#but to deviate from the plan THAT FAST BECAUSE HE KNOCKED HIM DOWN?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twilight-orchid · 3 years

Text

How The Demon Brothers React After Fighting With Their SO

tw: some angst with resolution at the end, mentions of past arguments, insecurity.

Lucifer:

This man is petty as hell.

He doesn’t do the silent treatment, but he acts like you aren’t dating.

If you need to work on something together, you’re a co-worker.

At RAD you’re a classmate.

Around the house you’re just a housemate.

His poker face is immaculate and it will not crack when you’re around.

If someone didn’t know what was happening, they’d probably think you two barely knew each other.

However, you won’t notice, but as soon as you look the other way his eyes are on you.

He’s used to arguing with his brothers and is no stranger to explosive fights that end with he and the other person not being on speaking terms.

But you’re different.

He tries to go on with business as usual, but he can’t think about anything other than how much he misses you.

Yet, he lets it continue because he just can’t put his pride aside and apologize.

If you decide to sleep in your old room it’ll both hurt his feelings and royally piss him off.

He thinks you’re being childish and will be pretty rude about it, but that’s because internally his blood just ran cold.

It adds a degree of seriousness to the argument that he’s uncomfortable with.

Yes he’s mad, but he can’t lose you.

If you still sleep in his bed, he makes sure to scoot over to the very edge so he doesn’t cuddle you in his sleep.

In fact, the first night after the argument he’d probably put a pillow between you just to really punctuate the fact that he’s still upset.

I’d say it could go 4 days to a week tops without you making up.

After a point though, he just can’t function until the issue is resolved. He can’t sleep, he’s falling behind on his work, and he’s just generally not doing well.

You get called to his office one night and find him at his desk surrounded by piles of paper, disheveled and exhausted.

“MC, come sit down. I’d like to talk this through. Please.”

Mammon:

He’s so dramatic.

You dare defy him? The Great Mammon can’t believe this tiny fragile human would have the audacity.

The theatrics are just a front though.

His ‘The Great Mammon’ act is a mask for his insecurity, one he hasn’t had to use with you in awhile.

Even as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.

He’s going to be very uncomfortable with everything until the argument is resolved, but most of all himself.

He’s learned not to take his brothers too seriously when they toss insults his way, but words have a way of morphing to belief over time.

Internally he is going to be super hard on himself.

Regardless of if the fight was his fault or not, he’s going to kick himself constantly for making yet another mistake.

He’s over the argument pretty fast. The anger quickly melts into anxiety.

Are you going to leave him? Do you hate him? Did he hurt your feelings?

That being said, he doesn’t know if you’re still mad and he doesn’t know how to ask.

As a defense mechanism, he defaults to how he treated you when you first arrived in the devildom.

Calls you human, disregards you, stuff like that.

If you decide to sleep in another room, before midnight expect him to be knocking on the door.

“Oi, MC. You awake? I just - I can’t - *sigh* Can we talk about this?”

If you sleep in his bed, he makes a point of sleeping with his back to you.

Less because he’s actually mad and more because he doesn’t want his image of you as he drifts to sleep to be a look of anger.

Though as soon as he passes out he’ll roll over and tuck you into his arms on instinct.

I’d say any after effects of an argument with Mammon would be resolved in a day, maybe two tops.

Leviathan:

Arguing activates his trolling the forums mode.

Goes back to calling you a normie and contradicts everything you say.

He’s less mad about the argument and more using the bitterness to cope with how upset he is.

He feels like a break up is less of an if and more of a when.

Why would someone as amazing as you settle for weird otaku like him?

Honestly doesn’t understand why you’re with him in the first place, so when there’s a serious argument he assumes its over.

Tbh don’t know how you and Levi would sleep together being that I doubt two could fit in a tub, but any deviation to your routine sends him into a panic.

It’s his reality check that the situation is serious and he needs to fix it NOW.

He’d have trouble apologizing in person. He can’t think of what to say, he stumbles over his words, and he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Instead, expect a long ass text message.

He says how sorry he is, how much he misses and loves you, and legit begs you to forgive him.

If you sleep with him like normal, he’ll probably try to make up after laying there for awhile. His mind is going a million miles an hour and there’s no way he can sleep.

Still really has trouble verbalizing how he feels, so give the poor boy a break and take over the conversation.

He hasn’t had a serious relationship before and he doesn’t know what he should do to make it better.

So the after effects will last however long it takes him to read several mangas, watch some anime, and play a few games to see how the characters get over arguments in the story.

Satan:

Satan makes sure not to fight with you over minor issues.

He’s worked tirelessly to tame his wrath and he refuses to feed into it over a minor issue.

Thus, if you fight with Satan it’s a major argument and it’s explosive.

The aftermath isn’t much better.

He doesn’t want to risk blowing up again, so he’s frighteningly calm.

He’s an absolute master of the silent treatment.

He won’t say a word to you until he’s certain he’s calmed down enough.

For the first few days he’ll straight up leave a room if you enter.

For a good while the only way you can expect to communicate with him is through his body language and the expression in his eyes.

Satan’s biggest fear is losing control and lashing out at you.

He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you and he can’t stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

He’s a whirlwind of emotions, so he isolates himself until he can figure out how to deal with it.

Not just from you, but from everyone else too.

Satan will not share a bed with you for at least the first night.

If he got worked up enough to actually fight, it’s gonna take him time to simmer down.

And he’d rather not risk doing or saying something he regrets in the meantime.

Once he’s ready, he’ll approach you when he’s completely calmed down and has thoroughly analyzed the situation.

He’s considered both of your sides, tried to pinpoint what caused the disagreement to turn into a fight, and made a plan of action to prevent it from happening again.

“MC? I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what happened. Would you please talk it through with me?”

He won’t apologize for the argument if he feels like he was right, but he will apologize for letting the disagreement escalate into a fight.

Satan could go weeks without making up if necessary, but he tries to resolve it within a couple of days.

Asmodeus:

Wants to give you the silent treatment, but is physically incapable.

He can’t stand to have you ignore him.

He’s the type to go back to normal then suddenly remembers you guys had a fight.

“Wait, no! I’m not talking to you! I’m mad at you!”

His biggest downfall is that he’s so stubborn.

If he thinks he was right, he will die on that hill.

There are arguments with his brothers that happened a thousand years ago and he could still tell you exactly why he was right.

But with you, he realizes that doesn’t matter too him nearly as much as it usually does.

If it means going back to normal, he’ll forget who’s right or wrong.

If you sleep in another room, he’s beyond offended.

“What?! Well fine! I don’t want you in my bed anyway!”

Laying in bed alone is a different story though.

He can’t sleep. All he can think about is you. Your face when you sleep next to him, your smell, the feeling of his arms around you.

He 100% cries.

Finally goes and knocks on your door with wet, glossy eyes.

“MC? Can we talk about this? I can’t get my beauty sleep and my tears are wiping off all of my skin care lotion!”

Will throw himself into your arms before you can answer.

If you sleep next to him still, he rolls over and watches you sleep.

It puts him at peace and he decides seeing your sweet, resting face every morning is worth more to him than the argument.

He’ll initiate the conversation the next morning.

I think Asmo could make it a few days if it was a really serious argument, but he will not function well until you make up.

Beelzebub:

Wants to make up immediately.

He doesn’t like to argue, even less so with you.

Whether he was right or wrong, he blames himself. He’ll take all the blame in the world if it makes you happy.

He’ll go make you your favorite food and bring it to you.

If he thinks you don’t want to talk to him, he’ll leave it outside your door and text you to let you know it’s there.

He’s honestly devastated if you decide to sleep in another room.

You guys migrate to your old room when you want privacy from Belphie, but you almost never sleep separately.

Seeing you grab your pillows and march out of the room nearly stops his heart.

He goes completely numb and silent as he just stares at the space you had just occupied.

Like Levi, he thinks this means the relationship is over and he genuinely does not know what to do with himself.

He can’t even bring himself to eat, he just wants to lie there, lost and trying to grapple with his emotions.

He’s another one who will absolutely cry, but unlike Asmo he will make sure no one knows it.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’s very nervous about it.

He doesn’t know if it’s okay to touch you, what he can or can’t say, stuff like that.

He just lays there stiff as a board not even able to close his eyes.

Honestly the fight would probably have to be resolved before bed. His anxiety just can’t take it.

I don’t think he’d initiate the apology. Not because he doesn’t want to make up but because his confidence is rock bottom in these situations.

He catastophizes and honestly thinks you hate him.

If you don’t initiate the apology soon, Belphie will. He can feel what his twin won’t say, and he knows Beel won’t approach you about it for fear of making it worse.

Belphie will lock you two in a room if that’s what it takes for you to make up.

Belphegor:

The embodiment of if looks could kill.

He won’t talk to you, won’t look at you, basically pretends you aren’t there.

If he must interact with you he’ll roll his eyes and sigh the whole time.

Tries to sleep through any interaction so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

He feels almost betrayed by the fight.

He thought the relationship was stronger than to have such a huge divide, so he’s really insecure about it.

After the first day, the anger has melted away to guilt.

He ‘s not guilty that you fought, but he is guilty about how he treated you after.

Guilt and self-blame have become unwelcome friends at this point. Guilt over Lilith, over his plans to destroy the human world, everything.

But more than anything else, the guilt for the fact that he attacked you weighs on him every day.

He moved past it quickly after, essentially pretending he hadn’t killed you, but that’s because he just couldn’t confront what he’d done.

He feels like the luckiest demon alive that you forgave him, let alone opened you heart enough to love him, and now it’s all in tatters.

Another thing to regret.

If you decide to sleep separately, it’ll hit him like a bag of bricks.

“You - what? Where are you going?”

It’ll take him a second to process what you were doing, but then he’ll roll over and let you leave.

“Fine. Don’t let the door hit you.”

No one will see him for awhile.

Belphie sleeps all the time anyway, but he just can’t make himself get out of bed.

If you don’t approach him to apologize, Beel will tell you that he’s been nauseous and randomly emotional which must mean his twin is coping very badly.

Will beg you to go make Belphie happy again.

If you sleep in his bed still, the argument will be resolved by morning.

He can’t keep himself from embracing you in his sleep, and it’s hard to say you’re mad at someone when you wake up in their loving arms.

It’s hard to pinpoint how long it could last with Belphie. If you don’t apologize first, he won’t let himself be conscious long enough to approach you.

This is both my first hc post as well as my first obey me post so I’m sorry if le boys are ooc. I just got this idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here we are. Especially Belphie, he was hard to me for some reason. Let me know if you guys agree or disagree and if you want to send a request or ask, my box is open!

2K notes · View notes

notyetbulletproof · 2 years

Text

Okay I am back to being annoyed about Edwina saying she’s more kind hearted than Kate. I mean I don’t for a second think that Kate did anything she did because she’s kind hearted. I KNOW she did what she did because she took it upon herself to be the parent Edwina had lost. To be what her father could no longer be. She set her own happiness aside and found a way to ensure that both her sister and mother were provided for. NOT HER. She did not ask to be included nor did she think she would be. Yes, fine it’s fair to say she projected everything she wanted onto Edwina. Yes, Kate herself says that if she could marry to save her family she would but that is why her one stipulation to her plan is that Edwina marries for love. The title or money that she marries into will just ensure that she and Lady Mary will be cared for. Literally Kate thinks that she will be left behind and was fine with that. Her father died and it tipped her world (that was already off kilter when she lost her mother) upside down and she’s been fighting to get it right side up ever since. She stepped up and became the parent and the only person that really understands that is Anthony. That understands the impact of that is Anthony. Yes they handled it differently but their worlds were knocked of its axis at the sudden death of their parent. It is not that Anthony would never have taken on the role, it was that he had not been prepared for it. He took it on because his father died suddenly. 10 seconds ago he was a child, Violet and Edmund’s first child and then suddenly he was Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount and head of his family. Because his father died. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it or to help. He was powerless watching his Father die. The best man he ever knew just fading fast and his pregnant mother begging his father to stay with her. Then she was screaming his (Anthony’s name) telling him to protect his siblings. He was just back from school, there was more to learn, more to do and he’s spent the last 10 years wondering how different it would all be if his father was still alive. Knowing in his heart of hearts, it would be better. Praying he would be seen as enough. Over-personalising every failure.

And Kate? There was no son to step up to the mantle of leading the family, no rank, no title to carry on. There was being a woman in a time where woman were still an extension of their husband and nothing more (and she was barely 18). Even though there was always so much more to a woman. Also Kate had one more painful thing she internalised— that she had to earn her place. Lady Mary loved her, Edwina loved her as family (because she is!) but she saw it as something she had to maintain. She had to be useful to be loved. She had to look after them the way her father would because it was now her duty. It was gone when her father died and she just stepped up to take it and not once did she consider what it would mean for her, once they got to England. Once Edwina married. Once families were reconciled. She didn’t think about it because she made herself the lowest priority and like Anthony, personalised every failure. Took control of everything because she would not deviate from the sole mission of ensuring her family would survive without her. Also because she didn’t think she deserved to be in the family.

Then they met each other and they both tipped the scales for the other. Sent their worlds spinning. Made them question everything they pushed down before, the resolve they worked so hard to maintain. The held beliefs about themselves. Their stubborn nature. The things children do when they are parentified. They push away their own feelings. They feel guilty for chasing what they want. Their hyper reliance on themselves. Their inability to say what they need or what they want.

Yes, nobody expected them to be excellent at the role. Sure. But everyone expected them to take it on. To not fail. You get what I mean? Lady Mary, Lady Violet were grieving and in their grief, their children took on the mantle of making sure the world kept turning and somewhere along that way, they (Kate and Anthony) stopped asking themselves how they were and started asking themselves what can they do for the family? How can they be useful?

So be angry at Kate and Anthony for ignoring what they really wanted for fear of not being worthy of it/losing it or being subjected to grief or loss or pain. Be annoyed with them denying themselves in the interest of familial duty and how that singular focus still caused strife to those they love. Yes. But to accuse them of being cruel? No.

Misguided? Yes. Controlling? Yes. Righteous? Most definitely. But to act like they planned to do it or that they set out to hurt people is unfair and ignores what they had to do to survive.

And considering Kate had to humble herself beyond words to reach out to people that always thought less of her and probably downright hated her so that her mother and sister would not go without, it really bugs me that Edwina could not see that despite her anger. That she could not see Kate’s sacrifice.

That line and the half-sister line will irk me till kingdom come. I get why! I’m still mad. Why did they do that to Edwina’s character good lord.

So yes, I too want to see Kate and Anthony revel in love. To live for themselves and each other as much as they live for their families. To make themselves a priority too. And I understand the psychological conversation this season had with us all.

Edit:

I get that the Edwina and Kate thing is resolved by the last episode but STILL.

