summary: Kuro asks the important questions before he and Cthugha decide on a starting point for their investigation. Warnings: N/A. Notes: N/A

'I need to think about it.'

Kuro slouched in his armchair, the events of the morning playing on loop in his head. After Cthugha's untimely arrival, the Sheriff had taken it upon himself to take the rest of the afternoon off in an attempt to compartmentalise his thoughts. He seldom ever took breaks, but when he'd emerged from his office as white as a sheet, his colleagues had ultimately pulled the plug on his hopes of remaining at work, advising insistently that he should go home.

'Fine. But you just remember, every minute you sit around ruminating about your stupid little life, that's another minute that this girl is missing, and that means it's another minute closer to doomsday too.'

Could it be true? Doomsday? The end of the world? It sounded to him like the paranoid ravings of a conspiracy nut... yet he'd spoken with such calm authority, countered every one of the problems he'd had with a rebuttal of his own. Every one of his questions had an answer; everything he'd said about Raku ( at least as far as his limited understanding of Gods was concerned ) was true.

Mia Vanton's case sat on his lap. It was a thin file, one that spared details for there hadn't been many to uncover, but in that moment it felt heavy. Cumbersome. As if he'd been shackled to the floorboards.

This thing's been shut since 2001.

One calloused thumb traced over its front, teasing the corner away from the papers inside. He really didn't know whether he wanted to look at it or not. It felt oddly like picking at a scab wound, baring himself to old pain that needn't be revisited. Did he have it in him to feel as hopeless as he did twenty years ago?

He grunted as a headache set in. It had steadily been growing for the past two hours, fostered in his brain like a bad habit.

Is there any point in opening this up again? Surely if she was to be found, she'd have been found by now. This year marks the twentieth anniversary of her disappearance. In two weeks, in fact.

Was that relevant? He couldn't help but consider it. As much as he wanted to push Cthugha's prophecy aside as garbage, the fact was that he was impressed - and a little worried. He knew things that nobody could have known, and deep down he knew that his colleagues wouldn't sell some random kid information. Huron's task force was known for being small, humble and honest, and it's good service had been a near constant hallmark for the district's deep sense of peace. There had never been a recorded incidence of internal corruption-- not even with other, less composed Sheriffs in the front seat.

How else could he have known about Olivia? About Raku, even.

The Sheriff let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, knowing already what he had to do.

“I’ve decided t’help y’.”

“Thank. God.” The statement trembled with sarcastic frustration, Cthugha’s cobalt eyes all but grey on account of the storm that had entered them. He sat in Kuro’s chair, his feet propped up on his desk. The rubix cube-- the one that had previously been half-completed-- sat in his hands, its coloured faces now perfectly arranged. “While you were busy jerking off to the end of all life in this realm, I was busy compiling resources that might help us stop it.” He paused to reach inside of his jacket, retrieving a file of his own, before he dropped it unceremoniously on the desk. “You’re welcome.”

“Where were y’keepin’ that…?”

“Just look at it.”

Kuro hesitated briefly before dragging the file closer, opening it up to find himself staring at a myriad of newspaper clippings, interview transcripts and photographs. It was makeshift work, by no means tidy, but the sheer wealth of information was staggering to him. Even so, as he skimmed over them briefly, he realised that there was nothing there that he didn’t already know.

Of course there isn’t. Why would there be?

I don’t know. Maybe I assumed he was an agent of God or something.

“Aside from all that,” Cthugha started, rising from his commandeered seat. In what felt like a flash, he’d moved from the desk to the far corner of the room, grabbing a hold of a whiteboard on wheels before reappearing where he had been. Kuro blinked hard. “We can rule out all the places you already searched in your previous hunt for her.” Feverishly, the rifter began to fill the board with haphazard notes. “That means you don’t have to trawl through Whit’s a second time, nor do you need to bother checking their home or questioning her papa. He came up clean, remember?”

“Yeah… he was so dedicated t’findin’ his daughter that he all but singlehandedly led the search party campaign despite us tellin’ him that it was dangerous. Had t’bust him outta a few compromisin’ positions fer his efforts...”

“Exactly. Also means that the tunnels are a bust too, so you don’t have to waste time trawling through the underground like a family of sewer rats. Wherever she is, she’s somewhere ya didn’t think to comb through.” He paused when he found his whiteboard pen beginning to run dry. “Damn it--” Much like before, he flickered away, a brief rummaging sound filling the quiet office before he reappeared before the board. “Okay, so-- here’re all the places you don’t gotta worry about that I can think of off the top of my head. There’s… what? Why’re ya staring at me like that?”

“How’re y’doin’ that?”

“You can write too, Kuro.”

“I mean the… disappearin’-’n’-reappearin’ thing. Obviously.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I guess that makes more sense…” It was the closest to sheepish that he’d seen Cthugha thus far; a break from his smug attitude was certainly refreshing. “It’s just a teleportation shtick. Think of it like… instead of macro-leaps, I’m performing micro-hops in time.”

"Huh," said Kuro, deciding not to question it.

In truth, the more they talked about the Vanton case, the more he began to recall. Kuro seldom ever forgot a victim - even though he'd been the Sheriff of Huron for over three centuries, and a police officer for even longer than that - but he wouldn't say that the details were as long-lasting. There were simply too many nuances in too many cases-- too much information for him to store everything tightly away. His brief read over the case file before he'd come back to the office that following morning hadn't helped much either, if only because there hadn't been much for him to garner in the first place.

"I do have a question though," Kuro spoke up as he handed Cthugha a cup of coffee. He wasn't sure whether he was trying to placate or subdue him. "... or a couple."

"Are they constructive?"

"Maybe. I mean-- y'mentioned parallel timelines 'n' shit. Couldn't y'just… hop into one where I found her 'n' tell me where she is?"

"Parallel timelines are born out of choices, dummy. Unless you're admitting that you purposefully didn't find her, that isn't gonna help at all." A swig of his drink was taken, the rich flavour seeming to soothe his annoyance somewhat. "Nah. You're thinking of alternate timelines."

"Then what about that?"

"We're not really supposed to dip into those if we can help it. Definitely a last resort sort of deal. It creates the possibility for people to run into themselves; fractures the separation between realities. Doppelganger action is a one-way ticket to hell for the Universe. Also the fact that, like parallel timelines, there are MULTITUDES of alternate timelines where everything's the same except one little thing, meaning it'd take a shit-ton of time to comb through 'em all-- most likely more time than we’ve got. There're several versions of you out there, Kuro, but you're this one. You should focus on that."

"This's all real confusin’…" the Sheriff mumbled, deflating a little. He was so sure he'd had a good idea under his belt, but hell, what did he really know about the way that reality worked?

"Mm. Anything else?" Cthugha asked tersely, eager to move on.

"Just one more thing," Kuro affirmed, shifting in his place for a moment before deciding that brevity was more favourable than kindness. "... how does this girl stayin' missin' end the world? People go missin' all the time. Some come home, some're found dead. Some’re never found, yet the world keeps on spinnin’. 's just a cruel fact’a life."

