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maaaaaatryoshka0325 · 4 years

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Hurricane - Bang Chan Mafia AU Part 1

Warnings: Violence, language, drugs

A/N: Hey ya’ll, I missed writing these mafia fics so here’s Bang Chan’s :D as for those asking about Inure and AASB, both will be worked on and posted! I have started the next part of both of them, as my motivation is slowly coming back! I can’t wait to be posting more, and I’m BEYOND stoked to be writing a mafia fic again. Here’s the long awaited part 1 of Hurricane!

(Next Part ->)

Your hand stretched out, soft droplets of rain gently splattering in your palm.

Raining again?

The city was plagued with soft thunderstorms all throughout the week, and you believed the cloud of melancholy that was rumbling in your head may have been caused by it. Your life wasn’t necessarily hard, but it lacked something… It lacked excitement. You got up for work every morning, then went home and cooked dinner, watched some movies, then went to sleep. You were beginning to wonder when this boring little life of yours will have meaning, when it’ll give you a reason to want to get up in the morning.

I’m pathetic.

A deep sigh left your lips as you grabbed both of your umbrellas, one a soft matte black, and the other a pattern of greens with Totoro on it. A small gift from a friend of yours when you had left town to work in the city. When you had left to “live your dream.”

A depressed, lonely journalist walking through a rainy city, how ironic. You should’ve been in one of those Kdrama’s, or maybe an 80’s movie. At least your life would have some kind of excitement, some kind of meaning behind it. Hell, you hardly had friends, or even a love interest.

The rain picked up, and so did the wind, causing the rain to move sideways and wet your black cardigan. You stepped under a bus stop for a moment, as you had left for work early that morning. Making a five minute rest stop wouldn’t put a dent in your punctuality.

You looked down at your phone and scrolled through Instagram, seeing a picture of one of your friends that had been left behind in the small town you had moved too for college. She was smiling happily with her now fiancé, and you felt a little jealousy. She didn’t have to leave town to follow her dreams, she didn’t have to leave anyone behind to find love, she didn’t have to give up her everyday life to be happy.

The last time you had talked to her though, she had been upset with you. It’s not like it’s your fault really, but she thinks you had forgotten all about her and your other friends. What were you supposed to do though? Drop the job you had gone to school for/have been trying to get for months? She had always talked about the city, why couldn’t she come see you?

You were interrupted from your thoughts as a man hurried under the bus stop, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He wore a nice, expensive looking leather jacket, but it had no hood. Your eyes glanced up at his face, and he suddenly looked at you. Your cheeks turned red as he had caught you looking at him, but all he did was give a light chuckle.

“Didn’t even bother to check the weather today.” He said, wiping some of the rain droplets from his brow. “And a car drove by and splashed me.”

“I hate city drivers.” You chuckled. “It’s like they do it on purpose.”

“Oh, he definitely did it on purpose.” He chuckled, flashing a bright grin. “Asshole.”

His smile was pretty, a nice set of white teeth showing past his plump lips. His lips were dark as his teeth chattered, the light, early spring breeze not doing the rain any justice. You felt bad for him, and reached into your bag and handed him the other umbrella. His eyes went down to it, then up to your eyes.

“It’s too cold and raining too hard for you to not have an umbrella.” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You gave him a polite smile and nodded, watching his hand slowly reach out and grab it. Not only was his smile pretty, but so were his hands. His fingers were nice and slender, but still had a masculine look to them.

“Do you take this route often?” He asked.

“Yeah, I take it every morning to work.” You blurted out.

Idiot, why would you tell him that!

“Really? I’ll have to come here one morning so I can return this.” He said, raising the umbrella a little.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You chuckled.

He popped it open and the image of Totoro was clear as day, and you wanted to facepalm so hard. Why the Hell did you give him that one?

He turned to you, an amused grin across his face.

“Totoro huh?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I-If you don’t like it you can take the black one.” You said, your cheeks red.

“Nah, I like this one. It’s cute.” He said with a big smile before he started to walk away.

He turned back to you as he stepped out in the rain, waving to you. “Thanks again, I’ll be sure to give this back!”

You watched him walk away before stepping away from the bus stop yourself and heading towards the building you worked in. As much as you wanted this job, sometimes you felt dread as you saw the building come into view. You never got any of the exciting things to write about, just boring old ads for newspapers, and sometimes you got lucky enough to post the daily comic. How nice it was to see Garfields face while typing. Even with all the overtime and running around you do for your boss and everyone else, you didn’t feel as though they truly appreciated you.

You stepped through the doors and made your way to the break room, a small smile on your face when you saw a cup of iced coffee with a note and your name attached to it. Out of everyone in the building, only one of them truly appreciated you. You both did this thing where you’d get each other coffee here and there, or leave little bags of treats.

“Hey Yujun.” You said as you walked past his cubicle. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem Y/N, Jihya isn’t in today, so maybe you’ll be able to write something juicy for once.” He said as he gave you a bright smile.

You gave him a thumbs up as you made your way to your cubicle, setting down your bag and your coffee. Jihya was only a position above you, but she constantly acted as though she was the CEO. Which meant, she was a total bitch.

“Y/N.” Your boss called.

You stood up and bowed as he strolled over to you, a small smile on his face. “Jihya is going to be off for the next few days, so I’ll need you to write this.”

He handed you a small handful of papers and you smiled at him and nodded. “I’ll do my best Mr. Jang.”

Though you never felt like Mr. Jang totally liked you, he was rather kind. He kept everything he said to you short and sweet. You weren’t sure if he was just shy or if he truly didn’t like talking to anyone… Or maybe it was just you.

You set the papers down and looked through it, excitement making your eyes gleam. It was your first real story you’d be writing for, though the situation wasn’t anything to be excited about. The day before, a small bomb went off in a cafe. Though it wasn’t big, there were a few casualties, one being a young child. There had been an uprise in mafia groups and gangs recently, a lot more crime and dangerous activity appearing. You read through the papers, highlighting important parts and a few lines from a few interviews that a few others were able to get.

Your fingers rapidly glided across your keyboard, your eyes steadily watching the screen as words flowed out of your fingertips. You went over every paragraph multiple times, checking for any spelling or grammar mistakes, your eyes sharp. Lunch came around faster than usual, and honestly, you were close to skipping it. The story and your opportunity to really impress your boss and the company giving you too much excitement.

“You coming to lunch?” Yujun asked.

“Nah, I’m doing this story.” You said, not taking your eyes off of the screen.

“Y/N, I know you’re excited for this, but you need to get some energy!” He scolded you. “And looking at a screen like that for too long at a time is going to give you a headache.”

You sighed, knowing he was right.

“I know… I just got so wrapped up in the fact that I finally got something!”

“I know, it’s exciting getting your first big story, but once you get hungry or your head starts hurting, you won’t be able to focus.” He pointed out. “And you need to be on your A game for this one.”

“You’re right.” You said with a smile, standing up and stretching. “I guess I should listen to you.”

“You guess?” He chuckled.

You followed Yujun into the break room, finally feeling grateful for the hour break you got. You had plenty of time to eat and think about what else you wanted to write for the article. You rummaged through your bag for your lunch, and realized you had grabbed the second umbrella after noticing it was raining instead of your lunch.

“Shit.” You cursed under your breath.

“Forget your lunch?” Yujun asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I grabbed my second umbrella instead… Which I, by the way, gave to some stranger on the street since he forgot one.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day.” Yujun said, reaching into his book bag and pulling out a second cup of noodles. “I brought two.”

“It’s like we were destined for each other.” You laughed as he handed you the cup of noodles.

You both sat there eating and you observed Yujun’s face. He was a couple years younger than you, and his face really proved his youth. He looked much younger than he actually was, his large eyes passing him off as a young high schooler. Despite him being a few years younger, you preferred him to not use honorifics with you, considering you were both pretty close.

“You’re writing about the bomb that went off, right?” Yujun asked.

“Yeah, thank goodness Jihya’s sick.” You said with a smile. “As fucked up as it sounds.”

“Not fucked up, accurate.” Yujun said, an evil little grin on his face.

You laughed as you stuck your chopsticks into your noodles, finally bringing them to your lips and sighing happily.

“Noodles are the best to have when it’s chilly and rainy.” You said.

“I agree.” He said muffly, a mouth full of noodles stuffing his cheeks.

You laughed at the way he looked, cheeks puffed out, large innocent eyes bigger than usual. He smiled at you through his stuffed cheeks and chewed, covering his mouth politely as he spoke.

“How’s the article coming?” He asked.

“So far so good, I’m so immersed in it. It feels so good to be able to get an ACTUAL job.” You said with a smile.

Yujun gave you an all too knowing nod. “It took forever to actually get a good story myself, no one ever believes in us little guys. They always give the good stuff to the seniors.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling sorry for Yujun. He had been here a year longer than you, and he had just recently gotten his first big story about two months back.

“What do you have so far?” He asked.

You reached into your bag and took out a dark purple folder, sliding the paper with the information out. You pointed out everything you’ve highlighted so far, and you realized that this was the perfect opportunity to get help from someone who's worked on stories like this. You explained thoroughly what you had gotten down so far, and how you worded certain areas. Yujun listened carefully, and even took a pen out from his bag and circled certain things you had down to add a word or two, or pointed out a few more things.

“I’m impressed, this is really good.” Yujun said.

“I still made quite a few mistakes.” You sighed.

Yujun patted your shoulder and gave you a soft smile.

“Listen, this is your first big story. It’s not going to be perfect your first try, and it won’t be your second. We all make small mistakes or tend to leave things out, or we could even use bigger and better words. I still make mistakes, and I made ten times the amount you made on my first try.” Yujun pointed out.

“Really? You made a lot of mistakes?” You asked.

“Hell yeah, the unfortunate part for me is that Jihya was the one who went over mine, and I got an eraser pegged at my face.” He laughed.

“Really?!” You gasped.

“Yup. Bounced right off my nose.” He chuckled. “So you’re pretty lucky you got me to be the one to check it over.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” You laughed.

You both checked the time and headed back to your cubicles, and you quickly opened your laptop, hurrying to change what Yujun suggested. He had left you quite a few notes as references to what words and phrases you could use while writing the article. Your fingers fired away on the keyboard, your eyes going back and forth between your notes and your laptop. The hours ticked away a lot faster than usual, and you jumped when Yujun came over to your desk.

“Ready to head home?” He asked.

“For once, no.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it’s 5;30 already.”

“Believe it Toots.” He said with a smile. “You heading out?”

“Ya know what, I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer.” You said. “Try and get some of this done. I need enough time to write it out and thoroughly go through it.”

“I understand, don’t get too caught up in it.” Yujun said. “I did that my first real story, and I lost days of sleep.”

“I’ll try not too.” You said reassuringly.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, waving goodbye to you.

You waved back then hunched closer to your laptop, pulling the papers with the story on it closer so you could highlight key points. You looked through all the papers and found the interviews with key witnesses, taking the important ones and rewriting them and highlighting major points. The persistent tapping of your laptop keyboard filling the empty room.

The hours quickly ticked away, and you were startled by the door to the main office opening. You looked up and saw Mr. Jang looking at you, a little confused,

“What are you still doing here Y/N?” He asked.

“Sorry Mr. Jang, I’m still working on the story you gave me, and I lost track of time. I wasn’t going to stay this long.” You said quickly, shocked to see that it was 8PM.

“It’s no trouble Y/N, I appreciate you staying and devoting yourself to your work.” He said with a kind smile. “But I do need to lock up.”

“Oh, no problem!” You said hurriedly, getting up and closing your laptop, taking your notes and putting them in your bag. “Sorry, I didn’t clock out. I won’t expect overtime.”

“You worked over time, didn’t you?” He asked with a chuckle. “I’m not worried about paying you for overtime, Y/N. Like I said, I appreciate you devoting yourself to your work.”

You bowed to him and he gave you another kind smile before opening the front door for you and locking it.

“Will you be okay getting home with it being this dark?” He asked.”Do you need a ride?”

“Oh, I should be okay.” You reassured him. “I appreciate that though!”

He gave you a smile and headed to his care, and you smiled as you turned and walked towards your apartment. The smell of the recent rain and early spring put you in an even better mood than before, and you decided that, when you get home, you’ll order out some noodles and continue to go over the papers and continue highlighting and writing down key points and what you’d like to put into your article. You could use your personal laptop and type what you need to, then email it to yourself so you could copy and paste it to what you have.

You got to the front of the building and went to open the door, and noticed it was locked. Of course, it would be locked. The first time since you moved in it’s locked, and your key to the front had broken. Your landlord, however, had given you a key to the basement, just in case this would happen.

You groaned as you started to make your way to the back of the building, which was connected to multiple alleyways, and sat right across from the back of a few places. You began to come around the back when you spotted something familiar on the ground. You bent down and picked it up, a scoff leaving your lips. It was your Totoro umbrella, it had been open and just laying on the ground. If he didn’t like it, he shouldn’t have taken it!

You were ripped from your thoughts as you stared down at a dark mark that covered the one side. You stuck your hand towards it and touched it, noticing it was really warm compared to what the rest of the umbrella felt like. You looked down at your hand and noticed it was red.

Is this...Blood?

Your head shot up when you heard voices, and you quickly pressed yourself against the building. The surface colder than usual because of the rain, goosebumps beginning to adorn your skin. You slowly peaked over the side of the building, and noticed four men standing around another, who was on the ground. You noticed one of the men kick the one on the ground as he went to get up, and he grunted as he hit the ground hard. The man who had kicked him lifted him by his shirt, and your breath got caught in your throat.

It was the man from earlier. His leather jacket was gone, the white shirt that had been beneath it stained a dark red on the side of his stomach, and small red drops from the blood from his lip stained the neck of it. You heard the man holding him up say something, and the man from earlier rasped out a response that got him thrown onto the concrete, and a swift kick to the spot that was bleeding heavily. He let out a short wheeze, his hands trembling as he slowly started to get up. The same man kicked him again, knocking him over. He kicked him multiple times until one of the other men pulled him off, two others approaching the one on the ground.

One held him down while the other stuck a syringe in his neck, making him jerk. They held him down for about two minutes before he went limp, his eyes closing.

“What did you give him?” The one that had been kicking him asked.

“120 Milligrams of Ketamine. It should last about 30 minutes, and when he wakes up, he’ll be too sick to do anything.” The one who had pushed the syringe into his neck said.

“Perfect.” The other responded.

He and two of the other men began to walk away, when he whistled for the one who had administered the drug. “When you hear my signal, come out to the truck, we’re gonna go talk to Boss then we’ll get him in the truck.”

The other nodded as the three walked away. You pressed yourself against the wall between the building and the dumpster. The three men didn’t notice you, and you watched them head away from the small alleyway. You had to think of something, and you had to think fast.

You waited a few minutes before mimicking the man's whistle as best as you could, and the man standing by the one from earlier looked around.

“Already? That was fast.” He said to himself as he began to walk towards you.

You pressed against the wall and held your breath as he passed, waiting until he was completely out of sight before hurrying over to the man on the ground. You dropped down beside him and checked his pulse, feeling it pulsating fast. You quickly got up and unlocked the door to the basement, fumbling with your keys as your hands shook. You quickly unlocked it then hurried over to the man, bending down and wrapping his arm over your shoulder. You quickly dragged him into the doorway, a gasp leaving your lips as you fell, forgetting that the stairs were very steep. You were just able to catch yourself, but cringed when you heard the man fall onto the hard concrete floor of the basement.

“Sorry…” You muttered as you looked down at him, facedown.

He didn’t respond, and you quickly shut and locked the basement door before hurrying back down the stairs. The dim light didn’t do much, so you flashed your phone's flashlight over where he was bleeding on the side of his stomach. A deep gash was showing through the rip in his shirt, and your stomach turned.

“Were you stabbed?” You whispered, though you knew you weren’t going to get an answer.

You quickly took your cardigan off, and gently lifted it enough so you could wrap it around his waist. It was a good thing you liked long cardigans, because you were able to double wrap it and tighten and press the knot to his wound to stop the bleeding.

You kept your hands over the knot, pressing it against his wound for a couple minutes as you thought of what to do. You jumped when you heard the men outside of the door, hearing them yelling and cursing.

“Let’s get you up to my apartment.” You said, gently sticking your hand out and feeling his pulse again.

It had calmed down only slightly, but the feeling of his warm, smooth skin under your hands felt… Weird. You shook off the feeling and gently lifted him, keeping his arm wrapped around your neck as you began to drag him towards the stairs leading up the apartments.

*bonk*

You gasped as you accidentally hit his head off of one of the pipes that stuck out.

“Sorry.” You said softly.

*bonk*

Another pipe, straight to the noggin.

“Sorry!” You apologized again, moving him over.

*BONK*

“OH MY GOD!”

When you finally got him to the last stair, you began to wonder if he would’ve been better off being taken by the other guys. He had gotten quite the beating just from you trying to help him. You opened the door leading out of the basement and began to head towards the elevator to get to your floor.

You were glad that mainly old people lived here, knowing everyone should be asleep and no questions should be asked. You got off of the elevator, your back beginning to hurt from holding his weight and your own.

“Ms. Y/N?”

You froze, slowly turning and making eye contact with Mrs. Boo, one of your neighbors. She looked at you worriedly, glancing at Chan.

“Did something happen?” She asked.

“Oh, uh, my friend here and I went to the bar when I was done work. He got a little too drunk and then a huge bar fight happened.” You said with a reassuring smile.

“Oh! You young people can be so careless!” She said.

“Yeah, you got that right.” You said. “Well I’m gonna get him inside and treat these bruises, have a good night Mrs. Boo!”

“You too, dear.” She said with a smile as she slowly stepped back into her own apartment.

You reached for your keys, slowly losing your grip on him and his head went straight into your door.

“.... God dammit.” You muttered as you unlocked the door.

His body slid forward but you were able to catch him, a huff leaving your lips.

“Aht aht aht, I caught you that time.” You said.

You leaned him sitting up against your wall as you quickly cleared off your kitchen table, finally testing out just how sturdy the fine wood was.

Hauling him up the stairs was a chore, but getting him up on the table after hauling him up multiple flights of stairs was a new challenge. When you finally got him up on the table, turned on all three of the lights in the kitchen/dining room area. You slowly ripped his shirt where the injury was, and you were finally able to get a good look at it.

It was deep and fleshy, but didn’t look life threatening. You noticed his eyes clench, and a heavy breath left his lips.

“Sir? Are you okay?” You asked.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, his breathing labored. His eyes roamed until they landed on you, and he squinted hard.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked.

His eyes finally focused, and he looked over your face.

“It’s you… From earlier.” He rasped.

“Yeah, I saw what those men were doing to you. You were behind my apartment building.” You told him.

He slowly nodded, a small puff of air leaving his lips.

“I’ll call and ambulance for you.” You said, reaching for your phone.

His hand shot out and grabbed yours, his breathing more harsh.

“No ambulances… No cops.” He rasped..

“Why not? Those men could’ve killed you!” You pointed out.

“Please…” He rasped.

You were silent as you looked him over, bloody and almost pitiful.

“I have a needle and some thread for sewing, I can give you stitches.” You said.

He nodded as you hurried over to the cabinet above your kitchen sink, grabbing the sewing kit. You grabbed some salt, some water, a water bottle, the first aid kit, and the bottle of vodka you’ve had for months.

“I’m gonna disinfect the needle with the vodka okay? I’m gonna pour some salt over the wound to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” You told him. (Salt dehydrates bacteria by pulling the water out of it)

He nodded and kept his eyes closed as you poured some of the vodka onto the needle, gently placing it on a paper towel. You poured some of the sea salt into your hand then pressed it into his wound. His breathing hitched, but he didn’t protest or move, then his whole body relaxed.

“I don’t have anything to numb it.” You said gently. “But I have the vodka and I have a water bottle.”

He nodded as you pressed the cold water bottle against his face, as he had been sweating, and he closed his eyes. You went to see if he wanted some of the vodka, but he turned away from it.

“Just please… Get it done and over with.” He rasped.

You slowly nodded as you put the black thread through the needle and slowly leaned forward, getting a good hold on the skin before pushing it through. His body tense, but he didn’t make a sound or jerk around. You kept glancing at him every time the needle pierced into the wounded skin, until the last part of the thread finally close the wound completely.

“It’s over now.” You said gently, grabbing a rag and gently dabbing at the blood.

He softly nodded, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he breathed raggedly. You gently pushed the hair out of his face, cringing at a big bruise on the side of his head from you bumping his head off of every possible pipe in the basement…. And quite possibly for from when you dropped him.

You opened the water bottle and gently lifted his head, pouring a little in his mouth. A small amount of color came back to his face as the water entered his body, and his eyes fluttered open again.

“Thank you.” He said hoarsely.

You nodded as you wiped the sweat off of his chest and face, being as gentle as you can as his eyes closed again. Now that he wasn’t watching you, your eyes lowered to his body.

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

You shook your head and lightly hit it before cleaning up all the bloody paper towels and putting everything back in its place. Most of your apartment was dark, and you guess that’s how you didn’t realize the person standing behind you, until a cold metal was placed against your neck.

Your whole body froze, and you lifted your hands in submission, your knees shaking.

“Who the hell are you?” A man’s voice asked in your ear.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Since you’re in my apartment?” You asked.

You felt the sharpness of the Metal press harder into your neck, and your whole body began to tremble.

“Hyunjin…” The man on your table rasped. “Stop.”

The man who had the knife to your neck slowly lowered it. He kept a hold on you as he approached the man laying on the table.

“Chan Hyung, what happened?” The man named Hyunjin asked.

Chan? That’s his name?

“Some of Yohyuns men.” Chan rasped. “She saved me.”

You finally got a look at Hyunjin’s face. He was pretty, sharp eyes meeting yours as he kept a hard expression.

“Sorry for the knife to your neck.” He said, before turning back to Chan. “Felix and Jisung are outside, we can bring you home.”

Chan nodded, his eyes opening as they met yours.

“What’s your name?” He asked in a raspy voice.

“Y/N.” You answered.

He gave you a soft smile, and you couldn’t help but ask yourself how anyone could hurt him.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll have to repay you someday.” He said.

“Don’t worry about that, worry about getting better.” You said.

Hyunjin gave a small smile of approval and then leaned forward and held Chan up. Chan looked at you again, his honey brown eyes a little brighter as he slightly bowed to you. You held the door for the two of them as Hyunjin held Chan up, and you watched them disappear into the elevator.

When they had gone, you dropped yourself onto your couch, looking at your curling.

“What a crazy night.” You murmured to yourself.

You quickly checked your phone, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realzed it was only 9:15. Your favorite noodle place closed at 10, so you had enough time to order and have it delivered.

When the noodles came, you left a pretty nice tip to the delivery driver for delivering right before close, and then you sat at your desk and quickly took your notes out. You stuffed your face with noodles as you read over everything, continuing to highlight what you needed.

Hours ticked on, the clock striking 6 AM a lot faster than you expected. Looks like you weren’t getting any sleep, not that you could sleep anyways. This project was too big, too important, and the events from the night before kept replaying in your head. You had wanted your life to pick up a little bit, but not this much in one day. This was almost too much to ask for.

You finally got up to shower and get ready for work, applying a few layers of concealer to hide the bags that would rat you out to Yujun. He might be able to tell you haven’t slept either way, but you could at least hope you could find a way to hide them.

You quickly organized your notes and papers and packed them up, finally heading out the door. It had rained again, not that you were surprised. The deep puddles nearly enough to swallow your ankles if you were unlucky enough to not pay attention. You were surprised you were able to focus, the project and Chan completely occupying your mind.

“Stay up all night?” Yujun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you entered the building.

“Damn, hardly even looked at me and already caught me.” You chuckled.

He smiled at you and patted your head, his eyes soft.

“You should really rest ya know.” He said. “Rest is a key part to writing good articles.”

“I know, I was just too excited.” You said.

You didn’t want to tell him about the Chan situation, not wanting to worry him. You trusted Yujun a lot, but for some reason other than not wanting to worry him, you found it better not to say anything.

You sat in your cubicle, fingers clicking away. The day had gone by fast, and everyone had left already. It was a Friday, which meant you all left pretty early. Usually you were out of the office by 2:30-3 the latest, but today, you couldn’t help but be glued to your laptop. You were so close to finishing the article, you could practically already see it, printed in fine lettering. This whole article could completely make or destroy your career, and you were getting more anxious, yet excited, as you slowly got closer to the end.

You only had a few paragraphs left, but you glanced at the clock. It was going on 6, and you knew Mr. Jang wanted to leave soon, as he had always left at 6 instead of 8 on Friday’s.

“Still here again?” He asked.

You turned towards him as he stepped out of his office, a smile on your face.

“I’m almost done… Could you look it over for me? If you have the time?” You asked.

“Of course.” He said with a smile as he walked over.

His eyes scanned your laptop, his fingers lightly hovering over the pad to scroll down or up to read. His eyes were intensely scanning the words, each paragraph being implanted in his brain.

When he finished he pulled away. He looked at you, the same expression his face changing as he smiled.

“I like it. I like it a lot actually. Keep up the good work, I now know what you’re capable of.” He said with a bigger smile. “Big things are going to start coming your way, Y/N.”

You beamed at his praise, a huge smile on your face as you bowed to him.

“Thank you so much Mr. Jang!” You said excitedly.

He walked you out of the office, waving goodbye to you as you turned towards the direction of your apartment. You looked up at the darkening sky, inhaling deeply, a big smile on your face. You began to walk home, stopping in the little convenient store for a few snacks and a quick dinner. You grabbed some of the pork dumplings they had, your stomach rumbling.

You approached the front door to your apartment building, and you sighed in relief when the door opened. Thank god it wasn’t locked again, you don’t need more stress like last night.

You entered the elevator and pressed the button to go up to your floor, when you felt a sudden wave of dread. Something felt off, and you couldn’t tell what it was. You clutched the plastic bag with your snacks in it, and decided to brush it off.

You just got great news about your career, why are you worrying now? Nothing could ruin this moment for you, and you weren’t going to let anything destroy your hope.

You got off of the elevator and walked over to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside. Your whole apartment was dark, and the skin on your neck and back began to crawl as the same eerie feeling began to haunt you. You walked over towards the light switch when a cold metal touched your temple, a soft click filling your ears. Your body shook, your eyes making out a dark figure beside you.

“W-Who are you?” You asked.

“You made the biggest mistake of your life getting involved.” A man’s voice growled. “Unfortunately, it’s costing you your life.”

Your hands shook as tears filled your eyes. “Please don’t… I won’t tell anyone.”

The cold metal pressed against the skin on your temple, a soft chuckle leaving the man’s lips.

“I don’t give a shit who you would’ve told, you were an idiot for saving that man. You took away an opportunity for me, and the only way to pay that back is your life.”

You heard the safety click and closed your eyes tight, your whole body shaking. You heard a weird squelching sound and a choked gasp. The gun fell away from your head and you slowly opened your eyes.