#kanthony #Kate sharma #Edwina sharma #Anthony bridgerton #not saying Edwina’s anger and hurt isn’t justified #just annoyed with how it all went down

71 notes · View notes

paradoxolotl · 3 years

Text

Okay, y’all asked for the rest of that Mama Bee scene, so here you go! First part is still attached but now you get the whole thing ~

Bee was late coming home. She was always home by six, because she liked to be home to have dinner together and to be there if Andrew needed help with his homework. He never did, but he had gotten used to her quiet presence in the background, quietly reading or knitting as he did his work. She was always there, and now, it was closer to seven and she still wasn’t home. Andrew didn’t like it when things changed. He didn’t like it when Bee, who had her house and life so very carefully arranged, deviated from the norm.

Frowning at the clock, the second hand a steady marching beat, Andrew dug his fingers into his arms. Something hot and prickly was creeping through his chest, and he didn’t know what it was. Bee kept trying to get him to use the stupid emotion wheel she kept in the living room, telling him it would help in identifying what he was feeling. Andrew didn’t care what he was feeling, he just needed it to stop.

The minute hand ticked over.

Maybe there was more traffic than usual. Maybe she needed to grab something at the store. His fingers dug harder into his skin. They were weak excuses at best, and he knew it. A voice in the back of his mind, growing louder by the minute, said she was at the agency. Telling them to come get him, to take him away.

The feeling spiked.

Lashing out, he knocked a plate of the counter, watching it shatter on the tile floor. Shards skittered towards him, glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. He stared at them, tiny pinpricks, their edges sharp enough to burrow into his skin. His bare toes curled, his weight shifting.

“Andrew?”

Startling at the voice, Andrew stepped back, a shard digging into his heel. Burying his reaction down deep, he stared at Bee. She was looking at the mess on the floor, brows pinched together. Andrew’s mind was moving too fast, his body feeling too much, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry. She must be, because he broke a plate, and the pieces were blue which meant it was one of her favourites. People usually got angry at Andrew for much less.

She looked up at him, and Andrew felt his shoulders start to creep up. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like standing here, waiting for her to tell him he had to leave. He didn’t like not knowing what she was thinking.

“Andrew-”

“You are late,” he said, cutting her off.

Bee blinked, face smoothing out. “I am, and I am sorry about that.” She looked down at the floor again, and Andrew braced himself. “I’m going to go grab a broom. Stay there? I don’t want you stepping on anything.”

Andrew didn’t care if he stepped on anything else. His heel was burning, and when he shifted, he could feel how the tile beneath his foot was glowing slick. When he didn’t react, Bee stepped back, sending him one last look before disappearing down the hall. Looking down at his feet, at the shattered remains of the plate, Andrew felt something hot trickle down his throat.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here with Bee, where he had a lock on his door and Saturday grocery trips and someone to play cards with and where he felt warm and nice and safe. Rapidly, he ran through the last few months in his mind. There must have been something he did that was the last straw. Something that he could point to and know that that was when he had ruined his chance at a home.

Swallowing, he crouched down. He had always been awful to Bee. It was always his fault. He just wanted to fix this. Picking up the broken pieces, he planned how he would tell her how he would be better. He wouldn’t cause any more problems at school, he would keep the house clean, he would go see a stupid therapist, he would do anything if he could just stay.

The floorboards creaked, and Andrew tightened his grip on the pieces he had gathered, trying to sweep up the rest. His skin stung, tiny points of pain like constellations across his hands. He heard when Bee reached the kitchen doorway, her steps faltering. Looking up, he saw her looking at him with wide eyes, broom clutched tightly in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll clean it up.”

“Andrew,” her voice was tight, and Andrew turned away, picking up another piece. “Andrew, stop.”

His hands were shaking. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t-”

“Shh,” she soothed. Her toes came into his vision, and then she was kneeling in front of him. Her hand hovered over his own. “Honey, you’re hurting yourself.”

“I broke a plate.”

“That’s why I went to grab the broom.”

Something was buzzing in his ear. He shook his head rapidly. “It was one of your favourites.”

“It’s just a plate, Andrew. Plates break sometimes. They’re not worth hurting yourself over.”

He shook his head again. She didn’t get it. He needed to fix this. He needed to make it so he was worth keeping.

Bee moved away, and Andrew choked down his words. His hand twitched, and fire ran up his arm. Ruined. He always ruined everything. His chest was tight, and everything felt too hot and too close. Just as he felt as if he was about to snap, Bee reappeared, placing a trashcan beside them. Slowly, she took Andrew’s hands and guided them to the bin.

“Let them go, Andrew,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”

Still unable to meet her eyes, Andrew opened his hands. The pieces fell, creating a small music of their own as they landed. Both of his palms were covered in tiny cuts, dots of red slowly appearing. On his left hand, a jagged piece was stuck in his skin, a stain slowly moving across it. In his peripheral, he saw Bee sweeping the broom across the kitchen, gathering up everything he had missed. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he would do it, but his jaw was locked and the words inside him felt too much like a scream.

Tapping the dustpan into the trash, Bee settled in front of him again. There was the sound of a zipper, as she opened up the first aid kit. Her hands were always soft and warm, and she took Andrew’s gently. He watched silently as she methodically removed all of the slivers in his skin, each one joining the others with a final tiny sound. She dapped each cut with antibiotic cream, not missing a single one. She saved the jagged piece for last, inspecting his hand before finally removing it. Blood pooled immediately, and Bee quickly pressed gauze into his hand.

Closing his fingers around it, he stared down at his hands.

“Your foot is bleeding.”

Shuffling around to sit cross legged on the floor, Andrew accepted the tweezers from her. She knew he didn’t like his feet being touched. Carefully, he eased out the last piece from his body, dropping it into the trash. Cleaning away the blood that had gathered, he kept his eyes on what he was doing, until he pressed a bandage over it. When he had nothing else to keep busy with, he focused on the trash, where Bee was dumping all of the used medical supplies.

“I didn’t mean to cause you any stress,” Bee said as she packed away the kit. “I was late, and I should have called you.”

“Where were you?” Andrew risked a glance up at her face, a pit opening in his stomach at the pinched expression he found. He knew the answer before she even opened her mouth. “The agency.”

She blinked at him before nodding slowly. “Yes, I was.”

“Why.” Why wasn’t he good enough? Why didn’t she want him anymore? Rage and hurt and panic rushed through him, and he curled his hands into fists to hide their shaking.

“I got a call today from a friend of mine. To offer me a job with a colligate Exy team they’re starting. I think their goal is honourable, and I would like to be a part of it.” Andrew blinked at her. That didn’t explain why she had to go to the agency. Her face was calm when she said, “It’s in South Carolina.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. It wouldn’t have mattered then, even if he had been perfect. Bee was leaving, and he couldn’t follow. No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep her.

“Okay,” he said quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. He didn’t know why it hurt so much. He should have been used to this by now. “When are they coming to get me?”

Bee blinked rapidly before her face fell, “Andrew, honey, no. No one is coming to get you!”

“You’re moving,” he said, panic slowly clawing its way up his body.

“I might be moving, yes. But only if that’s okay with you. I don’t want to uproot your whole life for a job if you don’t want to.”

He stared at her, trying desperately to grapple with confusion and fear and what might have been hope. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Of course it matters,” Bee said firmly.

He shook his head. If he told her that he didn’t want her to go, that he wanted her to stay with him, she would always resent him. She already said she wanted this job. He wouldn’t get in the way of that.

Something broke across her face, and then she was cupping his cheeks, cradling his face. “Andrew Joseph,” she said. “You don’t honestly think I would move without you, do you? If I take this job, you would be coming with me.”

Something in his chest snagged and tangled. “You were at the agency.”

“I needed some information,” she said, brushing his bangs off of his forehead. “I had been looking into this for a while, and with this job offer it feels a bit like things are lining up. If you don’t want it, I understand and won’t say anything else about it again. I’ll do whatever will make you happy, Andrew.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Bee’s hands fell into her lap, fingers clasped tight together. “I was thinking, if you would like,” she swallowed and took a deep breath before saying very carefully, “that I could adopt you. I’ve been looking into it for a while, and of course, the decision is up to you. I spoke to the agency, and it is possible to move us without adoption, if you’d prefer that, or we don’t have to move at all-”

She was rambling now, but Andrew couldn’t focus on what she was saying. He was stuck, frozen in time. A small tendril of warmth curled around him, and he held onto it tightly. “You want to keep me?”

Bee finally stopped, her shoulders falling. A smile was on her face, a little wobbly around the edges. “I really do. You’re my family, Andrew. With or without the papers. You can take time to think it over; it’s a big decision.” He could hear the hope threading through her voice, something she was trying to hold back for his sake.

“I don’t need to think about it,” he said, and she stilled, emotions crossing in her eyes too quickly for Andrew to place. Moving along the floor, he stopped beside her and wrapped his arms around her middle, his head falling on her shoulder. She smelled like lavender and sugar, and it filled him with a warmth that he had never truly felt before. Andrew blinked, but failed to keep back the tears gathering. They rolled down to fall onto the soft cotton of Bee’s shirt. He squeezed a little tighter, and her arms came up to hold him close. “Does this mean I get to call you mom now?”

Bee hiccupped a laugh, and she pressed a kiss to his hair. They stayed on the floor, holding each other close, neither willing to let go. When Bee’s fingers tucked his hair behind his ear, her own tears falling, Andrew felt a smile break across his face. For the first time in his life, Andrew had a home.

Here’s a scene from after the move

And the original post, introducing the twinyards

#aftg #all for the game #aftg fanfiction #aftg fic wip #ask para #para’s fics #ask about my wips

151 notes · View notes

juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

377 notes · View notes

amiedala · 4 years

Text

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #fanfiction #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!!#something more

396 notes · View notes

demoiselledefortune · 3 years

Text

Post canon sangcheng fic recs for @runespoor7

(wooohoo that’s only 25 fics haha)

Silence by inberin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441771

a conversation in the snow.

Wonderfully nuanced characterisation. It hints at whole relationship and dynamic with a lot of delicacy.

Windrose by offlight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997546

Nie Huaisang is forced into a coma to stop his qi deviation. Jiang Cheng is tasked with waking him up.

There’s a lot of intriguing dreamscapes in this one, and I love Jiang Cheng (and in the background Wei Wuxian)’s desperation and obstinacy.

All the innocence we give by shamiran

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864910

Learning to renavigate the ground between them is easier than Nie HuaiSang expects. It's also harder than he could have imagined.

Just a sweet story.

Taste the wine off your lips by ExNihiIo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129245

A light pat lands against his back, and a cup of water is pushed in front of his face. “Not even Zi Shi, and you’re already tipsy?,” asks a teasing voice, while a thin hand puts down the cup. Jiang Cheng coughs a little more, shaking his head, and sends a dirty look at his host. “I am not tipsy.” “Hm, and yet your cheeks are all red. What would your disciples think, if they saw you in this state?” “They’d think about running away while they can. I can break legs more easily than I can drink alcohol.” A smile curves the edges of Nie Huaisang’s mouth, and he closes his fan with a curt jerk, sitting across the table. He’s wearing lighter clothes, Jiang Cheng notices, compared to the ones he had during the Discussion Conference. Where those had been tight and rigid against his body, these now fall softly on him, the large sleeves sweeping delicately as Nie Huaisang moves to pour himself a cup.

I like the melancholy tone of this one.

The light of autumn: you will not be spared by crooows

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901467/chapters/47138221

Nie Huaisang arrives a week early for the conference which will be held in Yunmeng to discuss the position of chief cultivator.

[Title is from a poem called "October" by Louise Glück!]

A bit funny, a bit melancholy

You can run but you can’t hide by ThirtySixSaveFiles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119297

Nie Huaisang has noticed something about the way Jiang Cheng takes compliments; Nie Huaisang has a theory, and he intends to test it out.

Just Huaisang figuring out Jiang Cheng has a praise kink. Established pairing.

Evening Bloom by dragonofeternal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958518

Jiang Cheng is spry and lithe well into his twilight years, living well off Wei Wuxian's stolen youth; Nie Huaisang's golden core, on the other hand, has always been poor- he blacks his hair with ink and dyes, hides the pudge of indolence and the wrinkles of age behind the latest fashions and the finest fans. Perhaps for their peers, finding the space to be vulnerable came easy, but for them it's taken this long to maybe think of letting someone in.

I have a big weakness for stories about old people falling in love and this is one delivers very sweetly.

Four Days in Lanling by Halotolerant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722695/chapters/51817036

Nie Huaisang looks at him. ‘You are confusing me, Clan Leader Jiang, perhaps I misunderstand, but…’

‘You didn’t misunderstand. You don’t misunderstand. You understand all of it.’ For six months Jiang Cheng has been mulling this over, and now with Nie Huaisang in front of him he can’t figure out if he most wants to knock him down or kneel at his feet. What he does is try and breathe. Clench his hands at his sides. ‘And now I am going to ask you to do something for me. You have to do something for me. You have to help Jin Ling.’

Ok so perhaps it’s misrepresentating to call this a post canon fic since most of the action is mid-13-years-of-WWX-death but the fairly important framing part is post canon. Also it’s one of the best sangcheng fic out there and a must read.

Shadow eternal by rynleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162944/chapters/55439032

“You want me to distract the Chief Cultivator from the Annual Cultivation Conference, so you and other sect leaders can… what. Sign contracts without adult supervision?”

“If Jiang-zongzhu is amenable,” Sect Leader Ouyang repeats with a nod.

Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose. The pressure he felt building behind his eyes all morning is swiftly coalescing into a bitch of a headache. “Just what do you all think I’m capable of?”

Sect Leader Ouyang bows with a cheerful smile. “We have utmost faith in Sandu Shengshou’s abilities.”

In which a night hunt ends in disaster, Jiang Cheng catches a glimpse of Nie Huaisang's heart, and feelings are discussed after a certain fashion.

One that’s between sweet and angsty.

The way is shut, and we cannot go back by saltedpin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592523

One month since Guanyin Temple, and some people are coping better than others (or not).

This one is a mostly sad and bitter take on Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plot (and being very drunk).

Living memory by ghosthouses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827980

Once Jin Guangyao has left, he gives himself two indulgences. The first, a day to scream in his rooms made soundproof with a talisman. The second, a physical list written in code, to keep his older self, who will have let the pain dull with time, accountable for what must be done.

It has only two commandments:

He will die.

and

He will know.

Nie Huaisang puts it in his sleeve with the intention of keeping it with him at all times, to be added to but never reduced, a living memory of his task.

This and its prequel which you should also read is quite short but probably one of my favorite depictions of their dynamic (and probably one I find most plausible).

What’s Left of us by cangse-sanren

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979081

“Well,” Huaisang tries hesitantly, “both of us seem to have a rather fraught relationship with things like older brothers and the concept of betrayal. And regret,” he adds as an afterthought. "Perhaps you just understand me more than most."

Yet another that dwells into Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plan. I really like that take although it’s barely shippy (and quite short).

Descending by lightningwaltz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296595

“I want to… to not be embarrassed.”

“To not be embarrassed during what?”

“During sex.” There. Jiang Cheng can say it. “In general. Also with you right now.”

“Very good.”

“When did you become so authoritative?” Jiang Cheng wants to sound irked, but can’t quite manage anything beyond nervous curiosity.