For the first time since their meeting, Cthugha fell silent. A harrowing emptiness entered his eyes as he thought about the bleak future that awaited them if they did nothing. A hazy field of fire, the once clean air ashen and thick. The destruction spread like cancer, first exploding in Huron before it gradually spread outward. What was perhaps even more frightening was that the one responsible for it seemed impervious to the herculean effort required to topple a district; by the time he was done with Huron, he was already looking for a bigger, more developed fish to fry.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the Universe in ruins by far, and he doubted it’d be the last.

That didn’t mean he was accustomed to seeing it though.

“Well,” he said softly, whiteboard pen twirled absentmindedly in between his fingers. “... let’s just say, grief does things to people. Do you have any clue who Mia’s father is?”

Slowly, Kuro squinted. “Aside from knowin’ his name ‘n’ his daughter’s case? No. Should I?”

“No. That’s exactly why ya should be worried: he’s got nothing left to lose. Do you think he’s going to care about hurting anyone when he’s hurting this much himself? He’s got no children to provide for; no public image to protect. When he loses his mind, he does it for real, and damned’re the consequences, get it?”

“Got it…” Kuro muttered. He knew all too well about people like Mr.Vanton. While an anonymous existence was ultimately a peaceful one, when crime was brought into the mix, it became a dangerous shield. Who suspected the nobody? Nobody, that’s who. “Then we gotta get movin’.”

“I have to ask,” Cthugha started as he stepped towards the chair he’d been sprawled in, reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on. Now that he had a little time to look over him properly, Kuro noted its strange cyan decals and the symbol that he’d never seen before adorning the right side; two parallel lines with a small triangle beneath the centre point of the bottom one. It looked vaguely like a seesaw with two slats on top instead of one. "What made you change your mind?"

“Well, I guess I never got over the fact that I couldn’t solve it. D’y’have any idea how hard it is t’look a parent in the eye ‘n’ tell ‘em that the search fer their child is over? There was nothin’ else I could do, but I still felt guilty. I figure, even if yer full’a shit ‘n’ this really is some heartless stunt all fer yer own amusement, I can at least make sure that there really was nothin’ else I could’a done fer the Vantons.”

The rifter hummed softly as he adjusted his tie. “Heh. Ya really are a good person.”

“Y’had doubt?”

“Who doesn’t? Much easier to expose a bad person who’s pretending to be good than to find an actual good person these days. I guess it’s just an unfortunate byproduct of evolution.”

“Yer wrong,” Kuro said firmly, pulling his black coat closed. The gun at his hip was touched briefly before he pocketed his hand, satisfied that he had everything he needed. “There’re a lot more good people in the world than bad. ’s just that the bad leave behind their messes t’clean up.”

“Well, whatever the truth is, it’s clear we’re dealing with a bad person here, huh? So, got any bright ideas?”

Already were the gears in his head turning. With the compiled notes to aid him, he knew of the place that he wanted to start with. It may have been a dead end-- wishful thinking more than anything-- but he wouldn’t be able to progress until he knew he’d upturned every stone on this property. “We should head t’the Valerie Vineyard first.”

#writeblr #original story #fandomless oc story #writing #novel drafts #tenuous ;

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jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 27 - The Things that Made Us

It was hard to keep your stress down when you were planning to try and expose the biggest crime boss the world has ever known.

There’s hardly a moment Merlwyb isn't throwing you a concerned glance at the first sign of you getting worked up as you, her, and Cid sit around a big table filled with papers and photos. Empty sugar and cream packets that have gone into about three or four mugs of coffee. Half eaten snacks ranging from croissants to a bag of chips from the closest gas station (which given that Cid was rich and lived outside of the city, was quite far).

While you appreciate her worry, you’re near ready to pull your hair out as a result. At the first sign of you raising your voice, she places a gentle hand on yours reminding you to calm down. When you reach for a mug of coffee, she bats your hand away with a stern look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear Zenos had put her up to it.

“I’m going to go crazy, Cid.” you confess, collapsing on a couch in his office, finished with another day of planning. Three heads were admittedly better than one, especially when one of them was a genius. “It’s like she thinks I’m made of glass despite being undercover for nearly a year with the worst gang the world has ever known.”

Cid lightly chuckles at that, having grabbed some dried calamari to snack on as he finishes up a few things in his office. “I think it’s her way of trying to take care of you, given that she feels she failed you so miserably.” Even though the statement is loaded with truth, Cid delivers it with a warm smile.

You can’t help but feel a little bad; Merlwyb was probably taking you under her care because she knows Raubahn would do the same.

“Cid, I came to you to vent. Not for you to make me feel bad.” You pout, kicking weakly at the cushions before rolling to face him as he settles in his desk. “I hope she doesn’t feel obligated to take care of me.” You murmur softly, barely a whisper as your heart fills with melancholy.

Settling in, Cid turns on his computer and begins to work. “It might be partly obligation. It might be repayment. But do those things matter?” he asks, giving you an inquisitive look. “Would you rather have her apathy and scorn?”

Shaking your head, Cid nods, typing away at his computer. “I know that it is something you struggle with, Honey, to accept a person’s affection. But you should try it sometime. You might be surprised at what you find.”

You can’t help but feel like a little kid around him sometimes, some worthwhile lesson always falling out of his mouth. You tell him as much. “Would it kill you to be wrong for once?” You joke, tossing him a lazy smile.

“I’m afraid it is my job to be right at least ninety-nine percent of the time, or I'd be up to my ears in lawsuits.” He laughs, having not stopped typing for a second. “You should get some rest, my dear. I’ll be up for a while yet.”

“Shouldn’t you sleep?” You return, sitting up to throw him a scrutinous look.

“Unless you’re able to pull a few strings I didn’t know about, and also prepare enough tech to take down a corporate super giant…” Cid trails off, looking as if he’s to start packing up.

“I get it, I get it, sheesh.” You groan, standing to your feet. “I think I will go to bed if it means I’ll actually get to be right, even if I’m by myself.” You huff, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure.

“You need it, growing babe be damned.” Cid smiles, pausing his work to see you off. “You’ve worked damn hard for us up until this point Honey. Let us return the favor.”

Giving him a heartfelt smile, you wave good night to him and head out the door, reentering the hallway. The night is quiet despite the fact an uprising looms on the horizon. Somehow it seems both close and far away, the idea that things would finally come to a head, sides would be taken and long buried truths would finally come to light.

These twilight hours were your only time of peace, a few sacred hours before you needed to wind down for bed before Zenos woke you up to train in the morning.

Your feet have carried you to him before you realize it, finding him meditating in the indoor garden. You watch him silently from behind the glass, the rising and falling of his chest, eyes closed as he finds his center and stays there. One of the few times he looks tranquil and genuinely at peace, and given the small glimpse you had of his personal life, of his past, perhaps it served more than just the purpose of calming his body.

Maybe his spirit needed it as well, though he would never admit it.

Jolting as his eyes suddenly flick open and land on you, you can’t help but be mildly embarrassed for staring so blatantly, and for so long. Thinking to shy away and meander down the hallway to go somewhere else (preferably far away), he’s already uncrossed his legs and stood, briskly walking to catch up to you before you can even get a fulm down the hall. “You are done for the day.” he observes, his long legs allowing him to catch up to you in no time at all.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re wrapping things up I suppose, or at least there’s nothing more I can do but wait.” You grumble, a little put out still despite Cid’s earlier words. “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve little to do, by your side.” he responds, voice surprisingly neutral.