Another man stood over the one that held the gun to your head, and the moonlight illuminated the man. It was the one that had been kicking Chan the night before, a knife was sticking out of his neck, his eyes open and wide.

The other man you didn’t recognize. He wore a black hat and dark clothing, his eyes meeting yours.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“N-No…” You whispered shakily.

“Are you Y/N?” He asked.

You nodded and he slowly approached you.

“I was sent here to come get you, and it looks like I got here just in time.” He said. “Come with me.”

You didn’t ask any questions. If your mother was here, she'd scold you for willingly just following a stranger. But he had just saved you, so he can’t be all that bad, right? As you were stepping out the door, you smelled smoke, and quickly turned around. A fire was starting to smoke up the living room, and you went to go towards it when the man stopped you.

“Leave it.” He said, pulling you away with him.

He took you down the emergency stairs so no one would see you, and when you reached the side of the building, you heard the fire alarm blaring.

“Hurry.” The man said lowly.

You followed him to an Escalade, the giant dark truck reflecting the flames that were beginning to burst through your open apartment window. You watched it for a second, your heart shattering.

Everything you had ever worked for was in that apartment. The project, your degree, all the money you had put into making the place feel like home… It was all gone.

“Come on, we can’t stick around.” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You shakily opened the passenger side door and got in, finally getting a good look at your savior. He was short, shorter than most guys. His dark hair hung in his eyes as the hat he had on flattened it even more. He was wearing all black, and the gloves he wore had blood splattered in them.

“I’m Changbin.” He introduced himself.

You wanted to respond, but nothing came out. Your throat was dry from holding your tears back, so you just gave him a stiff nod. Your eyes wandered out the window as a big cloud of back smoke hung in the sky from your apartment building. It began to grow smaller as Changbin drove you away, taking you away from the dream you had chased for so long.

Changbin finally pulled into a massive drive way, the whole thing circling a massive fountain. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the mansion, statues and art carved into the columns sticking out, even in the dark.

“Follow me.” He said.

You slowly stepped out of the truck, and stiffly followed him up the giant stairs. He opened the two giant doors to the mansion, and you stared at the entrance. Another fountain was in the middle of an archway, and two sets of staircases that twirled around sat on each side. The place smelled like gingerbread, and the beautiful white and gold walls were bright, almost blindingly bright.

“Did you retrieve her?” A voice asked as a head popped around the fountain.

“Yes, this is Y/N.” Changbin introduced you.

The younger male smiled at you, his dark eyes sparkling.

“I’m Felix.” He said, beckoning for you to follow. “Come with me, someone wants to see you.” He said, leading you and Changbin through a giant hallway.

You heard more voices as you got closer, and you decided to stay closer to Changbin. Felix opened a giant door and multiple heads turned, but only one caught your attention. It was Chan.

“Y/N.” He called to you, a smile on his face.

His lips were still cut up, and he had a bruise on his jaw, but his eyes were shining. He stepped towards you, a big smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you.” He said, his smile faltering when he saw your expression. “What’s wrong? Didn’t something happen?”

“One of Yohyun’s men got into her apartment. I got there just in time.” Changbin told him.

“I made the right decision sending you when I did.” Chan said, his expression completely changed.

He looked down at you and stretched his hand out, gently touching your shoulder.

“You’re safe here, okay?” He said.

“W-Whats going on?” You asked.

Chan sighed but gave you a soft smile.

“When you saved me, you ruined plans for them. You see… I’m a very wanted man right now.” He explained. “And I knew they would find out who had saved me, and I knew you’d be in danger.”

“Why would I be in danger for saving you?” You asked.

“Because like I said, I’m a very wanted man.” He said softly. “You stole a… Big bounty from them.”

You were silent as Chan rubbed your shoulder, his warm touch almost comforting.

“What if they look for me again?” You asked.

“We won’t let them hurt you, Y/N.” Chan said.

“And where will I go?” You asked. “My apartment was on fire… I lost everything…”

Chan’s eyes were soft as he looked at you, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“You’re going to uh.. Have to stay here… With the eight of us.”

#bang chan #bang chan stray kids #stray kids bang chan #bang chan skz #skz #skz chan #skz imagines #skz mafia au #skz bang chan #stray kids #chan stray kids #straykids #stray kids au #stray kids mafia au

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on DC's on time and apparently competently done solicits?

Batman: The Imposter #1: So is this guy cowriting The Batman or not? Looks like the answer is 'not' at this point and this is his consolation prize; if this is based on his scrapped ideas, shame on DC for making this but not an adaptation of Nic Cage Superman.

Arkham City: The Order of the World #1: Less than no interest in the premise but oh my god that creative team and that cover, insta-buy.

Catwoman #36: RAM V WRITING GHOSTMAKER, THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Detective Comics #1044: ...David Lapham is drawing a backup?

I Am Batman #2: Jesus, Coipel's gone already?

Task Force Z #1: Wait, why's Man-Bat here?

Batman: The Long Halloween Special: Utterly shameless on the part of everyone involved.

Catwoman: Lonely City #1: So Black Label's been picking up some de facto subgenres of the kind of stuff it's doing, and is 'older Catwoman after Batman's dead' becoming one of them?

DC Vs. Vampires #1: Not clear what niche this fills when Taylor's still definitely doing DC3sed down the road, and I assume Tynion's involvement will be minimal, so this might be a pass.

EDIT: Anonymous asked: Tynion seems like the main guy on DC Vampires from his newsletter! He was the one who pitched it, then brought Rosenberg on board as co-writer.

This does sound a lot more interesting, I'll check it out after all.

Human Target #1: All about it! I think Smallwood was being rightfully groomed as a big name in the making only to be working on Moon Knight when everything came out about Brian Wood, glad to see him making a comeback. Not that familiar with the characters' comics adventures, but it's a good concept that's a great fit for King and that's before Lex gets involved. The only problem is that my love for the franchise doesn't come from the comics - which means I'll inevitably be disappointed by this being something very different - it comes from the TV show, specifically the best opening credits of all time:

youtube

Aquaman/Green Arrow - Deep Target #1: Bonkers pairing but really looking forward to what Thomas will do with it.

Batman: The Audio Adventures Special: Did this podcast start and I heard nothing about it?

Wonder Woman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: Very solid lineup of talent, looking forward to this.

Wonder Woman: Historia #1: At last! I'm not the biggest DeConnick fan but I'm very interested in this, even if it's a shame they finally bit the bullet and brought in other artists for the other issues even if the alternative would be waiting another 5 years or thereabouts for Jimenez.

Nubia & The Amazons #1: Was initially very uninterested but realized I was mixing up Stephanie Williams with Stephanie Phillips, I'll definitely check this out.

Wonder Woman: The Adventures of Young Diana Special #1: If you haven't been getting the regular Wonder Woman definitely grab this collection of the backup feature, it's a lot of fun.

Action Comics #1036: THE CREW IS HERE. Clark wearing his regular clothes and not graying seems to confirm Morrison's guy in Superman and The Authority won't be the 'regular' Clark, however that plays out, which is alright with me given it'll likely help that stand alone as a perennial more strongly. Wonder if Janin comes on partway through here.

Batman/Catwoman #8: lol

Justice League #69: Gonna go ahead and be the one with the courage to say this should have been the issue about the League having an orgy, you know Bendis wants it

Superman vs. Lobo #2: Ok, this sounds fun.

Superman: Son of Kal-El #4: Really keeping it ambiguous beyond the basic details, though this really sounds like it's pushing the "bright mirror to Injustice" comparison.

#DC Comics #Opinion

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artzychic27 · 4 years

Text

Pure Knight/Blood Knight

As he put his books in his locker, Nathaniel kept staring lovingly at the photo of Marc he kept inside. A few months after the Reverser incident, he and the writer started dating, and Nathaniel couldn’t be happier.

Marc was so sweet, cute, and just thinking about him always left Nathaniel a blushing mess. Especially when he saw that beautiful smile.

And hopefully, he’d be seeing that smile today. Nathaniel had been noticing something off about Marc- he’s more quiet than usual, he’s been wearing his hood over his head more often, and whenever Nathaniel asked if he wanted to hang out with his friends from class, Marc would either change the subject or say he had plans that day.

—

“Hey, Rainbow-“

He pauses when he sees his boyfriend, clearly upset. Marc was just lying on his bed, and looking up at the ceiling while listening to music on his headphones- Now Nathaniel was concerned. Marc would only do this whenever he was upset.

He walks over to Marc, pauses the music, and Marc turns his attention to him “Marc? Is something wrong?”

“... No, I just...” He sits up “... It’s just something that someone said.” Nathaniel sits down next to him and kisses him on the cheek.

“C’mon, tell me what happened.” He urges “I’m really worried about you.”

Marc smiled at his boyfriend’s concern, “Well, you know Lila?” Nathaniel frowns at the mention of the She-Demon’s name. She’s wronged the redhead too many times to count. Marc notices his expression “Nath?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Nathaniel focuses back on Marc “Sorry. What about her?”

“I posted a story on Tumblr that I was proud of, but I guess Lila copied and pasted it on her Tumblr, then she told everyone she wrote it.” A few tears stream down his face “And they all believed her!”

“Oh, Rainbow.” Nathaniel cooed, then kissed him on his forehead “It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t. When I tried to tell everyone, they didn’t believe me, and Alya said I was jealous!” He wipes a few tears away. “Only Mari, Alix, Rose, and Juleka believe me.”

“And so do I.” He reminded, then wipes a tear off of Marc’s cheek using his thumb “It’ll get better, okay?”

Marc smiles “Okay.”

“Come on. Let’s work on the comic.”

After three hours of coming up with a storyline and character designs, Nathaniel went home, glad that his boyfriend is happy now. But he wasn’t. That lying fox had wronged him so many times, all because he doesn’t believe her damn lies!

“Accidentally” spilling drinks on his sketchbook, claiming to know a writer who could help improve the Ladybug comics, trying to frame him for stealing art she claimed was hers.

He could forget all of that, all of it, but making Marc cry was something he would not tolerate. He wanted Rossi to perish, not just her though, all of her followers. He just wanted them all to...

Nathaniel remembers he’s in Paris right now. A place where having negative emotions would turn you into a monster. So, he breathed in and out a few times and thought about positive things.

Being with Marc

People loving their comics

Mari having people on her side

Alix, Rose, and Juleka

...

From where he’s standing, Nathaniel glared at the sausage-haired girl sitting on the bench as she told more stories to her clueless followers flocking around her. He almost pitied them... Almost.

Alix sees what he’s looking at, and rolls her eyes “Just let it go, Nath. They’re all lost causes.”

“Yeah, I’ve done everything I could to help them, but they won’t listen.” Marinette says “If they wanna believe that I’m a jealous bully, let them. No more free clothes and food for them.” She folds her arms

He groans “Fine. But if she says one more thing about Marc again, I’m gonna-“ Rose interrupts him and asks “What’d she say about Marc?”

Answering her question, the Akuma class made comments such as:

“I still can’t believe he tried to steal my story!” The Italian whined

“He’s a fake!”

“He wishes he could write like you!”

“As if you could even call that writing!”

Marinette, Juleka, and Rose stared with their mouths hung open.

“Oh. My. Fucking- Ugh!” Alix exasperated “What the hell is wrong with them? That bitch doesn’t even write!”

Nathaniel continued to glare at the Italian, still trying to think about positive things so he won’t get Akumatized again

Being with Marc

People loving their comics

Mari having people on her side

Alix, Rose, and Juleka

“You should give that fake some lessons.”

... Lila getting what she deserves

“I bet that’s not even his work.”

Alya’s tabloid blog getting blacklisted

That lying bitch getting killed by an Akuma.

Those assholes falling off a big cliff!

His anger diminished when he saw Marc, halfway down the stairs. He was visibly crying, meaning he had heard everything they said. Nathaniel wanted to be angry right now, he did, but seeing Marc like that just made the redhead want to comfort him and tell him he loves him

His anger returned once again when Marc ran upstairs in tears.

It was probably enough to attract an Akuma, but he didn’t care. Those idiots deserved what was coming to them... But he didn’t want Marc to get akumatized...

Before Alix, Juleka, Rose, or Marinette could go over and tell them off, Nathaniel grabbed an apple out of Marinette’s lunch bag, silently thanked his parents for making him participate in two years of baseball, and chucked it at Lila while she wasn’t looking, hitting her right in her fat forehead, and ran out the courtyard while his classmates looked for the culprit.

—

Nathaniel could hear the wings flapping as he ran, and knew an Akuma was after him. The flapping got louder, and Nathaniel prepared to get akumatized once again, but the butterfly flew right past him... Marc!

He picked up more speed and ran right past the Akuma. After about a minute of running, Nathaniel found Marc crying in the art room and ran in to comfort him.

“Don’t cry, Marc, please don’t cry.” He whispers to Marc, hoping to calm him down before the Akuma would sense his negativity. “They’re wrong! You’re an amazing writer! I love you, Rainbow.”

The sound of the flapping of butterfly wings got closer. Nathaniel and Marc saw that the Akuma was in the room with them, and trying to pick which out of the two it would Akumatize. It was so hard for it to choose. Nathaniel’s anger and frustration were tempting, but it has originally been sent to go after Marc.

Being with Marc

People loving their comics

Mari having people on her side

Alix, Rose, and Juleka

“You should give that fake some lessons.”

“I know a way better writer.”

“As if you could even call that writing!”

Nathaniel pushed those thoughts in the back of his mind, got up, and stood between his boyfriend and the Akuma.

“Stay away from him!”

He couldn’t let Marc get akumatized again, he just couldn’t! He tried to keep his negative emotions down, but they were too strong. He kept thinking about his classmates. How they’ve hurt his friends, his boyfriend. How Lie-La made Marinette and Marc’s lives a living hell. The rage consumed him, that was enough for the Akuma to finally chose its target, and go in Nathaniel’s yin-yang necklace.

“Nath!” Marc cried as he saw Hawkmoth’s symbol appear on the face of his boyfriend. “Don’t listen to him, please!”

“What you did for the one you love was very noble of you. Almost like a Knight. I’m giving you the power to protect your love at all costs from those who dare try to hurt him.”

“Get out of my head!”

“You will go by two names. Blood Knight, a rage-filled seeker of vengeance. An unstoppable force to be reckoned with. The other, Pure Knight, protector of the innocent, and the defenseless.”

Nathaniel thought about Lila and Alya. Their smug faces whenever Marinette looked miserable, and the lies they spread about his friends. They would all pay...

“You yearn for justice, and to protect the one you love. In return for this power, you must give me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous’. Do we have a deal?”

“I will protect him with my life.” He swore as the black and purple mist bubbles up from his necklace and surrounded him. When it lifted, Nathaniel was replaced by an armored figure, about a foot taller than him. The armor he was wearing was pure white with blue highlights. The helmet’s visor has a blue butterfly-shaped mark, and the helmet’s comb is a light blue. In his hand is a golden shield with a red and white yin-yang symbol. And around his neck was a necklace with a light blue orb.

Pure Knight heard shuffling from behind him and turned to see Marc has backed himself into a corner. He walks over to the crying boy and kneels before him as if he were royalty.

“Nath?” Marc whispered in horror.

He shook his head “I am Pure Knight. Your protector. I vow to be your shield, and smite those who have wronged you.” He takes Marc’s hand in his armored one

“They all will pay for their transgressions. No one shall ever harm you again, my prince.”

—

Marinette, Rose, and Juleka were trying to hold Alix back from knocking some sense into their idiot classmates.

“Alix, you said it yourself! They’re lost causes!” Marinette said as she pulled Alix by her arms

“Fuck that! They can mess with us all they want, but when they talk trash about Marc, I get crazy!” She argued, still trying to pull her limbs free, but stumbled when the sound of something metallic rang through the air.

Everyone looked to the middle of the courtyard and saw a large broadsword drop down, the point embedding itself on the floor. Holding the sword was Blood Knight. Unlike Pure Knight, his armor was black with blood-red highlights. The orb on the necklace was black. The same yin-yang symbol that was on the shield is now in the middle of the cross-guard of the sword.

Everyone took a step back as Blood Knight pulled his sword out from the floor. He looked at the Akuma class before his eyes settled on Lila. Then, something overcame him, and he surged forwards, pushing away the others to grab Lila by the front of her shirt and hold her up

“Put me down” She wailed “I didn’t do anything!”

“LIES!” He yelled, “Every word you say is nothing but a lie!”

“Nath?” Alix asked as she slowly walked over to the red knight “O-okay. Look, just put Lila down-“

“I have no quarrels with you, Alix. And unless you wish to meet the business end of my sword, you will let me do what should have been done long ago.”

CLANG!

“OW!” Everyone turned their heads to see Kim, clutching his fist in pain, possibly caused by trying to punch the Akuma.

Blood Knight throws Lila to the floor, then faces Kim. The athlete tries to look intimidating, but fails due to the height difference “...You weak, disposable maggot.” He said as he pointed the broadsword to Kim’s neck “You claim to be a defender of the bullied, and yet you aid one.”

Kim frowned “Lila’s not a-!”

In a split second, Blood Knight’s broadsword cleaved right through Kim. Everyone watched in horror as Kim’s figure disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Many students fled the courtyard, not wanting to be next.

“One down...” He turns to the rest of the class, who are still in shock “So many more to go.” He points his sword to Lila, who’s being held protectively by Alya “You are a danger to my Prince!”

Lila once again brought out the crocodile tears “But he’s the one bullying me!” She added a lip quiver for effect “He steals my stories and claim they’re his!”

Blood Knight growled under his helmet “Speak the truth now, or I will show you no mercy!” He pulled Lila out of Alya’s hold

Bring her reign to an end!

“I’m not lying!” She insists

“... Fine.” Thinking she’s won, Lila sighs with relief “Then your dark soul shall perish!” He raises his sword, the metal gleams in the light. Lila pales, knowing she, for once, won’t be able to lie her way out of danger.

Students look away, not wanting to see this again.

A second before he could bring this lying fox to justice, he felt something wrap around his armored wrist. ‘Who dares to defend this lying witch?’, he thought

“Nath, please!”

Hearing the cry of his prince, he turns his head to see that he’s the one holding onto his wrist. He takes a look at Marc’s face and sees the look of distress.

Kill her. Do it now!

He’s upset. Protect Marc! Keep him safe!

Blood Knight’s armor fades from red to white, and a bright light consumes the sword. When it dims, the shield is in its place.

“I know you’re still in there, Nath. You’d never want to hurt anyone...”

“My prince... I... I...”

Marc smiles, believing he’s getting through to him.

“I should’ve known!” Lila wailed, “You got Nathaniel akumatized so he could hurt me!”

The Akuma class, sans Alix, Rose, and Juleka, start hurling insults at the boy.

Kill them! All of them!

They hurt the prince!

Do you want to protect the prince? Kill them!

Rage consumes Pure Knight, and he becomes Blood Knight once again. Instead of the liar and her posse, he turns to Alix, Juleka, and Rose. In a flash, the blade sliced through them. But instead of them disappearing into smoke, their clothing transformed into pure white and gold armor, and in their hands were gold shields with yin-yang symbols

“Shieldmaidens, dispose of this lying fox!” Blood Knight commanded

“Yes, Blood Knight.” Alix, Juleka, and Rose responded in emotionless voices, then turned to the Akuma class. Before they could strike, Ladybug’s yoyo wraps around Lila’s waist and pulls her towards the spotted and leather-clad heroes, who are at the top of the steps

“I didn’t need your help! I could’ve taken them on myself!” Lila complains

Instead of Ladybug rolling her eyes, she just says, “You know, maybe I’ll just let Blood Knight take care of you, make our jobs a whole lot easier.”

Chat Noir plays along “Yeah, you get akumatized a lot, so this would be a win.”

“Okay! Just get rid of them!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Ladybug says as she retracts her yoyo. Then she and Chat jump down in front of Blood Knight. Ladybug addresses the rest of the students still in the courtyard “Everyone, get out of here!” The students either took cover in the classrooms or run out of the school.

Marc is about to run but he was suddenly pushed into Blood Knight’s chest, his arm around him in a protective hold

He sighs, “And here I was thinking you two defended the weak!” He turned to the shieldmaidens “Don’t let them leave!” He hoisted Marc in his arms and jumped to the roof of the school as the writer screamed for dear life.

“FOR THE PRINCE!” The three shieldmaidens let out battle cries and surged forward to duel Ladybug and Chat Noir.

One short battle later, and the shieldmaidens are trapped in the lockers with no way of getting out, thanks to Chat Noir put a broomstick through the handles.

They make their way outside where many students and teachers are gathered

“Is everyone alright?” They all nod and say that they’re okay.

Aurore walks up to the two heroes

“Two more students were turned into shieldmaidens, and kidnapped Alya and Lila!” She explained frantically

“This is their fault!” One male student yelled as he pointed to the Akuma class. “If it weren’t for that lying bitch and that damn tabloid writer, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“She’s right.” A blonde girl agreed “I heard the shit you guys said about Marc, that’s why Nathaniel got akumatized! All because you believed some lying skeeze!”

“You’re all idiots!”

“Why don’t we just let Nath kill you right here, right now?!”

The students of the Akuma class who were on Lila’s side got into a verbal brawl with the other students over if Lila is a liar or not, and whose fault this was. As the commotion gets louder, a loud whistle sounds out. Everyone turns to see Chat Noir with his thumb and pointer finger in his mouth.

“You can all this discuss this later! Right now, does anyone have an idea where Nathaniel took Marc, Alya, and Lila?”

“Alya might be live-streaming for the Ladyblog.” A boy calls out “You can see where they’re going.”

“Of course! Someone bring up the Ladyblog!” Ladybug ordered

Aurore did so, and the live-stream was running, showing Alya in the clutches of one of the shieldmaidens jumping on the rooftops

“Hey, viewers! Once again, I’ve been kidnapped by a supervillain!” She said while blowing out some of her hair that was getting in her face “At least this one is less handsy!”

“She’s not the best journalist, but you gotta admire this girl’s commitment.” Chat Noir commented, to which Aurore rolled her eyes.

Alya then panned her phone around to show Marc, now in Pure Knight’s arms, looking terrified from being up so high and flinching every time Pure Knight landed on a roof.

“If this faker hadn’t stolen Lila’s story, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

She phone pans to show Lila, also terrified as she’s hoisted over a shieldmaiden’s shoulder

“Lila, care to comment?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir, get off your fat lazy butts and HELP ME, YOU IDIOTS!” Lila screamed in response

Alta pointed the camera back to her. Confusion is visible on her face. The superheroes scowled. That girl had some nerve. The Akuma class also looks confused. Wasn’t Lila supposed to be Ladybug’s best friend?

“It looks like he’s heading for the Tower. And before he left, I think I heard him say something about the perfect kingdom for his prince.” Aurore says

—

We’ll have our kingdom, my prince.

It will be perfect like you.

What about our revenge?!

Justice will be brought shortly.

Pure Knight turned his attention to Marc, still cradled in his arms with his eyes shut tight. Ever since he became Reverser and almost plummeted to his death, Marc had a terrible fear of heights. Pure Knight gently put Marc down, and when he opened his eyes, he found that they were at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Noticing his uneasiness, Pure Knight pulls Marc closer to his chest “It will all be over soon, my prince.” He turns to the shield maidens and gives a small nod. At that, they drop Lila and Alya with an audible thunk

“You clumsy idiots!” Lila screeched

“I’ve had just about enough of you.” His armor becomes blood-red, and the broadsword returns, much to the two girls’ horror

“S-so, Blood Knight. Any reason you brought us to the Eiffel Tower?” Alya asked, pointing her phone to the Akuma

“So all of Paris can witness the downfall of this liar! She’s going to tell everyone who she really is!”

Alya was becoming frustrated “Lila is not a liar! Why does everyone-“

“SILENCE!” He is about to silence the reporter with his sword but froze when he felt Marc hold onto his arm. He looked into the boy’s pleading eyes and sighed in defeat, “You should be grateful my Prince is merciful, otherwise, I would not hesitate to slice both your necks open.”

The sword starts to glow a bright red

“It is time for you to tell the truth once and for all, Rossi!” He yelled

Lila was about to get up and run, but the two shieldmaidens held her by her wrists. Blood Knight approached her with his sword still aglow. He points the tip of it to her forehead, and Lila began to glow red.

The light dimmed, and the shieldmaidens released her. Lila fell to her knees, clutching her head in pain. Alya was about to help her, but she was met with the sharp tip of Blood Knight’s sword and went back to recording.

“Now tell all of Paris, Rossi. What have you lied about?”

“I... I... I HATE LADYBUG! I WANT HER DEAD! I CAN'T STAND HER!” Lila screamed against her will

Blood Knight nearly dropped his sword out of shock, clearly not expecting that.

“When Adrien’s friend got akumatized into Oni-Chan, I tricked Chat Noir into leaving Ladybug so she would face the Akuma alone. That sword should’ve killed her!” Lila snarled “And I’ve been working with Hawkmoth ever since so I could finally get rid of her!”

Alya and Marc’s jaws hung open. Seeing just how dangerous this girl really was, Blood Knight transformed into Pure Knight and held his shield in front of Marc

“Continue.” He ordered

“That bitch ruined my chance with Adrien! So what if I lied about being some stupid fox hero? She should’ve minded her own fucking business!”

Alya scowled and watched as the comments rolled in on the Ladyblog. A few were jabs at her, but almost all of them were aimed towards the Italian

“Then there’s Maribrat! She’s just as worse as Ladybug! I tried to get her expelled, but look how that turned out! God, I just want those two idiots dead!”

Alya shuddered at that statement. She was now starting to regret how she treated Marinette for so long.

“All she had to do was fall in line like the rest of that dumbasses! But she decided to start a war, same for that skater girl, the pink idiot, the freak, that loser artist, and that f*g!” She pointed to Marc, whose eyes widened in shock at what he had just been called

Pure Knight’s armor began to fade from white to red “What. Else?” He growled

“I’ve never been to Achu! Jagged Stone never wrote a song about me, Clara Nightingale didn’t steal my dance moves, I never saved Jagged Stone’s cat!” She yelled

Alya’s confusion and horror morphed into rage. If her grip around her phone got any tighter, the screen would probably crack.

Back at the school, everyone is watching the live stream on their phones. Every student gives the Akuma class smug looks while they just look away, embarrassed and ashamed for believing the Italian’s lies

“And Adrien’s dad hired me to spy on him in exchange for a modeling contract! He wanted me to keep Adrien away from bad influences, and I was trying to isolate him away from those losers so he’d only have me!”

Chat Noir, who was vaulting from rooftop to rooftop scowled as he heard the live-streams from people’s phones. He knew his father was an ass, but this was just sick.

“Then I stole that sissy’s story and claimed it was mine!” She glared at Marc, who was still in Pure Knight’s protective hold “He had the nerve to call me out when I said I wrote his dumb Ladybug fanfiction! If I could, I’d push him off the railing right now!”