Very interesting fic and in many ways unusual. I’d say it’s hypnosis kink, but it’s much more character driven than that. With a context of established FWB arrangement between Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang.

Tell him that I miss our little talks by xiaolongbaobei

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232023

the post-canon fic where Jiang Cheng becomes the Chief Cultivator, realizes that it's not too late to fall in love and learns to ask for what he wants

Longish fic exploring Jiang Cheng as Chief cultivator working with Nie Huaisang and slowly falling in love with him. I adore this one, and not only because I love fics that explore the idea of Jiang Cheng as chief cultivator.

Blind for Love by manamune

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760272

Jiang Cheng is poisoned with an aphrodisiac and needs to orgasm repeatedly in order to flush it from his system.

The first person he thinks of going to for help is Nie Huaisang, who does what any good friend would do: he shoves his three decades worth of feelings for Jiang Cheng deep into the recesses of his mind, locks them up so he can pretend they don’t exist, and then fucks him so hard that he passes out.

Mostly a long smutty piece, but with a lot of fun character bits along the way.

A Tight-Knit Family by aldalin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500481/chapters/61862899

“Jing Ling, we need to talk.”

Jin Ling has too many uncles, and he’s about to get another.

Sect Leader Jiang announces his marriage to Sect Leader Nie.

A fairly different take, more focused on Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian reacting to Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s relationship.

A trip to Qinghe by Scorpiwriting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974741

An unexpected hunt forces Jiang Cheng to leave the Lotus Pier a bit earlier than he had anticipated, so he decides to send Jin Ling to Qinghe, for the sake of not sending him back to Lanling so soon: it turns into a learning experience for the young sect leader, who gets to peek into the life of the Headshaker.

or.

Jin Ling learns that not everything people say is true and that perhaps there is some merit to art. He also learns that loneliness is a dark beast and that his uncle should definitely do something about it.

Another one more focused on Jin Ling’s reaction to it. Honestly more of a gen piece about Jin Ling and Nie Huaisang, but an interesting one.

Silver bracelets on their wrists by mercurious

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797715

“Can’t I find excuses to visit an old friend?”

Ok so this one is a bit fucked up in interesting ways. It combines Chief Cultivator Jiang Cheng and explicit longing about Wei Wuxian, and BDSM as catharsis. It’s a fascinating piece.

Welcome to love by amphigoric

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412866/chapters/53549794

Desire, Jiang Cheng learned, flourished even in love’s absence. It surged hot and fast through his veins at the sight of Nie Huaisang’s spread thighs, marks still lingering from the last rendezvous they had. He felt it burning through his chest as Huaisang raked lines down his back, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps: “Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Wanyin, please, please.”

It’s a little bit clumsy at times, but also very passionate and intense in a way I still find compelling. Featuring a lot of self sabotaging Jiang Cheng.

When your stitch comes loose by heyninja

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868454/chapters/68234434

Sometimes people see you for who you really are. Sometimes because you let them. Sometimes whether you like it or not.

A triptych of collisions between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.

Only the last part is post canon but it’s the most important part, isn’t it?

Peel your heart like a pomegranate by Izumi_silverleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458974

"It's an extraordinary feeling when parts of your body are touched for the first time. I'm thinking of the sensations from sex and surgery."

Sometimes you just need to read a very hot guro fic. It’s a weird fic but it’s a cool one.

If you give a Nie a cushion by LesbianLazerOwl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470236

Prompt: Long enough After Canon that everyone's mostly okay these days, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang get drunk and wind up comparing masturbation habits; each is aghast at how the other spends their personal time.

Funny and hot

To Distraction by isozyme

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763816

It’s the third night of Yunmeng’s kite festival celebrations. Nie Huaisang has come visiting, eager to partake in the food, the arts, and Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to forget. Nie Huaisang has some new lube and wants to see if he can put his whole fist in somebody’s ass.

Established pairing in which Nie Huaisang fists Jiang Cheng. It’s hot.

Safe in Your arms by Dragon_scribe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070503/chapters/74058315

In the aftermath of a night hunt gone (very) wrong, Jiang Cheng wakes up to find himself in the Unclean Realm. As he recovers from his injuries, he and Nie Huaisang grow closer and as time passes, their friendship begins to shift to something more.

Very sweet/sappy and hurt/comfort orientated, with a small bit of reconciliation dimension too.

#mo dao zu shi #sangcheng #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #fic recs

47 notes · View notes

faerynova · 4 years

Text

KAITO HAS OCD

Okay, a breakdown of OCD behaviors let’s go:

COMPULSIVE BEHAVIOR

He immediately fixates on finding pandora+getting vengeance, cannot be convinced to do anything else to get to this goal except be Kaitou Kid as soon as he decides that’s the path he’ll take. He’s already got his plan, he’s NOT gonna deviate from it.

And he goes after gems that he already knows aren’t Pandora because he’s compelled to complete Kaitou Kid’s MO/rise to challenges.

(from DC ch.965, I pasted the panels together for the relevant bits)

He also goes after targets when OTHER people send notices. (see: chapters 11 and 14 of Magic Kaito.) Yeah he wasn’t the one who started it, but he WILL finish it.

There’s absolutely no rule that says he has to go through with every single heist notice that he or someone else sends! It’s just his own compulsion.

OVER-PLANNING: BACKUP PLANS OF BACKUP PLANS

OCD makes you doubt yourself: what you do, your surroundings, so you have to over-plan to make sure everything goes Just Right, or else there will be consequences. And with heists, there really will be! But assuming he’s got OCD then he feels like *everything* he does has consequences if it doesn’t go the way he planned.

So he’s over-prepared always!

Even when going to school, have you seen all the tricks he keeps up his sleeves just for casual pranks with his classmates? He’s always *always* ready to toss confetti everywhere! To disappear with a smoke bomb! To put a mask of his own face on a classmate to get away! He just carries these things around In Case he needs it!

He just has an entire magic arsenal with him at all times for no good reason, school and other mundane situations.

WAY MORE EXAMPLES AND ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT:

So here’s some over-preparedness on heists:

(DC ch.1019)

He’s got calling cards made ahead of time to go along with whatever plan he ends up using-- and even though they say he “spontaneously” decided to act, having all those cards there means he DID have every single plan laid out for whichever he decided to do. He figured out which plan he needed to do, and acted accordingly.

(DC ch.963)

This is the one that really gets me. He brought enough disguises to be able to pick someone AT RANDOM to disguise as, and then he has an entire heist planned around the person he picked on a whim.

You could say he just improvises, but a lot of what Kaito does *has* to be planned out in advance. Yes he can knock someone out and steal their clothes for an impromptu disguise, but he still needs masks prepared-- and for disguising as Agasa which he does in this chapter, that’s a whole costume to get the body shape right! He just HAD THAT PREPARED. JUST IN CASE.

(MK ch.23)

Kaito for the love of God what on earth would you ever need to memorize this man’s driver’s license number for. This is a new level of over-prepared. Kaito how did you even memorize that number along with all the other nonsense you need to remember for heists and disguises.

And in the manga we see several times that when his plans go awry, his first reaction isn’t usually to improvise a new plan, but rather to yeet as fast as possible because his brain can’t deal with a plan being ruined. (like above)

AND OKAY MEMORIZING ALL THOSE NUMBERS ACTUALLY BRINGS ME TO MY NEXT POINT:

COUNTING

The above example isn’t technically counting, but it does lend to an obsession with numbers and being hardwired to just have them in the back of his mind without thinking about it.

Alternately, he may have just glanced at the drivers license while handing it over and memorized it on the spot! Counting it without even thinking about it! (Either way, holy shit.)

He can also quickly and accurately count how many people and objects are in a room-- or you know an entire building-- in a matter of seconds. And he remembers all of it!

(MK ch.28)

Okay I think that’s all of the canon examples I’ve got on hand?

So with all that, some OCD headcanons about the boy:

-He over-plans even in mundane situations like deciding what kind of ice cream to get at the store. He’s gotta think about what if his favorite and second favorite and third favorite flavors are out of stock, and how much each brand costs, and if he’s willing to go to another store to get his favorite flavor if they don’t have it, and how long it will take to go to another store and the different prices there-- he over-plans for everything *just in case*.

-He obsessively re-checks and over-checks plans. Gotta make sure everything is right for heists.

-Counts things repeatedly/on a loop when left alone with his thoughts, and often taps along with his counting which outwardly looks like fidgeting or boredom. (I also headcanon that he has ADHD as well, so the tapping looks like a stimmy adhd thing)

-Pretty bad anxiety about messing up/consequences/break in routine, but hey live and die by the poker face, so no one knows it.

-He’s got rituals/routines to calm himself down that he doesn’t even realize are rituals: mindlessly shuffling or counting cards; tracing the scars/creases/etc on his hands, tapping/counting. (more things that just look like stimming basically)

-He also has a rewriting/redrawing habit. Mostly with his Kaitou Kid doodle, but he’ll do it with words too. His school notes have a lot of repetition because sometimes a word feels wrong so he’ll just rewrite it (sometimes several times) before he moves on with the rest of his notes.

-He plans his entire days ahead of time with a list in his head down to really stupid details.

-Yes this includes branching possibilities for different things that might happen that day. Backup plans of backup plans!

-On days where he’s feeling bad or can’t get his thoughts in order, he’ll take the list to paper so he can double check it as the day goes on. He always feels better if he has a plan he can check back on, mental or physical.

-Most importantly, he has absolutely no idea he’s got OCD. He assumes all of this is just normal behavior for an entertainer and a thief. Of course he pays attention to how many people are in a room and how it’s laid out, he’s in the habit of casing places. Of course he’s got 143 plans laid out for the day, it’s only practical that he knows what he’s gonna do. Of course he checks his heist plans two dozen times in the same night, he can’t afford to mess this up!

Anyway that’s all I’ve got for now love y’all byyye.

#magic kaito #dcmk #kuroba kaito #analysis #text #long post

275 notes · View notes

ceilingfrogs · 4 years

Text

Plans of Destruction

Sangchengmonth2020 (on ao3)

Day 20: In those 13 years

It was early. The sky outside was grey, night just starting to give way to morning when Nie Huaisang was woken up with a start. His bleary eyes took a moment to focus on the figure that had just barged into his room, slamming the door open.

Whatever complaints he had about being woken up far too early, those protests quickly died when he saw who it was.

Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng, who was definitely not meant to be in the Unclean Realm, who should have been at Koi Tower, dropping off his nephew, Jin Ling, who was cradled in his arms, partially hidden under his cloak. And then Nie Huaisang noticed Jiang Cheng’s worried, frantic face and what little sluggishness left over from sleep disappeared from within him.

Something was very very wrong.

He got out of bed, not bothering to throw on an outer-robe, propriety so far from his mind right now, and approached Jiang Cheng.

“What happened?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“I need to speak to Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng said. He was breathing heavily, he must have flown all the way here from Koi Tower with Jin Ling in his arms. He must be exhausted.

“You need to sit down” Nie Huaisang gently grabbed onto Jiang Cheng’s arm and led him to the table. Jiang Cheng had too little energy to resist him. He was cold to the touch, the fast winds and cool night having robbed him of his heat, but protected under the cloak, Jin Ling was warm, and despite everything, asleep.

“It’s urgent,” Jiang Cheng insisted. Nie Huaisang took the blankets from his bed, still warm from his body, and wrapped them around Jiang Cheng, careful not to disturb Jin Ling.

“Da-ge’s on a night-hunt,” Nie Huaisang said.

A servant knocked on the door and came into the room, tray in hand with a freshly brewed pot of tea on top, and Nie Huaisang thanked them for their foresight.

He sat by Jiang Cheng’s side, and Jiang Cheng let him ease Jin Ling out of his arms with only a bit of hesitation. Nie Huaisang forced a steaming cup of tea in Jiang Cheng’s freezing hands.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m acting Sect Leader in Da-ge’s absence,” Nie Huaisang said, and for the first time, he was glad Da-ge had forced the responsibility onto him, if only to help Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng didn’t speak for a moment, his mind racing, trying to find the right way to phrase whatever had him so troubled. Nie Huaisang knew before Jiang Cheng opened his mouth that he wouldn’t like what was about to be said.

“Under Jin Guangshan’s orders, Jin Guangyao is using a song of turmoil disguised as the song of Cleansing on Sect Leader Nie in an attempt to bring forth a fatal qi deviation,” Jiang Cheng revealed, voice strained.

There was a moment of incredulity, when Nie Huaisang’s mind was clouded with confusion, trying to understand the words spoken to him. But that moment was short lived, and incredulity was replaced by something sharp and dangerous growing bigger and bigger within him.

“I don’t have any proof, only what I heard from behind closed doors,” Jiang Cheng went on.

“I believe you,” Nie Huaisang said because Jiang Cheng had never lied to him and Nie Huaisang didn’t imagine him starting today. He would always trust Jiang Cheng.

He didn’t want to believe it; Nie Huaisang had considered Jin Guangyao a friend, but what Jiang Cheng said made sense. Despite the song of Cleansing, Da-ge’s temperament had been getting worse. He’d been angrier, more prone to loss of self-control. Da-ge had been deteriorating in front of him and it was all because of that supposed friend.

He’d known Jin Guangyao to be manipulative and egocentric, had known Jin Guangyao had been willing to do a great many things in order to gain Jin Guangshan’s favour, but he’d thought he could trust Jin Guangyao with Da-ge’s life. It seemed that trust had been misplaced.

Nie Huaisang felt that famed Nie temper, usually so quiet inside of him, rise up, letting out a deafening roar.

He wanted to charge all the way to Lanling and separate Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao’s heads from their bodies, breaking everything in his path. It was a disconcerting feeling; he’d never understood that need for destruction, but now was not the time to explore it, not with Jiang Cheng’s worried eyes on him, not with Jin Ling so carefully nestled in his arms, unaware of the storm swirling around him.

He stayed seated and still, breathing in and out slowly like he’d seen Da-ge do so many times. It rarely worked with Da-ge, but he forced it to work for him.

Now was not time to let his temper take control, now was the time to plan.

Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan should be taken care of quickly before they have time to make plans of their own. They would suspect something was amiss as soon as they notice the disappearance of both Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng.

He couldn’t annihilate the whole Jin Sect like he wanted to; that was Jin Ling’s inheritance after all, and Jiang Cheng might be upset if he were to do that, so would Da-ge; with their history, Da-ge would invariably be too lenient towards Jin Guangyao. Nie Huaisang did not have that problem. He would deal with the perpetrators accordingly, and, for Jin Ling, he would spare the Jin Sect.

“Nie Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng spoke, his voice hesitant. He looked concerned and with every moment Nie Huaisang stayed silent, the concern grew.

“No need to worry; I’ll take care of it,” Nie huaisang replied. Jiang Cheng was still concerned but not surprised.

And Nie Huaisang would take care of it. He would strike down those backstabbers so brutally and efficiently that, once he was done with them, nobody would dare to even think about harming those he loved again.