“Do you miss...being in a gang?” you ask hesitantly, the two of you slowly walking wherever your feet take you. He seems to be following your lead rather than the other way around, and his slow stride suggests he’s not in a rush to go anywhere else except near you.

“No, and not for reasons one might think. I was apathetic toward my father’s bidding. Whatever his lackeys did, whatever shipments needed securing, it was all beneath my notice. My only concern was for the thrill of battle. Of storming hideouts and searching for new opponents.” He rumbles, the timbre of his voice vibrating in his broad chest. “In a way, I do miss the feeling of wondering if I would find a suitable opponent...the anticipation that would most times lead to disappointment...or joy.” Smirking, he gives you a burning look. “However, I’ve not felt that since meeting you.”

Huffing, you stick your tongue out at him. “Careful, that sounded almost romantic.” you groan, giving him a playful shove. Looking to your feet, you both are silent for a moment until you speak up again. “Sometimes I miss being a cop.”

He arches a brow at that, brushing a stray hair from his face. “Why would you miss such a…” he pauses as he searches for the right word. “...restrictive job setting?”

“I miss helping people. Or at least, feeling like I was helping people.” You answer, realizing you had somehow found yourself in the kitchen. Cid learned to keep some of your favorite snacks stocked here due to your frequent visits in the past. “I miss my friends, I miss my apartment, I miss just…”

“You miss your old life.” Zenos responds for you, taking the words right out your mouth. Once again his voice is neutral, giving away nothing, but he won’t let you see his face when you turn to gaze up at him.

Fumbling for the right words, you wring your hands together. “Let’s eat some ice cream.” You smile, buying you some time to think. You’re moving to circle the island in the middle of the kitchen before he can stop you, heading to the cabinets to reach for some bowls.

“Ice cream is unhealthy and full of unnecessary--”

“Zenos yae Galvus, if you do not get me two bowls down, I will gut you.”

He shudders at your threat and you can’t help but roll your eyes that only he would even get off on what is supposed to be a playful bluff. So what you could back it up? Though it was probably that very fact that excited him.

Doing as told he grabs two bowls for you, silent as he watches you move around the kitchen like you’ve lived here before. A familiarity that only comes with being welcomed into one’s home. You grab the spoons and point him toward the bar stools at the island, Zenos obeying without protest as you wrench the freezer door open and pull out your favorite Rolanberry ice cream.

You grab a heated scoop (specifically engineered by Ironworks technologies) to easily serve you and Zenos both, returning the ice cream to its place in the freezer before sliding Zenos his bowl and spoon. He looks at it questioningly as you sit down, diving right into your own ice cream. “This looks as if it was purchased from a...commoner store.” He sighs, poking at it questioningly.

“It was. Because I asked Cid to get it from a grocery store.” You reply, not missing a beat as you help yourself to another spoonful. “Hurry up and eat it before it melts.”

“Do you fear asking Garlond for higher quality sweets?” he asks, deciding to try a taste for himself. The face he makes shows that he is less than impressed and you can’t help but giggle at it.

“Not at all. This is just an ice cream I would eat a lot with Minfilia when I was a kid.” you answer, the uttering of her name not stinging as much as it used to. Maybe now that you had realized her captor, her killer, and that you were finally about to avenge her as you had promised, made it sting a little less.

Zenos is silent still, seeming uncharacteristically quiet. A little unnerved, you decide to answer his earlier question. “I do miss my old life. I miss my friends, Y’shtola and Lyse. I met them toward the end of high school. My truest friends. I haven’t talked to them since I told them I’d be going undercover to try and get close to you.” You muse, stirring your melting ice cream slightly before spooning it in your mouth.

“I miss my apartment. Even though it’s been nice never running out of hot water, having five star meals every day, sometimes I miss my shitty, little space. The tub with the terrible caulk job on the edges, the one panel on the blinds that would always break and never stay fixed. The spot on the carpet that wouldn’t come out after I spilled soda on it, no matter how hard I scrubbed.” You laugh thinking about it all, wondering if all your things had been kept safe.

“Sometimes I miss just feeling...normal.”

Though he says nothing, you can see Zenos’ brows furrow at the statement, smiling a little at his confusion. “I don’t know the specifics of the Resonant but up until...someone told me of the Echo, this whole time I thought I was ‘normal’. I thought I was like one of those Olympians, you know? That I was just really strong and had crazy fast reflexes. It never occurred to me that I was...something else entirely.” You murmur sadly, scooping a spoonful solemnly into your mouth.

“I remember so little of my childhood. It feels like it happened in short bursts. A period of just moving from place to place, until Minfilia took me, and ran away. Then there were the years with her, in bits and pieces, and then...nothing.” Finishing our ice cream, your vision unfocuses, as if staring at nothing. “Suddenly, as if I was just waking up, I was getting ready to graduate high school with my friends and joining the police force to find my mother’s killer.”

Looking up at Zenos, he stares back, but with an unreadable emotion on his face. Maybe, not necessarily unreadable, but as if he doesn’t know how to express however he’s feeling. “If you told me that I’d land myself in the lap of my mother’s killer and fall for his son two years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you.” You laugh bitterly as you finally make your way to the answer he sought. “But...as hard as it’s been...as painful as this has all been...I would never take it back.” You smile at him warmly, watching as his jaw clenches. “I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you otherwise.”

He is quiet still after your confession, and though he doesn’t say it back (part of you doubts he ever will), you are content knowing that you know he cares for you in his own way, by the gestures of how he cares for you. As he seems content to stew in his thoughts, you silently hook your finger on the rim of his bowl, dragging it toward you slowly while meeting his eyes in question. He only gives you a weak glare, but says nothing else, and you go ahead and drag it to your side of the counter and begin to eat his share of ice cream.

“The Resonant is a result of my blood.”

Looking up, you hadn’t expected him to speak. He looks uncomfortable, guarded, wary. “My mother was like you, a descendant of an Ancient. From what I understand it is rare for descendants to be born so closely together. The bloodline is passed down, but not every soul manifests its power.” He explains, toying with the ends of his fine hair, as if in a long buried, nervous habit. “To this day, I do not know what powers my mother had, just that she was unlucky enough to be caught by my father, and forced into his bed to create me.”

Frowning, you abandon your extra ice cream and reach across the island to place your hand on his. He jerks away from the contact initially, giving you a withering look, but at the look of genuine worry on your face, he curses under his breath. Returning his hand to the counter, he faces his palm upward, allowing you to clutch it with your own, running your thumb on his palm in nonsensical patterns.

“When I was born, I had shown no initial signs of ‘success’. No visible powers or abilities that would show that the bloodline of the Ancients could be used to create powerful offspring. It is why I am an only child. My father initially deemed it a failure and saw my mother as useless.” He continues, returning the motions of your fingers drawing patterns on his skin, focusing on where your hands are joined as he tells his story.

“This did not mean my father had given up hope of course. For all his airs of being a ruthless businessman, he is still a man of science. He never quit his experiments with aether, and drained every last bit of info from my mother he could until she finally ended her own suffering.” He ground out. Even as he crushed your hand within his quite painfully, you didn’t breathe a word of pain, not wanting to break this fragile moment.