MURDER HER!

Pure Knight let out a yell, and Blood Knight was back in his place, somehow appearing more menacing than before. He’d gotten what he wanted- For all of Paris to know the truth about this wretched girl. Now to do everyone a favor, and deliver a final blow, then his prince would be safe from her lies.

The sound of Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzing by is heard. Before Blood Knight could react, the end of the spotted hero’s weapon wrapped around his wrist, refraining him from using his sword. The heroes land between him and Marc. In Ladybug’s other hand is a tube of lipstick

“You dare to stand in the way of justice?!”

“Nathaniel, this isn’t justice! It’s revenge! Ladybug tried to reason, but to no avail

“Don’t call me that! I am Blood Knight! And as long as I’m here, no one will harm my prince ever again!”

Blood Knight pulls on his sword and flings Ladybug over the railing. She manages to hold on by one hand

“Shieldmaidens, advance!”

The two shieldmaidens surge towards Chat Noir who uses his staff like a sword against their shields. Alya rushes towards Ladybug, making sure to keep an eye on Lila in case she tries anything, and pulls her up

“Thanks, Alya.” Ladybug looks around for any way to use her Lucky Charm

Chat Noir Cataclysms the sword so Blood Knight will be forced to be defensive

Have Marc distract Pure Knight

Take the necklace while Pure Knight is distracted

“That’s it! Chat, cataclysm his sword!” She ordered

“On it, m’lady!” Chat nodded and called out “CATACLYSM!” He maneuvered past the shieldmaidens, knocking them down with his staff along the way, then ran over to Blood Knight and touched his sword just before he could swing it at the hero. The sword disappeared in his hands into black ash.

Ladybug looked over at Marc, yelled, “Heads up!” then threw her yoyo at him. Pure Knight rushed in front of him with his shield up and deflected the weapon. Repeatedly, Ladybug threw the yoyo at the shield, making Pure Knight keep it up.

While Ladybug does this, she tosses the lipstick over to Marc. He looks confused for a moment until Ladybug winks. He gets the message.

Protect him!

They won’t take him away!

“Pure Knight?”

Is the Prince okay?

Help him!

Pure Knight kept his shield steady as he turned his head towards his prince. Marc couldn’t see it, but he was blushing under that helmet. How could he not when his prince looked so... So innocent. He was clinging to his arm for safety, he had dough eyes, and... Were his lips always that shade of pink? He looked so beautiful...

Pure Knight felt the writer’s hand reach up to the visor of his helmet, and lift it to reveal his red face. Marc smiles, relieved to see Nathaniel under the cold armor. He tenderly strokes his cheek and stood on his toes so he could reach his lips.

Pure Knight’s grip on his shield loosened as he kissed the soft lips of his prince. The shield fell to the floor with a thunk as he wrapped his arms around his Prince’s waist, and lifted him to his face so Marc wouldn’t have to crane his neck up.

They were so oblivious to the world around them. They didn’t notice Alya was still live streaming, Chat Noir trying not to squeal, and Ladybug, sneaking up behind Pure Knight, grabbing the necklace, and throwing it to the floor.

The Akuma flew out, only to be caught by Ladybug’s yo-yo.

“No more evil-doing for you little Akuma. Time to de-evilize!”

The purified butterfly fluttered out of the yoyo

“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” Ladybug told it, then threw the lipstick into the air “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The thousands of ladybugs flew around the town, fixing any damage caused by the Akuma. Alix, Juleka, and Rose returned to normal and were standing outside with the other students. Kim was brought back. The other two shieldmaidens reverted back to their former selves. And the truth curse on Lila was lifted.

Black and purple mist engulfed Pure Knight, then lifted to reveal Nathaniel, his head resting on Marc’s shoulder. He looks around, confused

“Rainbow? Where am I?” He asked, but then noticed his yin-yang necklace on the floor, Ladybug and Chat Noir, and realized what happened “Oh my God.“ he looked to Marc, concerned “I didn’t hurt you, did-“ He didn’t finish as Marc hugged him tightly

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He whispered

“I... I didn’t want you to get akumatized again.” Nathaniel said as he ran his fingers through Marc’s hair “I love you, Rainbow.”

”I love you too, Nath.”

“You could’ve gotten here sooner, you know!” Lila screeched “I HATE YOU LADYBUG! HATE YOU!”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE FUCKING CUNT?!” Ladybug cursed, much to everyone’s shock “I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH YOU! I can live with you getting akumatized five dame times, hurting an innocent student, but I will not tolerate homophobia! Don’t think I didn��t hear what you said about Marc on the live-stream!”

Lila backed away, actually afraid, but bumped into Chat Noir who was snarling

“I should’ve cataclysmed you instead.”

Lila scoffed “Like you’d hurt me! Imagine everyone’s reactions when they see Ladybug and Chat Noir hurting an innocent civilian!”

“You’re just a little dumbass, aren’t you?” Ladybug asked coldly “Did you seriously forget that Alya has been live-streaming this whole time?” Lila paled as she saw the phone in Alya’s hands, and the news-choppers recording the scene “All of Paris heard every. Fucking. Thing.”

Chat Noir places a hand on her shoulder, and dug his claws in “And I’m sure the feds would love to hear how you’ve been working with a terrorist for the past three months.”

Lila tries to lie her way out of this once again “Th-they were all lies!” She claimed as she brought out the crocodile tears “The Akuma made me say them! He was just doing what Marc told him to because he’s jealous-“ She’s finally silence when a fist collided with her face. She falls to the floor with a thud.

Everyone looked at Alya, shocked.

“That’s for turning me against my best friend!” She yelled. No one noticed the touched look on Ladybug’s face

—

The police arrested Lila, and she was sent to life in prison for working with a terrorist, forging signatures, stealing money from students that were meant for charities, and many more. She went to a prison in Italy, because she was still kinda pissed about being exposed, and Hawkmoth could easily send an Akuma and allow her to break out.

Alya was the first to apologize to Marinette. The bluenette accepted her apology, but it would be a while before she could forgive Alya and the rest of her classmates. Adrien also apologized for giving her such stupid advice. It would also be a while before Marinette could forgive him.

Nevertheless, she still hung out with them, and their friendship slowly rekindled.

Marc and Nathaniel also received apologies, same for Alix, Rose, and Juleka for being treated as outcasts and badmouthed for months. Like Marinette, it would take time for them to forgive the Akuma class.

And Marc made Nathaniel swear to never be stupid and take an Akuma like that again. If the redhead weren’t so cute, Marc would gladly knock some sense into him.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marc x nathaniel #Pure Knight & Blood Knight #lila rossi exposed #lila rossi bashing #alya salt #alya redemption #class salt #class redemption #lila salt #ml salt fanfic #alix sugar #marinette sugar #protective Nathaniel Kurtzberg #rose sugar #juleka sugar #nathaniel sugar #marc sugar

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whoisbxcky · 4 years

Text

Soldat Ex Machina

request: Hi lovey! I have a request for a Bucky imagine if you want to write it: on a mission Bucky gets turned back into the winter soldier and is super protective of the reader and he’s like you are my mission and won’t let anyone near her until he’s back and then he admits he loves you?

pairing: Bucky x Reader

word count: 4500 +/-

warnings: angst, descriptive violence, mild language warning, fluff as heck at the end, teeeeeniest tiniest bit of nsfw if you squint

author’s note: Now, I know what you’re thinking.

“Toria, why has your one-shot request turned into 4500 words?”

And all I can say, is I’m weak for Bucky Barnes and natural selection is coming for me.

I loved this fic request. I didn’t know I needed soft(ish?) Winter Soldier until now. I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much to anon for excellent prompting. Peace and love. ~ Toria <3

“Alright, south-west corridor is clear, Buck. How’s the auditorium looking?”

You glanced behind you to do your fifth head count of the minute, confirming once again that all seven of the captive scientists were with you. The poor guys had been Hydra’s prisoners for weeks now, and your intel suggested they’d been forced to work on a new version of the super soldier serum during their time here.

Obviously, since two super soldiers were more than enough for you to deal with on a day to day basis, you’d been the first to volunteer to shut the operation down and rescue the hostages. As expected, Bucky was hot on your heels with an offer to assist, not solely for the opportunity to screw with Hydra, but also because together, you were a force to be reckoned with.

With a self-assured nod and a quick, reassuring smile at the weary men behind you, you turned your head once more, awaiting Bucky’s response.

“Auditorium’s clear.”

Bucky’s voice did not reach you over the coms, but instead, you found his head rather comically poking out from between the double doors leading to the room in question, a roguish grin plastered on his face on seeing your expression.

“Dumbass.” You muttered quiet enough that you were sure only Bucky could catch it.

You flashed him a grin as he winked at you, while the two of you guided the scientists into the room, scanning the perimeter for hostiles.

Satisfied the coast was clear, you let yourself drop rather dramatically onto a nearby table, checking the magazine of your Beretta nonchalantly as you called out to the scientists, who were huddled in the centre of the room, Bucky at their side.

“The medevac will be wheels down in two minutes, once on board it’ll take you fellas to our… Base of operations, if you will, for a once over. You’ll be back with your families before you know it.”

You glanced up, offering them yet another reassuring smile and meeting Bucky’s gaze, when suddenly, a loud crackle echoed around you in the vacant hall. You were on your feet again in seconds, eyes scanning around for the source of the noise.

“I wouldn’t count on that, Miss Y/L/N.”

A thick German accent came over the intercom system in each corner of the room, the voice practically reverberating in your skull it was so loud. You grimaced, stepping towards Bucky and the now even more terrified hostages as you responded in a bored tone.

“I find it exceptionally hard to take threats from a hunk of plastic. Why don’t you come on down here, and we can talk about it.”

You smirked then, cocking your pistol and spinning it thrice in hand. You glanced across to see Bucky staring incredulously at you, and you shrugged. A wheezing cackle followed over the speakers.

“I admire your spirit, Miss Y/L/N, and you and Mr. Barnes have performed, exceptionally, so far. But I think now it is time to… Raise the stakes… A little bit.”

You could hear the cockiness in his tone, too self-assured for a man armed with a karaoke kit.

“We’re leaving. Now.” You murmured to Bucky.

He gave you a subtle nod in agreement as you both turned on your heels, guiding the scientists hastily towards the exit.

Suddenly, the way was blocked by a team of nine men all in black, armed to the teeth with automatics. No sooner had you turned to tell Bucky to cover you while you went on the offensive, than a loud crack resonated around the room, and before you could react, a small metal dart had lodged itself in Bucky’s neck.

He let out a grunt of discontent, yanking the syringe out and staring at it, dumbfounded for a moment, before it fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

“Bucky!”

You cried out, running towards him just in time to catch his weight as he lurched forward, eyes glassy and dazed expression fixed on your face. You gave a start of despair, rounding on your assailants with a snarl.

“What the hell is this? What have you done to him?”

A grating chuckle came over the speaker once more, and the voice from earlier was all around you, mocking, inescapable.

“Allow me to demonstrate… Žilánie.”

You stared at Bucky incredulously for a beat. This wouldn’t work, all the training Bucky had done in Wakanda had given him control over his Winter Soldier state.

“Ržávyj.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror and he pushed you away with a cry, hands gripping his head furiously. You could only watch in sheer terror as the unknown assailant continued to list off his trigger words, and Bucky, despite his best efforts, seemed to be submitting to their effect.

The dart.

Somewhere in the back of your panic-stricken mind, clarity rung through the chaos like the chime of a bell. Whatever concoction that dart contained, must have done something to his mind, made it… Accessible.

You fought back a retch, staring at Bucky with a look that was as much an apology as it was fear. Even on your best day you couldn’t beat Bucky. You were good, but you weren’t a super soldier. Right now, all you could do was get the seven men under your care to safety, and hope Barnes wouldn’t kill you in the process.

As the final words of the cycle were upon you, you looked around the room desperately for an escape. In the panic of watching the Winter Soldier reanimate before your eyes, you’d failed to notice the arrival of three more agents, blocking the door you had entered from. There was no way out.

You moved closer to the now-despairing hostages, muttering to them in a low tone, as calmly as you could muster.

“When I give the signal, you guys take cover. If I d-… If something happens, the medevac will be on the East side of the building-”

“Gruzavój vagón”

Your eyes snapped up in horror, fixating on the man who stood where your partner had once been. Cold, unfeeling eyes stared back, and for a moment, you dared not breath.

Bucky…

Settling your resolve, you gripped your Beretta. You may not make it out of here, but you still might get these men home to their families, at the very least. You’d barely uttered the word “go” to the men behind you before you were taking a shot at the nearest Hydra agent on your right, getting off as many rounds as you could before gunfire rained down on you like a hailstorm. You ducked for cover under a metal table, wincing as shots flew just centimetres from your head.

“Get the scientists, I want each of them brought back ALIVE.”

That damn voice again. You cursed, peaking around from your hiding spot to see a few of the armed men abandon their post by the door to surround the scientists, who had only made it as far as an overturned table, some ten metres away from you, in the ensuing chaos.

Crap.

You made a break for it, taking out a two more assailants with some strategically placed gunfire as you went. You were almost upon the five that were closing in on your targets, when suddenly you were thrown to the floor with a rather undignified clatter. Rolling into a crouch, you looked up to find a man the size of a bear towering over you, a gleeful yet sinister smirk on his face.

“Going somewhere, little mouse?”

You snarled, launching yourself to your feet and aiming a jab at his solar plexus. The man chuckled as your fist connected, apparently not at all phased by the assault, and proceeded to headbutt you, sending you flying back to the ground.

You groaned, gripping your head as you scrambled to get back on your feet. Before you were up however, terrifyingly strong hands gripped your throat, pulling you up off the group and hanging you there like a rag-doll.

You let out a strangled cry, frantically scratching and kicking to find some reprieve from the man’s monstrous grip on you, but every time you landed a punch, he’d simply smirk, obviously enjoying your struggle.

Prick.

Just as you thought your number may be up, you were forced to stifle a scream and a knife whizzed past your skull, embedding itself deep into your attacker’s eye socket. As the man dropped to the ground, his hold on you going entirely limp, you gasped, spinning on one heel in search of your saviour, and almost passed out yourself when your eyes connected with Bucky’s.

Except, that wasn’t Bucky. That was the Winter Solider. So, what in the hell was he doing taking out Hydra agents and saving your life?

Holding your gaze in those steel blue eyes for only a second longer, the Soldier turned, taking out two approaching opponents with unnerving precision and efficiency. You were vaguely aware of shouting off to your left, and you turned just in time to see one of the scientists you were supposed to be rescuing get taken down, the other six trying, but failing, to make a stand behind him.

You shot a last, weary glance towards the Soldier, who was currently in the process of disarming and… Oh… Dismembering… The three agents who had been guarding the entrance to the back corridor.

With a grimace, you took off running. Realising in dismay that your pistol had been lost in your earlier struggle, you grabbed a nearby stool, bringing it down with all your might on the head of the agent closest to you. As their comrade went down, in unison, the four others turned to you, eyes gleaming with furious blood lust.

“My bad.” You muttered.

You shot them a smirk, your eyes twinkling with malice as you prepared yourself. However, just as the man furthest to your left moved to shoot, a knife lodged itself into he back of his hand with a dull thump. Before anyone could react, including the man himself, the Winter Soldier was upon him, metal arm lashing out to strike him in the jugular, causing the man fall uselessly to the ground.

You scowled, as the other three sprung into action, and you moved to take on the assailant directly in front of you. But before you could get within striking distance, the Soldiers grip was on your arm, tossing you backwards. You rolled over your shoulder, landing in a crouched position just behind him, shooting him an affronted glare. However, he was not looking back at you, and had already resumed his one man-wrecking crew assault on the Hydra agents that remained.

Uttering a few, choice expletives under your breath, you glanced around, gaze coming to rest on the seven terrified men huddled behind an overturned table to your right.

Oh, yeah. Your mission.

You took the opportunity to close the distance between you and your targets finally, dragging each of the men to their feet and guiding them towards the now-unoccupied exit.

“Alright, fellas. This party’s getting a little boring. What’d’ya say we blow this joint?”

The captive scientists nodded fervently in unison, helping each other to their feet as you ushered the towards the exit. As you swung the door open, you came face to face with one of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents in charge of the medevac team, staring dumbly at him for a second.

“Uh… We just thought… You guys were taking a while.” He glanced down at you warily as you raised a brow.

“Ran into some trouble, better later than never, hey?” You murmured in a honeyed tone.

The agent nodded curtly, and cleared his throat, nodding towards the men huddled behind you.

“If you’re ready, ma’am.” He muttered, turning on his heel and gesturing towards the helo, freezing as you caught his wrists in your steely grip.

“I’m not finished here. Take the hostages back to Fury, we’ll find our own way home.”

And with that, before the S.H.I.E.L.D agent could object, you gestured for the exhausted group behind you to follow him, sprinting back into the building without a moment’s hesitation.

Once inside, you surveyed the scene in front of you, tallying the bodies that littered the floor.

You counted all twelve hostiles, noting with mild apprehension that some had bullet wounds in their foreheads where none had been before.

It was at that moment that movement in the shadowy corner of the hall caught your attention, and you froze, body trembling with both adrenaline and exhaustion. You took an instinctual step back as the Winter Soldier materialised out of the darkness, his merciless gaze fixated on you.

“We should leave. More will come.” He spoke in a tone entirely void of emotion, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge.

“Why should I go anywhere with you, soldat?” You challenged; arms crossed as you narrowed your eyes at the man.

Yes, he had just saved your life. But this was still the Winter Soldier, and you were anything but an optimist.

The Soldier didn’t reply. Instead, he closed the space between you so rapidly that you barely had time to flinch as he took your arm in his cold, metal grasp, dragging you after him as he moved towards the exit.

You struggled against him, frantically trying to tug your arm free, but to no avail.

“What the hell are you doing?”

No response.

“Bucky.”

Nothing.

With a growl of discontent, you opted for a new tactic.

“Zachem ty eto delayesh'?” (“Why are you doing this?”) You snarled at him venomously, causing the Soldier to stop dead in his tracks.

When he said nothing, you tried once more, your voice softening substantially on seeing the confusion in his face. It almost looked like your Bucky when you hit him with a pop culture reference.

“Kto ya dlya tebya?” (“Who am I to you?”) You whispered.

You fixed him with a pleading stare, finally ceasing your incessant attempts at escaping his grasp. The Soldier turned to face you completely, his flesh hand coming up to grip your free arm as he looked you dead in the eyes. You swore you saw a flicker of something in their inky depths.

“Vy moya missiya seychas.” (“You are my mission now.”)

His voice was still entirely expressionless, and yet his words hit you so hard you might have stumbled backwards had he not had a vice-like grip on you.

There was a moments silence as you found yourself trapped in the Soldier’s gaze. Your mind whirled to make sense of his words, and your mouth hung open uselessly, unable to muster a response.

With a sigh, your companion muttered something about finding shelter, dragging you once more behind him.

However, despite his brutish mannerisms and the fact he was still, in fact, the Winter Soldier, this time, you found yourself complying.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Forty-five minutes and a lot of awkward silence later, the two of you were held up in a small, abandoned barn on the outskirts of the next town over. Bucky, or rather, the Soldier, stood in the doorway, lifeless eyes scanning the horizon relentlessly. You, on the other hand, were sat a healthy distance away, lent up against a metal trough, your whole-body trembling from a combination of the dropping temperature and furious trepidation.

What in the hell were you supposed to do with this situation?

Obviously, something had gone wrong with the Soldier’s programming, and as far as you could tell, he didn’t want to kill you. Which was good. However, he was still the Winter Soldier. That was less good. The real question, was how on earth were you going to get Bucky back in the driver’s seat?

You were brought out of your heavy thoughts by black-clad legs entering your line of sight, and your eyes snapped up in shock, your body instinctively tensing.

“You’re cold.”

The Soldier’s voice held no warmth as he made his observation, his vacant eyes fixated on you. You cleared your throat, running a hand casually through your hair as you shrugged.

“I didn’t plan on making this a two-day trip, if I’d known we were camping out I’d have brought my sweats.”

His expression did not falter for even a second, and you frowned. Not that you’d expected him to break into a fit of giggles, but, geez. Tough crowd.

Instead, you watched attentively he pulled his leather jacket off, carefully ignoring the way his muscles rippled under his shirt as he did so. Without a word, he dropped the jacket over your knees, which were currently curled up to your chest. You practically purred as you tugged the jacket tighter around you, the ghost of his body heat still present on the material.

“Thanks, comrade.” You murmured, eyeing him tentatively.

He turned on his heel to return to his post but stopped short when you cleared your throat once more. By the time he turned back to face you, your arm was extended, offering him a bottle of water you had stashed in your tactical gear.

“Consider it a peace offering.” You said matter of factly.

He gave you a dubious look, the most expression you’d seen on his face all night, you noted, as you settled down against the wall to rest. Nevertheless, he took the bottle with a curt nod of appreciation, before making his way back to the doorway, taking a drink of the water as he went.

Ten seconds later, and you found yourself wincing as the Soldier’s body dropped like a sack of potatoes to the ground, water bottle discarded at his side.

You didn’t feel great about using the sedatives you kept in your medical kit on the guy. Really, you didn’t, but…

You shakily got to your feet, draping Bucky’s jacket back over him as you gave him a once over for injuries. When you were satisfied that he was unharmed from the fall, you moved a little way off, leaning against a hay-bale as you watched him through bleary, sleep-addled eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. But I can’t risk losing you.” You whispered into the darkness, shuddering as the howling wind sent a chill through your bones.

This was going to be a long night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning, you woke from a sleep you’d never meant to have. You’d been dutifully watching over Bucky’s body all night; in case he woke from his drug-induced slumber. However, it was becoming increasingly apparent as consciousness returned to you, that at some point, you yourself had passed out.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze slid over to the pile of hay on which you’d left your teammates unconscious form. A pile of hay that was now unquestionably vacant.

Crap.

Within seconds, you were sprinting out of the barn, rounding off a list of expletives so colourful it’d make Cap’ blush.

Please don’t be gone, please don’t be gone, please don’t be-

You skidded to a halt as you approached the brow of the hill on which the barn was stationed, stifling a sob of relief as your eyes homed in on a familiar form sitting on the grass, his body silhouetted by the rising sun.

“Bucky?” You uttered in a breathy gasp.

His head snapped around to face you then, and as you tentatively made your way towards him, you could just about make out the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his forehead. That was Bucky alright.

“Y/N…” He murmured as you came to rest, knelt by his side.

You could see the confusion in his eyes, the worry in his clenched jaw. How long had he been out here, torturing himself over the blank pages in his memory?

“You’re awake…” You spoke slowly, almost as if in a dream. “How much do you remember…?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from you to focus on the ever-rising sun, far off in the distance.

“I remember the words. Then… Nothing. What did I do?” His woeful tone made your heart ache.

You sucked in air, rubbing the back of your neck as you offered him a cautious explanation.

“Uh… Well… You kind of sort of, took out the entirety of the Hydra forces and saved my life…?”

Bucky’s head snapped back around, wide, curious eyes practically burning through your own as he processed your words.

“I… Didn’t hurt you?” He whispered, so low you had to strain to hear it.

You smiled, unable to mask the light pink hue in your cheeks at the memory. At the time, you’d almost crapped your pants. But now, after the fact, the realisation that Bucky, even under the control of Hydra, had chosen to protect you, made your chest stutter uncomfortably.

“Ah… No. The opposite in fact.”

Bucky’s face cracked with relieved, a soft smile playing on his lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his profile looked, highlighted by the first rays of morning light. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, in which you both lost yourselves in your respective musings, you broke the stillness with a shy cough.

“Hey… Buck? When I asked you if you knew me, while you were… You know… You told me that I was your mission, what do you think you meant by that?”

Even in the blinding light of the sun’s rays, you noticed Bucky going an unmistakably bright shade of red, unable to meet your gaze. He turned his head away from you, studiously focusing on the scenery in front of him in mutinous silence. You let out a breath of dismay, scooting your body around his tensed form to kneel in from of him, crouching on the balls of your feet and forcing him to look at you.

“Bucky?” You called to him in a gentle, yet insistent tone.

You’re not shutting me out, Mr. Barnes. Not today.

He grunted in response, still unable to meet your incessant stare, but you noticed his features soften as he let out a sigh of defeat.

“I… Guess I wanted to protect you. Even then.” He confessed in a barely-there whisper.

You swallowed. Hard.

“But how? Why? With your mind under their control-”

“There’s forces stronger than Hydra’s science in this world, Y/N.” The uncertainty in his voice had all but vanished as he cut you off, replaced by candour that made your heart do that strange, fluttery thing again.

He finally brought his eyes away from the view behind you to meet your gaze with such sincerity, such intensity, that you found yourself unable to move, unable to speak, or even think. In that moment, there was only Bucky.

When you finally forced your mouth to summon an admittedly limited choice in words, your voice was distinctly horse.

“Like… What?”

Bucky held your gaze, his metal hand tenderly moving to grasp your flesh one, his cheeks flushed crimson. Despite his obvious reticence, there was no hesitation in his eyes as he spoke in a low, gravelly tone.

“Like being madly in love with the best person you know.”

After a beat, your mouth dropped open, eyes wide. All you could do was gawk at him then, totally floored by the declaration.

Surely, he didn’t mean you?

Surely Steve was more qualified for the moniker of ‘best person Bucky knows’?

Surely-

“I’m talking about you, dumbass.”

Bucky flashed you a wry smile, apparently reading your thoughts. You remained stock-still, your mind struggling so hard to process what you were being told, you could have sworn you heard the dial-up internet noise from within its depths.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you. Bucky. Your mission partner. Your best friend. Your… Your…

Almost as if under a spell, you found your body lurching forward of its own accord, your lips crushing against Bucky’s so hard you were sure you’d bruise. It would not have surprised you if fireworks had appeared on the horizon in that moment, for the joy, passion and sheer bliss that exploded in your core at the sensation of Bucky’s lips against yours.

After a moment of stunned pause, Bucky’s senses seemed to return to him, as he eagerly caught your waist in his sturdy grasp, pulling you weightlessly into his lap so that your legs straddled him. The hand that had been holding your own trailed up your arm, coming to rest tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer into his embrace, and you responded by snaking your arms around his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his back as lips gave way to tongues, and you and Bucky lost yourselves in each other.

When you were finally forced to pull apart for need of oxygen, you were both lightly panting, lips swollen and bruised and eyes heavy-lidded with passion. You rested your forehead against his own as Bucky rubbed light circles into your back, a warm smile crossing his lips.

“What was that for?” He whispered to you, his voice thick with desire.

You grinned, pulling away ever-so-slightly to meet his tender gaze.

“Well, I could have just told you I love you, too. But you know, actions speak louder and all that…”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, leaning up to press a light kiss to your forehead, making you grin as your cheeks reddened. This was crazy, to be sitting like this, doing this, with Bucky. And yet, nothing had ever felt more natural to you.