54 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Tower: Family - 6

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4012

Warnings: Pregnancy, smut (bisexual orgy, baby making, edging, over-stimulation, oral sex, anal sex, rough sex, throat fucking, face sitting, vibrators, cock-rings, electrostimulation, multiple orgasms).

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 6: Making a Baby

Immediately after the ceremony, we had to sign all the legal paperwork and we had some photos taken. The bots Tony had made when we were in Asgard had taken some photos at the bonding but as that had been interrupted by a large battle, there were none posed of us together as a family. It was definitely nice we got to have this moment recorded when the bigger one hadn’t been.

The sun was setting by the time we walked over to the area on the beach set up with tables and hanging lanterns that would host our reception. There were two large round tables, one for us and one for the guests, and next to the long tables where the buffet would be set up, there was a small round table with a large cake shaped like the Avengers Tower.

Waiters had been walking around handing out tropical-themed canapés that included coconut shrimp, chicken skewers with pineapple and mango, and mini black bean and corn empanadas, while the band played soft rock songs by Tony’s favorite bands.

When we arrived, the band stopped playing and Rhodey went up to the podium.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like our little group of deviates has finally arrived, all official and everything. Can we all stand and welcome them, complete and whole, and two of them legally married.”

Everyone stood and clapped as we moved up to the dance floor. Tony and I moved to the center while the other’s circled the edge. The band began to play ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica. Tony spun me into his arms and we began to slow dance to it, turning slowly around the dance floor. Steve and Bruce stepped out onto the dance floor and Tony spun me into Steve’s arms before turning and pulling Bruce against him. We danced in pairs for a few bars and Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and Thor moved in. Wanda began to dance with me and I kept my cheek pressed against hers as we moved around the floor. Finally, Sam and Clint moved in and we all switched again. We spent the rest of the song slow dancing around each other and switching from partner to partner until we had each danced with everyone.

The song ended and we took our seats and Rhodey got back up to the podium.

“Now, we all came here from pretty far away… not like when they dragged our asses to Asgard, but still, it was a trip. But we all know why we’re here,” Rhodey said as the staff began to set up the buffet with the starters. “These guys are our family. So thank you all for coming to celebrate with them. It looks like they’re bringing out the food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

Our table went first. The buffet was set up in sections. One had a selection of cold seafood, like shrimp, oysters, and smoked salmon, one had things like crab cakes, different kinds of skewers with things from fish to tofu, stuffed mushrooms, tacos, and warm tartlets with tomato and bocconcini. There was a salad station, and one with soups, as well as a table full of tropical fruit. There was also a bar that was specializing in brightly colored tropical cocktails.

“Thank god,” Tony said as he began loading up his plate with crab legs. “I’m starving. I’ve been fasting so I’d look good in a suit.”

“Are you kidding?” Natasha asked. “You’re basically a coat hanger. Everything looks good on you.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Red,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be all bloated.”

“Well, eat up, you dope,” I teased. “Gonna need your energy.”

“Already calling me a dope?” Tony asked.

“You are a dope,” I teased. “And don’t drink too much either.”

“Wow, Elise,” Tony deadpanned. “We’re married two minutes and you’re already trying to change me.”

“I need you at your peak performance tonight,” I whispered and headed back to the table with my plate piled high with different things.

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed as he followed along after me. “That’s what Thor is for.”

“I can only ensure that you are fertile. I can’t ensure you’ll be able to perform,” Thor said playfully.

“But if you’d like one of us to get Elise pregnant,” Steve added.

“Woah now,” Tony said, putting his hands up. “Let’s not be hasty here.”

We ate our starters and drank and talked and as the plates were cleared away Rhodey got up to the podium again with a glass of champagne. Waiters started filling everyone’s glasses. There was a hibiscus flower in syrup sitting in the bottom of each glass and when the champagne was added to it, the flower appeared to bloom in the glass.

“Now, platypus,” Tony said. “No bad mouthing me. You promised.”

“I feel like this speech should have been done in Asgard. But then there was some battle with angels and it became a little like work. So we’ll do it here,” Rhodey said. “I met Tony way back at MIT. He was just an annoying kid who liked to show up all the students who were at least three years his senior. But he has a way of growing on you. I don’t know what I expected him to do with his life. He was smart and funny and partying hard and that never ended for a long, long time. For a while, I was worried he was going to burn out hot and leave a pretty corpse. But it turns out, he’ll most likely outlive us all. Back then I didn’t really see him as the marrying type. Yet here we are. At his wedding. The official Earth one after he just committed himself for 5000 years to 9 other people. If you’d asked me back then if I thought he’d do that I’d have thought you were as drunk as Tony probably was.”

Rhodey looked over at Tony affectionately and Tony winked at him. “I’m so happy for him. He deserves a happy ending and he’s found it. I know he loves them all. And he loves being a dad. He’s finally seemed to find that exact thing he needed. A loving family. I know it’s unconventional. It took me a long time to understand it. But Tony isn’t conventional. Conventional was never going to work. And while he went in reluctantly at first because a woman he got a crush on was gently leading him in, it’s been exactly what he needed,” Rhodey said and raised his glass. “So I’d like you all to raise your glasses to finding your people and unconventional love.”

Everyone toasted to unconventional love and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink. Rhodey returned to his chair, ruffling Tony’s hair as he passed him.

Steve stood and approached the podium. “That’s quite the speech to be following,” Steve said. “But I’d like to follow with the same theme about not believing what the future would bring. I was born in 1918. Over one hundred years ago. I had a list of ailments that was taller than I was. I was told I wouldn’t make it to adulthood. Despite being told all the things I couldn’t do, I was determined to do them. I made it to adulthood. I started dating the boy I had a crush on for so long. I even managed to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. But if you had told me back then, I would not only be marrying that boy but also eight other people, one of them an actual god, on a completely different planet, well, I probably would have had an asthma attack.”

There was laughter from everyone and Steve looked over at us all. “Here we are though. I didn’t expect it, let me tell you. Someone once told me that if it wasn’t for war I was nothing. It took nine people to make me realize otherwise. And I love them all. They each touch a part in me that’s unique and I’m so happy that… well, we all fell into this little arrangement.” He took a breath and looked over at us. “It hasn’t been without its obstacles. But you can’t say you have a strong bond until you’ve overcome some obstacles together. And we made it. We’re getting our happily ever after. So let’s toast to that. Happily ever after.”

He raised his glass and everyone repeated ‘happily ever after’ while raising theirs. Steve came back and took his seat and I went up next.

“We like to joke about being in the bad dad’s club,” I said as I stood in front of everyone. “Most of us have our own stories of parental neglect. I was raised being told I needed to marry rich, lock him in with some kids, and not care who he was sleeping with. It made me reject all of that I barely dated. I expected to just die alone. And then one day I knocked a certain red-head over when I was running late for work and it changed my life forever.

“I have had my two kids. And I did marry rich. I also don’t care who my husband sleeps with. But I don’t think my parents had this in mind. They’d hate this. I don’t care. I am happy. I love these people. I love the thing we’ve built together. I’m excited about our future and what that means. I’m excited to see how our family grows and what that means for us. I love them all so much. I never thought I’d ever want anything like this, but love is like a drug and I’m addicted. Now I have it, I can’t imagine it being any other way.” I lifted my glass. “So I ask you to raise your glass to finding your family.”

I took a drink while everyone repeated me and then returned to my seat. Natasha grabbed my hand as I passed and pulled me down into a kiss. Tony got up and spanked my ass as he passed me and I made a choked giggle into Natasha’s lips.

“So,” Tony said as he waggled his glass and a waiter came back over to refill it. “We've all heard I was a bit of a mess. All I ever knew was abuse, manipulation, and neglect. So it took me a while to even think about trying to attempt monogamy. And well, we're here today, so obviously, that didn't work out for me either.” There was laughter from everyone and Tony paused until it died down. “These guys started up their little den of iniquity under my nose. Oh, they invited me to join. In fact, they told everyone else I was part of it, completely ignoring how closed off and angry I was. They really didn’t want to take no for an answer, but I guess, I am me, so who can blame them?” There was more laughter and he looked over at me. “Then one day, I found this stray roaming around my tower. I tried to resist her. I even tried to get FRIDAY to kick her out of the building. But she managed to crawl right in under my skin and take up residence there. It hasn’t been smooth sailing. Like Spangles said, there have been some rough and downright scary times. I kept locking them out, scared I was going to get hurt or end up hurting them. It took a long, long time for them to teach me they were here for me and I was worth it. Slowly, I realized I was healing. That I was in love with all these people. So I guess that is proof we all have hearts. So I ask you to raise your glasses to love. Whatever form it finds you in.”

I got up and kissed him deeply as everyone toasted and he pulled me close. “I love you so much,” I whispered.

“Alright,” Sam said standing. “Enough talking. Looks like the second course is here, let’s eat.”

The reception turned a little more party after that. We ate, danced. Cut the cake. Bucky shoved his slice right into Steve’s face much to Tony’s amusement. The cake was 10 different flavors and I was pretty determined to try them all. The kids were taken to bed by their aunt and uncle just after the cake and by the time we left I was a tipsy, exhausted, and yet completely hyped up.

“Alright,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my neck. “Let’s make a baby.”

“Not so fast, Tony,” Steve scolded. “We all want to be part of this. We are a family after all.”

“Besides,” Thor said. “I thought you wanted my assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” I said as Sam approached me. He ran his hands up under my skirt, pushing it up at the sides as he moved his hands to my ass.

“I don’t like the tone,” Tony said, suspiciously. “What exactly are you people planning?”

“You people?” Steve teased, pulling Tony back against him and palming his cock through Tony’s pants. Sam brought his lips to mine and began to kiss me deeply and lovingly. “Come on now, Tony. We’re family.”

Tony made a choked groan and leaned his head back on Steve’s shoulder as Thor approached Tony. He leaned in and kissed Tony hungrily and slipped one large hand into Tony’s pants and began to massage Tony’s balls. There was a spark and a ripple through the air and Tony groaned loudly into Thor’s lips.

“All the other babies were conceived in an orgy by accident. The only reason we know paternity is because Thor just knows that kind of thing,” Natasha said running her fingers down my neck. “This is the first time we’re planning to get pregnant and we all want to be part of that even if we are planning paternity too. So, little Elise here is going to be overstimulated. We’re each going to make her come over and over and over until she can’t take it anymore.”

Thor released Tony and moved over to me, pressing himself behind me and kissing my neck. Sam pulled back and Thor tilted my head back and kissed me deeply. He pressed his palm low on my stomach, just above my pubic mound. There was that same spark and ripple as with Tony, and a dull ache ran through my core.

“You on the other hand,” Natasha said, grabbing Tony by the lapels and pulling him toward the bed. “Will be edged until you're begging us to let you come.”

Thor pulled my dress off over my head and everyone else began to undress, either themselves or each other. Clint picked me up and carried me to the bed tossing me on it. Tony was on the far side of the bed. He was naked and Natasha was sitting on his thighs and putting a cock ring on him.

Clint crawled between my legs and pushed them apart kneeling down and nosing at my cunt. He pulled off my panties and licked a stripe up my folds, making my skin buzz. Wanda climbed up on the bed beside me and straddled my face. I hummed and lapped over her cunt, swirling it over her folds and dipping it inside her. Clint began to flick his tongue over my clit and sucking on my pussy.

My hips jerked under him as Wanda’s rolled on my face and her fluids dripped down into my mouth. I was vaguely aware that the others were kissing and grinding on each other near me and right on the other side of the bed Thor was sucking Tony’s cock while Natasha rode his face.

Clint thrust a finger inside me and began to suck on my clit. He hit my g-spot immediately like his fingers had a magnetic attraction to that sweet spot inside me. He sucked on my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. I moaned loudly into Wanda’s cunt, trying to focus my tongue on her clit, moaning louder each time she shuddered over me. Clint’s fingers pushed harder and harder on my g-spot sending a jolt up my spine each time he did it. My legs began to shake as my orgasm approached being fed by the feelings the others had and intensified. I focussed on Wanda, sucking hard on her clit and pushing my tongue inside her. I knew she was close too, I could feel it through her thread. She always sat close to the edge once the rest of us began to enjoy ourselves. I nipped at her clit and she moaned, coming on my face. I let myself relax and as soon as I did, Clint pushed hard on my g-spot with two fingers and twisted his wrist. I screamed out and came hard, bucking my hips against his face.

Clint got up and crawled over to where Tony was and Wanda climbed off me. Natasha, Steve, and Bucky approached me. Natasha guided me so I was straddling her face and Bucky pushed me forward so my face was at Natasha’s cunt. Sam had pulled Wanda into his lap and they were kissing hungrily, while Thor was fucking Tony, and Tony sucked Bruce’s cock.

Bucky poured lube onto my ass and pushed a finger inside, fucking it slowly. I moaned loudly and nuzzled at Natasha’s cunt as Natasha lapped over mine. Steve slapped the head of his cock on Natasha's clit and teased it over my lips. I sucked on the head and he thrust shallowly in and out of my mouth.

More lube was added to my ass along with a second finger. I mewled and tried my best to relax as Bucky worked to loosen me up. Steve pulled his cock from my mouth and sunk into Natasha. I licked over his base and flicked my tongue over Natasha’s clit as Steve began to fuck her. Bucky pulled his fingers out and added more lube. I felt the head of his cock press against my ass and he began to ease into my ass.

“Fuck!” I gasped. The sound muffled by Natasha’s cunt.

Natasha gave my ass a spank and I clenched hard around Bucky’s cock, making him groan loudly.

Steve was fucking Natasha at a steady pace and I lapped over her cunt and the base of his cock, drinking up her arousal as it ran down his shaft. Bucky fucked me slowly as Natasha sucked on my clit. My muscles spasmed and clenched and I struggled to keep myself up. The way I clenched and moaned seemed to spur Bucky on. He picked up his pace, adding to the burn through me. I started panting against Natasha’s cunt and she moaned and bucked under me. I sucked her clit into my mouth and pressed my lips against it and flicked my tongue back and forth quickly. Natasha mirrored my action and we both came moaning into each other. Bucky and Steve fucked us through it before slipping out. I rolled off the top of Natasha and lay panting as people moved around me. Thor, Sam, and Bruce approached and I looked up at them and swallowed hard. “How many times have you climaxed, my queen?” Thor asked as he lifted me and moved me so my head was hanging over the end of the bed.

“Two,” I answered as I let my head drop over the edge of the bed. I could see what the others were doing to Tony now, but I knew he was struggling to hold it together.

Sam tutted. “That doesn’t sound like nearly enough. I think we might need the vibrator boys.”

He went to the drawers and pulled out a small bullet vibrator. Bruce and Thor both lubed up their cocks and Bruce put pillows under my hips and eased his cock into my ass. Thor straddled my chest, pinning me to the mattress and pushed my tits around his thick shaft and slowly began to roll his hips. Sam gave Bruce the vibrator and he turned it on and pressed it onto my clit. The setting was low but it still made me buck up and moan loudly.

“Open up, princess,” Sam said.