“The majority of my youth, all I had known was testing at the hands of my father’s scientists. As young as ten years old, I had become well acquainted with the feel of needles, bright lights, cold rooms after my studies. I had rebelled in my youth of course, by using the power of my wealth, my prestige. I slept with anything that walked. Harmed anyone who dared cross me. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the money to pay the lawyers for it.” he sighed, his grip on your hand relaxing a bit. For a moment he is quiet, drawing patterns on your skin.

“It wasn’t until my early teens that my father’s best scientist finally had a breakthrough.”

His free hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, tugging it down forcefully to stretch the fabric more than it was intended. You see the beginnings of his tattoo, parts of the scales and talons that make up the dragon lurking beneath. “Aulus mal Asina...an eccentric most would call him as far as science goes. But it was just that sort of eccentricity my father needed after losing Midas nan Garlond to his own experiments.” Releasing a bitter laugh of his own, Zenos mumbled something underneath his breath before continuing. “He had proposed this tattoo.”

Even though Zenos’ focus has not left the sight of your hands twined together, as if it is the only thing grounding him in reality as he retells his life’s story, he goes on as if sensing your confusion. “Your power, the power of the Ancients, comes from that tattoo on the back of your neck. Or at least, that is the theory Aulus acted upon. Using this strain of thought, he made aether infused ink and put this dragon upon my chest, activating dormant blood...activating what he would call the Resonant.”

You can feel your own throat begin to close up, as you struggle to not shed a tear at how horribly Zenos had been treated. It was no wonder that his view of life was so incredibly warped, with a dad that was more concerned about turning his son into some sort of supernatural being than being there for him.

“It was also the last I had seen of Aulus. For when the Resonant activated, I had no control. It had felt almost like an out of body experience…” he trails off, a note of excitement creeping into his voice, but still he maintains his bitter expression. “I had...murdered anyone in the room with me in cold blood.” He sighs, hazarding a glance at you. Much like him, you keep your expression neutral, giving away nothing, deciding instead to scream from the inside.

“It took several tranquilizing darts to take me down. It was then I was put into my training to control the Resonant.” He rests the weight of his head on his free hand, still clutching your hand in his, drawing more random patterns on your skin. “The exhilaration I feel when in control of the Resonant cannot be compared. To be so fast, so strong, I had become obsessed with using it at any opportunity. It was then I became obsessed with the thrill of the hunt.” His eyes finally meet yours. “I had told you already how I would give myself impossible odds to fight against, until one day the thrill stopped.”

Something about that statement finally makes you meet his gaze, standing on the precipice of the unknown once more. “Do you still love me now? Even after all the monstrous things I’ve done? The people I’ve killed?” He questions, voice taunting on the surface, but you know better. Know him better than that.

You can hear the resentment that his father twisted him into the pained man he has become.

The bitterness that despite being rich, powerful, attractive, nothing would change how warped he felt inside.

The anguish that at this moment, he had bared his soul to you, let you see who he is in full...and that with his past now bared to you, you could leave him.

“Am I not any different?” You ask, clearly throwing him for a loop.

“You have only started maiming when I,”

“No, I haven’t.” You cut him off, your hand clutching his for comfort this time. Your vision goes dark around the edges as a long buried memory tries to dredge its way to the surface. “I don’t remember the details. Nor would I ever want to...all I remember is a sea of red. A knife in my hand. And dead bodies littering the floor because I was too late to stop them from taking Minfilia.”

Your breath begins to come fast, too fast, and Zenos snags you by the chin, forcing you to look at him, to acknowledge he is real and with you and you’re not standing in a pool of blood in this very moment.

“Gods help me, Zenos, did you think you could scare me away?” You laugh even though you tremble as you do so. “At this point who else could want a freak like me?”

You see something in his eyes, the spark that maybe he felt the same. That somewhere deep within him he craved love just like anyone else, no matter how much of his life he spent convincing himself the opposite. That he wanted to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed, to experience the affection and adoration and care that he doubtless saw the many people around him experience over the years.

Of course he would fuck anything with legs. It was mostly likely the only time he got any sort of physical contact that wasn’t him being experimented on. The only time he knew someone wanted him.

Standing to your feet, you intend to do just that. You release his hand only long enough to circle the island and come to stand between his legs as he still remains seated upon the bar stool. Even sitting he’s still fairly tall.

Reaching for his hands, you bring them to loop around your waist, your arms effortlessly sliding underneath his own to hug him close. He seems unsure what to do for a moment, until his embrace eventually tightens, clutching you close, burying his face in your neck. “It could only be you, too.” You whisper, breathing him in. Your eyes flutter closed, wrapping yourself in his scent, his touch.

“There could never be anyone else.”

“It’s almost time isn’t it?”

Merlwyb glances at you from the corner of her eye as the two of you make your way to the conference room in Cid’s home.

“That it is.” She responds, hands clasped behind her back, turning her gaze back down the hall. “While we are certainly pushing the envelope in dethroning His Radiance in a timely fashion, it is good that we are getting it done at all.”

Nodding, you find that you agree. Though you were definitely cutting it close, it’s good that something was being done to knock this bastard down several pegs.

As you enter the conference room, Lord Hien is already on screen speaking with Cid as they converse about whatever particulars of the plan to take on Varis and expose him for his crimes. Zenos is there as well, arms folded across his chest and looking everywhere but the other two men, and you would go as far to say he almost looked as if he was pouting.

You’d hoped he would seem a little more enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, but through every meeting he sat quietly and neutrally, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to even feel a little bit angry by the plans being made to take down his father. You knew both Cid and Merlwyb were upset by his unwillingness to be involved, only placated by the fact he was not against them either.

You had described the horror of the Resonant to them, the sheer power and speed he displayed. You knew without a doubt Varis had kept his own son as a trump card, knowing of his killing capabilities. You had effectively taken Zenos from his hand by your “relationship” making taking him down much easier in theory.

You shudder to imagine what would happen if you had to go in a toe to toe fight with a Resonant activated Zenos.

Best to not think on it now. Not when it's time to focus on more certain things: like how you’re going to break into Varis’ compound.

“Hello everyone. Sorry I’m late.” you greet with a small wave, even to Hien displayed on the large monitor.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We weren’t talking about anything important. Wanted to save that until you got here.” Cid beams, giving you a welcoming smile. You give him a warm one in return, only able to ignore Zenos’ insistent stare for a little while longer before you throw him a reproving look, which does nothing but cause him to smirk back. Rolling your eyes, you move to sit in the chair beside him, clearly annoyed, but to all in the room it might as well have been foreplay.

“Ahem, well,” Cid coughs, angling himself at the monitor Lord Hien is displayed on as Merlwyb takes her seat beside him. “Since you’ve been here for the majority of the meetings, there’s not much new to say, except going over a few finer points.” Cid begins. “Lord Hien?”

“Yes, yes.” The handsome man nods, eyes turning to you. “The entire operation hinders upon the success of bringing down Varis’ research facility. While we could simply get video or picture proof, we do not run to the risk of him trying to cover up his tracks. We know he has been smart enough to play several hands over the years; there is no reason to not think he has no back up plan should someone see something they aren’t supposed to.”