You gave a reluctant sigh, clearing your throat as you murmured to him.

“You know we should probably start heading back-…”

You trailed off, losing your sentence in confusion as Bucky slid one hand easily under your thigh, holding you against him as he stood and began to make his way back towards the barn.

“Uh… Bucky… What are you doing?”

He smiled then, the way Lucifer might have smiled before being cast out of heaven, before he playfully landed a kiss on your jaw, making your stomach flutter deliciously.

“If actions speak louder, then let me show you just how much I love you, every inch of you, inside and out, in fact.” He murmured against your ear, the warm tickle of his breath making your spine tingle.

You bit your lip, tangling your hands in his hair as Bucky’s teasing lips trailed from your jaw to your neck, and back up. After a moment of divine torture, storm blue eyes found yours, and you and Bucky gazed adoringly at one another. A silent promise was uttered between you, as the dimness of the barn consumed you both, that this marked the first day of a new beginning.

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xenotwink · 3 years

Note

No problem, darling. I save everything in my notes app lmao.

Virtual hug from me. I’m glad to hear you and your car are physically okay, but work going badly is never fun. Here to listen if you want to rant or like, whatever you need. 💙

Prior ask:

What is at one thing you do not regret about college? Or something you really liked?

Gotcha. And if you do write more Holmes-Thrawn sorts of stuff, I’ll be very excited to see it.

Oh, we have the same haircut nice lmao. Also, it’s totally fine to have lazy days and stuff.

@cephalopodvictorious - it was in Idaho. What do I even say??

Yeah, I get you, Blue. I know in my head that a lot of that anxiety is only anxiety, and my fears really are not legitimate, but it does not stop the paranoia. I also have no proof, because the confession was made in person and not mentioned over any texts.

Moon Knight looks,,,, different. Hopefully it turns out to be a good show. Or it won’t and it will just fall in line with a lot of other content coming out. 🙃

Also, you mentioned Hannibal, and I will say that it has good story and stuff, but there is a lot of gore and anatomy and such shown that you may not enjoy if you begin watching.

Okay, but, what’s your favourite dessert?

-💙📘🖋

Look at you! So smart! 💙💙 just a lot of dumb stuff going wrong today that makes me and the person I’m working with want to just fuckin leave because of how dumb it is. Idk. Maybe it’ll be better after lunch. Maybe not. Probably not. Maybe we’ll get to go home early. Who knows.

I made a bunch of good friends in senior year! You know when you are friends with someone and then you’re suddenly by proxy friends with their whole group? Yeah. That was good stuff.

Anxiety is a terrible thing. I deal with intrusive thoughts a lot. And that’s tough. Cause it’s in your head and really, it’s stupid, but it’s in your head still. Idk. I hope somehow you can get justice for what happened.

Moon Knight… from what I can tell, the comics did a good job of certain things but from what the show looks like with the uhhh DID and all? Seems bad. But also I literally know nothing about the Moon Knight and his whole deal so. 🤷

I might just have to watch to determine if it’s too much or not. Like I do see real actual human limbs being disassembled at work? But that’s different? Something.

Desserts… fuck. I love so many desserts. I’m a sucker for chocolate cake with raspberry filling. Sugar cookies. Snickerdoodles. Anything Vegan dessert. Cake. Cookies. Boba. Just. I have a real sugar problem 🤷

#💙📘🖋#oh and I’m fucking tired! my back hurt!#tbh

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thattimdrakeguy · 4 years

Text

New 52 TEEN TITANS #3 Read Along - The fact this got made is still shocking.

It’s been a while since I done one of these. It’s probably been since last year or so. This isn’t so much of a formal review where I try my best to explain why something doesn’t work, with tons of back references, or interviews, and contexts, and such. I might do some of that, but I’m mostly just writing this along the same time I continue to read it.

I’ve already done the first two issues, and if I can I’ll link them in the post somewhere.

Basically, this series gets about everything wrong about the returning Core Four for this reboot. They made Cassie the tomboy a “girly” thief, Conner the punky flirt a creepy emotionally numb stalker, Tim the insecure dork a super genius that blew up part of a freaking skyscraper, and Bart the teen with an attention span problem into an arrogant jerkwad loudmouth.

With the origins later given in the series, the boys are revealed to not reaally be the characters we knew at all in a more literal sense. This Conner is a clone of an alternate version of Jon, not Clark and Lex. This Tim Drake, is literally only Tim Drake in name only, as that’s the name this teen got in witness protection. And this Bart Allen, isn’t even related to Barry.

So these are versions of the characters that are them in literally name only, bar Cassie (sadly). Although, they’d later retconned Tim’s origin back (which doesn’t make sense). But what else can I compare them to but the originals?

A really common criticism of this series, and one that’s pretty dang valid in my opinion. Is just how unlikable everyone is-- or at least the Core Four, because I feel like we can all be honest and say that most people just read this for the Core Four, and sometimes Bunker. (Like Bart’s condescending here. Like “I’m Kid Flash, girl.” Maybe I’m just reading it too 1940s, but it comes off as really dickish.)

I mean seriously, how many people do you know talk abut Skitter? The original characters that Lobdell came up with are really hit and miss for me, mostly miss. Because I find Skitter so forgettable, that even though I’ve read the first few issues of this series just for entertainment value, I still forget she exists. She could’ve been so much more interesting, but he just doesn’t give her much.

To me, a good character has a personality that you can notice, grab onto, and have lots of unique stories with, that simply work, not even because it causes a great drama, but just because the perspective the character will have in any situation depending on the circumstance will be interesting.

Which is one of the reasons why I find Tim an interesting character, because his perspective is one that’s very interactive with any given circumstances but will still work for me. An insecure, super hero fanboy, that’s doing his best to be brave, but is secretly scared, with the cleverness to do things, but the anxiety that he can’t. Which the circumstances they give him, like having to make sure he proves he should be Robin, having parents at home, not feeling like he’s good enough, constantly seeing others better them him. It’ll just make him an interesting perspective to read from that won’t get too repetitive in any way that interferes with the enjoyment, because there’s a lot of levels you can take his harsh feelings, or things to interact with, that it won’t always be predictable what’s going to happen with him, and you want to read to see more.

With this series and quite a bunch of other original characters made, they have soap opera writing. Which works with fleshed out characters like the iconic 80s incarnation of the Teen Titans, but when the new characters don’t have a well-formed personality that you can really grab onto and gain constant interest and intrigue from, you just have a lame duck.

When your main character’s traits are “I’m angsty and sad”. No one is going to be able to invest themselves with that. They need to be more third dimensional and genuine to make them a character you want to pick up each issue for.

This series even with the old characters fails at that, by making them into absolute butchered heaps of rotted rump rather than their full personalities.

At least the art is pretty creative early on in it’s second page, I will give it that.

Then there’s Bunker--

--who I really want to like, but just can’t find myself enjoying.

A lot of these characters I’m unfamiliar with I want to like. They’re minority characters with very interesting concepts, but writing so flat that it ruins any chance of paying attention to them. A common curse when it comes to POC and a bad writer like Lobdell.

But Bunker actually has a personality, but the reason why I can’t find myself attaching myself to him is because he feels like an uncomfortable stereotype character. An outdated one that you’d see in the 80s or 90s to either seem inclusive or use as a joke rather than a true deal character.

Bunker is a flamboyant, religious, fashion involved, gay, Latino. Something that feels like you’d really bet he wouldn’t be if he wasn’t gay or Latino, because it’s just all based in stereotypes. Like if the pages weren’t colored, and you didn’t have the context he was gay, you’d probably still guess what he’s supposed to be just because of how much they involve stereotypes with him.

However, despite the stereotypes, he is the one most people can remember from this series beyond the core four, because he at least has a personality, and they actually try to build up a unique mystery to him, that would make you want to continue to know them.

And there is something about his confidence and religious beliefs, and determination that does feel very genuine, and makes you actually like him despite the stereotypes.

You want to know what makes you able to tell he’s a better made character than the other relatively new, to straight up new characters? You can actually talk about him, and have a lot more to say about them then his backstory, two personality traits, and angst. Even if his personality seems limited at first, they still write it in a way that’s genuine enough that you can get more out of it, a lot like what I was describing with Tim earlier.

He still feels like a character that you could write a solo about, and with a good enough writer and personal life, would actually make for a very rereadable series, because you just enjoy seeing him on his journey, because it won’t always be the same exact things. He has loyal personality traits about him, but depending on his circumstances, it won’t be the same side of him you’re seeing, and it won’t feel contrived. He has potential to become a true third dimensional character, and not one that just feels like he looks like one, but isn’t really.

But that depends on where the writing goes with him-- and I can’t remember where it goes. But take away the dated stereotypes and there’s actual good potential with Bunker. Making your character feel like another decade’s minority caricature is kind of a turn off when it comes to feeling comfortable reading them.

Which is why some don’t tend to like him.

There’s not a lot to say about this quick page of Cassie, besides the fact they make her come across as apathetic and nuts. She’s also mildly sexualized given it looks like she’s posing for a fashion shoot and not just closing a door, which feels pretty typical of the team that made this book.

And because of Lobdell’s bizarre writing and tone changes, I don’t know if this is supposed to be taken as serious or comedy, because of how abrupt it is, and how a fight broke out right after and we find out the old guy is Tim somehow convincing someone he isn’t like-- 15? I think he’d be either 14 or 15, not because that’s how Lobdell intended him to be, because I believe in a now lost interview he said Tim was “probably” 16 or 17. However, they didn’t settle on Tim’s age till Damian was near thirteen, meaning Tim would’ve been either fourteen or fifteen here, depending if Damian was eleven as I remember, or ten at the start of the New 52.

And here’s some more out of character Tim, because New 52 is what you get when you skim through Red Robin without any context, and being edgy is still really popular with the teenage demographic at the time.

This is a Tim that blew up a building, is an incel towards Cassie, and is overall an arrogant prick.

How Lobdell thought anyone thought any of a good idea is beyond me, but I figure he’s just not self-aware enough to realize that he just made one of the most unlikable protagonists I’ve ever seen, and absolutely bastardized who was once a mega-fan-favorite.

Although, this is pretty cute and in-character. It’s something that definitely fits in with a classic Tim comic, but down let this make you think Lobdell knows how to write Tim, because he makes it really obvious all the time that he doesn’t really.

And that’s basically everything relevant that happens in this issue-- not a lot when you actually read it, and not just me spouting off the proverbial mouth as I try my best to mentally process this freaking comic.

Conner doesn’t even show up, most likely because he was the only one with a solo, that Lobdell was also writing (you can probably guess accurately what the quality of that was too).

A lot of it is just more of the same, and it’s tedious, although it’s tedious nature is not so much on Lobdell, as he’s said in interviews before that it was editorial or a publisher (I can’t remember to be honest) that made him not have them previously know each other. So he had to work from that.

Which goes to show just how much DC knows how their characters and teams work, given the reason why Young Justice worked so well was because Tim, Conner, and Bart, already had stories where they duo’d up, and teamed up before they were even official. Which allowed them to have a preconceived friendship, they could build dynamics that were naturally built off of their unique personalities, which made everything feel natural and good to go when they did have an official team comic.

Here you have a Tim, that’s supposed to be very much a rookie of only one year, acting like he’s the greatest protégé talent ever, searching out for metahumans and coincidentally running into them, just to make some kind of story that would explain them being together for a team.

I’m not saying they have to redo the duo stuff again, because I’m pretty sure most readers already know their dynamics, and as for new readers, it doesn’t take a lot of time to say “We’re just good friends that like hanging out” does it? They have issue zeroes for each comic for a reason, they could’ve easily had a nice summary there if they wanted.

New 52′s obsession with trying to fit everything they can in, but have everyone still be relatively new, made everything a mess.

Like isn’t it weird that Superman only started being a super hero FOUR YEARS before Tim was? Doesn’t that sound entirely too squeezed in?

Then because they messed with the characters so much it works less for old readers as well. Like they have Tim, only a year in, acting like all the out of character elements of Red Robin, with an origin that’s a Bizarro styled mirror of his original one, with nothing that made him the popular character he used to be.

Same for the others.

New 52 is partially scary, because it shows just how little they know about what made them work.

I’m not against reboots in comics as a concept, they do need some modernization, and clean-ups every now and again, but you have to keep what works in there, or else the reboot will be a total failure. And paint-jobs and fan service like Rebirth aren’t gonna work either, when the heart of it all is still just so bad.

All this is a lot easier to say in hindsight, but DC Comics really has to work towards remembering their mistakes if they actually want to get better again. They’re doing a bit better at it, as forced and contrived as it can be sometimes. So they are getting somewhere.

But this is only the start of a Didio-less era. Looking like good things are coming, and little presents that truly make it seem true, is something that’s only going to last for a little bit. They have to still do the work, and learn what worked for their characters in the first place, and reremember who they all are.

Otherwise sales will just get worse again.

But I’m genuinely hoping they’ll at least begin to learn from mistakes. No one gets a win otherwise.

Oh, and he’s the entirety of the fight advertised on the cover. “Red Robin vs. Bunker”.

They stop fighting right after this.

It’s the comic book equivalent of clickbait if I’ve ever seen it in my entire life.

#Tim Drake #Robin #Red Robin #Bart Allen #Kid Flash #Cassie Sandsmark #Wonder Girl #New 52 #Teen Titans #DC Comics #Only tagging them because odds are those are the only tags people will check

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hellimagines · 5 years

Text

Sunbird -- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N and Jason are reunited after believing the other was dead.

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, torture, angst

Pairing: Joker’s!Daughter!reader x Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,000+

A/N: I haven’t written in a while, and it’s my first time writing for Jason Todd and DC as a whole, so we’re just gonna see how this goes. Please let me know what you think! This has aspects from Batman: Under the Red Hood as well as the comics, but doesn’t follow any specific canon. Also, I know Marvel just released a new character named Sun Bird, but we’re ignoring that.

The harsh rub of zip ties against her bloodied wrists, the impossible twist of her arms behind the wooden chair she was sitting in, the harshness of her breathing from screaming and broken ribs, and the split skin from her right cheekbone down to the bottom of her lip did nothing to distract Y/N from the true pain in front of her.

“Stop! Please, please, leave him alone; he hasn’t done anything!” Y/N cried, straining against the ties even harder, ignoring the pull of her dislocated shoulders and the raw rubbing of her wrists. There was another crunch as a crowbar came hurtling down against the boy at her feet, her pleas ignored. The crowbar hit his shoulder blade, blood spraying across the girl’s shoes from the freshly torn skin.

The Joker looked up, his eyes full of familiar mania while he gripped his weapon tightly. “Peaches,” he tsked, straightening up to look down at the beaten girl in the chair, “he’s done everything. He’s the reason I haven’t seen you in two years. He’s the reason ya mother’s locked away. He’s the reason my babygirl isn’t my babygirl anymore.” Joker’s words were dripping with venom, spit flying from his mouth and landing on the two lovers as his anger grew. “The bird and the bat have destroyed my family time and time again. I won’t allow it any longer!”

“Robin didn’t ruin anything, you did!” Y/N fired back just as fiercely, spitting back at the clown before her. “You’re the reason I ran away to Batman and Robin. You’re the reason I never looked back. You’re the reason I hate you,” she snarled, (e/c) eyes filled with rage.

Silence filled the room as the Joker reeled back, hurt and anger wiping his smile clean off. He drew his arm back, bloodied gloves gripping the crowbar tightly, and slammed down. Y/N wasn’t expecting the agony that exploded down her arm and up her face as the crowbar connected with the junction from her shoulder to her neck, nor the scream that hurled from her lungs. Blood splattered across her face, over her chest, down her arm, and onto the boy below, while her chair tipped to the floor due to the force. Robin, known intimately as Jason Todd, yelled out for her, his own blood flying from his mouth. She didn’t yell back for him, her throat too raw from the sudden pain and her body turning cold with shock. The Joker knelt, tilting his head to look Y/N in the eye.

“Now, peaches, that’s no way to talk to your father.”

“Until the day I die, you will never be my father.”

Silence prevailed once more as father and daughter stared one another in the eye; Y/N panting heavily with blood across her face, and the Joker breathing deeply with blood across his hands. Finally, after it became obvious neither was going to back down, the father stood.

“Very well,” he spoke simply, turning his gaze away to look down at his handy-work on Batman’s sidekick. “Usually the bat shows up by now, but considering the lack of importance that two of you apparently hold, I’ve given up hope on our date night.” He began walking away from the battered teens, his hands clasping the crowbar behind his back. It thumped his palm eerily, echoing in the warehouse. “Since both of you refuse to ease your suffering, I’ll leave you be,” he paused, opening the warehouse door and allowing a gust of snowy air to rush in. “If you’re worried about the cold, don’t be. Should the bat not show up soon, it’ll warm up eventually.” There was no laughter, no smile, no looking back as the Joker left with the heavy doors slamming behind him. The wind vanished alongside the Clown Prince of Gotham, but the warehouse was still chilled to the core.

Jason didn’t - couldn’t - speak, his lungs filled with blood and struggling to even breathe. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Y/N, her (h/c) hair sticking to the bloody parts of her face. She was already looking down at him, guilt clear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she began, ignoring the way Jason shook his head, “I don’t know how he found me. We were so careful, all of us, I made sure of it. I’ll get us out of here, I promise, we’ll figure something out.” Her promise held no guarantee, they both knew that, but she needed to give them hope.

Jason tried to talk, tried telling her that Batman would be here any second and that it wasn’t her fault; but he couldn’t without choking on his own blood. He grunted instead as he rolled onto his stomach, his body protesting in pain while he scrunched up to walk his legs through his arms, returning them to the front of his body instead of the back. He couldn’t get out of his handcuffs and he couldn’t get Y/N out of her zip ties, but he didn’t have time to wallow on that- he had to keep moving. Grabbing onto the side of Y/N’s chair, he used it as leverage to pull himself to his feet, his legs quivering with the strain. He gave the chair another tug, one he knew was gonna put him on his ass, and uprighted the chair so Y/N wasn’t fallen over. As predicted, he collapsed immediately and whimpered in quiet pain as soon as he hit the floor.

Y/N seethed, “Goddamnit, Robin, you’re gonna kill yourself! Just stay still, Batman will be here soon.”

Jason ignored her. It wasn’t his job to wait around for Batman or Nightwing or anyone else to save him; his job was to do the saving. He was Robin, Batman’s partner in justice- he could save himself and the girl he loved without dying. Bracing his forearms against the cement, Jason dragged himself forward, unable to stand again. Y/N continued protesting behind him, trying to break free of her bindings to stop him, but he kept going. He dragged his body across the floor, blood trailing in his wake as he reached the door. Jason had no idea how heavy the door was going to be, but as he reached up and grabbed ahold of the handle, he realized it didn’t matter- the handle didn’t budge. Falling against the door in exhaustion, Jason looked around for another means of escape. As his eyes wandered, a soft beeping caught his attention, forcing him to notice the black multi-wired box with a timer attached near the door.

“Robin, what is it?” He looked back at Y/N, his blue eyes conflicted with defeat and terror.

They were going to die.

He couldn’t save her.

“Jason-”

—

“Keep your eyes out, Robin. We don’t know how this guy works.” As she spoke through the com connected to her suit, Y/N could practically see Tim’s eyes roll.

“You know, Sunbird, I’d rather keep my eyes firmly within my own skull, thank you,” Tim shot back, causing a bark of laughter from Nightwing across the comms.

Y/N smirked, ready with a retort when Batman’s voice cut through the comms. “Focus, all of you. We’re working with someone who has taken out three drug rings within the last week. Snark won’t get us where we need to be,” he graveled, and the birds settled down.

Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Sunbird were all gathered at Gotham Harbor to confront the man who had ‘taken care of’ all three of Y/N’s latest missions. He was called the Red Hood, and they had yet to figure out his motive, who he was, or how and why he was intervening in Sunbird’s discreet missions. While she was appreciative of the danger being off the streets, she wasn’t fond of a new, murderous vigilante stepping on her toes. Y/N was perched atop one of the many red shipping containers littering the docks, the breeze pushing in the damp air from the ocean causing her to shiver. Her red and gray suit didn’t do much to keep the cold out, but her unnaturally high body temperature kept her from freezing. Across the dock Y/N could vaguely see Robin on his belly, his fingers tapping in boredom against his cape, while Batman was hidden amongst the shadows further to her right. Nightwing was to her left, balancing on top of a pole to give him a bird’s eye view. But, if you asked her, he was simply showing off. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and ears open for a flash of red metal or anything alerting them of their target.

After a while of nothing, Nightwing began to groan. “How do we know this guy is going to show tonight? He may be killing another bust right now, or, god-forbid, sleeping at the current time of midnight.”

“How do we know he doesn’t have a partner? We may be walking into an ambush, Batman,” Robin pipped up, having moved a few containers over for another perch.

“Ballistics show one gun type with the same bullets, all shot from the same spot. He’s working alone. Gordon sent Sunbird a tip about the trade-off happening here tonight, using the same system that he used for the other tips. The tips that Red Hood ended up busting himself. He found a way onto their link, and he’s shown up the past three times. He’ll be here.” Batman’s voice held no room for arguing, and the birds huffed in silence.

Just as everyone began to get comfortable once more, Robin’s voice yelled through the comms. It was inaudible and short, and by the time Y/N snapped her eyes to his perch, he was gone. She wanted to yell out for him, but she kept silent, not wanting to alert anyone to her position. Instead, she gracefully leapt down from her perch and quickly rolled to the side, hiding in the shadows beside Batman to gain a plan. He held up his hand to her, silently telling her to stay put as he moved toward the container where Robin had been.

“‘Wing,” he spoke gruffly, “follow me.” A blur of black and blue jumped from the sky before disappearing behind the container Batman had just gone to. Y/N listened and watched, waiting for any update on if Robin had been found or signs for what had happened. As the minutes ticked by and silent static graced the comms, she grew worried.

“Batman, Nightwing, what’s happening?” She whispered, her teeth nervously chewing at her bottom lip. They were fine, they had to be, they’re Batman and Nightwing, the original Wonder Duo. There’s no way anything happened-

“I didn’t kill them if that’s what you’re pittering about.”

Instantly, Y/N jerked her elbow back to hit the owner of the unexpected voice. However, when her elbow collided with metal, she cursed; both at the pain and the realization of who it was. She turned around, cradling her bruising elbow while looking up at the man before her. He was unfazed by her attacked, hands tucked comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket and his head tilted to the side.

“Are they alright?” She questioned, lowering her arm once the pain had subsided. Knowing that Batman and Nightwing had been incapacitated by this man unnerved her.

He scoffed, “They’re fine. The bat and Nightwing are knocked out. They should really look into helmets. I’m sure they sell ones that brood.”

“What, like yours?” He huffed a laugh at her reply, and she could only picture a smirk under the hood. “What about Robin?” she asked, noticing Red Hood stiffen at the mention of the youngest member. A glint from an overhead dock light fell across his helmet, giving him a darker look. Y/N could see his fists clench in his jacket pocket while he paused.

“The replacement is fine. Knocked out like the others,” he finally spat after a moment. Confusion fell across Y/N’s face as she took a step back, trying to work out what he meant. “I was never worried about the cut he gave you scarring your pretty face, I’ll admit. And now that I get to see it up close, I was right to think it’d make you even more badass. Bet the gash on your shoulder is even better. Took a chunk right out of you.”

“Jason.” His name was more of breath rather than a word as it left her mouth, disbelief keeping her from reaching out. “It can’t be.”

“Missed you too, Sunbird.” The pet name Jason had given Y/N all those years ago being spoken by him nearly brought her to her knees. “I’m honored that you used your nickname to become a sidekick.”

Disregarding the jab at her occupation, Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Let me see you. Let me know it’s really you.” While the fact of her pet name should’ve been enough proof, she still needed to see him. To see Jason Todd again. “Please,” she whispered in desperation.

He paused for a second before sighing, “Never could say no to you.” Red Hood reached up and clasped at the underside of his helmet, his fingers working until a mechanical hiss filled the air followed by smoke. The helmet was removed and held under his arm while Y/N gasped quietly. “Still handsome, I hope,” he joked, quirking his lips in a toothy smirk.

“Jason,” she breathed once more, finally believing that the man she loved was standing in front of her. His hair was shorter, flat against his forehead from the helmet, and his eyes were hidden behind a domino mask; but it was Jason, there was no denying it now. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Y/N barreled forward, crashing into his chest and causing him to drop his helmet. She wanted to be mad at him for killing people, for not telling her that he was alive, but in that moment she couldn’t feel anger towards him. Jason squeezed her tight, dropping his head to the top of hers, and breathed deeply as Y/N clutched the back of his leather jacket.

“I saw your body- I saw… After the explosion, before Bruce got to us, I got free and felt your heart stop. I watched them bury you. I’ve been to your grave every month,” she rambled, shaking her head against his padded chest. “I’ve never stopped crying for you.”

Jason held her tighter. “I did die. I was dead for six months.”

Y/N looked up sharply at his confession, removing herself from his arms. “You’ve been alive for six years, and I haven’t known?”

He reached out for her, grabbing ahold of her shaking hand. “Sunbird, listen-“

“Jason, I needed you!” She interrupted, her voice pitched with hurt. “I was alone, nobody understood what I was going through. I shouldn’t have lived, but I did, and I hated myself for it every day. Bruce hated me for it; I was the reason his son was dead. It should’ve been me,” she croaked as her voice broke at the end, tears slipping down her cheeks while she looked up at Jason.

“No, don’t say that. I thought you were dead. Talia told me you had died! When I came back, I read your obituary. Everyone said that you had died with me, and I believed it because if I had died so did you. I didn’t find out you were alive until two weeks ago,” he explained, running his thumb over her calloused knuckles. “It killed me, twice over, thinking that I had been brought back to life while you were still dead.” Y/N reeled at all the information, her breath hitching in shock.

“The world had to think she was dead. If the Joker found out she had lived, he wouldn’t stop looking for her,” a voice spoke from behind Jason, causing the boy (now a man) to quickly turn around. His body instinctively stepped in front of Y/N’s, arms raised for a fight. But instead of one of his targets holding a gun, it was Batman and Nightwing. Jason stared at both of them, noticing the way they had aged in the past six years. While Y/N had grown from a fifteen-year-old to a twenty-one-year-old, the older vigilantes both seemed aged past their years. A part of Jason wanted to reach out for them as he did Y/N, but he held himself back. He came to Gotham for a purpose, and this wasn’t it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jason began, ignoring the looks of shock on their faces and refusing them the chance to ask any questions, “the Joker gets to live, but we had to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Nightwing began and took a step in front of Batman before Jason laughed bitterly.

“No, Boy Wonder, that’s exactly what it’s like. Batman’s refusal to kill resulted in the deaths of two innocent lives, while the monster responsible gets to breathe, laugh, and walk freely. He cares more about keeping a good image than your own family,” he spat, continuing to stand in front of Y/N defensively. Batman kept silent as Jason vented, giving Nightwing’s sleeve a slight tug to pull him to the side.