I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock into my mouth.

Thus began one of the most intense sexual experiences I’ve ever had.

It started slow, Thor massaging my tits as he fucked them slowly, Bruce matched his pace as he fucked my ass and held the vibrator against my clit, and I sucked Sam’s cock. It very quickly escalated. Each man seemed to be spurred on by the others. Bruce started fingering me as he fucked me and Sam started fucking my throat.

The first orgasm hit quickly and Bruce upped the setting of the vibrator. I cried out and bucked under them and Thor sent a jolt through me making me come again. Each time I came they went harder and upped the buzz on the vibe. By the third my vision was going fuzzy thanks to the brutal pace they were setting. Bruce groaned and jerked hard into my ass coming inside me. He slipped out and Thor moved down and took his place. He was large and his cock stretched me painfully, but I was light-headed and fuzzy and I welcomed the pain. He upped the buzz on the vibrator and I came immediately.

Thor made an almost graphic squelching sound each time he thrust into me as Bruce’s come acted as a lubricant for his cock. Sam groaned and pulled back slightly as he came into my mouth, coating my tongue with thick, salty ropes of semen.

I moaned and swallowed it but Thor didn’t even seem close. Bruce and Sam stayed close to me as Thor kept fucking my ass. Sam massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples and Bruce took over with the vibrator leaving Thor free to just hold my hips and fuck my ass hard. One orgasm just blended into the next and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I screamed out and everything went black. When I came to Thor had moved me a little and was no longer inside me. “Oh good,” he said smiling. “Did we push you too far?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Good, because Tony is ready for you,” Thor said, gently and kissed me softly.

He moved away and I opened my arms. Tony crawled up between my legs. “I’m not gonna last long,” he said, apologetically as he eased inside of me.

I moaned. “Good.”

He chuckled and slowly rolled his hips as his body stayed pressed close to me. Everything ached but my cunt welcomed him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight and we began to kiss. Everyone else was just sitting around us watching. Tony was right though, he was sitting right on the edge and it was only a minute before he groaned and was releasing inside me. I didn’t care that I didn’t come again. I had done more than enough of that. I hummed happily as he filled me and collapsed down on top of him.

“Was that it? Is she pregnant now?” Clint asked.

There was laughter in the group. “Takes a week or so, Clint,” Bruce said, with no patronization in the tone, just kindly educating his husband.

“It will, though, right?” Clint asked.

“They are both at peak fertility,” Thor said. “It still may not happen and I would recommend that Elise and Tony try again tomorrow. But it should work.”

I hummed and kissed Tony’s neck. “You hear that?”

He hummed in return. “Yeah. More sex or us.”

I giggled and nudged his cheek with my nose. “Not that part.”

He laughed and kissed me just under my ear. “Yeah. We’re gonna have another baby on the way.”

// NEXT

128 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Partners {1}

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader Mini-Series

Warning: Cursing, Violence, Slow Burn, Angst, Plot

Words: 3.3k

Summary: You’re a damn good FBI agent in your own right. It is definitely partly to do with how well you’ve been trained and partly to do with you not letting anything or anyone distract you. You have a six-year plan that you’re fast-tracking for four. After being transferred from your office in Tampa you’ve been sent to New York which you’ve labeled the “big leagues”. Your first day there once you were introduced to your new partner OA Zidan you realized you’ve moved out of the frying pan right into the pot of distraction. A year later and your rising attraction for your partner still hasn’t been snuffed out.

Note: If you’re thirsty and you know it clap your hands. Clap-Clap. If you’re thirsty and you know it clap your hands. Clap-Clap. I have no shame. This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it as well as OA/Zeeko. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this mini-series.

Should I continue?

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~

-OA-

“Morning OA,” Kristen called from her desk with a bright smile. He nodded with one in return.

“How was your weekend?”

“Perfect. I curled up with a great book in my hammock and sipped margaritas. It was great,” she listed off.

“Sounds relaxing.” He handed her one of the three large cups he carried. Kristen smiled and lifted it as a thanks.

“We all need some relaxing after a week on this job.” He nodded because he knew all too well. There had been many nights he sat up unable to sleep because of the case they’d had that day. A lot of the work he did stayed with him.

He walked through the office nodding to coworkers he passed until he saw your back. You were at your desk on your computer no doubt already started on a case. You were like a machine. A lot of times you were the last to leave and the first to arrive. Sometimes he wondered if you even enjoyed life away from the job. He’d been your partner for a year now and he’d learned a few things about you.

He’d learned you weren’t one of those agents who wore heels in the field. The only type of heel he’d seen you in was maybe some wedged shoe and even in those you still managed to chase a perp eight blocks to knock him out. the only sing of your exertion was a few stray tendrils of hair from your high bun. He’d learned you loved to improvise and when doing so you were a damn good actress.

He’d learned you voluntarily left a cushy life in Florida to come to this concrete jungle. He’d learned that while you came off tough and standoffish you were a nice person. You and Kristen had formed a friendship, he’d often see the two of you having lunch together or laughing together. When it came to him though—you were actually standoffish. He didn’t know why.

“Morning Y/N.”

“Morning,” you answered back without bothering to look up from the computer to acknowledge his presence. He would have been offended but it wasn’t anything new.

“I got you a large hot caramel macchiato with a dash of cayenne and white chocolate shavings,” he said as he placed it beside you and took his seat at his desk behind you. When he turned back around you were turned to him with your cup in hand.

“How do you know my coffee order down to the cayenne?”

“Really? I’ve been your partner for a year now. I was bound to pick up a thing or two about you no matter how much you want to keep secret.” You smirked and shook your head.

“Kristen told you didn’t she?”

He smiled and nodded. Kristen hadn’t told him anything. He’d been paying attention a lot closer than you thought.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You took a sip and moaned.

“How was your weekend?”

“Fine.” It was a simple answer, one he could tell you weren’t going to expand on. You spun back around and went back to what you were doing.

“What are you working on?”

“Eyes up everyone,” Jubal announced before you could answer. “I know we’re all prepping for the summit in Miami coming up but, this morning we got a tip that there was a terror plot. This was the call we received.”

A recording began to play of a woman who sounded terrified but tearful as she confessed that her ex-boyfriend was planning something that she was in on in the beginning but backed out of when she realized his plans were more diabolical than she’d expected. She didn’t leave her name, or any contact information before she disconnected the call.

“No name, surprise, surprise,” you mumbled.

“That never stops us, we’re FBI. Unlucky for her she stayed on the call to give us enough time to trace it. It came from 3287 Wallace Avenue in the Bronx,” Jubal informed.

“I spoke to the landlord he said he rents an apartment to a woman named Cindy Green. He said she’s a good tenant, pays on time, is quiet and he doesn’t have any problems with her. He said that Cindy has a boyfriend who isn’t on the lease and that his name is Patrick,” Kristen added.

“The landlord said he never liked him that he gave off this vibe he didn’t like. OA, Y/N I need you two to go down to this apartment in the Bronx and talk to the landlord, see if you can get any surveillance footage and talk to Cindy. We need to ID Patrick before he has time to carry out his plans. Go.”

During the drive uptown, the two of you discussed the case and came up with a plan on what angle to play up. You decided to be the sympathetic woman hoping it would soften her to loosen her tongue and he would be the asshole agent only out for the bottom line. It was an angle you both worked often. He liked it when you were the asshole though, you did it so well.

When you arrived at the apartment you found Cindy roughed up with visible bruises all over her face. After permission from her, he performed a quick search of the area while you sat her on the couch and began softening her up. He didn’t find anything, not even a picture of the couple. By the time he got back to the living room, he could tell you were already successful.

“Look, you’re already in a hell of a lot of trouble, Cindy. You’re looking at at least three different charges, accessory to terror, accomplice, attempted homicide, and those are just the ones that carry fifteen years minimum.”

“Oh my god, no. I didn’t do anything. You can’t do that,” Cindy began to protest hysterically.

“Hey OA, back off. Take it easy. I’m sorry about my partner he gets a little excited sometimes, especially when lives are on the line. Look, Cindy, from what you’ve said so far I can tell that this wasn’t something you wanted.”

“No, of course not. He swore it was just a show, to scare people so they would listen to him. I didn’t know he was really planning on hurting people.”

“Where is he planning this, Cindy? You gotta give us something?”

“I don’t know. He said something about a protest but when I asked for more information he roughed me up. Then when I tried to get out he did this.” It was then her tears began. He rolled his eyes. It was yet another sob story of someone who got mixed up with the wrong person and would suffer the consequences.

“Okay, what type of weapons does he have?”

Cindy remained quiet for several moments too long. Your eyes met his for a moment, but you spoke before him.

“Cindy, you called this in. That shows you’re not a bad person, it shows you want to do the right thing. Help us before someone gets hurt. What kind of weapon does he have?”

“A bomb.”

“How did he get a bomb?”

“I—I made it for him,” she confessed. Again, you looked at him.

“I’m a biochemist tech.”

That was all he needed to hear before he walked to Cindy and cuffed her. She could finish this sob story at headquarters.

-Y/N-

You sat in the conference room shaking your heard just replaying the details of Cindy’s interrogation. It was incredible how stupid men could make smart women. She was a biochemist with a bright future, a future that would have brought someone deserving to her but instead, she settled and now look at what she was facing ten to fifteen years in prison because of a man—because she got distracted by a man.

At that thought, your mind ran to OA and how distracting he was for you. Yeah, OA was not this new perp, but he was still a distraction. You were so damn close to your own bright future you didn’t want to mess it up. Even the slightest deviation could derail you. You looked up and saw OA walking through the office in his perfectly fitted suit that stretched across his broad shoulders. Every time you saw him in one of his suits you wanted to rip it off of him to see just what he was working with. You knew he was buff; knew he had a body like a damn God. You desperately wanted to devour it.

He stopped and spoke to Jubal and Kristen keeping his back to you. You took the opportunity to skim his body taking in every single detail, his trim waist, and tight ass. His ass looked incredible; it was probably better than your ass. You bit your bottom lip and tried to control your breathing. Before you realized it he’d turned around and was looking at you.

“Shit.”

He was now walking to you. You did your best to act normal and keep your eyes above his waist.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about how stupid men make women.”

A snort escaped him as he leaned on the desk beside you. “What do you mean?”

“Cindy, she’s a biochemist, smart, pretty and on the right path to making something of herself and in comes Patrick and she decides to make a bomb for him. She did something absolutely stupid.”

“True, but I don’t think all men make smart women stupid.” You looked at him and studied his face.

“Oh no?”

“No. Some men could make smart women happy and bring calm and balance into their lives. You’ve never acted a little crazy because of a man?”

“Maybe when I was a child, but once I figured out what I wanted to do with my life I let go of crazy things. No matter how much I want to do a crazy thing here or there I know it won’t help me get where I want to be.”

“So you just what—live a boring life? Work, home, eat, sleep, work again?”

“Oh, that’s boring?”

OA shrugged and gave a yikes face, one that had you thinking he really did think it was boring. It now made you wonder if he thought you were boring.

“All I’m saying is doing a crazy thing every once in a while won’t set your life on fire,” OA finished as he locked eyes with you. The moment stretched and with it the tension in the air rose.

“I take it you do crazy things all the time.”

His smile was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen. You had to pinch yourself in order not to sigh out like a lovesick puppy.

“Not all the time, but here and there. I haven’t actually done anything crazy in a while. I’ve been trying to restrain myself,” he admitted.

Your interest piqued and your eyebrow rose. “Oh really? Why?”

OA didn’t speak right away; he kept his eyes on your face studying you. His eyes were so expressive but secretive all at once and you wanted to uncover his secret—all of his secrets. Once he opened his mouth it was Isobel’s voice that you heard. Another break in the case.

Twenty minutes later you and OA were dressed in FBI protective gear approaching the location where the suspected terrorist Patrick was. Your eyes widened seeing all the civilians around that were scattered in front of City Hall. They were protesting for gay marriage chanting that everyone deserved equal rights. It was the perfect place for maximum collateral damage. OA shouted out the plan to everyone around it was the same tactical approach you’d all learned at Quantico.

“Let’s keep it tight everyone. Patrick is said to be inside somewhere. We know the bomb is in there, we have to find him, find it and clear the building as quietly as possible!” Everyone nodded. OA looked to you and nodded then made his move with you following close behind. Once you made it to the side of the building he looked at you again.

“Ready?” You nodded and he took the lead.

The two of you and your team went room by room sweeping the area. When you found people, they were escorted to safety. Ten minutes later, you still hadn’t found him. As you stood outside one of the courtrooms, you checked the corner and saw a man matching his description walk across the room.

“Suspect right ahead in the room. He looked to have seven hostages, holding detonator with bomb on the desk.”

“Damn it. Jubal suspect has hostages. Where the hell is bomb squad?”

Jubal’s response was a time that both you and OA knew would be too late.

“He’s holding the detonator,” you informed. “Aim for his hand, so he drops it. From the numbers on the bomb, it’s a counter. It’ll give us enough time to distract him to get the hostages out.”

“Y/N, that’s a horrible plan.”

“OA, we don’t have time, bomb squad is fifteen minutes out. Look at him, he is unhinged.”

He knew you were right; you could see it. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“You stay here and shoot, I’ll distract him.”

“What? No. Your sniping skills are insane. You’ll get a clean shot. I’m going in.” You took off the FBI garb revealing a fitted white tank top. You then took your hair out and grabbed the abandoned blazer you saw nearby.

“Okay. I’ll buy you as much time as possible.”

“Y/N--.” The look the two of you exchanged was one that said there was still plenty that remained unspoken between you. You walked off and grabbed a stack of papers off a desk and walked to the room.

“Who the fuck are you!”

“Oh my god.” You dropped the papers and raised your hands and played the perfect unwitting bystander. He repeated the question again, louder this time as he pulled a gun from behind him. Great, you thought.

“Y/N. I—I work here. Oh my god, please don’t hurt me.”

“Get over here!” You slowly walked to him. He painfully grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck and yanked you back.

“Sit down and shut up!” He began to shove you to the ground but instead, you reversed his movements and got in one punch. You didn’t see the crack in the floor and twisted your ankle and fell to the ground.

“Shit.” The perp looked pissed.

“You bitch!” He pointed the gun to you and pulled the trigger just as you heard another gun sound getting off two shots. You felt the sear of a bullet but saw the perp drop his gun and the detonator he held. Around you was chaos and craziness as hostages screamed and OA busted into the room with his gun raised. He shouted to everyone to run, they didn’t wait and proceeded to run from the room. OA got to the perp, pushed him to the floor and pressed his knee in his back while he cuffed him.

“Y/A, do you hear me!”

A few seconds later he was at your side checking you. His eyes zeroed in on your abdomen. You looked and saw bright red blood showing through your tank top. “You’ve been hit.” You saw the perp get up and pull out a second detonator, the numbers on the bomb began to countdown.

“The bomb!” OA looked back and scurried to the perp and draped him up trying to wrestle the detonator from him.