“Or worse, he launches the technology to have a direct attack on the public. As you have told us before, he has already begun to develop weapons using this technology. We can’t bear the risk of him holding any more civilian lives hostage. We must cut off the source, and then we can handle any other weapons after.” Lord Hien’s voice is clear and concise, serious and awe inspiring. A true leader, you think, unable to not feel a little dazzled by him.

“That said, the day of infiltration, I will go into hiding. Varis has been content to let me live this long, but I would not put it past him to have some way of keeping an eye on me. Though I am capable of disappearing, he will no doubt notice this, and also notice something is going wrong.” Hien continues, threading his fingers together as he levels you with a serious gaze.

“While I hate to pressure you any further Honey, especially given how much you have done for Kugane so far, still I must ask, are you unable to recall where to find the research facility?” He asks, and all eyes in the room are upon you.

Fidgeting, you stare hard at the fine wood grain upon the table, hands fisted in your lap. “No...I don’t.” You sigh, feeling defeated. “The one time I had gone, I was so confused at where he was taking me, I didn’t think to pay attention to my surroundings. Even leaving, I had been so shocked at what he showed me, what he had told me--” you shudder as suddenly you remember the feel of his grimy hands upon you, pulling upon your clothes, his twisted words at how he would have you…

Zenos places a hand over the palms over your lap, expression giving away nothing. Nodding, you take a calming breath. “I was too distracted to take notice. Did none of our research efforts bear any fruit?” you ask, looking from one set of eyes to the next, begging that one of them will say yes.

They look back at you just as defeated, no one willing to make eye contact with you for a heartbeat. Clearing his throat, Cid speaks up. “Alas, even my most advanced sensors couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. I have no idea where it could be.”

The four of you twiddle your thumbs as you try to figure out what to do. Everything was ready to go. You could end this. Only you were too stupid at the time to remember something as simple as where the hell the secret laboratory was. You felt like you could smash a brick into your head.

Under the haze of your regret you can hear the others begin to talk again, perhaps discussing places they hadn’t thought to check, or avenues they hadn’t bothered to try. You tune it all out, unable to do anything aside from letting your own failure resonate inside you.

Resonate…

“Zenos.”

The room is quiet in an instant as you flip your hands over and clutch Zenos’ tightly, watching as his eyebrows reach for his hairline for a split second before they pinch together. “Zenos. I know we...I know we talked,” you offer vaguely, squeezing his hands that much tighter. “But please help us. We can put an end to this--”

“I told you I couldn’t.” He growls, his voice cutting so sharply, eyes so furious that you feel yourself recoil under his stare. But you knew this was bigger than you, and he had to know this too.

“Why won’t you help?” you plead, face breaking up as you watch a million emotions flit through his blue eyes. “Don’t you want to be free from your father?”

A shadow of something crosses his face, eyes unfocused as if lost in his own mind. He snatches his hand from yours as he comes back to himself, silent as he stands from his chair and stalks out the room. “Zenos!” you call, hurrying to your feet as he ignores you and flings the door open, uncaring that it slams into the wall. “Zenos!”

Following him, he’s once again halfway down the hall, deja vu urging you to catch up with him just as you had done that catalytic night at the hotel so many months ago. “Zenos, please,” you beg, trying to catch him before he rounds the upcoming corner. You don’t expect to be startled when he suddenly turns on his heel and snags you by your arms, nearly slamming you into the closest wall where he can loom over you menacingly.

You wish you didn’t feel so small before him during these times, especially now that you know how much he’s been hurting. “Zenos please, why won’t you help? Is it because of me?”

“Why would it ever be because of you?” He asks, his anger vanishing for a moment as he gives you an almost hopeless look. “I am saved by the very fact that you exist.”

“Then why?!” You whimper, trying to break out of his iron grip even as he grips your arms tighter. “Is it because the cause is too noble? Is it because you can’t go against your father?”

“Noble? What is noble about wanting to get revenge for your fallen friend? That still makes you a murderer, or have you forgotten?” he snickers darkly, ice blue eyes piercing directly into your heart. However you’ve known him too long. Long enough. Long enough to know that Zenos answers almost anything he is asked. That he doesn’t deflect, he doesn’t ignore you.

“Your father...what did he do to you that you can’t raise a hand against him?” You whisper, hating as you can see you’ve hit your mark when he goes stock still. His fingers are almost crushing in their strength, but you pay them no mind, needing to get to the heart of the matter. “Zenos, whatever it is, you don’t have to fear him--”

You cry out as he nearly throttles you into the wall, the sclera of his eyes almost bleeding black. “You know not of what you speak.” It is whispered so lowly, so vehemently, you can’t help but shiver in fear.

“But I want us to be happy.” You cry, tears leaking down your face, wanting to somehow get through to him. “I want you to be free from him Zenos, for us to be free. Forever--”

“Nothing is forever!” He nearly roars, but instead of maintaining the ferocity he had kept until this point, he couldn’t sound more shaken. “I cannot raise a hand against him. I cannot...I can’t. Not against my father.” he murmurs softly, though his grip has not decreased one bit.

Thinking quickly, you try to reason with him. “But I can.” you urge, praying that he will listen.

He barks out a hoarse laugh at that, fixing you with a derisive sneer. “Then what? Shall we both rot away in solitary confinement for our crimes?”

Whimpering, you wish he would just let go of you so you could hold him. “Chief Raubahn said I had immunity while on my mission,”

“Good for you.” He laughs again, leaning into your space. “And what of me? Do you think they’d be willing to overlook all the men I’ve killed? The things I’ve stolen and cheated for? Will your chief be willing to turn a blind eye to the monster I am?” he laughs maniacally, eyes flashing red for a brief moment before his expression becomes unfeeling. “I would sooner die than rot in prison, unable to fight.”

“Zenos,”

Dropping you, he doesn’t bother to grab you as you crumple to the floor, turning his back on you. “You are all fools to think you can even touch him.” Even at his scathing tone, you can see the haunted shadow that falls across his face, wondering just how much shit did that asshole put him through? What fucked up mind games did Varis play to have his own son that could snap him in half be too afraid to stand against him?

“I do this for you,” you cry, suddenly feeling exhausted, gazing up at him desperately. “I’ll fight ‘til my dying breath that they don’t lock you away. I refuse for us to not be together.” Tears begin to genuinely leak down your eyes now, even as you hear Merlwyb call your name as she rushes down the hall, surely ready to tear Zenos a new one. “Please...help us.” you beg, watching as he wars with himself, hating that he had gone through too much trauma to cause this hesitation. This fear.

“Honey!” Merlwyb calls as she crouches beside you, checking you over. Glaring angrily up at Zenos once she deems you unharmed, she stands back to her full height, nearly eye to eye with him. “You better have a good explanation, Garlean.”

Unamused and not intimidated in the least, Zenos scoffs, turning his back on the two of you. “Of course I do, savage.” He sighs, eyes still covered in shadow. “The facility is on the outskirts of the city, to the west. You cannot find it because my father has made it imperceptible to nearly all manner of tracking technology.” You watch as his shoulders sink, as if a heavy sin has suddenly put all its weight upon him.