“Jay, come back with us.” Y/N reached her hand out, grabbing onto Jason’s larger one with a soft touch to try and gentle his rage. “We can all sort this out, figure out where to go from here.”

Looking over his shoulder at the girl he presumed lost forever, Jason shook his head. “I can’t, Sunbird. Somebody has to kill Joker, and that somebody is me.”

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, “Don’t, please. I can’t lose you to my father again.”

Batman stepped closer to Jason, holding out his hand. “Listen to her. Come home, Jason. We’ve all missed you,” he pleaded, trying to find any sign of agreement on his son’s face.

Instead, Jason laughed bitterly, sending chills down the following vigilantes’ spines. “I don’t have a home with you anymore, B. This doesn’t end until I have his brains splattered over a crowbar,” Jason sneered, turning away to give Y/N one last look. “When this is over, I’ll find you.” From a normal stance, his words should’ve sounded creepy, but all they did was give Y/N hope.

“Jason-” But before Y/N could grab ahold of the boy she had watched die, Jason slipped from her grasp.

All Writing Taglist (OPEN- also, I know it’s been a while, so if you want removed please message me): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @wherewecangazeintothestars

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood imagines #red hood x reader #batfamily #angst #dc imagine

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urdearestmom · 4 years

Text

I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.” What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

#YALL please let me know what you think of this #i have so many thoughts on this pairing #SO MANY #also if you liked it please rb to share so more people can read it!! <3 #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #urdearestmom

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Blacksad: Arctic Nation Review: Digging Two Graves

Welcome you beautiful technicolor rainbow. And today I continue my black History Month coverage, this time with one that was suggested by Kev, my patreon on patreon and the blog’s biggest supporter, who sent me a bunch of things I could review for Black History month and, loving this comic and feeling given the events of last year with George Floyd that have had rightful shockwaves ever since, it was perfect.

For those needing a refresher Blacksad is a spanish produced french released comic series about John Blacksad, a grim private detective in a 1950′s set world full of anthromphized animals. It has gorgeous art, endless atmosphere and utterly captivating stories. Last month I covered the first story, Somewhere in the Shadows, since this one was only number two and I could track the series evolution better, and I loved the series and could make room on the schedule so there was no real reason NOT to do it. And since i covered most of the series background that time, I can dive in quicker to this one. So join me under the cut to see how the series evolves and to see a black cat take on white supremacists with the help of a smelly weasel.

First things first.. the cover, which is from the original version and was lovingly reprinted in my copy, is goregous and simple: John grimly and camly carrying a scared child through a bilzzard past the wreckage of a plane. It’s instantly eye catching, our black furred hero in a bilzzard of white.. and also serves as a great metaphor for a story dealing with white suprmacy as well as our hero trying to find the child he’s trying to keep safe on the cover. It’s just perfect.

We open in the Line, a city in the arctic, with Blacksad morosely narrating how one day he’ll write his memoirs, as he figures they’ll sell well given the public’s grim fascination with murder. We soon find out why tha’ts on his mind as the comic “pans out”... to show a black bird with a long neck horrifcally and publicly hung in a hate crime. It’s an utterly ghastly sight I will not be sharing, but needless to say it sets the tone and the setting in one horrific image.

John’s interuptted though by the introduction of Weekly. Weekly is a local journalist who true to his name, only takes a bath once a week and immidetly pisses off john by being nosey, assuming john is also a journalist and casually remaking about this horror show being a hate crime. Despite this terrible first impression.. Weekly goes on to be John’s best friend and sidekick, providing some levity in his grim world for the audience, while as we’ll soon see being FAR more useful and competent than his demeanor and lack of hygine lets on.

For now though, John has to go meet his client: Miss Grey, a schoolteacher whose hired John to find a missing girl, Kaylie, one of her students. Those around the neighborhood are relcutant to look into it, including Kayle and the police, who as we’ll learn very soon are white suprmacists, simply blame it on the Local Black Claws gang. Miss Grey also fills us in on the line’s backstory: it was once a propserous suburban place.. until the local plane plant closed down, leading to a rise in crime and unemployment with the place slowly but surely falling into decay. Despite this she’s determined to stay and fight.. and John is touched by her noblility and tells her he will do everything he can. And while that’s a natural thing to tell your client.. it feels genuine, that John senses this woman’s deep resolute will to keep going, and feels for her as the ONE PERSON who cares a small child went missing and isn’t either ignoring it or simply being a racist dickhead about it. John may hide it under lairs of cynsim and grumpus... but he’s good man and as we see he’ll go to hell and back to do the right thing.

We soon properly meet the titular Arctic Nation... who are as you would expect, a white suprmacist group, calling yesterday’s lynching a necssary thing and spouting your usual horrifying rhetoric about a white world and stuff. The Arctic Nation are also made up almost entirely of Arctic Animals.. and honeslty that’s a way to do a white supermacy metaphor I never thought of, simply having the fur be black and white, and using the fact most arctic animals are by nature predators to give us some naturally intimdating looking antagonists. One of them also is clealry not Happy John’s around, nor that John rather than be afraid or look nervous in the slightest... is simply pissed as he should be and simply dosen’t give a shit.. and given assholes like this love attention and pissing people off, it probably makes him even madder. Good.

John runs into Weekly again, and while still not happy to see him, Weekly is nothing but friendly and offers peace and a warm drink in a cold land.. and John takes him up on it noting in narration that since they are clear outsiders here... why not? Any port in a storm and given the blizzard of white supramcey just outside, John can’t help but take refuge in a diner. There’s also a really nice touch in their drinks with John having a simple .. alchohol ( I don’t drink sue me) and Weekly having something called a burobon mlikshake . Weekly outlines that the Line is about to explode with racial tension with two diffrent suprmacist groups: The arctic nation , who he freely and rightly mocks and the aformentioned black claws.

Before they can continue though two of the goons from outside come in and harass an old black bird at the counter, saying can’t he read the sign.. before he’s revealed to be blind. They confront John next... who gloriously takes NONE of thier shit, wirly pointing to his patch of white fur, which indicates him as mixed race in this unverse and says does this count.

The racist asshole dosen’t take the hint that maybe this isn’t going to work and tries provoking john by threatning ot turn him into a coat.. and john insults his, and his whiteness and we cut over to the head of the white suprmacist rally asking the owner to call the police, the owner only relcutantly agreeing when we see the supremacist asshole fly into the bar.

So naturally we next see our heroes in the office of Karup, the local police chief, polar bear and not even hiding it white suprmacist who talks proudly about his confederate saber on the wall and asks if John knows who it belonged to. His response is priceless.

Damn.. it takes balls of fucking platinum, on both of them, to be called into an unapolgetic white suprmacists office and roast him to his fucking face. It’s what we should all do granted but still, props to both of htem. it also shows Weekly, desipte being kinda sketchy.. is every bit as brave as his friend, and takes these fuckers every bit as seriously. That is to say they both KNOW their in danger.. they just don’t CARE, feeling rightly that simply cowtowing to Karup like he wants is not worth thieir damn time, and that he deserves no fear, no respect and nothing he wants. Just mockery for clinging to an outdated and horrific set of ideals like all white supremacists then and now. Karup is forced to let htem off with a warning as his wife shows up.. and Weekly wolf whistles at her because awesome he may be he is not a class act and this is still the 1950′s where that was okay for some reason.

We next catch up to John that night where he’s taking in a driving movie involving giant ants.

He’s naturally here not to take in a good b movie, nor is he being forced to watch it by mad scientests, but here to find Kaylie’s mother Dinah, who agrees to talk to him after her shift.. and John grabs a peak at her ass while she walks away.

Dinah has good reason for not calling the cops though... as she puts it, she has no faith in white justice, and given the police chief had a fucking confderate flag in his office, and many STILL do today, yeah fair point. We also find out she used to work for Karup, so she knows damn well he won’t be helpful at best or use looking for as an excuse to lynch more innocent black men at worse. Of course John, while symaptehtic brings up something about Oldsmill, and gets rightfully slapped for it.

We next see John talking to weekly, who he’s just kind of accepted is his sidekick now. Their grocery trip is interupted by the claws, who show up, beat up the racist shopkeep.. and then harass our heroes, beating up weekly to get him to say their innocnet of the kidnapping. This however.. shows that while not AS bad as Karup, clearly.. their still not good people. Weekly GLADLY would’ve printed what they asked if they’d actually asked, and instead they beat him up to do so, and the person who did so dosen’t endear himself further by asking john “What happened to your snout brother?”. As with last time, his response is fucking perfect

He wisely backs off though is still confrontational about it. Weekly wonders if john really was going to shoot him, and my response is...

He absolutley would’ve. John asks if he’s really going to print that crap.. and of course Weekly is. That’s where the story is, and he points out he’ sa star reporter and his name apparently comes from coming in with a big story once a week. John isn’t amused.. but could use Weekly’s help and tell shim to keep an eye on Karup’s household for him since he can sneak in there and be far less notecable. And he agrees. I’ll go ahead and say it.. weekly was an invaluable addition to the story and a missing peace for Blacksad they needed: like robin to batman, he provides someone for him to talk to, a bit of badly needed levity, an dprovides blacksad an ally no matter the case or situation, and one who has every reason to help both because hteir friends.. and because it’ll get him a good story, and his background as a reporter gives good reason as to why he’s good at this.

Something else to note is John has also taken on more of a sarcastic streak as you can tell and I love it: instead of being grim all the time it gives a human touch to him.. while still making him utterly badass as he usually uses it to disarm an asshole flexing their power over him. It simply adds some shades to his already wonderful personality.

We finally meet Oldsmill who denies having anything to do with it, as the rumor is his heavily inbred son is Kaylee’s father and Oldsmill belivies it was karup since he was apparnetly married to a black woman once. Oldsmill is also a racist ass blaming the downturn in things on black people instead of you know, the plant closing. John has what he needed.. and has a good shot at oldsmill pointing out if he actually mixed races his son might of turne dout okay instead of a braindead inbred moron.

Weekly hides in the bushes at karups.. and soon finds his wife plowing the head of the arctic nation we met earlier, huk, behind his back. “I love this job!”.... dude.. no just.. no. Don’t watch people have rough sex that’s just.. no. But he found out more as tailing them afterwords, he found them at a table with Kaylee’s mom, clearly wanting her to keep quite for some reason with Dinah not wanting her to suffer. Naturally she’s John’s next stop.. but instead he finds her brutally murdered, her body twisted and him lamenting that someone so full of life.. has lost hers and even if he achieves his goal now.. Kaylee lost her mother. And involved in whatevers’ going on or not.. she clearly loved her kid and whatever she got caught up in she died.. simply for proioritzing her daughte’rs own saftey and wellbeing over it. She was also stabbed with what John suspects to be.. a saber. Hmmmm.

John has no proof.. but decides fuck it, and goes to confront Karup anyway. His wife speaks up against him as does Huk... but given Weekly told john about her taking Huk in through the back door yeah... that dosen’t go great. And after Choir practice, Karup beats the every loving piss out of Huk for it, and tells him before that that, now weekly's’ actually printed the story he said he was going to, it’s open season on him and blacksad.

So unsuprisingly, Blacksad suspects he’s been kidnapped when we catch up with John and interogrates the blind bird from earlier, whose trying to sell weekly’s camera, and successfully batman’s him into taking him to where Weekly is. Menawhile Karup confronts his wife.. who mocks him and has no sympathy and accuses him of being a pedophile like everyone else has. He takes it badly and tells her to get out and to no one’s suprise.. has an arctic nation flag in his drawer. I do not get what this was supposed to prove as we know he’s a white suprmacist piece of shit and that previous scene with Huk showed that he’s directing the nation from beihind the scenes.

While the Bird brings john through and John laments his time as a vetran, we find their headed for a nation meeting, complete with Klan style robes.. and Karup getting ambusehd. someone having put bloody children’s clothes in his trunk. Karup is hunt and while he clearly IS innocent, given Huk both presented the evidence and let’s face it it was either him or Karup’s wife jezebel, and I have no sympahty because not being a pedophile does not make him any less of a horrible abusive piece of shit.

Someone we DO actually care if they live or die next is weekly, whose terrified, the defiance from earlier gone.. which is fair as he knows he’s about ot die and dosen’t know John.. is right there, revealed via his paws as he prepares weekly to escape and has infilrated the nation in the robes. John’s next action is also utterly badass as he SWINGS FROM THE NOOSE, KICKS OVER THE BURNING CROSS THE NATION SET UP.

Huk escapes and unsuprisingly is behind the kidnapping.. and the Magpie from earlier knew it and tires to stop him and gets shot. John kills one of the white suprmiacists and makes his wya out, finding Weekly, who escaped as john instructed and the two find the bird man.. is not dead and he takes htem to Kaylee. He dies in a really tearjerking scene, clearly senile and clearly talked into this.

Naturally the next day, John reveals via narration that the Line’s remaining police didn’t give a shit about what happened, a racist paper actively comended it as “how justice should go” and that Huk escaped... and naturally John isn’t going to let that shit slide down the glass. Huk however is dead when he finds him having gotten his but clealry this dosen’t quite satisfy john.

John listens to the song “Strange Fruit” while dressing up all fancy and looking damn good I must say. He’s preparing for a funeral and Weekly tries to help his pain.. by offering him the shots of Huk and Jeezebel.. only John spots something and tells weekly to get all he can on Karups first wife.

Turns out the funeral is Karups... and John confronts the widow who tries to brush him off.. before tearing her shirt open to reveal a black spot.. which while a neat reveal.. GOD that’s fucking creeptastic. Seriously while this story is moving, brilliant and all sorts of things i’ll gush about.. it has some REALLY creepy undertones at times with John’s treatment of Dinah, Weekly taking pornographic pictures of two people without their consent, and now this.. I mean it’s not exactly unsuual for the time but you may want to not make your heroes look like sex monsters is all i’m saying.

We finally get the full story: Dinah and Jezebel are Karups children the product of his first marriage that was geninely loving.. until Karup turned bitter and racist and upon finding out she was pregnant drove his wife out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of winter and left her to die. ...... sorry I was just fondly remembering him getting his neck snapped by the noose. Anywyays their mom did surivive long enough to give birth but the sheer pain of well.. everything collapsed on her and she eventually passed when they were young. Both sisters wanted revenge and since Jeez could pass for white, she married her own dad, and got some satstifactoin over not letting him touch her, and got Kaylee into the house. So she seduced Huk, even if clearly by the panel sleeping with that piece of shit greatly hurt Jez to do, and used him to set up the fake kidnapping scheme to frame Karup as a pedophile.

As for why Dinah died.. if it wasn’t obvious by now Huk did it not realizing Jez and Dinah were sisters and took Dinah’s udnerstandable worry about her daughter.. as concern she’d squeal. His death and who did it should be obvious and given he’s almost as big a piece of shit as karup, only barely avoiding that because his murder wasn’t his own PREGNANT wife. Jez assures John it’s all over and her mother and sister can rest in peace.. but John cuts through this with one simple fact: “What about Kaylee?” Sure Karup deserved it.. but going so far int heir revenge cost a girl her mom, and the weight of this finally hits Jez who merley collapses saying “i’m cold” knowing that in the end.. her revenge wasnt worth it. And really that’s the center of the story: Revenge.. and how it’s ultimately hollow. To quote Mr. Miyagi from the karate kid on revenge, as I feel it’s UTTERLY relevant to this story “You might as well dig two graves”. The sisters COULD’VE had a decent life on their own, living as who they were in spite of karup, leaving the line behind when they could and taking Kaylee with them. Instead? While Karup and Huk rightfully died and those deaths are a good thing.. the arctic nation shows no signs of slowing down and likely didn’t losoe EVERYONE in the factory fire, a child is orphaned, Jez wasted her life as someone she wasn’t to get revenge on a man who didn’t even know she existed. While two very bad men died.. it cost two other lives and a child’s innocence to do so.

So we close at Miss Greys, having taken Kaylee in for obvious reasons. John encourages Grey to keep going, that maybe with someone like her.. this region might get better. While the adults are lost... maybe the children can be better. Though John sadly looks at Kaylee, after she pelts week with a snowball, and i’ts clear from both of their faces the events haunt them. While john saved her.. he still couldn’t save Dinah. We end though on a very lovely scene: as John and Week prepare to get the hell out of dodge their job done, Weekly, seeing John’s very haunted by the events reveals the real reason behind his name: the boys only think he changes his underwear once a week. And this gets a hell of a laugh out of john... and ends a very dark story with a very grim resolution on a hopeful note: Things may of ended terribly.. but with the nation weak.. there’s some hope at least things might get better... and sometimes a little hope is all you need. It’s also a nice show of how far the two have come: From John really destesting week.. to the two being the close friends they’ll be from here on out, there for each other no matter what. And it really shows in the endings: Last album ended iwth John morosely sinking back into the shadows. Here while not much happier.. it ends with him at least.. not alone.. and with some hope things will get better. They have to.

Final Thoughts:

Arctic Nation is a masterpice. While the sexist comedy bits have not aged well the story is THROUGHLY relevant, a story of revenge, prejudice and standing up to prejudice, and after the last four years of having a president blantly favor white suprmacists and corrupt cops while things only got worse.. seeing John stand up to that flavor of monster with bravey, wit and most importantly no fear, was UTTERLY cathartic. It’s a captivating story that keeps you hooked the whole time.

And while on it’s own the story is very good and stands firm, as the second adventure for john.. it improves on somewhere in the shadows in every way except the art, which was already perfect last time and is just as excellent this time and is easily some of the best comic book art period. But the narrative is far more intresting this time going from a pretty standard noir setup to a fairly unique one as while “hero is stuck in a town where he’s an unwelcome outsider” isn’t new, having that blended with white supremacy is brilliant and provides an unyileding wave of tension over the story, as our hero is ONLY not lynched right away because his enimies are being careful and trying to appear resonable when their just bigoted bullies with delusions of grandeur like all whit esuprmacists. Our hero is not safe, he is not welcome, but he WILL NOT give up on a child whose been lost and needs his help. It’s a far more gripping setup and the payoffs including the awesome warehouse climax and the huge reveal at the end, all feel oh so worth it but the journey is never boring. THe additoin of Weekly was also easily the best move, as while he probably wasn’t intended to be permenant, his goofball demanour, skill beneath that, and great dynamic with John add some levity to the grim nature of blacksad’s world, and give him someone to work off of so we don’t get all the exposition via the narration, allowing it to breathe and come about when needed rather than be a constant presence. While Somewhere in the Shadows was good.. Arctic Nation is a masterpiece, and teh series would keep that level of quality and nuance from here on out.

I’ll be taking a break from blacksad for a while, so I’m genuinely not sure when i’ll be getting to red soul as I have other projects I deserpately need to get back to in april first, but i promise he’ll return some day. For now if you liked this review, follow me for more including weekly reviews of ducktales and amphibia, a lena sabrewing retrospective and if you really like this you can chip in a buck or two a month on patreon. The more contirbutions I get, the more likely i’ll hit my stretch goals and I have some pretty neat ones so check it out, there’s a link on my blog. And see you at the next rainbow.

#blacksad #john blacksad #arctic nation #weekly #comics #furry #anthro #noir #darkhorse comics #french comics #black lives matter #black history month

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make-them-laugh · 4 years

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Coming together

Secret Santa for septicabzies for @codesecretsanta !!!! I saw you had ocs and I love writing ocs! I hope I did them justice! I wanted to get a few slice of life vignettes to get a few different interactions out! I hope you like it!

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“Why did I room those two together?” The headmistress whispered under her breath as two boys were led into the office. She smiled tersely and sighed. “Rafael, Antonio. What brings you in today?”

Antonio’s lips quirked up in a smile, despite his trying to avoid it. “Absolutely nothing, Miss Delmas. We were just minding our own business!”

“With backpacks full of homemade stink bombs,” Elisabeth Delmas raised an eyebrow and both boys hung their heads as she sighed. “Where were you planning on putting them?”

Both were silent for a long minute, and Sissi crossed her arms. “I’m waiting. You’re not leaving this office until you tell me where you were going to let off these stink bombs.”

Raphael sighed and lifted his head. “The second-floor boys’ bathroom. We were going to set them off above the ceiling at different times so no one could figure out where they were coming from or when they’d go off…”

“Thank you for being honest, Raphael,” Sissi smiled softly and nodded. “But your behavior still needs to be addressed. Both your parents will be receiving a call, and you have detention for three days. You’re dismissed.”

Antonio and Raphael quickly stood and took their now empty backpacks from the teacher that had brought them down. They headed for the dorms, and before Antonio could ask, Raphael slipped one singular stink bomb out of the pocket of his cargo pants and handed it to Antonio.

“Don’t ask questions, now we can get back at Geoff and Hanson for pouring spoiled milk on our carpet.”

Antonio cradled the last stink bomb and laughed. “You didn’t tell her that was the plan?”

Raphael made a face. “Of course not, didn’t you know? Their dads were like her best friends when our parents were in school. She wouldn’t take their side, but she’d have come down harder on us for not coming to her first.”

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“Carry the one, move that there, move that to the other side, simplify, and I should have… Tristan, can you look at this problem? I think I did it right, but I want someone smarter than me to double check before I commit to the answer.” Daniel looked up from his homework and slid the paper towards his roommate, who took it quickly.

Tristan’s eyes scanned the page quickly, and he smiled as he handed it back. “Looks perfect, Daniel. You’re really coming along with this, and soon you won’t even need me to look over your homework.”

“You really think so?” Daniel took the paper back with a smile.

“Yeah,” Tristan turned back to his laptop and let his fingers fly over the keys. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Daniel beamed and turned back to his homework with a hum. “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in a while.”

“Well, you deserve it, and don’t let anyone or any subject make you think otherwise,” Tristan leaned into his computer. “A little work, and you could probably test into honors math for next year.”

Daniel smiled wider as he wrote out the next equation to solve. “Hey, do you mind if I put on some music to study to? It always helps me think.”

“Sure thing, I’ll probably tune it out, but that’s fine.”

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“Where did you manage to find scented nail polish? I thought no one sold it anymore,” Kimiko chuckled as she dipped the brush back into the literally bubblegum pink liquid. She pulled it back out, let the excess drip back into the bottle and gently brushed it onto Maya’s finger.

“The corner store had a few bottles of a few different scents! They had a black grape that I picked up for you if you want me to do yours next!” Maya grinned widely and watched as the pink spread and shimmered in the fluorescent lighting. “I love the shade! It’s so pretty!”

“It is really nice, and it’ll look better after a second coat,” Kimiko agreed before leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “I’m sure Antonio will love it.”

Maya flushed and looked away with a yelp as Kimiko laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just teasing you,” Kimiko smiled. “Just a little joking between roommates, you know?”

“Yeah,” Maya sighed. “I guess I’m just not used to feeling so… silly when a boy walks by. Have you ever gotten that feeling?”

Kimiko shrugged. “A couple times, but I never let it bother me too much. Crushes come and go, but it’s not like my brother lets them anywhere near me anyway.”

“A tad overprotective?” Maya laughed

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” Kimiko laughed as well.

Maya looked at her finished hand as Kimiko started on her other hand. “Thank you for helping me with my nails. It’s something my mom and I always do together, and it never looks right when I do it by myself.”

“No problem, Maya,” Kimiko smiled. “You said you want to do mine when yours are dry?”

Maya grinned and nodded eagerly. “I would love to.”

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“Are you reading the Crimson Runes series?!” Daniel’s eyes lit up when he saw the book in Raphael’s hands. “I love the Crimson Runes!”

“Oh my god, don’t get him started, he won’t shut up about it,” Kimiko groaned. “It’s the only book he likes, but he’s obsessed.”

“I’m rereading it for an essay on a work of fiction that means a lot to me in English class,” Raphael slid into the empty seat across from Daniel. “I got the first book a few years ago with a gift card for my birthday and I couldn’t put it down! Read it in two days!”

“I have a signed copy of the first book,” Daniel smirked. “My dad took me to a comic con a few years ago because I saw he was on the guest list and I begged him to go to get my copy signed.”

“That is so cool!” Raphael put a napkin in his book to hold his place as he set his notebook aside, marked with pages and quotations. “I tried to go to that con, but we had a family thing we had to go to.”

“Bummer,” Daniel shook his head. “Maybe if he ever does a con again, you and I can go together and get your copy signed!”

Raphael smiled and nodded. “That’d be cool.”

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“Skateboards aren’t so hard once you get used to them, Maya,” Antonio smiled as he held the board out to his classmate. She looked warily at the plank of wood and took it hesitantly.

“Do I have to do this?”

“Of course not! Only if you want to!” Antonio held his hand back out to take the board back, but Maya held it to her chest.

“No, I want to try! But…I don’t have to try any ramps today, do I?”

“Nope! We can do all flat concrete today if you want,” Antonio smiled and reached to check her helmet, making sure it was on securely. “Ready, Miss Belpois?”

“No, but I want to be,” Maya set the board on the ground, and carefully went to stand on it. Antonio let her balance herself on his arms, and held her steady as she got her bearings.

“You’re doing great, Maya!” Antonio smiled and bit the inside of his lip. “Tell you what. You stay on the board, I’ll walk you forward a little, you focus on balancing while it’s moving, okay?”

Maya nodded, and Antonio started to walk, holding Maya’s arms carefully so she didn’t fall. As she found her center, she giggled and stood a little taller, making ANtonio grin.

“That a girl! You’ll be riding like a pro in no time!”

-----

Jeremie smiled at the letter from his daughter.

“Aelita! Maya sent a picture she took with the camera we got her for Christmas last year!”

Aelita came up behind Jeremie and kissed the side of his head as she looked at the picture. She saw the kids gathered around their two, and her eyes softened when she saw all the familiar features in the other children.

“They look…alive. Happy.”

“I think sending them to Kadic was the best decision we could have made,” Jeremie put his hands on hers and kissed her cheek softly. “Should we tell them they can invite their friends over sometime soon? I want to meet the kids they’re spending all their time with.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Aelita kissed his nose and sighed. “I miss them.”

“Me too.”

#code ss20 #codesecretsanta #code lyoko next gen #i really really hope it's okay #and the characters are...#in character

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: mentions of character death, cursing, haunting, spooky stuff, angst

Word count: 7.1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a man out of time. He knows more ghosts than people. One of his ghosts has come home.

A/N: This is waaaay longer than I normally write, but I just wanted to do it justice. This is my submission for @barnesrogersvstheworld AYAOTD writing challenge! Sort of an Endgame AU, also features an appearance from a rather obscure Marvel comics character. The prompt I had was “Don’t look behind you.” - it’s highlighted in bold. This is also really sad. I’m sorry for that...but please let me know what you think!

His tastes have changed.