“All the sinners must die!” Without thinking you ran to the bomb and ran with it trying to think as quickly as possible.

“The atrium, OA shouted. You ran across the hall to the atrium balcony where no part of the structure would be damaged. You threw it in but as you turned to run it went off. The explosion was huge and sent you flying. Everything went in slow motion. OA’s eyes were wide with terror as he ran to you. He caught you in midair and spun your body pulling you to the ground and using his body as a shield.

In what felt like minutes turned out to actually be seconds. You could hear OA shouting your name and felt the taps on your cheek. Gasping you opened your eyes to see OA above you covered in dust and grime.

“Jesus!” OA dropped his head into the space beside your head.

“Oh my god. You scared the shit out of me.” You coughed and tried to get a good breath in.

“OA, Y/N!” You looked and saw members of your team approaching to give the two of you aid. OA was all over it though. He helped you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist and walked out of the building while the others wrangled the cause of all of this. Today was his last day of sunlight for a long time.

EMTs rushed to you two asking if you needed help. They immediately zeroed in on your bloody abdomen, it was then you felt the pain that had you passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke you were in the emergency room in your bra. You weren’t feeling much pain but you definitely felt sore. Groaning you sat up and peeled the oxygen mask off and pulled out the IV line which sent the machine beside you going off. Instantly the room was filled with your coworkers, Jubal, Isobel, Kristen, and OA. They all looked fearful.

“What’re you doing? You’ve been shot,” Kristen shouted coming to you to force you back into bed before she draped a gown over your chest.

“I’m ready to go. I’m fine. It’s not even a real shot. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“A flesh wound? Y/N you have to get changed out,” Jubal added. You groaned and shook your head.

It was clear they wouldn’t let you go anywhere so you decided to listen. Isobel and Jubal were the first to leave after telling you that the case was now closed, and all parties would face the consequences of their actions. Kristen stayed with OA until you fell asleep.

When you opened your eyes again it was just OA sitting in the seat beside your bed. “Oh my god OA, go home. I’m fine.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice sounded tired.

“What?”

“Improvise like that. You weren’t supposed to attack him, Y/N. You were supposed to distract him.”

“I know but I had him--.”

“Until you didn’t. Now you have a gunshot to the gut for it.”

“The bullet grazed me, OA.”

“Y/N, this isn’t a game!” He sprang to his feet and paced the floor.

You were confused by his outburst. “OA, what’s wrong with you?”

“A few centimeters to the right and we would be having a different conversation. I don’t even know if we would be having a conversation. That was an unnecessary risk. You can’t do that to me.”

“To you?”

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d lose you. I thought that was it and I lost my shit, Y/N.”

Your heart was racing. The words he was saying were unexpected. “I don’t want to lose you,” OA finished. “I can’t.”

The room fell silent and you stared at each other. He was still covered in dirt and soot with several scratches on his face. He was not perfect anymore, he looked scared. You’d never seen OA look scared.

“I was fine,” you said barely above a whisper. His jaw clenched and you recognized the anger.

“You still don’t get it. You’re the crazy thing,” OA said before he turned and walked out of the room leaving you lying there confused but completely destroyed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@titty-teetee @bamakakechick @bellaamore88 @theblulife @sonjashuterbugjohnson @tonilaney @lo-cheu @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @dangerouslovefanfic @alyxkbrl @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @sup3rn0va13 @chaneajoyyy @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic

#Partner fic #partner mini series #oa zidan #oa zidan fanfiction #zeeko zaki #Zeeko zaki fanfiction #oa zidan x reader #oa Zidan x you #oa Zidan x black reader #zeeko zaki x reader #zeeko zaki x you #zeeko zaki x black reader #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #partners fic

359 notes · View notes

angstsfordays · 5 years

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: You liked Steve. No, you still like Steve. When you finally confessed, he could not give you a definite answer. Your heart broke. But what happens when you came face to face with Steve the very next day, only this time he wasn’t really your Steve….

Pairing: Steve rogers x Enhanced!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: FLUFF. ANGST. MORE FLUFF. AND PERHAPS TEARS. A couple of swear words. Death.

Word count: 8987

Notes: HI EVERYBODY! This is my first Marvel fanfiction! I wrote fanfics before, but I have always been much more of a reader. After a 1.5 year hiatus, I felt compelled to write again. Hope everyone enjoys this piece. I still am trying to establish myself as a rookie writer.

This is AU and doesn’t fall in any of the MCU timeline. Let’s just assume that the world is currently at peace from Thanos and this is just set in an everyday Avengers timeline. A like, reblog or comment will be deeply appreciated :)

———————————————————————

You woke up with an unnerving feeling in your chest. You wondered why and then you were reminded of the day before. You had confessed to Steve. Yes that Steve, the Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your boss. Your hopeless crush. You joined the Avengers not too long ago. It had been over two years. You were an agent of SHIELD, but more importantly an enhanced individual.

You always had your powers since you were young but hid it to blend in. When you’re 20, you used your powers for the first time to save someone in danger. You ended up on SHIELD’s radar and then recruited into the academy.

You undergone training to become a SHIELD operative under Phil Coulson’s tutelage and was recognised to be an outstanding agent. However, more so often, you were not a stickler for rules and had gone off book several times in operations.

This placed you on a thin line to getting kicked out of the academy, but you always had the backing of Phil who grown a soft spot. You reminded him of his younger days and also his fellow colleague, Melinda May whom put the interests of saving lives at the forefront in their work.

When the Battle of New York happened, you were broken. Mainly because you lost your mentor and your dearest friend. You were teetering on quitting when Phil died in the line of duty. Director Fury pulled you back, reminding you of Phil’s sacrifice and how Phil thought the world of you, feeling that you had much potential to unfold. You continued working under Director Fury’s orders, working on special missions.

When SHIELD was taken down by HYDRA from the inside, you didn’t know who to trust. All you knew was that Director Fury had seemingly been assassinated. You wanted to find out what happened, but plans deviated when you realised you were on HYDRA’s radar. Your powers were of great interest to them and you were wanted. You had to abandon the place you felt like home and went into hiding.

A couple of years later, you resurfaced. You found yourself facing the Avengers while they were on a mission. No you were fighting not against them, instead you stumbled upon them while you were on the run. That’s when you saw Steve Rogers for the first time. It didn’t feel like the first time though.

Perhaps it was because you heard so much about him from Phil that you felt you already knew him. A smile formed on your face when you recalled Phil’s rambling of his love for the war hero. It was one of those moments when you saw him as the real Phil, and not just Agent Coulson- your supervising officer.

A HYDRA agent was going to aim for Steve from a hidden spot and you almost flew in to intervene. You knocked out the agent with your gloved fists engulfed in high density energy. You remembered staring into the sparkling blue eyes of Steve Rogers for the first time. His eyes widened at the sight of you- wondering who you were and what were you doing.

You heard backup coming and the two of you fought off a couple more HYDRA agents together. It was as if you had been working together your whole life, the two of you fought in sync. You covered for him and he did so for you. There was an unspoken synergy that happened between you two. When the last HDYRA agent went down, you two finally looked at each other once more. Panting and out of breath, you hunched over trying to catch your breath.

You heard his footsteps coming closer, as if to check on you. You looked up at him, and he took his helmet off. His crop but luscious blonde locks fell over.

“Hey, are you alright-” You heard his voice for the first time. It was not really; you had seen him before and heard him before. You remembered the video clips that were played in classes at the academy. SHIELD was founded on the legacy of Captain America afterall. But this was different. You heart started to beat wildly, knowing that he was speaking to you.

“Steve, are you alright?” Another voice appeared. It was familiar. You two both spun your heads in the same direction to see a scarlet head emerging in your sight. Natasha Romanoff. You had seen her before back at SHIELD. Phil had worked together with her and Agent Barton several times. You were introduced once to them before as his mentee.

“Who’s that with you?” She spoke once more. You started to panic, what was this situation with you, Captain America and Black Widow? You were supposed to be in hiding from the HYDRA operatives that came to capture you. Should you seek refuge with the Avengers? Would they keep you safe? You were not a hundred percent sure. You felt that you were still safest alone.

That’s why you decided to take flight. Literally. Because with your powers, you managed to push yourself off the ground and into the air, landing far away from where the two avenger members were.

The next time you saw Steve was in your apartment. You came home to see him standing in your kitchen. You dropped your bag of groceries and let out a scream that would have your neighbours appalled. Your powers came out almost immediately in defense and Steve had to duck when a shot of energy aimed at the kitchen cabinet behind him.

He raised both his hands in defense and assured he meant no harm. He explained that Natasha had helped him to track you down. He understood your situation and offered you a place in the Avengers compound. No more hiding and no more fear of surviving.

All previous resistance thrown out of the window, the sincerity in his eyes and voice won you over almost immediately. You knew not to trust people easily, that much Phil has taught you but how could you not when it was Steve Rogers.

So you then found yourself becoming a part of the Avengers. You blended into the group seamlessly, like you were an old-time friend. You had gotten closer to Natasha who was once an intimidating senior agent in your eyes. You became fast friends with Wanda whom you bonded over the love of food. More so of her cooking and you being the taste tester.

Sam and Bucky welcomed you into their group especially when you find yourself the buffer between their bickering. You always went along with Tony Stark’s antics and he saw you as a little sister. Bruce and you have a polite relationship, not having much in common but you still got along with him in the group.

Vision and you have a pretty interesting relationship, you found yourself as a life sensei to him whenever he was curious about the human way of life. You only met Thor a few times but you two had a friendly relationship whenever he visited Earth. He felt like another older brother to you.

Now. Where does that leave Steve Rogers? The man who brought you into this new life. You regarded him as your leader, captain and comrade. You wanted to impress him especially since he offered you a new chance in life. You always made sure you did your best during missions so as not to disappoint him. You wanted to be in his good books. You wanted him to like you as a teammate and maybe more?

You didn’t know when you started to have feelings for the American hero, but you believed it was gradual.

When you saw him in the morning eating disgusting plain oats, you offered to whip up some fluffy blueberry pancakes (which you learnt how to from Wanda). When you see his brows knitted to get his Netflix account created, you chuckled and decided to help the poor guy out. When he found in himself from unwanted attention at Tony’s gatherings, you slid in smoothly between him and the other party, coming up with smooth lies to help him out of an awkward bind.

You didn’t know why you wanted to do all of those things. Were you being nice? Or perhaps you wanted to be nice to him? He was on your mind most of the time. How can I make a good impression? How can I get closer to him? Your mind was always boggling with such thoughts.

Whenever he was in the room, your eyes always wandered off to him. You tried to subtly get closer to him- sitting beside him during movie nights, sitting across him during meetings. It was those little things that made you feel like you could signal your presence to him. You wanted him to notice you just as much you did for him. Of course, these things did not go unnoticed. Unfortunately, not by said man himself but everyone else in your inner circle.

Natasha caught your longing look at Steve one movie night, and she smirked to herself. She nudged your hips the next morning in the kitchen when Steve walked into the room. She gave you an all-knowing smile and your eyes widened in horror. How? You mouthed the word to her, and she just shrugged while looking all smug.

Wanda was the next one to know you both baked together for Valentine’s Day. You two were baking for everyone in the team. You decided to make a special cookie, she noted. One in the shape of a heart and with familiar colours of red, white and blue icing. Steve, Bucky and Sam were walking in from their workout in the gym when they smelt the scent of freshly baked goods.

Sam’s hands were reaching out for your special cookie when you turned your back to wash your hands in the sink. You let out a shrill scream of horror when you saw Sam picking it up and bringing it closer to his lips.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” The three soldiers almost jumped back at your voice and Sam raised his other hand in surrender. You took your cookie out of his hands and dusted it off as if his touch sullied the baked biscuit.

“This is not yours, Sam. You can have those.” You pointed over to the other batch of cookies. They were all smaller in sizes, in the regular circular shape with generic red and pink icing drawn in heart shapes on the surface.

“What? Then the heck it that cookie for?” Sam retorted, almost offended.

You grinned sheepishly when you directed your eyes at a certain blonde soldier. Your previous bravado shaken as you tried to find your voice to speak. You swore your hands were trembling and you tried hard to not break the palm sized heart shaped cookie in your hands.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I uh made this for you.” Yes. You got the words out. The expressions on the faces of the other three people in the room would have been hilarious but they were not in your sight. You only had eyes for one person.

“What? How come he gets a special cookie from the rest of us? Now that’s just discrimination.” Sam quipped. Bucky shook his head like he could not believe how dumb Sam could even be. Wanda had to bite her lips back, when she realised what was going on all along. Oh my dear Y/N…she thought.

“Would you accept my it?” You added nervously when you noticed Steve did not give a response.

“Uh, thank you Y/N. That’s really nice of you.” Steve answered as politely as he usually did and took the cookie from your hands. When Steve just stopped at that response, Bucky looked like he was going to die from the stupidity of the men in the room except for him. Bucky also knew there and then what was happening. He could not believe his best friend was so oblivious.

“Hey, that’s unfair. I want one.” Sam whined almost like a child. Bucky face palmed himself and grunted.

You were a little disappointed at Steve’s response, nice of you? Urgh, you secretly wished he had more to say. Did you put him on a spot in front of his friends? How stupid could you have gotten?

“Fine fine, geez I will make a falcon-themed one for you, You big baby.” You huffed in annoyance, but also to mainly mask your disappointment. You quickly grabbed a piping bag. “Would you like one too, Bucky?” You mustered a smile on your face to make it seem like you were not affected by Steve’s response at all. Bucky gave you a look like he knew- he knew what’s up and he gave you a sorry look.

“Sure doll, I would love one.” Bucky said in hopes of making you feel better. You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Wanda to give you a comforting smile. You fought to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes.

But that was not your actual confession to Steve.———————————————————————

That time came during an Avenger’s game night. The team was playing truth and dare Jenga. It was your turn and you hoped you gotten something that would not be too difficult to do.

“Tell the person across you something that you always wanted to say to them.”

You looked up immediately and were met with cerulean blue eyes. Your breath hitched when you realised who it was.

You cursed in your head and perhaps even muttered it under your breath. You felt the eyes of the rest of your teammates intently on you. After a minute, Tony started to get impatient.

“Come on kid, what do you want to say to Capsicle? There should be plenty right? If not drink up.” Oh boy, if only Tony knew. You looked nervously elsewhere and locked eyes with Natasha beside you. Your eyes then fleet towards Wanda who looked concerned and then to Bucky who almost looked nervous for you. Your legs were getting jumpy and then your hands lunged forward to grab the bottle of whiskey in front of you.

A series of ‘Nos’ came up, but you couldn’t hear them clearly as you drowned down the liquid. It tasted like fire down your throat and it almost burned. You stumbled backwards as you tried to recover your footing.

“Really, Y/N? You rather drink up than say something to Cap?” Tony jested. “By the way, you just drank Thor’s special Asgardian liquor by mistake.”

“What?” You let out a loud exclamation and you turned the bottle to see a flask bottle that you recognised to have been Thor’s.