“If you wish to find it, it is hidden under the guise of being a warehouse for father’s technologies, which is why the government has never investigated it. The true work is done nearly malms underground. If you truly wish to end my father as you so claim...reach the bottom of the facility. If you have someone smart enough to activate the shut down sequence, you can end his entire operation.” He pauses and reaches inside his shirt through his collar, pulling a chain with a key attached from underneath. “This will let you pass through any door.” He explains, dropping it to the floor.

He gives one final glance at you before walking away. You sit there broken, wondering how he could possibly turn his back on you. After getting on your knees to beg him to join you, to save the both of you from this nightmare. Even though you see a glimmer of regret in his fierce, blue eyes, it doesn’t stop him from walking down the hallway, into the darkness.

“Good luck.”

#ff14 #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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twilightofthe · 4 years

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So...about that Obitine Anidala rant. Also, you said something about how Sidious and Obi-Wan are foils. I would love it if you elaborate. (Also, I love your blog.)

Awwwww thank you anon! I just be yelling on here!

*wheezes* okie doke! Tho I stress that this won’t exactly be a rant because I adore Obitine and Anidala and rant kinda implies aggression towards them, this is more of just a long-ass ramble because while I love them, I don’t always love the way canon portrays them in the narrative, particularly in relationship to each other, because I often do not feel that what the show is trying to push us to think about them is accurate to how they actually act and come across. Notably, the show attempts to draw comparisons to the two relationships that really don’t exist below surface level similarities. Again, these are my own personal opinions, and in fact, I welcome discussion! I truly do! Please politely debate me on this if you disagree!

(god dammit it got long again, so long I’ll actually put ur Sidious and Obi Wan as foils part in a separate post)

I’ll get to why exactly the show compares the relationships very strangely in a moment, but first we gotta explore the reason why it does this in the first place, which is that the Clone Wars show has decided to make Obi Wan and Anakin narrative foils to one another. Narrative foils, by the literary definition, are two characters that contrast one another. They don’t have to be the protagonist and the antagonist, these characters can be on the same side, basically the thing is that they have “opposite” personalities where if one character is hot, the other is cold, if one character chooses to go right, the other will go left. It’s usually used to show one character’s qualities as more favorable for the situation as opposed to anyone else’s.

TCW does this whenever they possibly can with Anakin and Obi Wan. I get its reasoning behind it. I do. The reasoning is that while Anakin is supposed to be a main character, he makes questionable decisions quite often and for the kiddies watching, those decisions must be seen as Bad even if the hero does it, so they have Obi Wan, the unquestionable good guy, encounter the exact same scenarios Anakin makes his questionable decisions in, and then has Obi Wan make the Right(TM) decision to teach the kids a valuable lesson. They turn Obi Wan into the voice of reason for the entire show, which turns basically almost everything Obi Wan and Anakin do into a constant competition in the narrative in a way the movies do not do (and I’ll get to the movies later). I’m not saying it’s necessarily a bad thing, making them foils, but it’s definitely more of a show-only thing and it does it quite, quite often.

So yeah, TCW likes to compare Obi Wan and Anakin to the point that sometimes they try and use Obi Wan to diminish Anakin’s genuine trauma and struggles by going “well why didn’t you do it like THIS?” and I think that writing parallel plotlines for the purpose of shaming/criticism is kinda ://////, but that’s another rant for another day that again, if y’all wanna hear about, lmk

Anyway, the need to compare them absolutely made its way into their romantic relationships as well, as they acknowledge the similarities in the show, and Filoni and the crew explicitly compare the two relationships in interviews.

Basically my problem with how they try and draw said parallels can be boiled down to one quote by Filoni that a cursory Google search could not find but I know exists so y’all can take my word or not, that went along the lines of “Obi Wan and Satine are like Anakin and Padmé but better because they know how to stay unattached and let each other go. They’re a success story.” I disagreed with this quote so much it inspired me to write a whole-ass fic about it (Mutuals update: yes, it is coming soon, Darth Maul is just himself and therefore an utter pain in the ass to do a POV on and is fighting me like the bitchass he is)

My thesis that I will be arguing today is that while TCW tried to create Obitine as an Anidala parallel, they’re really not similar in the way the writers think they are. Obitine is not a success story to Anidala, they’re a goddamn tragedy too; the real parallel to Anidala is that Obitine also ended in death and tears despite making all the “right” decisions instead of all the “wrong” ones, and that is what is sad about them.

Like, on the surface level? Yeah, the crew-intended parallels are there. A fancy politician and a Jedi get together after the Jedi is assigned as the politician’s bodyguard. The first time they see each other in over a decade the guy’s first words are basically “damn girl you’re still hot”, there is Conflict(TM) and the choice to try and be together or stay yearningly apart because they are Forbidden(TM) to be together, and ultimately a Sith Lord fucks them both over because he’s obsessed with the Jedi and uses Politician Lady to his advantage, finds and exploits a vulnerability of hers, destroys her life’s work, and then lets her die to make Jedi Man sad. The difference is all that one pair said “yeah we aren’t gonna break the rules to be together” and the other said “fuck it yeah we are, let’s do this”

But beneath all of that, they real similarities are different and not at all focused on by the narrative. Obi Wan and Anakin are extremely different people, as are Padmé and Satine, so their relationship dynamics together will not be the same. You want to try and compare Obi Wan and Anakin and then compare Satine and Padmé like the crew attempts to, and you can’t, they have the same job but not nearly the same life. Namely, the funny coincidence is that Obi Wan and Padmé are much more similar in personality, while Anakin and Satine are also much more similar in personality, so the first time they meet again, it’s both Anakin and Satine as the one who’s been pining for over a decade and the one more actively pursuing the relationship, while Obi Wan and Padmé who are more like “uh, hi, wow, you’re hot and this is a Problem because I have a job to do pls don’t look at me like that but also I will Cause Problems On Purpose and flirt with you anyway because I can’t help it”. I get the Corruption TCW ep with Sati and Pads was mostly intended just to help Satine pass the Bechdel test and also show how similar the two leading lady love interests are, but it was a genuinely creative episode that actually ended up showing how much Satine and Padmé compliment each other instead of mirroring each other, much like Obi Wan and Anakin do.

And, onto my next point, despite the character parallels being wrong, the parallels in the relationship are different too. Like I said, the parallel isn’t that Obi Wan and Satine aren’t attached like Anakin and Padmé are. The parallel is that Obitine is actively running from what that attachment means instead of embracing it like Anidala is. The show would argue that since they try to avoid it, that they are able to live without one another, means they aren’t attached like the Jedi define it, but I argue that they definitely still are attached to a degree because they cannot give each other up. They held torches for each other from a timerange of 15 YEARS. Yes I know they spent an entire year together at a young and emotionally volatile point in their lives, but I stand that NO ONE is that hung up on their ex for that long unless there is some serious emotions involved. Anakin was hung up on Padmé for ten years, and that was because Palpatine was constantly bolstering those affections and reminding him of Padmé. Obes and Sati both-- or at least Satine, the show always makes Obi Wan’s feelings for Satine in return much more vague --held on to their feelings for five years longer without the influence of a Sith Lord.

And the thing is, they know it. Obi Wan and Satine are both fully aware that they haven’t been able to shake each other off like they should and that that is a Problem, that’s why they’re both a mite venomous with each other beneath the flirting at first, they’re both extremely frustrated with themselves for not being able to get over this thing they have, and frustrated with the other for being there as an active temptation.