Most people wouldn’t have known that - wouldn’t have seen anything abnormal about a 100+ year old man reaching for minute oatmeal and Folgers at the grocery store. There had been a few articles, before, in health or men’s interest magazines, about the ‘Super Soldier Diet’. They were much more colorful than this - full of sugary cereals and peanut butter and seasonal frappuccinos. The articles always ended with reminders that a normal human should reach for more nutritious foods.

Steve pulls his oats - plain, made with water, no sweetener - from the microwave, and stirs just a little. Not thick enough; he replaces the bowl and adds another 30 seconds to the microwave timer. On the counter, the Mr. Coffee drips away, slowly filling the pot.

He eats quietly, perched on a stool at the island; he never uses the table anymore. A few news highlights appear in the notifications on his phone, and he scrolls through them, eyes scanning as he spoons his tasteless breakfast into his mouth.

New York Nears Completion of Relocation Program he reads, letting his thumb swipe down to read more of the article.

“Almost three years after the globally devastating event in which Earth’s population was reduced by half, the people of New York City are finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel in their relocation efforts for residents whose homes were damaged or destroyed in the aftermath of the Decimation. The project, one of the last proposals by Tony Stark before his retirement from the Department of Damage Control, is expected to end-”

He closes his phone.

**********

There are three support group meetings that he attends each week - two as a leader, one as a participant.

“You should come, Nat.” He’s a broken record, but he just keeps spinning. Like the planet, like the solar system. If he falls out of orbit- “Just once. You might be surprised…”

“Some of us still have jobs, Steve.” She raises a still perfect eyebrow, now back to its natural red. He finds a little comfort in that.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Maybe not. But don’t wait up for me.”

The Tuesday meeting is the hardest, though it was the first one he ever lead. It caters to a specific group, a group that looks to him because...well, because he lost what they lost. He wonders if they know, if they realize, that it’s all his fault.

“Jackie was...she was my rock, you know?” The new woman, Elsie, sniffs as she continues. “We went through a lot together, and I remember thinking all that time ‘God, what would I do without her?’ And now I know the answer - spiral and-and become an alcoholic.”

“You can’t blame yourself for all of that.” Steve shakes his head. “There was so much more going on - the world was practically in flames, and you were trying to cope. What matters is that you’re here now, trying to get better.”

Elsie is nodding, accepting a tissue from the man sitting next to her. She gives a shaky little smile and settles back in her chair, done sharing for now. Steve glances around the circle, waiting for someone else to speak up.

It was such an odd reversal for him, especially at first. When he first wandered into one of Sam’s support group meetings, he had felt out of place and alone - and that feeling was exactly why he belonged in a place like that. Sam could see it. It was one of his gifts; he was better at reading people than anyone Steve knew, except maybe Natasha. Even when Bucky came along, and Sam played the tough act, he could see all of that fear and pain, and knew exactly what to do with it. Over the years they were in hiding, Sam would secretly reach out to Bucky - during their visits in Wakanda, Steve found the two of them sitting at the lake behind Bucky’s hut and talking, low and intense.

“You know, sometimes-” It’s a man on the opposite side of the circle, dark-skinned with a greying beard. “I don’t know about all of you, but sometimes...I wonder if they can see us. If they know what we’re doing. Does that make any sense?”

He gets a few nods and murmurs from the group, so he goes on.

“I mean, after my old man died, my mom used to say he was watching over me.” He swallows thickly. “She was on her own, tucking a 9-year-old boy in at night, and telling me that Daddy could see me from heaven, that he was looking out for me. And I just think....well, I wanna know - where are they? Are they in heaven? Is that even possible?”

He turns to Steve, several of the people in the circle do. It’s always like this - whenever the sessions turn to specific questions or musings about what happened, they look to him. Because shouldn’t he know? He had lead them, he failed them, he was there when their lives went up in dust.

“Well, I don’t think I’m qualified to offer religious advice,” he starts with a rueful smile. “And, from everything I’ve seen, I don’t think we even know what’s possible. All I know is, we can’t live in the past...even if they see us, wherever they are, we have to accept that they’re really...gone.” He crossed his arms. “They’re not here with us anymore.”

The group has gone quiet, reflective. Most are staring at their hands rather than him, each lost in their own haze of memory and ashes. He wishes he could offer them more, but he knows grief like this, and Steve Rogers is honest to a fault - he won’t lie, even for the sake of comfort.

“We’re on our own now.”

**********

He goes for runs alone now.

No Bucky to keep up with him, pushing the pace and trying to trip him. No Sam to complain about his hamstrings and insist on coffee afterwards. Not even music on those weird tiny headphones she had gotten him. Just his sneakers and pavement and the sound of his own breath. Sometimes he hated that - how he never got winded anymore, never sounded hurt and tired, the way he would wheeze through his asthma attacks with Bucky holding him up and reminding him how to pull in air. The machine of his body was too efficient for that.

In his apartment, he takes short showers, cold and fast, like in the Army. The soap is blue, with a generic smell that is clean and reminds him of nothing. He turns and tilts his head back under the spray, allowing a few more seconds to rinse and-

He nearly jumps when a burst of heat runs down his back.

The water has suddenly turned hot, a steamy, balmy, sultry hot that turns his soft Irish skin pink. He had never had this problem with his showers before - never run out of cold water certainly. Maybe something was wrong with the…

When he turned around, he saw the hot water knob turning slowly clockwise, centimeter by centimeter, untouched.

He shut off the water and got out.

**********

“I’m gonna have to call a plumber sometime.”

“Oh yeah? I thought all you old guys were handymen.”

“Ha ha.” He watches Nat scoop some spaghetti into bowls for the two of them. “I was the artist type. Not really handy around the house.”

“Guess that means Barnes was wearing the pants?” She’s smirking, and he feels like he’s seeing the real Nat again, so he goes along with the joke.

“How could he not? Who’s gonna let a 90-pound asthmatic wear the pants?”

“So what’s wrong with your plumbing?” Nat peeks over the fridge door as she grabs some parmesan and a bottle of wine. Steve, under strict orders not to help, is watching from the kitchen table.

“It’s my shower, something happened the other day. The water turned hot while I was in the middle of showering, even though I had it turned cold.”

“Hm. Weird.”

Steve comes out here at least once a month, or as often as he can. He sees the way that Natasha would rather slip into her work, lose herself in the business of holding the pieces of the world together, let go of her own life. The pantry, open and visible from where he’s sitting, is stocked with the bare minimum dry goods and canned foods; the fridge isn’t much better. He’s seen her on missions, seen her at home in her mismatched socks; he knows that she’d barely feed herself, surviving on a sandwich a day, if the thought or the hunger struck her. So he comes and threatens to cook and she saves the compound from being burned down by making a meal for the two of them.

It’s a far cry from normal. From pizza nights with Sam and Wanda at the compound, the two of them taking turns introducing Steve to movies he missed - all the “classics” he hadn’t heard of. They were missing their monthly family dinners, too; Tony always made room in his schedule to attend, dragging Pepper along from the office, and Steve sat at the head of their long dining table watching this strange, funny little family he had share and eat and laugh with each other.

Now he sits across from Natasha at a table otherwise occupied by her scattered files and reports, a pair of pointe shoes laying in the chair next to her. He didn’t come often enough to expect her to clean for him. She had enough on her plate.

“You know, I was talking to Carol last week,” Nat says, twirling her pasta around her fork. “And she said she might make it to visit us next month. It’ll depend on that trafficking case she was working in the Pegasus galaxy.” She shrugs a little.

“That’s good.” Steve chews, sips his wine. “It would be nice to see her.”

They don’t talk much throughout their meal; there isn’t much new to share. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall of the compound, Steve watches the early sunset fall over the grounds, shadows reaching and reaching, as quiet as it was empty.

**********

Sometimes, sometimes, when he’s feeling more stupid than usual, he opens the drawer.

That drawer. The lower one in his bedside table. With her box inside.

The box isn’t really anything special - just plain black, with her name written on the top. He got it at the suggestion of the team’s - his - therapist, Dr. Rajan. She recommended that putting some things away, rather than leaving them around his room, might help him move on, realize that his life had changed. He thought about putting the compass in the box, too, but it felt wrong. She wouldn’t want that in there. Somehow it mostly ends up in his pocket, and he stares at it from time to time, at the picture inside, thinking about words like should have and what if.

He’s staring at the drawer now, remembering the night before, when he thought about getting the box after he shuffled in from support group. When he was halfway through his flask of that Asgardian shit he kept under the bed. Steve had shuffled out of his clothes and fallen asleep in his underwear instead, flask still clutched in his hand, just sober enough to turn down the bad idea.

So why was the drawer open?

**********

“Have you thought about getting back out there? Dating again?”

His laugh is humorless.

“Doc, come on. I think we both know I’m not the type.”

“All we know is that you’re a serial monogamist.” She smiles. “And a very eligible one.”

“Sure, but…” Steve pauses, rubbing his palms against his jeans. He looks around the office, trying to find something to focus on. “I feel lucky...really lucky, to have had the kind of love I got. I mean, I never really expected to have it, not after I woke up in this century. And then, with her, it just sort of happened so naturally...well, lightning never strikes twice, as the saying goes.”

“It seems like, for you at least, it did,” Dr. Rajan raises her brows. “Two great loves in one lifetime? More rare than lightning.”

He runs a hand through his hair, still long on the top.

“I-I guess so. But it won’t strike a third time.”

“Because you’re not going to give it a chance?”

“You know me too well, doc.” His smile is apologetic, kind.

**********

At night, he sweats through dreams of her. His legs tangle in sheets where they used to twist and curl around her. The pillows smell only of him, his blue generic soap, but in his mind, locked somewhere far and sweet, her scent fills the air. Fills him up until he tastes it.

He tastes her, too, in dreams; under him, around him, pressed close in that intimate haze only lovers can know. Her lips chase his and smile into his mouth, following the curve of his jaw as he tucks his own face into her neck. It’s in his veins now, her smell and taste, ripe and alive on his tongue and oh, he’s swimming in it. She sighs, blissful, and sinks her teeth into that spot at the base of his throat-

Bedsheets fly off him as he bolts upright in bed, chest heaving, the sweat rolling in little beads down his temple. The smell is fading, drifting away from the room even as he tries to hold on to it; she was here, right here, and it had all felt so real, having her in his arms again. But now he’s wading back to consciousness, unwillingly, the tide of his dream pulling away from the shore and tugging at his ankles, carrying her with it. He wants to drift out to sea on it, drown in it, never resurface in this half-empty world.

Always so dramatic, Rogers.

Something nags at the corner of his eye, and he turns to the bedside table. In the pre-dawn light of the window, he can see the second drawer open. Her box is pulled forward to the front of the drawer with its lid propped up, asking, begging to be seen. He feels himself almost chasing the tide, diving back in as he leans over the side of his bed…

He slams the drawer shut.

Steve blows a harsh breath past his lips and swings his legs out of bed, tugging the sheet from between his thighs. His bare feet brush the cold wood and he arches up on his toes, tight muscles protesting the stretch. Palms scrub at his heavy eyes, brushing away what he can of his sleep. He has no plans to go back to bed, not now. He’ll just get an early start on his run. Maybe put in a few extra miles. He runs a hand through his hair, fingernails scratching absently at his scalp.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he turns the cold water tap in the sink and splashes his face a few times, feeling the two-day stubble on his cheeks. The shave can wait until after his run, he thinks. He stands straighter and reaches for the towel next to the sink, patting his face dry - he leaves his eyes closed, buried in the cotton for a moment before meeting his own gaze in the mirror. Immediately his eyes are drawn down to - what the hell is that?

At the base of his neck, just where it meets his shoulder, is a small red mark. A love bite. He presses it with a finger and hisses at the tenderness of the skin. Unbidden, the wave of his dream crashes over him, rolling him under, and he can almost feel her lips again…

The hair on the back of his neck and arms is standing straight up, his body gone cold all over. He thinks, maybe, he should go back to bed after all. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he hears his own name. What if...what if she’s waiting for me? He almost turns around, almost looks at the rumpled bed, almost expects her to be in it, rolling over in that tangled mess and smiling past the curve of her shoulder…

He yanks on a hoodie and running pants, toeing into his sneakers without socks, and leaves the apartment unlocked. Hardly knowing it, he clocks 50 miles, the sun high overhead before he can force his legs to stop, even his enhanced muscles starting to twitch. His sweat is still cold.

**********

There’s a memorial. Lots of them, actually.

All the major cities have at least one, and New York has built theirs, unsurprisingly, in Memorial Park. It’s huge, a sprawling garden of sculpture installations covered overhead by a soft white canopy. A retaining wall, approximately 3 feet high, lines the garden beds and holds in the dark rubber mulch, its outer white brick etched with the names of the lost. Even Steve could admit that it was beautiful, and so different from the solemn obelisks and walls of names he had expected when the memorial was announced.

The city had commissioned a team of artists, led by the famous Chihuly, to create blown glass sculptures using...well, as much of the collected ashes of decimated people as they could. “Cremation glass” it was called. The concept was morbid; though symbolically beautiful, most hadn’t imagined a stunning art gallery, more suited to the Met than this mass grave of the unknown.

Steve was there when it was dedicated, as was Tony. He was asked to say a few words, and he did; he has no idea, now, what he read from those cards handed to him by the administrative team. A black suit stretched around his shoulders, no shield in sight, his tie more like a noose as he watched the somber faces of the attendees. Loved ones and friends of people he had failed. A living memorial. Tony stood next to him, year-old wedding band still shining as he crossed his hands in front of him and declined to speak.

There are a few locations he has memorized around the park, the Lost Garden, as it has been named. A blooming blue hydrangea bush, sculpted white flowers and leaves pressed between the green, with the name “James B. Barnes” carved a few inches below. Across from it, red and yellow globes hang from a white tree, the round shadows falling over “Samuel Wilson”. Two rows over, an exploding tower of tangled green and blue spirals, surrounded by bushes, guards the name “Wanda Maximoff”.

Hers is carved neatly - block letters, plain font - into the white brick near the entrance of the memorial. Above it, a cherry blossom tree blooms sweetly, the pink flowers joined by purple and pink glass stems sprouting up from the ground around the trunk of the tree. Soft green bushes hem in the sculpture, as though keeping the glass from growing too far. It’s whimsical, charming. Elegant.

He fucking hates it.

He hates how this is meant to honor her - the vibrancy of her memory, the slyness of her smile, the passion of her love, the ferocity of her anger. She was more solid and real and hard than the delicate stems of glass that stood for her now. It wasn’t even her ashes in there anyway - he knows that for certain. He knows because he felt her drift through his hands under a hot Wakandan sun. He had watched the dust float and settle and knew that all the parts of her he kissed and held were under his feet and in his mouth and Jesus God it made him want to scream.

He doesn’t know whose ashes are here, in the glass above her name. But he wants to smash it. Put a fist through it. Hear that tinkling glass shatter on the ground the way she did. It would only be right.

As he stands there, staring at the falling cherry blossoms scattered around the sculpture, he feels the air go cold around him. His whole body breaks out in goosebumps and the little hairs on the back of his neck start prickling. He shudders, looking around, but no one else is nearby. It’s a late spring day, warm and getting warmer, with the sun beaming through scattered clouds. He shouldn’t be shivering.

The wind picks up, light breeze growing stronger, and the long stalks of glass begin to vibrate. A low hum builds as the wind carves its way between the sculptures, a plaintive, lonely noise that he feels low in his belly.

Steve…

He whips his head around, looking up and down the row, but he’s alone - no one else is here. That whisper, his name, it was so close…

Steeeeve

He’s turning a full circle, looking for a microphone or a drone or something tiny like Scott’s suit.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Stevie …

A cloud of cherry blossoms billows into his face, making him jump back. The chill sinks through his skin, slips down his spine bone by bone with each breath. His heart is hammering hard and fast. That name, that voice - it’s been three years. They’re gone. It’s not possible. He closes his eyes as he feels a presence close beside him, right at his shoulder, and he knows, he knows if he turns his head she’ll be-

“Captain Rogers? You alright?”

He jumps again, startled, and looks over to see a policeman watching him, eyes wary and concerned. The officer was young, like all of them now - mass recruiting in public services has been going on for a couple of years, with things nearly falling into chaos after...everything. The military, the police, trying to swell their numbers enough with what was left of the population to keep the world in check. Not like the Avengers were doing a very good job.

“Captain?” The young officer asks again, inching a half-step towards Steve. His hand, unconsciously, twitches towards his radio.

“I’m fine - really,” Steve shakes his head and offers a smile. “Everything’s fine. Just...remembering someone.”

The kid nods; Steve wonders if he himself ever looked so young in a uniform.

“I understand.” He’s tugging at his uniform jacket. “My, uh, parents - they’re over there.” He points at a patch of lilies, not far from Wanda. “And my brother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he ever says these days. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Everyone pretends that it’s enough.

He walks the kid - the officer - back to his patrol car, shakes his hand; the boy has to crane his head back to look up at him, and he stares up at Steve like there’s still hope in this world. Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell him.

**********

The chill follows him into the summer. Even with the sun high and New York sweltering with heat, Steve shivers in his apartment, cold biting at him until he aches with it. He cranks the heat on his thermostat, yet still finds a harsh breeze blowing through his apartment somehow. He allows the shower faucet to continue turning hot - blistering hot, the way she liked it - now that this chill won’t let him go.

Despite that, he finds himself staying in more than ever. He was never exactly a social butterfly - Bucky could testify to that. It tumbles him into memory: Bucky, slicked-back hair and spit-shined shoes, a rose tucked into the lapel of his jacket; Bucky, chin thrown back and ready to laugh at the world, an arm around Steve’s shoulders as he drags them on yet another double date. “Ya gotta get out more, Rogers,” he’d say, cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I’m a piss-poor excuse for real company.”

The only people he sees now are Dr. Rajan and the members of his support groups. Occasionally Nat, but she’s been traveling more lately, following the crumbs of Clint’s trail. Their emails are few and far between, containing only the bare bones.

It’s a Friday night - or maybe it’s Saturday, Sunday. He sits on the edge of his bed, turning the little thing over in his hands. The compass stays in his pocket most days. He flips it open, stares at the portrait inside, the one he’s had memorized since ‘43. He could draw it with his eyes closed, probably.

Suddenly, the compass snaps shut, unbidden, in his hand. It shakes, the mechanisms inside rattling violently, and grows hot to the touch. He yelps and it falls from his palm, dropping to the floor between his feet. The skin of his hands is red, scalded, and he flexes his fingers, watching the trinket warily. It lies on the floor, perfectly still.

Behind him, he hears the second drawer of his dresser roll open.

**********

More dreams come to him, sweet ones, and he sinks into them without protest. He falls into his bed at night happily, searching for the smell of her somewhere behind his eyes. She’s always there, always smiling for him, reaching and pulling him further down into their own special hiding place. She’s there in her uniform, in her sweatpants, in his t-shirt, in nothing at all.

“C’mere, Stevie baby,” she nuzzles his nose, and he’s close to tears but he doesn’t know why. Then she’s tugging at his own clothes and he’s not thinking about it at all.

The ache in his throat returns when he wakes empty-handed and alone. Beneath his jaw, a line of hickeys leads down his neck and across his shoulder. His breath puffs in small clouds as he pants and tries not to cry.

**********

“You don’t look so good, Steve.” Nat’s tone is worried, her voice tight. She watches him stare at the wall with a cup of coffee in his massive hands. “Have you been sleeping?”

He nearly chuckles at that.

“A little too much, I think.” He goes quiet then, mouth turning back down, carved sadness in that larger-than-life face.

“I think...God, Nat,” Steve slumps forward, elbows on his knees. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Join the club.” She sits down next to him, sliding a soft hand across his back. Her voice is just above a whisper. “We’re all still struggling. You know that. You’ve seen it. Sometimes it feels...it feels like...you’re just holding on by a thread.”

He’s shaking his head before she finishes.

“Have you - do you dream about them? Ever?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean…” Steve rubs his eyes. “I mean...do the dreams feel...when you wake up, does it feel like it really happened.”

Nat frowns.

“I’m not following you, Steve.”

He sighs, heavy and resigned.

“No, I know. I’m not making any sense.” He leans into her embrace a little. He likes the contact of it. Hasn’t had that in a long time.

“Listen, Nat. I know S.H.I.E.L.D. used to keep a lot of records of...enhanced individuals…”

“Sure. Everyone that pinged on their radar,” she nods. “So, pretty much anyone with abilities.”

“I need to have a look at them.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yes. But if I told you, you’d have me committed.”

“Yeah, that really makes me want to help you.” She leans her head against his shoulder, fingers squeezing his bicep. Her voice still soft and low. “Tell me what you need.”

**********

They meet in a public place. It’s not hard now, with the world half-dead, to go about their business as though they are two men with nothing to hide. A bright, hot July sun beats on their heads, and Steve adjusts his sunglasses as a bead of sweat slides down his neck. On the street, traffic grumbles along, bikers and street vendors and tourists darting between. The hard metal chair of the café presses into the soft underside of his knees, leaving little dents in his skin.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Captain,” the man across from him smiles. The white symbol on his forehead stands out starkly against his dark skin. “I understand we move in different circles.”

They’re sitting outside a small restaurant in Port-au-Prince, only coffee on the table in front of them. The heat is sweltering, oppressive, different from the New York heat that Steve knows. Part of him wishes they were near the beach, with the wind coming off the ocean. She would have begged him to go to the beach.

“That we do,” Steve raises his eyebrows. “Even with everything that’s happened, aliens, Thanos...things like magic are still...hard to believe.”

“Hm.” Jericho Drumm leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers. “I think you are here because...it’s not so hard anymore, yes?”

He grits his teeth. There are fingernail scratches on his back and they chafe against the sweaty cotton of his shirt.

“You’re a smart man, Jericho,” he sighs. “And I think you might be the only person who can help me.”

Jericho Drumm nods.

“Yes, I think so, too.”

According to the S.H.I.E.L.D. files Steve spent all his free time digging through, there were only a few enhanced individuals with supernatural abilities. And now half of them were gone. Some, like the sorcerer Tony told him about, had managed to stay under the radar for thousands of years. With precious little to go on besides an alias, Steve commandeered a quinjet and packed a bag for Haiti.

“What you are asking me...communication with the spirits…” Jericho shakes his head. “It’s not what you think. Or what it looks like in the movies.”

“Then tell me,” Steve presses, leaning his elbows on the table. His coffee is half full. He can see his reflection in the oily surface of it.

“I’ve served as a houngan for many years; I’ve served as Sorcerer Supreme. In fact, with Stephen Strange gone, they may ask me to serve again. But inviting spirits into this world is a dangerous practice - not white magic.”

“But it can be done?”

Jericho narrows his eyes. The white streak in his hair is bright in the noonday sun.

“When Thanos tore a rift in this world, in this universe,” he speaks slowly, choosing his words with careful consideration. “He tore through the other side as well. The things he’s done affect us all, the living and the dead. It is possible, the things you describe, are caused by this. A ripple effect, if you will. A door not closed.”

“A ripple.”

“Yes. However,” Drumm raises a finger, leaning forward to speak in a low voice. “I will say something else. I may have years of experience with the supernatural, but I studied psychology as well. My time in America was mostly in a university, studying the human mind, how it works…” He pauses for a moment, giving Steve a look that is on the suspicious side of apologetic. “Our minds are powerful. When a person wishes for things, even terrible things, the mind can give them what they seek.”

Steve closes his eyes, jaw tightening.

“Believe me, I know how I sound,” he sighs. “I know. My therapist says the same thing. But if anyone’s going to believe me, it’s you. This is not in my mind.” His fingers are shaking and he curls them into fists. “This is real. She’s...it’s real. It’s her.” Haunting me.

Dr. Drumm nods, sympathetic and quiet. He watches this captain, this legend, the age showing in his young man’s body. With the sunglasses propped up on his head, the dark circles beneath Steve’s puffy eyes are on full display. His shoulders curl in, posture defensive, small. His knee bounces under the table, and his jaw ticks every so often, teeth clicking in his mouth. There is a bruise visible at the base of his neck where the collar of his shirt has shifted to one side.

“Very well, Captain. I will do my best to help you.”

**********

He sits cross-legged on the tile floor of the bathroom, surveying the items in front of him. According to Dr. Drumm, he would need only a few candles, items that belonged to her, a circle of salt to protect himself. Incense, too, burning in the corner, the smell of sage and smoke floating around him. The lights are off, only the flickering candles illuminating the room.

He feels a little silly, setting all of this up. When he was a boy, vampires and werewolves and ghosts were all just stories - hiding under the covers with Bucky and scaring themselves silly. No real monsters hid under his bed. All of that came later.

Under his shirt, the amulet rests against his chest, growing warm with his own body heat.

“If you must do this alone as you insist,” Jericho had said, shaking his head. “Then wear this. Bene gris-gris. It is the best I can do to protect you from dark magic.” His steel grip closed around Steve’s arm. “And this may be a dark thing, Captain. Her coming back to you. It doesn’t feel like white magic.”

Steve had only nodded, his hand closing around the amulet. He was beyond light and dark now, beyond counting costs. He had chased ghosts for so long after he woke up. It’s only right for him to chase her, too.

Here, in the bathroom, toes pressed to cold tile, he digs two more items out of his pockets. Dr. Drumm said to bring something that would ground him to himself, something special. He turns the compass over in his hand, flicks it open, and sets it on the edge of the circle. From the other pocket, he fishes a black velvet box. His fingers twitch, feeling the soft fabric; he doesn’t want to open it. He hasn’t opened it, since he took the ring off their nightstand in Wakanda and put it back in the box. She hadn’t worn it - didn’t like wearing it on missions or in fights. Afraid of scratching it. She had wiggled it off her finger, smiling at him, leaving a kiss on his bearded jaw-

He leaves the box closed for now, and places it in the center next to the other tokens - a photo of her, a necklace with a small silver pendant she used to wear whenever they went on dinner dates, a little jar of seashells from a beach vacation she took in college. All the little things he had packed away in that nightstand drawer. Memories he had put into storage.

Safe inside his little circle, he reaches in his shirt and grabs the amulet tight in his fist. He closes his eyes. Breathes deep the incense and soft curling smoke from his candles.

He says her name softly in the dark.

In his mind, he shifts his awareness down the plane of his body, piece by piece. He learned meditation techniques during his therapy sessions; now he has another use for them. He says her name again.

“I want to speak to you.” He says, voice low, a lover’s intimacy. “I call on your spirit.”

Her name. Her name. Her name.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, curled on the floor, but the chant of her name lulls him into a trance. His eyes are half-open, the candles wavering in front of him, casting long shadows on the walls. He licks his lips, calls her name again.

One by one, the candles snuff out.

He goes quiet. Smoke curls up to his nose, but he can’t see - the only light is coming from underneath the bathroom door. That familiar chill trickles down the back of his neck, raising the hairs. His flesh is covered in goosebumps; his muscles tense up, coiled tight, ready to spring. His tongue lies dry and thick against his teeth.