“Oh boy.” A sudden wave of adrenaline surged through you and you had to close your eyes to gain your bearings once more. You opened your eyes to meet Steve’s eyes once more. You did not know what was happening next. The words left your mouth before you could even formulate it in your head.

“I LIKE YOU SO MUCH!” What was going on? You didn’t mean to say this out loud?! Why were you even saying it? You already drank to pass saying the truth. Why couldn’t you control yourself?

“I REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU, STEVE ROGERS.” You declared your love once more and you were shocked by your boldness. Everyone else was reeling in their seats as they looked at the situation unfolding in front of them. Tony Stark could be seen muffling his laughter at Y/N’s antic while a blonde soldier, who was at the end of the confession remained stiff in expression.

“CAN’T YOU HEAR MY HEART?” Your speech was slurred as you brought your hand to clutch the side of your shirt where your heart was.

“You have super hearing, right? Can’t you hear my heart beating like crazy? Whenever I’m around you, I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest because I like you much!” Your mouth continued to blabber, but your mind was reeling. Control yourself Y/N! You willed yourself but you couldn’t. Stupid Asgardian alcohol.

“I can’t hide it anymore. I need to let you know! I need to let the whole word know!” You flailed your hands out in motion. “Do you know how much it hurts to like you and not letting you know? I need to get this off my chest. Right here and right now!” You put a foot up on the table and stretched your hand out to point at Steve Rogers.

“Steve Rogers! Do you want to go out with me?” You asked boldly, not caring a hoot about everyone in the room. Your mind was chastising you for being foolish, but your heart felt fulfilled from doing what it always wanted to do.

There were gasps from people in the room. A series of ‘oh my god’ and suppressed laughter from others. Sam’s jaw looked like it was going to drop to the floor. Tony at this moment couldn’t hold back himself and howled. He needed to take a swig of booze to continue watching this. Bucky looked over to his best pal who looked like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

Both Natasha and Wanda had worried expressions. They were glad you were able to confess but they also knew this was not the way you would want it to go. Vision and Bruce looked like they couldn’t believe what was happening in front of their eyes.

Steve Rogers was at a loss. The last thing he expected was a confession from you. Steve was not sure how to respond. He liked you alright, but he wasn’t sure if he liked you as much as you to him. He always seen you as a friend and teammate.

He remembered how shy you were when first joined. You were wary of everything, and it was normal. He read up on your profile. He was surprised to learn you were under Agent Phil Coulson’s personal tutelage. He knew the man and thought highly of him. Natasha gave in her input, remembering you were a spunky and enthusiastic rookie agent who always seemed to put in her best efforts.

When he realised you had been on the run from HYDRA because of your powers, he knew he had to step in. It was only the right thing to do. When he first saw you, he was taken aback at the girl who covered for him. You didn’t have to. If you did, you exposed yourself to the risk of your location to HYDRA. And when the two of you fought hand in hand, he felt a weird sense of camaraderie he did not expect to find in someone he met for the first time.

He remembered when you accepted his offer, he offered his hand but instead you pulled in for a hug. He was taken aback but gave in when he felt you shaking in his arms. You let out muffled cries and Steve could feel your sense of relief that you didn’t need to hide anymore. You were safe and he would keep you safe.

You opened up to the rest of the team almost instantly, your easy-going nature made everyone comfortable about you. You had an effortless way of getting along with people and you soon became an indispensable part of the team.

However, Steve started to notice while you were getting closer with everyone, he could feel like you were keeping a distance from him. While you were still friendly with him, he could not help but to feel that you showed hesitance around him.

Sure enough, you always did nice things for him, but Steve could not help but feel you were always guarded around him. You were unafraid to be silly and goofy around the rest of the team, but he could sense you always wanted to present a good image whenever he’s around.

When you were not looking, he could see you making faces to Sam across the room when meetings get boring and draggy. It was one late night, both you and Bucky could not sleep, and you offered to help Bucky with his nightmares when Steve happened to pass by the common kitchen.

The look of excitement when you brought out an entire tea set and assortment of tea selection laid on the table. “You should give up on coffee from now on. Tea is the way to go!” You said in a matter of fact tone. You went on to talk about the benefits of tea and how they helped you especially in the line of work you were all involved in.

You went on to brew actual tea leaves for Bucky, claiming it was even better than putting a sachet in a cup of hot water. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the lengths you went for Bucky. It was nice to see Bucky having another friend aside from himself and occasionally Sam.

Steve didn’t know how long he was staring but he was snapped out of it when Bucky called him out from where he was hiding behind the wall. When your head snapped to see Steve, your carefree smile dropped and became one that was more reserved.

“Uh, hey Steve.” You greeted him. “Tea?” You asked him as you held up the pot. Sure why not, Steve thought.

The three of you began to have a heart to heart late night talk. Your enthusiasm from earlier mellowed but you still talked easily with Bucky and him. Steve noticed your eyes were always looking towards Bucky. Did you like him? Steve saw you throwing glances every now and then, but you kept your eyes on Bucky, as if wanting to avoid having to look at him. You laughed easily at Bucky’s sardonic humour and even rested your head on his arm a couple of times in affection.

You had to like Bucky right? Steve never seen you so close to another guy in the team, except for Tony and Sam whom he knew you had sibling like relationships with. Steve knew it, Bucky always got the girl.

Even back in the 30s’. Bucky had an effortless charm about him, and even after all he had gone through, he never lost his appeal. Steve knew about the glances that some of the female staff in the compound had whenever Bucky stepped into the room.

Steve suddenly felt like the scrawny kid back in Brooklyn. The one who always gotten put aside. The one who was always forgotten. Even after the serum, Steve felt like this from time to time. Steve did know he had gotten more attractive with his increased height and bigger build, but he couldn’t help to wonder if that was all he had.

He was aware of the looks he received by female staff too in the Avengers compound, but he was also aware that they were attracted to Captain America and not Steve Rogers.

Steve felt like you weren’t like the rest. Sure, you did nice things for him and smiled at him everytime you two met, but Steve felt like you were genuine. Yes, they were more muted than what you did for the rest of the team, but he did felt you were not just fawning over him. You were just nice like that.

He did secretly hoped you could be less guarded around him though. Was he intimidating? Was he not approachable? Steve thought long and hard about this once in a while.

Back to the confession, Steve could not believe what he was hearing. You liked him all this while? It wasn’t Bucky? But how? But why? He thought you liked Bucky for sure! And here you are, declaring your crush for him in front of everyone like it was nothing. Yes, you did drink Thor’s special mead but it was a complete flip of how you usually were around him.

What was he supposed to say? You were drunk. Steve didn’t even know if you were even thinking straight. But your eyes. Your eyes were boring straight to his and he realised this was the longest that you have looked him in the eyes without shying away.

“Come on, Rogers. Don’t leave a girl hanging. Give her an answer.” Tony egged on, the only one amused in this entire situation.

“I-uh…” Steve looked to his best pal and Bucky could only returned a look that said ‘It’s all up to you, punk’.

“Y/N, you are drunk. You should return to your room.” Steve instantly regretted his words when he saw the sullen look on your face. You looked like you were crushed, and he felt horrible.

“I’m not drunk!” You retorted almost defiantly. “I’m wide awake. I’m woke.” You claimed.

“Do you not like me? Am I that unlikable?” You added on in a whimpering tone. You turned to your side and grabbed Bucky by the collar.

“Why? Why does he not like me?” You cried almost like a child who didn’t get she wanted. Bucky decided to intervene and hoist you over his shoulders. “Okay time for you to be in bed.”

“Put me down Bucky! I am perfectly capable of walking. I don’t want my face to meet your ass!” You fought back as you started throwing fists at Bucky’s backside to get him to let you down. You didn’t remember the events of that night after Bucky dropped you on your bed. You did have an inkling memory of Wanda and Natasha helping you get ready for bed.

———————————————————————

Shit, you thought. Every memory came back rushing back to you and you squished your face to the pillow. You didn’t want to face the music. You didn’t even want to step out of your room to face the consequences of your drunkenness. What have you done? Every last possibility of your relationship with Steve had been tossed out the window.

Should you quit? Pack up and run away? You didn’t think you could ever stand to be around him anymore. Your mind then wandered to the pounding headache from the hangover you acquired. You turned your face to the side to see a glass of water and two aspirin pills. You wandered who left them there. Must be either Wanda or Nat.

You took the pills and down them with the glass of water. You sat up to get your bearings and let out a sigh. Woah, you stunk of alcohol. A bath sounded nice at this moment. You dragged yourself with every ounce of energy left in your body and struggled to fill the tub with warm water. You didn’t know how you managed but you went over to your cabinet to grab some relaxing essential oils to be added into your bath.

Yes that bath was helpful indeed. After you rinsed off, you changed into a long-sleeved cropped Henley and loose sweats. You were drying your hair as you mulled over what happened last night.

What were you supposed to do? You could feel the hunger growling in your stomach. You asked Friday for the time and it was well over 2pm. You then asked for the locations of everyone in the team. If you wanted to avoid social interactions, you needed to come up with a plan. Bucky and Sam were training new recruits. Nat, Wanda and Vision were out while Tony ad Bruce were in the lab. Steve was in his office.

That sounded good, you could sneak into the kitchen, make a sandwich or something and get the hell out in 10 minutes tops. As quickly as you could, you made sure to make a sound even while sprinting to the kitchen. When you assessed that the coast was clear, you quickly opened the fridge and cabinets to take out what you want.

You messily put a sandwich together and even grabbed an instant ramen bowl. You placed everything on a tray and quickly returned to your room. You wolfed down on the sustenance as if you didn’t eat for days. The soup from the ramen cured was a warm welcome for your stomach. You placed your tray aside and lay on your bed. What next?

You walked over to the toilet to relieve yourself once more when you suddenly felt the ground shaking. You shot up in surprise and quickly cleaned up.

“Friday, what happened?” You asked worriedly.

“There has been an explosion down in lab beside the garage.” Friday answered immediately.

“Are Tony and Bruce okay?” You asked after the Science bros.

“Yes, their vitals show no danger. However, Captain Rogers was also present when the explosion occurred.” Steve was there too?

“I cannot detect his-” Friday spoke once more, but you didn’t hear the end of it as your door flew open and you raced down to the lab.

Tony and Bruce came into view as they stood around the weird panels in the lab. There was a faint smoke in the air.

“Woah what happened?” You could hear Sam’s voice behind you, and you turned to see Bucky present too. The three of you walked over to the scene hurriedly to examine what happened.

“Where’s Steve? I heard he was also-” Your sentence was interrupted by a coughing. The voice sounded familiar, but something was different. The smoke cleared to reveal….

“Yo Steve, what happened?!” Sam exclaimed at the sight standing in front of him. All eyes turned to see Steve Rogers only much much older in physical appearance. It would match with his actual age but you couldn’t believe your eyes.

The Steve in front of you looked shocked at the sight of everyone. He also had a look of longing like he had not seen everyone in a long time.

“Shit, we made Cap old!” Tony gasped aloud.

“Steve, you there?” Bucky stepped forward to place his hands on the shoulder of his old friend. Your attention was brought to the height difference. Steve was no longer the same height range as Bucky. He in fact, looked smaller. His grey hair was combed neatly and you could see the wrinkles adorned on his face. His blue eyes were still sparkling, you thought. Steve was dressed warmly in several layers on top and he turned his head slowly to take in his surroundings.

His eyes landed on you and started to panic. Last night’s events came rushing back to you and you then realised you didn’t want to face him. You turned your heels to leave immediately but you were stopped in your tracks.

“Wait, Y/N. Please don’t go.” The voice that came out of him sounded so frail that to didn’t had the heart to continue walking.

Your body turned back to face future Steve and he was slowly making his way to you. As you got closer, you realised the two of you were almost of the same height. Future Steve went in for a hug without any other words. Though he was much smaller, his hug was still firm. Your eyes widened at his actions and you awkwardly returned it with your arms wrapped under his arms.

“It’s so good to see you again. I missed you so much.” Future Steve muttered as he leaned his face into the crook of your neck. His voice shook almost like he was holding back tears.

“Again? What do you mean again?” Bruce took the words right out of your mouth. Steve reluctantly let go of you and turned to face the rest of the people in the room.

“What year is this?” Future Steve asked. Bruce gave the answer to which future Steve let out a short laugh.

“That long, huh. 50 years I see.” He spoke once more.

“50 years? Wait a minute, are you from the future?” Sam asked incredulously. Future Steve didn’t gave an answer but the silence that followed confirmed our suspicions.

“So if Cap here is from 50 years into the future, where does leave the Cap in our timeline?” Tony inquired. Old Steve gave a shrug.

“You always make the impossible seem possible, Tony.”

“Perhaps, they switched places.” Bruce deduced. He then went on rambling how Tony and himself were experimenting with the idea of time travel and different universe. The original Steve was walking in to talk to Tony when the blast had happened and he got caught in it, which all led to the current situation.

“Can we get him back?” Bucky spoke up, looking over to long-time friend.

“We can try but we will need time to work out the mechanics and see when we have gone wrong. We cannot guarantee how long it would take.” Bruce answered.

“Friday, you got all of this on tape right? I cannot wait to show out Cap this footage when he gets back.” Tony jested and you turned to him with an annoyed expression.

“This is serious Tony. You better fix this!”

“Geez kid, cut me some slack.” He rolled his eyes. “So what are we going to do with this Cap?” He pointed over to the future Steve standing beside me.

“We can take him back to the common room, let him get comfortable while you fix your machine. Best to not let anyone else know about this outside of our circle.” Bucky remarked before gesturing for Steve to follow him. Sam was still reeling in surprise as he assessed future Steve.

You stood rooted to the ground, unsure what to do. Should you follow Sam and Bucky with future Steve? You were still haunted by what happened last night. Well this Steve didn’t know what happened, but you couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed still.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Bucky offered you to join. You were about to reject his offer, make up an excuse to go back to your room when someone grabbed hold of your hand.

You looked to see future Steve holding your hand gently with his wrinkled hands. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks and ears. He was gazing into your eyes with a shy smile.

“Walk with me?” He asked and you swore you wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Me?” You were sure you looked confused at the transition of what was happening. Future Steve chuckled and continued walking on, pulling you with him. Bucky who witnessed this smiled to himself and Sam continued to look baffled at everything.

His hand felt warm and soft, you thought. Unconsciously, your other hand went to hold his arm. You were shy to meet future Steve’s gaze especially since you were now the same height as him. It was much more intense than looking at him now.

All of you walked silently to the common room. Everyone sat around the dining table, you offered to make coffee but future Steve held onto your hand as you stood up to walk over to the pantry.

“I would like some tea, if you don’t mind. The one with actual leaves and not just the tea bag.” His face crinkled as he smiled at you.

“Uh sure- you two want some coffee?” You turned to the other two soldiers. The two went along with Steve’s request for tea and you went to find the tea set stored in the cabinet.

You placed the tea set in the centre of the table. It was a clay tea set that was gifted to you by your Bucky as your Secret Santa last Christmas. Nat and Wanda gave their input on the design.