And yet, they still are attached to each other. They try to avoid it, they definitely try, and that’s what makes them different from Anidala, but they are definitely still attached. You can see it in Obi Wan’s actions in Voyage of Temptation when Merrik is threatening to blow the ship, the way he hesitates in attacking him because that would be “striking an unarmed man”. Obi Wan Kenobi does not prefer violence, no, but he has never hesitated to cut a bitch before if it’s for the good of the many. This is the man who stabbed someone with a fork and threatened to eat him just to maintain his cover as a dangerous criminal. This is the guy who had no problem killing Zam Wessel for information to protect Padmé. This is a pragmatist who prefers peaceful solutions, but he does not hesitate if he feels it is a justified offense. But this time, when an entire shipful of people is at risk, Obi Wan hesitates. Because he doesn’t want to upset Satine. Because he’s probably thinking on how she told him that if he had killed the last terrorist they encountered, she wouldn’t speak to him, how she had criticized every time he used violence to escape Death Watch before. He hesitates because he’s putting her happiness, just for a second, over the sake of duty. Do I think that if Anakin hadn’t shown up to save their moral compasses, Obi Wan would have eventually taken out Merrik? Absolutely; hell, I honestly think Satine might have done it.

But the matter was, Merrik could have pressed the kill switch any second of Obi Wan’s hesitation, and Obi Wan knew that, and was hesitating anyway.

I am calling this attachment solely because if the situation was reversed, if this was Anakin and Padmé in this situation, with Anakin not taking out a dangerous criminal because he doesn’t want to upset Padmé (lol ignoring the fact that Pads 1000% would have shot that bitch, and even if she didn’t, Anakin would because he is perfectly fine with hurting his loved ones’ feelings if he feels it’ll keep them safe), god, the narrative would have eaten Anakin alive.

No, I won’t take criticism. I know how the show handles the Anidala dynamic. It would have shown Obi Wan popping up to take out the baddie as him doing the right thing and saving the day, and then Anakin would have been shamed for letting his feelings for his wife get in the way of protecting a shipful of people. THAT would be the Vader foreshadowing, none of this “only a cold-blooded killer” shit, no way would they ever stick that label on Obi Wan.

So yeah, I’m going off of the fact that if that would have been classified as attachment for Anidala-- which, it would, then. it counts for Obitine.

And then Obi Wan and Satine continue to be hung up on each other for the rest of the eps they’re in, Satine saying in words multiple times how much she loves and cares about him and wishes things could be different, and Obi Wan performing it in actions, risking his own neck and political standing to help her even when she’s a fugitive, probably personally putting in to send his own grandpadawan to help her later. Right up to the time when Satine decides that she is going to call Obi Wan when she is deposed. Not the Senate. Not any powerful politician friends. Not even the Jedi Order or the Council as a whole. She calls and addresses her distress call to Obi Wan alone. And Obi Wan, as now revealed to us by TCW S7, defies Council orders and breaks a century old neutrality treaty to try and bust her, a convicted murderer in the eyes of the Republic and Mandalore, out. He didn’t even know Maul had her. Just knew she was in danger and came running to her aid. He risks starting a potential war to come save her. They acted so in love that Vizsla was able to guess from being around them for like five seconds, and was able to tell Maul exactly who he would need to bait Obi Wan.

That is where the attachment comes from. It’s the fact that Obi Wan and Satine tried so, so hard to give each other up and do the right thing, but when it came down to it, they couldn’t lose the other one so they put them first when logically they shouldn’t. And thus, Satine ended up dead.

Now I know most people will argue with me that actually Filoni means that since they didn’t stay together after the year on the run, THAT is what makes them able to give each other up, and also the fact that Obi Wan didn’t go dark side and murder everyone when Satine died.

But I still think that at least the murder front is a fairly low bar to cross, and anyway, that just because they could live without each other didn’t mean they weren’t still attached. Anakin and Padmé were apart for 10 years and then even after that, they were apart almost constantly during the war. Just because they could live apart or even past the other’s death didn’t mean they weren’t attached, as they both still had not let the other go mentally and also broke rules to try and ensure the other would not die, even if the rules said they should let it happen.

So yeah, that’s my big theory. We can’t compare Obitine with Anidala by saying Obitine was a success story, we compare them by acknowledging that both struggled with attachments and letting the other go, but Obitine at least tried to the bitter end to do the right thing while Anidala didn’t really bother, and both ended up with dead women and broken men regardless, and that is the true sad parallel to me.

#ohhhhh my god i really gotta learn how to shut up lol #thanks anon! told ya it was long!#ask #asks #when we were young #star-crossed lovers #our only ho #peace out #one (1) hot mess #queen of my heart #anon

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steves-on-a-plane · 4 years

Text

You Go Left, and I’ll Go Right.

Words: 2069 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader Timeline: Between Force Awakens & Rise Of Skywalker Request: “I have a idea where Jedi!reader and Poe are married but while on a mission together they got ambushed and separated. Poe thought the reader died, cause he found her light saber on the ground. But the first order took the reader. A few weeks later Poe got captured and he saw her in the cell . And when Rey and Finn came to rescue him, they rescued the reader as well.” -Anon Summary: Poe and his wife Jedi!Reader are on a mission for Leia to bring back the location of children taken by the First Order. They decide to split up and that’s when things go wrong.

“Well what’s the plan now?” Poe huffed as the two of you came to a fork in the corridors of a First Order battlecruiser. Leia had sent the two of you on a quiet reconnaissance mission to obtain some much needed data about where the First Order kept the children they stole. The Resistance was planning on extracting and rescuing as many kids as possible. Luckily it wasn’t Kylo Ren’s ship so there was no danger of running into him. It was supposed to be a moderately risky but doable endeavor.

“I don’t know.” You whispered back at your husband. “You’re the hot shot Commander remember?”

“Very funny.” He chuckled quietly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Jedi?” He nodded at the lightsaber dangling from a clip on your hip. “Maybe we split up?” He suggested. “It might be harder for them to track us back to our ship that way.”

“Okay.” You agreed with a nod. Poe’s strategies were usually solid. You had no reason to doubt him. “You go left, I go right?”

“And in case I don’t make it back home for dinner tonight…” He smirked before planting a kiss on your cheek. It was a strange little song and dance that the two of you always did before splitting up. Finn always teased you both for being sickeningly sweet, but neither of you minded.

You and Poe stole on last look at each other before splitting up. You darted down the hall to the right and he slowly advanced down the hall to the left. It didn’t take very long for Poe to realize the twist of corridors he was following wasn’t going to lead anywhere near the ship you’d arrived on. So, he decided to double back and see if you’d had any luck on your side. Moving as quietly as a person in clunky pilots’ boots could, he edge further and further down the corridor with his blaster drawn.

He stopped briefly to inspect a scorch mark in the floor. The grate beneath his boot looked like it had been cut clean but hastily, like by a lightsaber. Poe crouched down, it looked like someone had tried to peel the flooring back. Maybe you’d done more than try. With as much might as he could manage, Poe peeled the grate back along the edges that had been cut. Under the makeshift hatch he saw something that made his heart stop. A lightsaber. Not just any saber either, the very same one he’d watched you take hours to forge. Something wasn’t right.