“Hello?”

Steve?

He sighs her name. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

A cold breeze passes over his face, rumpling his shirt.

“Are you there?”

The compass flies up and smashes against the wall.

Steve…

Her voice is harsher. Sadder.

“Baby, please,” he’s begging now. He can feel how close she is, she’s in the room, he knows it like he knows his own body. Like he knew hers.

For the first 25 years of his life, he lived with asthma - any little trigger could set him aching for air, his lungs betraying their purpose and seizing up on him, his whole body trembling in relief when he managed to pull in oxygen. He feels that ache for her now - acute and sharp as it was the day he first lost her, a physical pain and its cure so close, so close, if she would only let him - let him breathe-

Oh, Steve.

“Honey, I’m here, I’m right here.” He stands in his little circle, spinning around, though he still sees nothing in the darkened bathroom. He feels the tip of his nose go numb in the frigid air, his body shivering slightly.

I’m here, too, Stevie.

“Where, baby? Where are you?” He’s desperate, so desperate. He’s going to cry if she doesn’t-

I’m here. Look.

He feels, thinks he feels, cold fingers brush down his cheek, and he turns. The mirror above the sink is frosted over, he can see it now that his eyes are adjusting to the pale dark, and he stumbles towards it. Pulls a sleeve down over his hand and wipes at the fog, the remains of his body heat melting it away in streaks.

“Oh...oh god.” He grips the edges of the sink.

Hi, baby.

There she is. There she is. Standing right behind him, over his shoulder. His eyes sweep over her face in the mirror, scanning the details he never forgot, not for a moment. Her lips quirk a sad little smile, tilting her head.

You don’t look so good, Rogers.

His laugh comes out as a sob, and he nods. Fingers curl tighter over the edge of the sink because it’s all that’s holding him up right now. In the reflection, he sees her take a step closer to him - feels her presence, her smell is right behind him and if he can just turn and take her in his arms then everything will be alright again…

NO DON’T!

The force of it is loud in his mind, sends him reeling forward against the sink. Her lips are trembling in a soft frown.

Don’t look behind you.

It sounds so soft. So sad. And he knows, knows in the marrow of his bones, that this is it, this is all they can have. This halfway, this inbetween, this ships in the night barely seen as they pass - it’s all he gets. All he has left.

He presses his hand to the cold glass of the mirror, tips of his fingers stroking the image of her face. His chin feels weak, jaw slack, his hip leaning against the sink. She’s crying, too, tears shining against her soft cheeks.

“Where are you? Do you know what’s happening?” He manages to ask. It’s the question, the question everyone would ask of their ghosts. She shakes her head a little.

I...I don’t really know. But I know I’m not with you.

He nods, tries to swallow around the thick lump in his throat.

Wherever I am, I’m not with you. And I miss you, Steve.

“I miss you - God, honey, I miss you so bad-” his breath hitches, and he wonders in the back of his mind if he’s going to have another asthma attack, his first in 70 years. “I-I need you, sweetheart. Jesus Christ, I miss you. I don’t know what I’m doing without you and-and-”

He’s hyperventilating, breaths stuttering in his chest. The hand that’s pressed to the mirror has gone numb with cold but he won’t move it, not if it’s the closest he comes to touching her face. He watches her come closer to him, behind him - her smell fills the room, no smoke, no incense, only her. His teeth are clattering in his mouth even as he tries to grit them together, lungs stuttering and he’s so so cold but he only half feels it; the muscles in his back jump and twitch as he feels her, really feels her, right behind him. And then-

I know, baby. I know.

Her forehead presses between his shaking shoulder blades. Icy hands creep up beneath his shirt, pressing right over his heart. Her arms lock around his ribs and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze - as if she could brand herself there. In the glass, Steve’s lips are blue and his sobbing breaths come out as little frozen clouds. The mirror is starting to frost over again; the goosebumps on his body won’t lie down. His eyes slip closed, tears chilling in their tracks on his cheeks, and he presses his hand over hers at his heart.

I’m right here.

The ache in his chest sharpens, then dulls, slow and familiar. Something he always carries. His breaths are slowing now, the trembling in his muscles calms a little. She traces a frozen circle over his heart.

I’m right here.

He sighs her name before he blacks out.

**********

Natasha watches Steve in his kitchen, her green eyes sharp and narrow. She hasn’t been to his apartment in a long time, but three days of no answered phone calls, texts, or emails and the Black Widow will investigate. He seems...fine. As fine as Steve has been since it all happened, when he went clean-shaven and cropped his hair, like girls do after a break-up. He smiles over his shoulder while stirring the pot in front of him.

“It’s the one thing my ma made sure I knew how to make for myself,” he says. “She knew I’d need this soup every time I got sick.”

“That’s sweet,” she says. And it is, though she’s never heard him mention it before.

They eat on barstools at the island, sharing little bits of conversation, small talk, mission updates. Sound bites of friendship. Still no explanation for his radio silence.

“Can I use your bathroom?” She sighs as he scoots back his stool, scooping up their bowls to take to the sink.

“Of course - you don’t have to ask, Nat.”

She slips down the hall. Doesn’t go to the bathroom - turns right instead.

On the floor of his bedroom, she sees the candles. The circle. The pictures. A little jar of seashells on his nightstand. While they were eating, she had seen something new - a little chain around his neck, the shape of something underneath, suspiciously like a ring.

Natasha leaves without saying a word, maybe hugs him a little tighter at the door.

She won’t begrudge him this.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x y/n #steve x you #AYAOTDchallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine

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softbuckismykink · 5 years

Text

Bulletproof Picasso

Okay I know I posted a AU idea about PresidentialSon!Buck here and I said I’m not gonna write it but I lied. Yes I know I can’t help myself when I saw @promptabuddie‘s post^

This was supposed to be posted like weeks ago but life happens. Also this was supposed to be a short one shot but the fic had a mind of its own.

So here’s the basics you need to know about this AU: Bathena adopts Buck as a baby, Buck is a firefighter, and this fills that^ prompt. The rest you gonna find out in the fic itself. Title is in reference to a song by Train of the same title. Also in my head I re-casted Katrina Law as Lena so I’d write her character with justice; Nothing against Rousey but yeah in my version of Lena Bosko is Katrina Law (cause she’s a badass in both H50 and Arrow) just saying.

Warnings: Long ass exposition; Lots of backstories and Buck being ridiculous(ly adorable); Lena is Eddie’s Partner (Secret Service); Likable!Lena;

x-posted to AO3

Summary: Buck did have a knack for coming up with the most ridiculous excuse. So when the President asked him what the hell was he thinking, his answer was perplexing but at the same time not surprising at all.

“Um so I’m trying out the bulletproof vest?” At the blank stares he is getting Buck continued, “Well and what do you know it works! Really five stars will recommend to my police officer friends!”

Am I made of paper 'Cause I tear so easily Am I made of vapor Because I disappear Do I have to have a reason For anything I feel Just be glad I'm real Glad I'm real Am I real?

Buck was knocked down before he even felt a dull throbbing pain on his chest or heard the loud beating of his heart. They said life would flash before your eyes when you are in the brink of death. He guess that’s true because the second that bullet hit his chest he started thinking of what brought him to this very moment.

Robert “Buck” Evan Nash, Jr. pretty much grew up in the public eye. Being the white grandson of the first black president, Samuel Carter, was quite a headline maker. It didn’t matter that at the time of his grandfather’s tenure that Buck is the only son of the only child of the president, the press loved mentioning that particular distinction.

The press never let him forget that he was adopted, making it seem like he is not really a part of the first family because he is different; and if Buck’s parents, Athena and Bobby, were any less loving Buck would have grown up to resent his circumstances. Fortunately for Buck, his parents loved him so much that it only bothered him as much as the birthmark over his left eyebrow bothered him, which is to say almost never. All because both his parents and grandparents were an over protective bunch. They shielded him from the worst that the media reported.

Evan was adopted as a baby. He’d known that fact since he could remember, even before he knew what the word ‘adopt’ really meant. His adoption was deemed controversial, and was met with a lot of scrutiny, seeing that it happened when his grandfather was seeking re-election. Some thought it was just a publicity stunt to gain support for President Carter, but Bobby and Athena was quick to deny such allegations to anyone who dare brought it up.

His parents Robert “Bobby” Evan Nash, Sr., a firefighter, and Athena Nash, a prosecutor, raised him in a small townhouse in west Virginia in attempt to give him a normal life. Well as normal as possible with 24/7 security and routine trips to the White House to visit his grandparents, or as Buck called them Popo and Gigi.

As a kid Buck acted like a little Bobby Nash, dressing up like a firefighter and playing with his trucks, but no one can deny he’s a Mama’s boy. In every public appearance he has as a little child it’s always him clinging closely and tightly to his Mom, Athena Nash. These public appearances were inevitable but they endured it for years while Samuel Carter ran the arguably most powerful country in the modern world.

After his grandfather left the White House when Buck was six, the Nash family of three live a relatively quiet and normal life. Buck’s mom Athena is still a prominent and well-known prosecutor but his dad Bobby is a simple man and made a living as a firefighter. They moved to the west coast in LA where Bobby have a job as a fire captain in LAFD and Athena as Assistant District Attorney of the LA county. The public appearances significantly lessened but not the scrutiny, well at least not in local circles. But Buck need not worry of it all because his parents are zealous in protecting him against the vultures.

Needless to say Buck grew up relatively happy despite the public scrutiny and the circumstances of his adoption. The only instance he remembered being slightly unhappy was when he was ten and his mom was pregnant with his little sister, May. His Dad and Mom were so happy about the new baby, and at first Buck was happy too. That is until one of the mean kids in his elementary school told him that he should get lost already because his ‘fake’ parents are getting rid of him anyways because they are getting their real kid soon and they won’t need him anymore.

Buck went home upset that day but tried not to let it show. Not that he was successful, looking back Buck was pretty sure his parents knew but let him be knowing or rather hoping he’ll come to them himself when he’s ready to share. Just like how he use to as a little child. But this time it was different, because it was the first time some one implied his loving parents, the only ones he’s ever known were not his real ones, that he is not their ‘real’ kid.

So he kept it to himself. He cried himself to sleep only to wake up in the middle of the night. It was when he decided that he had to leave. So Buck wrote a letter to his parents and had his favorite backpack filled with his favorite comics and pop tarts and a bottle of water. He left the goodbye letter to his parents on their fridge. Then he sneak out in the early morning while his parents were asleep.

Dear Mama and Dad Mr. and Mrs. Nash Bobby and Athena,

I want to say thank you for taking care of me and feeding me and giving me a home to stay at. I know I’m not your real kid and I [apriciate] that you [taked] me in like I’m your real kid. I’m really glad you are [finaly] getting your real baby. She is so lucky to have you both. I’ll always love you both. I’ll miss you. But don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.

Love,

Robert Evan Nash

Buck doesn’t remember much about what happened after sneaking out or how he got to his Uncle Micheal’s house but he remembered sitting in his uncle’s living room when his parents finally found him.

“Robert Evan Nash, Junior!” Buck heard his mom’s stern voice before she even saw her. When he did see her the fist thing she did was hug him so tight. Then pulled away trying to inspect him, for what, Buck couldn’t really tell.

“You had us worried kiddo.” Bucked looked up when he heard his father’s voice noticing the slight frown in the man’s face.

“Don’t you ever run away again, young man, or it’ll be your last!”

“I’m-- Look Ma-- I mean look Athena, Bobby--” Buck started as he pulls away from his mother’s embrace.

“Wait, Bobby, tell me we did not just hear our son call us by our first names?!”

“Don’t call me your son, I’m not your son!” Buck protested in anger which quickly melted once he noticed the devastated look on his parents faces. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes.“You are gonna have your real kid really soon. You guys should focus on her. You don’t need me anymore.”

“And what you think just because we are having ‘our real kid’ we are just gonna forget about that kid we spent a decade loving?! It doesn’t work that way, Evie.”

“I--”

“Son, just because we are having another child doesn’t mean we’ll forget about you. It doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

“It breaks our hearts to think you feel that way. Your father and I love you so much, Evan.”

“You don’t need to leave us because you are afraid we’ll be leaving you behind, because your mother and I, we’ll always be here with you, no matter what.”

“Now you stop this nonsense about you not being our real son okay. Just because I didn’t give birth to you doesn’t make you any less our real child than this one does.” His mother said holding on to her pregnancy bump as she does.

“Your mom is right. You are not any less our son, just like May isn’t any less my daughter because I didn’t father her.”

Evan didn’t understand back then what they meant about that last part. Eventually though they explained to him how his Dad, Bobby, is sterile and so they had to ask Uncle Micheal to be their sperm donor and his Uncle Micheal was May’s biological father. And that doesn’t make his Dad, Bobby any less than May’s real Dad, because he is.

When six years later his parents decided to have another child, this time it was Buck who dealt with his little sister’s feeling of jealousy. He told her what his parents told him six years ago, “May, just because Mama and Dad are having Harry doesn’t mean they love us any less okay?”

“If you say so Buckaroo...”

“I say so, May-bear.” Buck beamed at his little sister, and hugged her tight to reassure her. “Now Popo, Gigi and the troops are gonna be here real soon and you know how Gigi gets, so why don’t you help me clean up and prepare the guest rooms huh?”

Buck was 17 when Harry was born, and unlike May’s birth which his parents surprisingly kept under the radar, Harry’s birth was anything but quiet. It seemed like the whole of America was tuned in to the birth of former President Carter’s grandson. Their family was once again on the forefront of national news. His mom cleverly turned that attention away from their private lives and to her campaigns for issues she deemed necessary to talk about like women’s reproductive rights.

It didn’t take long for Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee to take notice and approach Athena to run for congress. Slowly but surely, Evan’s mom’s popularity grew. Her transition from prosecutor to politician seemed to happen quickly. It took less than ten years before Athena’s running a national campaign.

As his mother fame grew, Buck tried to find his own way in the world. Growing up with Bobby and Athena as his model for success, he knew he’d like to be like them and help people, but in his own way. So Buck traveled around in search of himself. He spent most of his early twenties journeying through South America, doing odd jobs here and there to support himself. For the most part he enjoyed it more than he think he’d enjoy a traditional college experience. He knew though that eventually he have to go back home.

On Buck’s twenty sixth birthday, the first birthday he spent back home with family in the last four years, he announced his plans for the future. They gathered in his grandparent’s place in west Virginia since Popo and Gigi are the ones taking care of Harry and May while Bobby and Athena are going round the country in preparation for his mother’s campaign. The elections won’t happen for another three years in 2020 but his parents are going around to amass support.

“So Ma, and Dad, Popo, and Gigi, May, Harry,” Evan looked at each one of them before announcing “I um, I’ve decided to finally stay stateside permanently this time.”

“That’s great Buck!” Harry beamed. “Finally, we get to see you more.”

“You see me every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and you guys birthdays, that’s like eight times a year.”

“Exactly 8 out of 365. That’s just about 2% of the year.” May argued, pouting at her older brother. “And we never see you on your birthday, Buck.”

“Well I’m here and it’s my birthday so I think--”

“Oh you know what I meant.”

“Yeah I do.” Evan grinned at her. “I just like pointing out your mistakes in logic-”

“Your face is a mistake in logic-”

“Robert Evan! May Ann!”

“But Mama~ Buck started it.” May whined but at her mother’s threatening glare she stopped and glared at her older brother instead, said older brother of course just grinned in triumph at being able to annoy his little sister.

Athena just rolled her eyes at her kids’ antics. Bobby was quick to pick the conversation back up though.

“What are your plans then, son?” Bobby asked. “You want to join me and your Ma? You can help with the campaign, appeal to the young voters.”

“I’d be glad to help with the campaign in anyway I can but I was actually thinking of doing something else.”

“Well what is it that you want to do?” Beatrice prompted and asked when he noticed Evan hesitated on telling them.

“You know you can tell us,” Samuel prodded. “Short of anything criminal, we’ll support whatever it is.”

“Um I want to be a firefighter like Dad, so I’m thinking of completing a fire science degree, I have almost all the general education credits already so I’m thinking that and the fire academy after.”

“Well that’s a good plan.” Bobby approved, smiling at his son, “You moving back to LA then? Cause I just need to tell Carla so the house would be ready for you to move back in.”

“Well actually, um I’m planning to move to Austin.”

“Like Texas?” Buck’s grandpa asked.

“Not like Texas, Popo. In Texas.” Evan said cheekily.

“You don’t even know anyone in Texas, sweetie.” Gigi piped up showing her concern and disbelief. “Where will you even live?”

“Yes I do, Gigi. Remember Carlos, Dad?” Buck asked but didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “His family moved in Austin like years ago.”

“Who’s Carlos?” his little brother asked.

“Um you don’t know him, Harry. I don’t think even May does. He was my best friend in elementary. Dad and Carlos’ mom used to work together at 118.”

“Carlos? Juanita Reyes’ kid?” His Dad asked finally catching on and remembering the little boy who always tags along with his son after school. “That Carlos?”

“Yes, Dad. We reconnected when we met each other again in Chile. He was visiting family.”

“Oh is he the little boy you used to have a crush on when you were a ten?”

“GIGI!” Evan loudly protested. “I did not-- I never--”

“Oh, don’t deny it now, Robert Evan Reyes.” His mom jokingly chided. “You use to practice signing your name that way.”

“I did not!” Buck protested cheeks blushing. At his mom’s raised Eyebrow of Disbelief ™ he pouted and asked, “How did you even-”

“I know because your dad was so upset. I mean not his regular pissed off I’m gonna punch something upset but baking three different pastries at three o’clock in the morning upset. So I thought it was really something serious. But turns out he found your notebook filled with the name Robert Evan Reyes.” Athena told her story barely suppressing a laugh while she does so. “It was a few months after your disappearing act, and your dad thought you still aren’t convinced enough that we love you and that you wanted nothing to do with us, and that’s why you wanted to change your last name. I had to calm him down explain to him about puppy love and crushes and dream weddings.”

“In my defense,” his dad went on to add, “I never thought about changing my name to my crush’s name when I was a kid so it never occurred to me that it was about Buck’s crush on the boy.”

“Wait Buck, is Carlos your boyfriend now?” Harry asked. “Is that why you’re moving with him instead of with us at Popo’s?”

“No, Carlos is not my boyfriend. He’s a police officer at Austin PD.”

“What does being a cop have to do with a guy being your boyfriend?” May asked challengingly. “Are you saying you wouldn’t date him because he’s a cop? Isn’t that taking the firefighter vs cop rivalry too far?”

“I didn’t mean anything like that. I’m just saying that he isn’t my boyfriend. And that he is a cop. Two different things that are allowed to be unrelated.”

“Sure, they are allowed but you know what isn’t?” Gigi asked, not waiting for a reply before answering her own question. “Lying at this dinner table. I know we never really talked about this but you know me and Popo or your parents don’t care that he’s a guy. We all support gay marriage.”

“Mom!” Athena glared at her mother knowing where she’s trying to take the conversation. “That’s inappropriate.”

“It’s true!”

“That doesn’t make it r--” But whatever Athena was about to say was interrupted by her dad trying to change the conversation.

“Beatrice, don’t you think Buck is too young to think about marriage?”

“No I think not, Samuel.” Beatrice said not allowing her husband to change their topic, leaving Athena to roll her eyes at her and huff while her mom continued to argue her point, “Bobby and Athena were at Buck’s age now when they had him, and they were married for three years before that. Plus you and me are not getting any younger. I’d like to have seen at least one of my great-grandchildren before I go.”

“Okay can everyone please calm down.” Buck shook his head at the adults in the table. “Carlos isn’t my boyfriend anyway so this whole conversation is pointless.”

“So if you are not moving to Texas because of this Carlos guy, why chose Texas at all? If your goal is to be a firefighter, isn’t LA a much better choice?”

“Oh I don’t think Buck would willingly move back to LA, Gigi.” May casually commented.

“And why is that?”

“Well duh, Abby lives there.” Harry answered cheekily, which earned him a glare from his older brother.

“Abby?” Athena voiced the question all the adults in the table seemed to be thinking. Buck looked at his younger siblings, gesturing for them to shut their mouths, hand slashing on the side of his throat.

“Wait Buck, didn’t you ever tell mama and dad about dating Abby Clark?” May asked totally ignoring the non-verbal hints her brother was conveying.

“Clark? Like your high school swim coach, Clark?” Bobby asked remembering his son’s swim coach has the same last name. “I didn’t know Miss Clark has a daughter.”

“It’s not her daug-”

“Her niece perhaps then?”

“Not her niece-”

“No, don’t tell me...” Athena trailed off finally realizing what her oldest trying to tell them, “Robert Evan Nash, Junior!”

“Mama!” Evan parried back with equal fervor. “This is why I never told you guys, I knew you’d be upset!”

“Of course I am upset! That lady is two decades older than you!”

“17 years is not two decades, Ma.” Buck tried to reason.

“You are not really helping your case, son.” Bobby shook his head.

“She was older and in a position of power, Evan. Clearly she used that to take advantage of you.”

“Nothing happened when she was my coach, Ma. It happened after I graduated. I was eighteen, we were together for like six months. I loved her. Or I thought I loved her but she realized she didn’t have time for a relationship. Not with an immature boy and not with her having to take care of her mom. I understood that. Or I told myself I did. We broke up and that’s-”

“When you started running away from your family.” Athena finished his sentence, as her frown deepens.

“I’m not running away from you guys! I’m trying to find myself!”

“In freaking South America!”

“It’s not because of her, Ma!” Buck argued.

“Oh really?!” Athena raised her Eyebrow of Disbelief™ and Buck has no choice but to capitulate.

“Okay, maybe a little,” Buck said but continued to argue his point, “though you can’t deny that it’s a journey I need at that time, regardless of what led to it. Besides I’m back now, this whole conversation about Abby is a moot point, just like the conversation about Carlos.”

“Okay, I say we table this conversation and talk about something else.” Bobby said.

“Oh can we talk about the time Buck um...” Harry trailed off at his older brothers glare before returning it with a mischievous grin, “You know that time he snuck a girl to 118 and stole the ladder truck.”

“Robert Evan Nash Junior!”

“Really you’d think it’s gang-up-on-me-day not my birthday.” Evan grumbled and pouted at them. “I really hate you guys. It’s no wonder I tried to runaway when I was ten.”

“Oh you love us.”

“Yeah, Mama, I do.”

Buck did as he intended, and moved to Austin. He rented the extra room at Carlos’ parent’s house. It used to be a detached garage that they had converted into a studio apartment. He finished his fire science degree in eighteen months and immediately started at his firefighter training. All too soon he was graduating at the fire academy, top of his class.

Evan was just done with his first year of probation at Station 126 when his mother ran and won the democratic primaries. It was a hectic few months between the primaries and the November elections. Buck spent the time he was’t working traveling all over Texas and nearby states campaigning for his Mom. It was tiring but it was all worth it especially when it was announced that his mom won 29 of the 38 electoral votes in the state turning Texas, a republican stronghold since the 80′s, back to a blue state.

He was happy for her because he knows his mom worked hard for it. In turn his family was happy for him for now being a full-pledged firefighter. Every thing was going well for all of them. Especially when his mom unsurprisingly won the elections.

However there is the small issue of having secret service protection conflicting with Buck being able to do his job. He wasn’t too worried though because he figured as an adult son of the president, he could always decline secret service protection. His mom would understand and not force it on him.

Buck didn’t count on how overprotective his dad can be though.

He was glad to finally be home in his apartment in Austin. Three hours of flight from DC to Austin, not to mention the two months spent in campaign tours, exhausted him. He was glad for his mother’s triumph but at the same time he was also glad that the campaign is over and he could go back to his real life. Or so he thought.

After grabbing dinner with Carlos and TK, who picked him up from the airport, Buck was letting himself into his apartment. There was a commotion behind the door which makes Buck suspicious enough that he was about to call Carlos back for backup, only for his front door to open and reveal a unbearably handsome man wearing a cheap black suit, unbearable because no man should be allowed to look that good in a cheap suit especially when that man is clearly invading Buck’s privacy and likely stealing things or something.

“Who the fuck--”

“Evan, language!” his father scolded, appearing behind the good-looking cheap suit guy who stepped aside to let him in the apartment.

“Dad what are you doing here?” Buck asked confused since he knew five hours ago the man was just saying goodbye to him at a private airfield in DC. It took him a moment to realize that the man that he thought was too good looking to be a thief or hoodlum was actually a secret service agent assigned to his Dad.

“I thought Agent Kinard and Perez would be your assigned agents?”

“They are, Tommy is doing a perimeter sweep, Armie went on a food run.”

“So what’s with the new guy then?”

“Buck meet Agent Eddie Diaz.” At the introduction the handsome agent held his hand out for Buck to shake which he automatically reached for, and if Buck felt a tingle ran through him the moment they touch, he didn’t bother acknowledging it since he is too busy frowning at the situation he is finding himself in. Buck is quite sure he wouldn’t like whatever his father is gonna say, “Agent Diaz will be the point man of your security detail. There’s another Agent, Josh Russo, who’s with Tommy doing a perimeter sweep.”

“Dad I told Ma already, no secret service. I can’t do my job with some men in black following me around!”

“Which is why I had carefully chosen agents who would be able to back you up in the field. Agent Diaz served as a Medic in the Army. Agent Bosko who’ll be arriving tomorrow, served in the Navy as Damage Control. And Agent Russo, was former SWAT and has experience in rescue operations. Those jobs would transition well into a firefighting.”

“Dad, I can’t just show up to work go to the Captain and say, hey Cap mind if I bring three tag-a-longs? Don’t worry they are house-trained and all! It doesn’t work that way, Dad!”

“I’ve already talked to the Fire Chief Mulaney and your station’s captain, Owen Strand. They agreed to have one of the agents with you on the field, they would go undercover as part-time hires, and would be assigned to partner up with you. They’ll do 48-hour rotation with you. I had Agent Diaz prepare a schedule to give to your Chief and another to your fire captain.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts, Buck!” Bobby said just as loudly, showing the extent of his worry for his oldest. “We’re just taking your threat profile seriously, son. You are the only one in our family not living in the White House, which means you are the most vulnerable to malicious attacks against your mother. With your job they can even make it look like an accident. I can’t just leave you unprotected. Your mom and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, so please don’t fight me on this, son.”

Buck hated that he can’t say no to his Dad. Robert Nash, Sr has always been the overprotective sort. But he’s never one to beg, not until now. Because reality is that Buck is old enough to decline the secret service protection, whether his parents liked it or not. So his dad played dirty and begged, and Buck couldn’t ever say no to that, not when it comes from the man that raised him and loved him unconditionally.

First few calls he went with Agent Diaz were medical calls and while it’s slightly irritating specially when the Agent would somehow it was bearable. Besides TK, whose the Captain’s son and Carlos, Buck’s best friend, no one knew that the three new hire at 126 where undercover Secret service agents assigned to protect Buck. Well no one officially knew but Buck guessed that no one was fooled about who the new hires really were. It’s just no one talked about it.

He’s getting used to having one of the agents always around. Bosko is always sarcastic, Russo is chatty and flirty, and that Diaz is quiet and gloomy. They are not too bad. But it didn’t mean that Buck liked them. In fact one could definitely argue that he hated them, or rather specifically Diaz. With a strength of a raging fire, one could say. The man is just annoyingly controlling, in that it gets to Buck’s nerves.

It came to head when they got a call about a house fire in the ghetto area in Austin, and what turned out to be part of a gang war. They put out the fire pretty quickly but one of the injured gang member has an unexploded grenade embedded to his thigh. They secured the injured young man, who is probably no older than sixteen, in the back of an ambulance but soon discovered that the grenade is some special Vietnam war era grenade and is already missing a pin, hence the slightest movement can and will trigger an explosion. There’s no time to wait for the military expert which is at least 30 minutes out.

“We couldn’t wait for the Bomb squad or the boy would bleed out.” Diaz informed the captain and suggested, “I could go in and securely pull it out, I have the training.”

“I’ll go with Eddie,” Buck volunteered.

“Oka-” the captain was about to agree but was cut off.

“No.” The agent simply said tone commanding no further objection, which Buck of course completely ignored.

“What do you mean no?” Buck challenged.

“I’m gonna have to pull rank Captain Owens.” Diaz said letting the captain know that he isn’t gonna budge on his decision and how he expected things to go. “I would go inside and get that grenade but I wont have Buck with me when I do. It’s too dangerous. Russo is on his way to help with crowd control.” He said the last four words deliberately which Buck understood as code for Russo is there to help with babysitting Buck.

And sure enough Agent Josh Russo arrived in his turnout gear ready to partner up with Buck even when he is not originally part of the crew that answered the call.

“Okay, I’m not gonna waste anymore minute debating this.” Captain Strand shook his head before turning to the rest of his crew, “Anyone else not named Evan Nash willing to go through the hare-brained stunt that Diaz here likes to attempt?”

“Me Cap,” Judd raised his hand to call the captain’s attention to him, “I’ll go with Diaz.”

“Okay Ryder you, run with Diaz!” Strand nodded to his second in command, before turning to the President’s son, “Buck you stay here with Russo, help deal with the crowd!”

Buck silently fumed as they wrapped up at the scene and debriefed the police.

“You!” Buck exclaimed the moment they were all in the fire truck on their way back. It was only him, Cap, Russo and Diaz riding with TK driving the truck, so Buck didn’t bother hiding his anger as he turned to the annoying agent, “What the hell is that?!”

“What?”

“The fucking stunt you pulled with Cap?!”

“Oh you meant me doing my job?” Eddie said dismissing Buck’s anger like it’s irrelevant inconvenience, “You forget that I’m not actually a firefighter, Mr. Nash. I’m a federal agent assigned to keep you alive.”

And Buck has no retort for that but if that’s how the agent want to play it, then Buck would play. So whenever the opportunity to be reckless presents itself Buck would grab it. From free climbing on the side of a cliff with minimal gears, to being the first to every door without waiting for backup. Buck is doing everything to make it hard for Diaz to do his job.

It’s clearly frustrating the Agent every time Buck is being reckless but he’s being mum about it. He endures and backs up what ever hare-brained stunt Buck wanted to pull. That is until Buck took it too far and actually defied a direct order from Captain Owens.

They just responded to a call regarding an old McMansion on fire. When they got there the owners of the house told them that their blind older brother was stuck inside but they couldn’t go in because they didn’t know if their brother deactivated the traps which they said are deadly.

Buck, of course rushed in as soon as they got the brief not even bothering to wait for Captain’s order and also ignoring the summons to fall back insisting that he got it.

“What the hell is that?!” Eddie shouted as soon as Buck got out of the booby trapped house that’s now entirely on fire. Fire carrying the victim he saved and handing him off to the paramedics.

“That’s me doing my job, Diaz!”

“You want to be reckless?! Do you actually have a death wish?! IS that it?! You want to fucking die?”

“And what is it to you huh?!”

“Dying is easy Buck, living is harder.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“What you think dying makes you a martyr? A hero?! It doesn’t! It makes you dead! It would make your parents miserable! Your siblings would miss you! And me? I’ll be the schmuck that got you killed so think about that for once.”

Buck was cowed by the uncharacteristic anger displayed by the normally unflappable agent. He realized he was being a brat, that Agent Diaz was only doing his job and while he’s being a reckless brat that could get himself and his crew killed if he continued with the stunts he kept pulling just to annoy the agent. He resolve to make it up with the agent later. But right now Buck allowed himself to wallow in guilt.

Buck felt even more guilty when later at the end of their shift it was the agent who approached him first to apologize.

“Sorry I yelled at you earlier,” Eddie said as he hands out a blueberry muffin and a chocolate-banana muffin, “Here the owner of that burned downed McMansion sent these. I don’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thanks I actually liked both.” Buck said as he accepted the treats. “Look I’m sorry for being a brat and annoying you with my recklessness.”

“No, I get it okay. You are retaliating because of the stunt I pulled with Captain Strand and the kid with the grenade. I get that. Which is why I let yo do what ever you want, but really you need top stop trying to get yourself killed. If you wanted to annoy me there are other safer ways to do it.”

Buck tamp down on the urge to be sarcastic and ask what those ways are. Instead he offered a reluctant smile and asked, “Okay what about a compromise, I’ll stop being a reckless brat, if you stop being a controlling jackass?”

“What about you stop being a reckless brat and I continue doing my job?” Eddie smirked. And fuck it if Buck didn’t like the way the man looked when he did that. So irritatingly sexy.

Buck’s fucking screwed and not in a fun way.

“Where’s Eddie?” Buck asked as soon as he opened his door and not seeing Agent Diaz as he expected.

“Hello Agent Bosko, how are you doing today? How’s you cat?” Agent Bosko said sarcastically imitating Buck before answering her own question, in a fake overly pleasant voice.“Oh why sir, thanks for asking. I’m fine, Binky is fine.”

“Sorry Agent I didn’t mean to be abrupt but really where is Diaz?”

“He called in today, obviously since I’m here but not that you seem to care.”

“I’m just-- Agent Diaz isn’t one to miss a shift so I was wondering what happened.”

“He has a family emergency, his son is in the hospital, pneumonia.” Agent Bosko explained.

“Is the kid okay?” Buck asked not even bothering to hide his worries.

“Chris is stable but they are keeping him for observation.” Buck wanted to ask more, which Agent Bosko clearly noticed so she graciously offered, “Hey since it’s your day off today, if you wanted we could visit them.”

Buck of course readily agreed, so he quickly changed into and piled into the black SUV. As customary, Buck took the backseat passenger side, another protocol that the agents are unwilling to compromise on.

“So, how’s your cat, Binky is it you said?” Buck tried breaking the awkward silence in the car.

“I don’t have a cat.” Agent Bosko replied smirking at the rearview mirror. “Which is what I’m saying. I mean I know we are not friends or anything but you don’t have to push us away either. I mean, unless something huge happened, at the very least you’d be stuck with us for at least four years, but most likely with how popular your mom’s approval rating, it will be likely eight years. The least you could do is know a little something about us, like for example I don’t have a cat.”

“Okay. You are right, so tell me about you.” Buck said, relenting. And so Lena and him filled the forty-five minute ride to hospital with idle chatter about How Lena got into thee service, Buck’s time in South America, and all the secret service gossip Lena heard about from other agents.

Arriving at the St. Francis Children’s Hospital. Agent Bosko lead him straight to the elevators, obviously knowing where to go. Buck guessed she’d been here before. When “Okay Diaz is on room 310, just go on in I’ll wait here.”

“Agent Diaz,” Buck announced his presence as soon as he entered the room.

“Sir!” Diaz stood up surprised at sudden intrusion.

“At ease, or whatever Navy slang you guys use,” Buck smirked.

“I was in the Army, not Navy.” Buck heard Eddie grumble under his breath but outwardly ignoring it, though inside he is quietly cheering at having annoyed the older man.

“And who do we have here?” Buck smiled at the curly head little boy, sitting in the hospital bed with a nasal cannula helping him breathe.

“Um this is my son, Christopher.”

“You’re Mr. Evan Nash! Best Firefighter out of Firehouse 126! Your mama is President Athena Nash. And your Grandpa is President Samuel Carter.” Christopher recited the facts, amazed but suddenly his face turned serious as he looked to his dad accusingly, “Wait Dad, you said I’m not dying!”

“What?” Eddie asked suddenly alarmed and panicking, “Why son are you feeling weak, or nauseous? Can you breathe? You know what let me get a doc-” Eddie turned to leave but a hand clutched tightly on the sleeve of his shirt. And it broke Buck’s heart to see the tears in the kid’s eyes, he was about to offer to be the one to get the doctor when the boy spoke again, stopping him in his tracks.

“I thought you said I’m not dying so we can’t really submit those Make a- ‘ish forms I fi-filled out but Mr. Evan Nash is he-ere and so I got my wish granted, which means I’m dying.” It took a moment for the kid’s words to sink in but as soon as Buck understood what’s happening he moved to comfort the boy.

“Hey, Hey Buddie don’t cry okay? You are not dying.” Buck said as he sat down on the edge of the kid’s bed and reach out to wipe the young boy’s tears away. “I’m just here to make sure your Dad isn’t playing hooky.”

“Hooky?”

“You know trying to get out of work to do something fun.”

“Is he in trouble now?” The little boy asked giggling at the idea of his father in trouble.

“Well yes! He is, but mostly because he didn’t tell me he’s spending the day with the most awesome kid in all of Austin!”

“Yeah silly daddy, he should have told you, I am the awesomest, Mr. Nash!”

“Tell you what, call me Buck, all my friends call me Buck.”

“Okay, Buck.” The boy beamed at him and Buck can’t help but beam back.

Meeting Eddie’s son endeared the agent more to him. Christopher is unlike any kid he ever met before, and Buck met a lot, having volunteered at Children’s Hospital around the country. It has nothing to do with the kid’s cheery attitude because that quirk isn’t at all unique to Chris. It’s more to do with the almost instant connection he has with Chris. Evan can’t explain it but the moment he met the little boy he felt a tug on a string he didn’t even know was tethered to his heart.

From then on whenever possible, Buck likes to tag along the Diaz Boys. Whenever Buck’s day off coincides with the days that Agent Diaz has to protect him, Buck always insisted that they spent it with Christopher, playing video games. And whenever Buck’s day off coincides with the Agent Diaz’s day off Buck insists on going to the local park or a zoo, dragging both Agents Bosko and Russo with them as additional protection. Which Buck didn’t think is really necessary but Eddie insisted.

In the two months that Eddie Diaz was protecting Buck, Agent Diaz slowly went from the unbearably handsome cheap suit guy, to most annoying and controlling work partner, to someone who Buck wouldn’t hesitate to think of as family.

This realization came to him at a charity gala that him mom invited them to. It was an early evening event and was for once kid-friendly so Buck invited the Diaz boys to attend it with him. Eddie was of course reluctant since he knew that he'll be working as protective detail and wouldn't have time to take care of his son. Buck insisted that he could take care of Christopher plus his little brother and Denny, the Vice President's son, both of whom were around Christopher's age, would be there and it's a good learning experience for Chris. Plus Chris would get to meet the President, and that he already promised Chris he'll tour him around the White house, so really Eddie has no choice.

Buck was looking to where his siblings, Denny and Chris were seated. Then to his Dad having a lively discussion with his Mom, and his grandparents dragging Eddie from his post to ask him Buck don't even have a clue. Seeing both hisDiaz boys fitting so well with his family makes his heart ache. He can't deny it to himself anymore, he sees both Eddie and Chris as family. Buck would really do anything for family, and would protect them at all cost.

So when Buck saw Agent Diaz leaping into action to protect his mother, it’s not even a conscious decision for him to leap in front of them both and push them down. It’s such automatic reflex that he didn’t even realized he moved at all until he felt something hit the wide lapel of his suit. The force of the hit knocking him off his feet.

Bright flashes lights brought Buck to the consciousness. He could feel a dull aching on his chest. Slowly but surely he regained enough awareness to recognize Agent Diaz hovering over him and talking on his earpiece.

“Picasso is down. I repeat Picasso is down I need an immediate med evac--”

#buddie #but only a hint #Bathena #bathena adopts buck

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Thoughts (if any) on DC's April 2021 solicitations?

Let’s take ‘em in order! I should be able to muster up a comment on just about everything one way or another.

Green Lantern #1: Oh this is gonna be bad. Heard only the worst about Thorne’s Future State: Green Lantern, and I assume Jo Mullein’s DCU debut will be wasted here to either function as some kind of ridiculous ‘popularity contest’ with Teen Lantern for who gets the bigger push, or as a way to put TL over with a few “good work kid, you got a future” comments. Also, and granted I don’t know how Morrison will end or this will begin, is the New Guardians angle being immediately dropped?

Robin #1: Dope suit, art, and premise, but it’s Williamson so I don’t care.

Batman: The Dark Knight #1: I’ll read this and I expect to like it, but between this being Kubert’s first big Batman project since Master Race, the ‘old but not quite retirement age yet’ angle, and the title, I’m concerned the shock ending here is that it’s actually a stealth DKR prequel.

The Next Batman: Second Son #1: So they really are committing here, though weird that this kinda makes Ridley’s Future State book basically a longform teaser for this. And I’ll get it as it comes out since it turns out this won’t be in that John Ridley’s Batman collection after all - sorry Dustin Nguyen, I love your stuff but I won’t buy an entire trade of material I otherwise already own just for one new story by you.

The Batman & Scooby Doo Mysteries #1: I got that whole great-looking Scooby Doo Team-Up run by Fisch for free on Comixology, I should read that sometime and see if this’ll be worth getting too as well, because it sounds like a hoot.

Challenge of the Super Sons #1: Glad people who want it are getting it, I do not care.

RWBY/Justice League #1: WILL BE GETTING A POST ALL ITS OWN

Action Comics #1030: His powers waning definitely won’t help the standard pre-run fuming by a lot of Superman fandom, but it’s an interesting pairing with PKJ apparently doing mainly cosmic Superman adventures so I’m curious where he’ll go with it. That it’s particularly cited as being tied to Death Metal might validate my suspicion that the new ‘everyone remembers their entire mainstream publishing histories’ thing will play into Johnson’s description of Clark really feeling his age at the start of the run. And Janin on covers even before he gets in on the book proper! And that Midnighter description!

Superman #30: This sounds like where Johnson’s gonna start with that worldbuilding he touted, and I’m curious; definitely reads in this instance like him shoving Clark and Jon into some swords-and-sorcery-esque territory he’s familiar with.

American Vampire 1976 #7: Not reading, don’t care.

Batman #107: I assume ‘the events at Arkham Asylum’ are the ‘A-Day’ ominously brought up in Future State solicits. Tynion Batman, Jimenez as the regular artist now, whatever the Unsanity Collective is, all entirely my shit. More importantly than any of that though, GHOSTMAKER BACKUPS. And drawn by Ricardo Lopez Ortiz, artist on Steve Orlando’s excellent The Pull! Dope!

Batman: Black & White #5: Any other issue and ‘Jamal Campbell doing a life story of Nightwing’ would probably be the highlight, but in case you somehow hadn’t heard Gillen/McKelvie are making their DC debut on a Batman vs. Riddler story here, absolutely wild.

Batman: Urban Legends #2: Even more excited for this now that I’m onboard for the Grifter and Outsiders stuff given how much those features pleasantly surprised me in Future State.

Batman/Superman #17: Injecting it isn’t enough anymore, I need to be on some kind of constant IV drip with this book. I was wondering whether it’d take the premise to further generational riffs or follow a history of mass-media Supermen and Batmen, but instead it’s veering off in a direction I never could have guessed and I couldn’t be more excited.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #6: NOTHING CAN STOP THE ADAMSVERSE. NONE MAY DARE TRY.

Batman/Catwoman #5: Wondering how this Harley involvement plays in - I don’t imagine it’s quite what it seems given how King’s written her before. And love that Joker by Mann on the cover, major Clown at Midnight vibes.

Catwoman #30: No reason to assume this run won’t continue to rule.

Crime Syndicate #2: Dammit, I don’t think this book is going to be good, but I’m kinda tempted.

Detective Comics #1035: Wouldn’t be psyched, but Dark Detective was another pleasant surprise so I’ll give this a chance.

The Dreaming: Waking Hours #9: Again, not reading.

Far Sector #11: Sucks a little knowing we’ll never see that little ‘Young Animal’ label in the corner again after this wraps. At least it’s going out on its highest note.

The Flash #769: In a vacuum this would sound dope but I have less than no faith in this, and goddamn that’s a terrible cover.

Harley Quinn #2: I’m sure it’ll be fine, no interest.

The Joker #2: I wanna believe Tynion will be able to make this work, he keeps talking like he has more freedom on this than he has some other books, but everything about this reads like the price he has to pay for relative post-Joker War freedom on Batman.

Justice League #60: It’s Bendis/Marquez on Justice League, lots of people will complain but I’ll mostly dig it. More interested in Ram V briefly getting to write the main crew in the JLD backup.

Man-Bat #3: I’d ask why this exists - and as a matter of fact I still do - but checking out some of DC’s digital-first output recently I see Dave Wielgosz has something on the ball, so maybe he’ll be able to make this work? Perhaps I’ll check it out in trade someday if worth-of-mouth is on its side.

Nightwing #79: I maintain, this is gonna be huge. And clever move to make for how to justify Nightwing keeping up his standard way of business after Bruce loses most of his money.

Rorschach #7: A comic I will purchase and let’s continue leaving it at that.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? #109: DC’s highest-numbered comic (that hasn’t gone through an interim renumbering), astonishing. Not getting it myself, but respect.

Sensational Wonder Woman #2: Can’t say this sounds like my thing.

Suicide Squad #2: I’ve been swayed into checking out the Future State debut, but that’d have to really blow me away for me to follow into the main book.

Superman: Red & Blue #2: Sadly if unsurprisingly DC’s clearly not stacking this with AAA attention-grabbing names in the same way as this latest version of Batman: Black & White, but there do seem to be some interesting names from outside the usual big two roster here. And the main and Bolland cover may disappoint but holy cow that David Choe variant.

The Swamp Thing #2: I have no doubt it’ll be incredible but time and again I learn I simply don’t have it in me to care about Swamp Thing regardless of the objective quality of the effort put into him.

Sweet Tooth: The Return #6: Another one I’m not interested in.

Titans Academy #2: Oh lord so this is where they stuck Billy Batson.

Truth & Justice #3: I continue to have no idea what if anything the unifying idea of this anthology is supposed to be.

Wonder Woman #771: Wonder Woman as troubleshooter for mythological mishaps isn’t a permanently sustainable or desirable status quo but I’m down for it for as long as it lasts if it’s any good (though that Immortal Wonder Woman preview...concerned me, in spite of Jen Bartel’s jaw-dropping art).

So that’s 19-23 out of 37 I’ll be getting - if DC’s standard for success with Infinite Frontier is the proportion of their line people will be checking out, I guess it’s winning with me.

#DC Comics #DC: Infinite Frontier #Opinion

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forkanna · 5 years

Text

Commissions OPEN!

For a long time, I’ve been considering Commissions; IE, you pay me to write a thing, and I write it. But I’ve had a ton of other projects I was juggling so it wasn’t feasible before now. Some of those are taken care of, and also I have no money, so let’s give it a whirl!

This is on a trial basis: if you ask and I tell you I'm no longer accepting commissions, then that's it! Please don't be mean. I took a look around Tumblr and borrowed ideas and snippets from a few other posts to give me a better notion of how to do this. Seriously, this is my first shot so I'm doing my best! If you are interested, please read through the full rules and details in this post.

Commission Rate: $5 to get started and first 1000 words + $0.02 per word

Minimum Word Count: 1500 (IE, $15 is the minimum for a finished product)

Maximum Word Count: Depends on number of commissions/my availability (but generally, anything over 10,000 is a stretch)

[Further details:]

Main Universes (I can jump in easily!):

Frozen

RWBY

Sabrina the Teenage Witch (90s TV series)

Riverdale/Archie Comics (yes, including Sabrina lol)

Overwatch

Harry Potter

Sailor Moon

Solty Rei

Wizard of Oz/Wicked

Bucky O’Hare

Scott Pilgrim

Jessica Jones

Miraculous Ladybug

Veronica Mars

Stranger Things

(This list may be updated)

Other 'Verses (I'll have to brush up to do them justice):

Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Firefly/Dollhouse

Charmed, Ugly Betty, Everwood

Hayate the Combat Butler, Zoids:Chaotic Century/Guardian Force, Zoids:Genesis, Tenchi Muyo!, One Piece, Naruto, YuYu Hakusho, Hunter X Hunter, FLCL, Cowboy Bebop, Dragonball, Bamboo Blade, Chobits, and a decent amount of other anime I don’t feel like listing

Other Disney verses, such as Tangled, Moana, Little Mermaid, what have you

Batman, Superman, Spider-man, X-Men

Tales of Symphonia/Vesperia/Abyss

Star Trek (anything but Enterprise)

Star Wars (original or new trilogy)

Hunger Games

Divergent

A Series Of Unfortunate Events

Steven Universe

Miller-Boyettverse (this means Full House, Family Matters, Perfect Strangers, etc.)

Sonic (But please don't ask me to write Sonic... like I will if you really want me to but ugh, it’ll just give me ‘Nam flashbacks)

Extras (note that these fees apply even if you didn’t notice them lol) :

More than 2 characters: $2.00 per character (if they have more than a single line of dialogue lol)

Use of Original Characters (OCs): $3.00 per OC

OCs must be from the same universe.

EXCEPTION: See Cross-overs below.

I will not write anyone else's OC. It must be wholly owned by you.

All OCs requested as primary characters must have a biography or a link to a biography page (if such exists) submitted to provide for characterisation. I’m not a mind-reader.

Cross-overs: $5.00 per universe (and they must still be one I'm familiar with)

Alternate Universe (AU): $5.00

Please describe your AU in the request; use as much detail as possible so I have a clearer picture of what you want.

If it’s just a general “Modern AU” with no other stipulations (meaning I can just write whatever comes to mind), this can be waived.

Pairings that aren’t F/F: $5.00 (sorry, I just need the extra motivation for non-femslash ^^;)

I WILL

Write from fandoms other than those above, as long as you provide information about the characters and the setting. This will cost you $10 extra, because unfamiliar elements will take a lot more time/effort for me to research and get into beyond simply writing the story itself (and I may refuse outright if I’m just not comfortable, fair warning)

Write smut! You can't be surprised.

Write any gender/gender pairing. I prefer and am best at F/F, but M/F, M/M, and anything outside the binary are all well and good for me (but I charge extra; see above).

Trans characters count as their gender for purposes of fees. (IE, if it’s F/trans F, it is F/F; if it’s F/trans Male, it is F/M and will be $5 extra but I’m still totally happy to do it)

Write all kinds of kinks; if you can think of it, I've either already written it or would be willing to try. But there are exceptions: see below.

Post the work on my blog and various fanfiction websites; you are paying for me to write what you want to read, not for you to be the sole "owner". Also, you can stipulate whether or not you are credited with having commissioned it, either with your name or just with a preferred nick/username/Tumblr URL.

I WILL NOT

Write anything that I ultimately don’t feel comfortable with. I reserve the right to refuse commissions for any reason with or without disclosing said reason. Do not push this or I may sever all contact.

Write non-con. Full stop. Dubcon, we can talk about it but I'm still not thrilled with the idea. Yes, I just said I'm dubious about dubiousness. (Superfluous note: this obviously extends to prepubescent characters because they cannot give consent, so just don’t.)

Write certain hard kinks. Scat and dismemberment are off the table; there are others but I’ll let you know if you hit one.

Write real people. This is a growing trend in the fanfiction community, and while I'm mildly iffy with it under the best of circumstances, it is off my commission table entirely. I’m not trying to shame anyone else but it’s just not my jam.

Do anything MLP. After what happened to Yamino, and then WebdogGate happening to me, I just... have an aversion. (There are other fandoms I won’t do but I will gently let you know if you ask about them)

Let you post the fic yourself. You will receive the file of the fic through email/messaging/file-sharing website, or simply by seeing the post on Tumblr/AO3 if you prefer, but you will not post it yourself and claim credit for the work. Just because you paid for it doesn't mean you are now the author; I’m not ghost-writing.

Write anything other than fiction. I’m not an Essay4Cash service.

NOTE: Asking for any of the things explicitly banned on my “I WILL NOT” list will probably get your commission request ignored.

MORE DETAILS

* I will respond to commission requests on my own time, checking when I can. If you are not responded to within 1 week you may request again. * Once I have accepted and begun work on a commission, I will generally try to contact again within 1 week, either to state the reason it isn’t finished or to hand over the finished product. You may contact me after that time to ask what’s going on. * PayPal is the only form of payment accepted at this time. All amounts are in USD. This information will be exchanged during discussions about the work in question. You can pay me via My Ko-Fi if that’s preferable (still uses PayPal), but I must know that is how you sent payment via PMs/email before you send payment so I can look for it. * The $5 initial fee (for starting work and the first words) is non-refundable, as are the fees for any extras you may have opted for, and that will be expected before any work begins. BUT DO NOT JUST SEND ME MONEY WITHOUT DISCUSSION OF THE WORK IN QUESTION FIRST. If I don’t like the commission idea and you already paid me, that’s on you, and I don’t want you wasting your money. * A brief excerpt from the completed commission will be sent for review prior to payment as proof of good faith. * The full commission will be delivered upon receipt of payment via PayPal. Unless I literally did not do something you requested (or did something you requested I not do), you are receiving the final product: don’t quibble over details or come to me with buyer’s remorse. Done deal, all sales final. * Your money is paying for my time and my work. If I really can’t finish your commission, I will do my best to get back to you and either discuss how to proceed or possibly a change in the work. (But legally speaking, you donated your money to me and it’s gone; don’t try something crazy like suing me to get it back because I have warned you. No refunds. But in most cases that will only be that initial $5 fee anyway). * Word counts may vary. I prefer to write a story to a natural stopping point, so I could go above or below the word count goal by a handful. I will not charge extra for overages unless it is substantially more, and even then I will likely ask you first if you have more payment to offer. * Your commission will be delivered in DOCX or PDF format in addition to being posted. Hell, if you really wanna send me another $5+printing/postage fees, I’ll print it out at Office Depot and mail it to you, signed. (Separate transaction/arrangement though.)

CONTACT ME TO DISCUSS ON TUMBLR, OR HERE (drawn terribly in paint to avoid spambots):

Thanks in advance!

#fanfiction commissions #commission work #fanfic commissions #fic commissions #writing commisions #jess the writer #jess the very broke writer

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