What would cause you to leave your lightsaber behind? Poe scooped up the saber and tucked it inside his jacket. He felt the cold metal press against his skin as he smoothed the grated flooring back down. The lightsaber had been a message, he was sure of it. No Stormtrooper would have been able to spot the singe in the grate through their clunky helmet and you wouldn’t have left your saber behind unless you thought you’d run out of options. Unless you’d been captured or worse. He couldn’t bring himself to think about the worst, not yet. Picking up his blaster again, Poe forged on, wondering what could have happened to you.

“You there!” For a second time Poe thought his heart had stopped. He’d thought the corridor to his right was clear, but it seemed he’d been noticed by a pair of troopers.

“Oh hey, guys I was just, ah, admiring this ship of yours here.” He commented casually as he turned to face the troopers. “You know I’m a pilot myself and…”

“Not another move!” More troopers had arrived in front and behind him. Poe was surrounded. “Drop the blaster.” There’d be no fighting his way out of this, not without you. He was a good shot, but not that good.

“Alright, ya caught me.” He moved slowly and dropped his blaster to the floor. He kicked it forward to the nearest trooper. He hoped that if he cooperated with them, they wouldn’t search him and find your saber.

Surprisingly, it worked. He allowed the troopers to drag him off to the brig. He was careful not to mention you or the intended mission in case you hadn’t been found out yet. Though the odds of that seemed increasingly unlikely. The battlecruiser’s brig was empty except for Poe and his captors. He debated igniting the saber there and cutting the two troopers down, but he wasn’t sure he could do it before they drew a blaster and he definitely couldn’t deflect blaster bolts like a jedi could. The troopers tossed Poe into an empty cell and clomped away.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Poe fished your lightsaber out of his jacket and held it in one hand. He flicked the switch to ignite the lightsaber. The saber hissed and sparked in his hand but didn’t ignite. “Oh come on!” Poe gripped the saber in both hands and tried to copy a stance he’d seen you use before. He flicked the switch again, but again the saber didn’t ignite.

“So [Y/N] ditched the saber because it was broken.” He sighed. He wondered what could have happened to break the saber. It looked just fine on the outside. At least as far as he could tell. Just the same, Poe tucked the saber away again for safe keeping. “Well now what’s your plan Commander?” He sighed to himself as he looked at the bars of his cell.

A week past and Poe was no closer to escaping than he had been the first night. The brig around him remained empty which gave Poe little hope that you were alive. He laid in the cold steel rack that was poor excuse for a bed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d really mucked things up this time. He kept his strength up, because he knew that’s what you’d tell him to do. He ate what little food the troopers offered him and slept when he could. When he couldn’t he thought about you.

He thought of the way your face contorted into a little scowl when you were upset and how when he first met you he couldn’t believe someone so cute could be such a fierce warrior. He thought about how you always looked over your shoulder on missions to make sure the party was still together. He thought about how he always felt three steps behind whenever you were leading the charge. It was easier to think of you this way, with a scowl on you face swinging your saber because if he thought of you, his wife, and all the parts of you that only he got to see, he may damn well lose his mind.

He knew that you’d both been gone long enough that Leia would send someone to look for you. She’d send Finn and Chewy and Rey if they could spare her. They’d do anything to get you back, Jedi’s were in short supply these days. He knew that Leia valued him too. You’d reminded him of this on several occasions, but he always thought of you first because you were his number one priority. Everything he did, he did for you. While he laid on his cold steel rack that night he thought of something Leia had told him once. Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.

There was a commotion outside of his cell for the first time since he’d been captured. Hopeful but not wanting to draw the attention of the troopers, he craned his neck and squinted through the bars of his cell. There were two troopers dragging along a much weaker and tired frame with them. It was you. Poe felt as if he couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t muster enough strength to move your head let alone see him. There was a hard thud as the troopers tossed you into the cell next to him before stomping off again.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]? Can you hear me?” He called through a slit in the wall. The wall between you was mostly solid, but there were slits here and there cut along the sheet of metal. Not big enough to pass objects through, but enough to carry sound.

“Poe?” You whispered back softly. It sounded like it took all of your strength to manage just his name.

“Yeah baby, I’m here. I’m right here.” He called through the wall.

“Rey’s coming. She told me.” You muttered. Poe knew that you meant that Rey told you she’d be coming through the force.

“Okay that’s great, Baby!” He smiled, despite the current situation. You always said you could tell from the tone of his voice if he was smiling. “So, all we gotta do is wait. They’ll be here for us soon. Just rest, okay?”

Another two days past before there was activity in the brig again. Poe heard at least two pairs of loud footsteps charging into the brig. This time he decided to crawl himself off his sorry excuse for a bed and press his face against the bars of his cell. From there he got a perfect view of his favorite Wookie, former Stormtrooper and second favorite Jedi entering the brig.

“Chewie, Finn, Rey!” He shouted, glad to see his friends again. They all turned in his direction, each of them looking as thrilled to see him as he was for them.

“I can open that cell, it’s just going to take a minute.” Finn said. He turned to an access panel and began typing in the cell overlock sequence.

“Poe, where is Master Dameron?” Rey asked, her voice laced with worry. “When I talked to her last…”

“She’s alright!” Poe assured her. “She’s right here next to me.” Poe nodded to the cell next door. “I don’t think she can walk though. Chewbacca happily volunteered to carry you as Finn managed to pop open the doors of every cell in the bring.

“We have to get to the Falcon before they catch up with us.” Rey insisted.

It was a harrowing escape that left nearly everyone out of breath, but thanks to the stars or the Force everyone made it safely back to the Millennium Falcon. Chewie gently laid you in the pilot’s relief bunk before jumping into the co-pilot seat. He and Rey skillfully avoided the First Order’s assault and the Falcon had mad the jump to lightspeed as soon as possible.

You were tired. More tired than you ever remembered being in your life. Your body was begging you to close your eyes and allow the darkness surrounding you to swallow you up. But one look over at your husband, and you knew better. He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. He held one of your hands in his and was stroking your hair and mumbling what sounded like an apology. You wanted to speak, to tell him none of it was his fault, but you were too weak. The best you could manage was a gentle squeeze of his hand.

“Our course looks clear from here.” Rey announced, stepping out of the cockpit. “Do you have any idea what happened to her?” She asked.

“No.” Poe sighed, looking away from you for the first time. “I’m never seen her look this weak, so I can only assume they tortured her. I’m sure it didn’t help that her lightsaber stopped working.” Poe handed Rey your lightsaber so she could inspect it for herself.

“Poe,” She said after only looking at the saber for a minute. “The saber didn’t break. At least not accidentally. Look here, the power’s been severed.” Rey turned the hilt so that Poe could see what she’d found. “And it’s rattling? Maybe the Kyber Crystal’s come loose?”

Rey placed the saber on top of the Dejarik board in the center of the room and reached for one of Han’s old screwdrivers. Using the screwdriver she popped open the compartment that housed the Kyber Crystal. When she managed to wrestle the compartment open, Rey couldn’t hold back her smile. She wedged something out of the saber and held it out for the others to see.

“It’s the data we were looking for.” Rey explained. “[Y/N] hid it in her lightsaber because she knew you’d find it. That’s brilliant.”

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