You got the boiled water ready to rinse the teapot and cups. Following this you started to brew the tea as you added the tea leaves into the pot and added the hot water. You rinsed the first batch of brewed tea once before making the second batch that was prepared for drinking.

You were honestly nervous even though you done this hundreds of times. Somehow having future Steve watching over you made you wary of your movements. There was a good few minutes of silence before you poured the tea into the small teacups and offering it to everyone. Future Steve appreciated the teacup in his hands before blowing on it and taking a sip.

“Y/N, it always tastes the best when you made it.” Future Steve turned to me again with a sweet smile. Shit, Steve was still adorable even beyond his years. Calm down your heart, Y/N!

“So Cap, what’s life like 50 years down the road?” Sam decided to break the ice. Future Steve laughed at his bluntness before answering. It felt like nothing changed. Even while this Steve has aged, the three soldiers fell back into easy conversation.

Sam was curious about himself and tried to pry information out of future Steve. Future Steve warned that knowing the future may not be a good idea. He did throw in several teasing remarks that Sam and Bucky will continue to argue in their old age in front of their grandchildren.

Bucky was surprised that he would even have his own family in the future. He was about to ask Steve about his own when Bucky’s eyes wandered to Steve’s left hand, a silver band resting on one of his fingers.

“Guess we’re not the only ones who had our own families.” Bucky remarked smugly as he nodded his head to future Steve’s wedding band. Future Steve thumbed over his wedding band before sneaking a glance over to you.

“Well, uh-yes I did. But-” The idea of Steve married was not impossible, I mean after all he was such a great catch. You were pretty sure Steve finally gotten a nice girl to settle down with. The gnawing feeling in your chest returned. Damn, this hurts more than you thought. You just wished Steve had a happy and fulfilling life.

You stood up abruptly from your seat, almost seething with jealousy. You couldn’t help it. The feelings from yesterday were still raw and you couldn’t handle the truth if future Steve were to talk about his happy married life.

Your abrupt action caused the chair to screech as it was pushed back. You felt the eyes of all three soldiers on you and you hasten to collect the tea set to mask your reaction. You hurriedly walked over to the sink to wash your tea set, leaving it to air dry.

“I’m going off for a walk. See you boys later.” You quickly waved off before you transitioned to a brisk walk to the elevator. When you exit one of the doors of the compound, you headed straight for the clearing near the lake. It was your secret spot that you had claimed as your own. You always came here when your mind and heart were heavy.

You had a bench secretly installed so that you could sit there and gaze into the sunset on occasions. You remembered ordering it on Tony’s card and had to bring it out to the clearing when everyone was still asleep in the early morning, You laughed silently at your own antics.

You laid on your side on the bench, propping your head up with your arms and you dazed off into the lake in front of you. You didn’t know how long you were lying down but you wished you had brought your phone and earpiece to pass the time.

“I guess even the serum cannot help me at this age. Way to make an old man come after you, Y/N.” Your ears perked up at his voice and in a moment of surprise, rolled forward and off the bench.

“What the fu-” You exclaimed when your body hit the ground.

“Language. Although, many reminders wouldn’t have stopped you anyway.” You couldn’t believe who had followed you to your secret spot. Moreover, how did he know? Even Friday didn’t know! Or did she?

“Steve? What are you doing here?” You asked in a panic as you gathered yourself, brushing the dirt off your knees and elbows.

“Are you alright? That was not a pretty fall.” Future Steve now stood in front of you, his eyes were worried and concerned. His hands reached out to examine the extent of your injuries and was relieved to know that they were nothing major.

“How did you know I will be here? Nobody knows about this spot except for me.” You said.

“Well doll, you were not that subtle moving the bench across the hallway at 5am. Besides, I was already awake at that time” He spoke in a fond tone as he recalled the memory. “Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to follow the girl who was carrying a bench larger than herself.”

You cringed at the exposure of your secret and grimaced at how foolish you must have been in Steve’s eyes.

“I won’t blame you for keeping this place a secret. It is beautiful.” Future Steve spoke with a lingering gaze towards the lake and the surrounding flora. He then gestured for you to sit beside him and you reluctantly did, unsure of what to do either. You made sure that there was a gap between the two of you. You looked anywhere else except for him and didn’t what to say in the following silence.

“What would it take for you to look at me? Am I that unlikeable in your eyes?” Future Steve first broke the silence.

“No, I would never!” You immediately countered. You were shocked at how loud you were and reminded yourself to calm the f down. “I mean who would not like you?!” You gestured dramatically as your hands moved up and down at him. Steve inched closer to you and placed his hands over yours where were resting on your lap.

“I am glad to hear that, Y/N.” You looked into his eyes and had to avert them immediately before you feel like your heart would explode. You looked down to see his wedding band in your lap and you were reminded once more of what made you came out to the lake in the first place.

“Hopefully, Tony and Bruce can come up with a way to get you back to your time. I’m sure you’re missing your family.” You said to future Steve to which he shook his head.

“Not really actually. It’s nice to see all of you young again, reminds me of the good times where we were all together. I lost some people in my time and am glad to see them once again.”

“Oh, did we not all live to an old age like you?” Future Steve’s jaw clenched at your remark and you immediately realised you hit a nerve. “I’m so sorry-” You started apologising before future Steve waved you off, reassuring that it was fine. You could feel the grip of his hands tightened around yours.

“You must have been shocked to see me like this.” Future Steve looked over at himself.

“Shock would not have been the word, surprised was more accurate.” I corrected him.

“Still, you couldn’t have believed that the big and strong Captain America actually looked like this in his old age, right? The serum’s effects waned as I got older in age. I still am strong for someone my age, but my physique reverted back to my pre-serum days.” Future Steve said despondently.

“Hey, don’t say! Who cares about Captain America?” You retorted at his words. “All I see is adorable grandpa Steve Rogers. You’re way cuter like this!” You even emphasized your point when you grabbed his arm and laid your head on his shoulders. If it was the current Steve, you wouldn’t have dared to do any of this. But this Steve right here surprisingly made you feel comfortable around him.

You were still nervous knowing that he was still Steve, but somehow future Steve looked less intimidating.

“You’re still the same as ever. I missed you so much.” Future Steve brought your hands up to lips for a kiss. Now this shocked you as you couldn’t help but feel that this gesture meant more. You quickly withdrew your hands and saw the crestfallen look on his face.

“Look, Steve. I really appreciate you, but I don’t think this is appropriate.” The expression on his face told you he was hurt by your words. “You’re married, Steve.” You pointed to his wedding band.

Future Steve looked down to his wedding band and then his eyes went back to you. A ghost of a smile formed on his face and he shook his head. “I’m sorry if I came off weird. It’s just been such a long time since I saw you- I mean the younger version of you. My emotions took over, I apologise.”

“No-no don’t be sorry. I understand, sort of.” You rubbed the back of your ned in awkwardness. After a while, the two of you decided to head back to the compound. Future Steve offered you his arm and you took it as the both of you enjoyed the walk back in comfortable silence.

“Hey old man, Bruce and I might have figured it out. I think we can send you back.” You and future Steve looked at each other, both sending unwilling looks as if your time together was too short.

“I guess this is goodbye.” You said in a disappointed tone.

“It’s alright, love. I promise we will see each other again.” Future Steve cradled your face with one of his hands. You wondered what he meant, and did he just called you love?!

Future Steve went over to say goodbye to Bucky and Sam, giving each other hugs and claps on the back. Future Steve gave a small salute to Tony and Bruce to which they returned with a nod. He walked over to a raised platform and shifted in his feet to get comfortable. He looked over you once more.

You didn’t know why but you started to have tears forming in your eyes. You hesitantly raise your hands to give a weak wave. Future Steve smiled fondly and returned the gesture. He started to mouth words in your direction but before you could figure out what you wanted to say, a blinding light took over.

You shield your eyes from the light and turned sideways as you felt a rush of smoke and wind. You blinked your eyes repeatedly as you take in the sight before you. Gone was future Steve and…..

“Welcome back Cap!” Sam exclaimed excitedly at seeing his friend again.

“Quick question, Rogers. Where were you?” Tony chimed in as he walked over to Steve. “We met an older version of you 50 years down the road.” Tony replied and he waved up a screen to show a photo of future Steve in the garage with everyone.

“Oh I was somewhere, but it didn’t look like it was far off from this era. Everything looked the same. I wasn’t sure where I was until I saw a date somewhere.” Steve seemed like he was trying to phrase his response carefully and he looked back at Tony.

His eyes then swerved over to where Bucky, Sam and you were standing. He started striding forward and you were sure he was going over to Bucky and Sam. Your feet decided to shuffle backwards once you recalled what happened between you and this version of Steve just yesterday. You made to turn back when you felt yourself being pulled back into an embrace.

You were pushed against a solid mass of muscle; you didn’t need to look up because you knew who it was. Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, seeming to not let you go anytime soon.

“Stefve-” Your voice was muffled against his shirt. You weren’t sure where to place your hands and you were sure it could have felt your heart being wildly against his own chest. Steve placed his head in the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath before sighing. Talk about déjà vu.

You looked over to see the rest of the guys in the garage staring on with bambi eyes. You gestured a wave towards Bucky, signalling for help. You weren’t ready for this Steve at all!

“What’s with the Capsicles hugging Y/N today?” Tony quipped from the side.

You didn’t know how long it was but knew it was long enough for a hug to turn awkward. You tried to place your hands between Steve and yourself to create distance.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Your voice came out squeaky as you willed yourself to look into his eyes. You were surprised to see Steve’s eyes looking red and puffy as if he had been previously crying.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Just a little while longer.” He answered and how could you say no. You obliged and eventually wrapped your arms around him, returning his hug. The rest of the guys were befuddled at what was going on but decided to let the two of you have your moment.

You could hear Sam making a comment as he walked off. “Geez what a weird day and I haven’t even had a drink yet.” Bucky scoffed and proceeded to smack his head before walking forward.

Your eyes followed him and when he caught your stare, he winked before walking off. Your brows knitted at his previous actions but then you realised you had something more important to attend to. You still had a blonde super soldier clinging on to you like a koala.

“Alright, Steve. That’s enough of a hug. This is getting weird.” Upon your words, Steve finally released you but still held onto your arms.

“About yesterday, Y/N, I-” Steve started speaking and our eyes widened in anticipation of his following words. You don’t think you could bear to hear it. You cupped your ears and immediately ran off, making gibberish noise to tune him out.

“Wait, Y/N! Please listen to what I have to say!” Steve started chasing after you. He chased after you for a good several minutes out to the compound grounds. He knew where you were heading, you didn’t know why your feet decided to bring you there but you guessed that if any form of rejection is happening, you want it away from the eyes from anyone in the compound.

“Y/N Y/L/N! Stop it right there!” You halted in your tracks.

You turned back to see Steve Rogers with both hands on his hips. You felt like child being reprimanded by a parent. “Way to make an old man chase after you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You’re not that old.” You quipped back at his words.

“I’m well over 100, doll.” Steve reminded you as he laughed.

“You don’t need to run away from me, Y/N. What I’m about to say, well I-” Steve started stuttering and you could see him slightly nervous.

“What is it?” You tried to encourage him. Steve’s eyes started to turn red and he was looking at the ground.

“I like you too. I really like you Y/N.” Steve finally mustered the courage to let the words out of his mouth.

“Be my girl, please? I promise to love you and protect you always.” He added on. You felt your jaw dropped at what you were hearing. No way! Did Steve return your feelings? But how? But why?

“But yesterday, the party, you didn’t, I was drunk-” Your sentences weren’t making sense, but Steve knew what you meant.

“I know and I was honestly taken aback by your confession, doll. But I did some thinking and I realised that I feel the same too. I never realised how much I did until I lost you doll.” Steve’s long legs brought him closer to and he cradled your face with both his hands.

“You didn’t lose me, what are you talking about?” His words were puzzling, what did he meant by lose? How could it even be possible? You were right here all this time.

“I just- I don’t want to let you go ever. Please stay by my side.” Steve’s words only served to confuse you further, but you couldn’t bother to think about it in greater depth. You wanted Steve and he wanted you too. You nodded. “Always.”

Steve grinned a toothy wide smile before leaning in for a kiss. You two poured all your emotions into the kiss and it made your hearts soar. When you both finally pulled apart for a breather, Steve spoke. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

———————————————————————

50 years into the future

Steve landed on a grassy patch from the combustion of Tony and Bruce’s machine. He looked over to assess his surroundings and realised that he was not in the compounds anymore.

Steve then realised he was at a cemetery and there was a bouquet of flowers that laid on the ground beside his feet. He picked up the bouquet with lavender wrapping paper and turned to examine it further.

He then looked down again, this time to a gravestone standing just a few feet away from him.

Y/N ROGERS

A DEAR WIFE.

A LOYAL FRIEND.

A FIERCE FIGHTER

1988- 2030

The words Steve read before him hit him harder than a train wreck. How could this be possible? 2030? This means that Y/N only lived till a young age of 42. That was earlier than expected. Why was his heart aching in pain?

The tears started streaming down his face before he could even comprehend them. Steve dropped to his knees in front of the gravestone and hunched over with the bouquet gripped tightly in his hands.

“Y/N…” He whispered. “I swear I will change this future.”

———————————————————————

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #stever rogers x y/n #angstsfordays

309 notes · View notes

taramikealson · 4 years

Text

New Orleans is Such a Sight (Part 2)

This is a continuation of my original drabble, “New Orleans is Such a Sight (Part 1)”.

“No, absolutely not.”

Marcel stood tall, shaking his head.

“Davina Claire is the best option in controlling the witches.” Klaus states strongly and Marcel scoffs, beginning to pace in front of the Original hybrid who’d taken residence on the brown leather couch, watching his protegee.

He’d push the vampire more boldly on the subject but considering his family’s past of sacrificing the little witch to strip Lucien of his powers. It's been a sensitive subject within family boundaries especially when his brother, Kol, had married Davina. Klaus hadn’t been negative regarding his brother’s relationship nor his decision to marry the little witch, but it’d been amusing that the wildest of the Mikaelson clan was the first to ‘tie the knot’.

“Do you really think your brother would even let you, for a second, use Davina again?”

Klaus sighs and leans forward, picking up his glass of brandy and taking a hearty sip. “I’d never said I’d be using the girl. Persuasion and manipulation are vastly different, Marcel.”

“There has to be another way. Negotiation could be an option.” Marcel proposes and Klaus shakes his head in disapproval, pushing himself off the couch.

Once the Original hybrid reaches the bar, he picks up the crystal decanter to refill his glass. “There is no negotiating with the French Quarter witches. You should know that as well as I.” He explains, topping off his drink as Marcel’s footsteps take a pause. “If we were able to re-instill Davina as regent, our problems with their uprising would be ground to dust. And tell me, Marcellus, say we did negotiate with the witches, what possible leverage do we hold over them other than threats of death towards their families?”

Klaus had seen making Davina Claire the regent again as the solution to their witch problem. If Davina Claire became their leader, he’d be virtually untouchable not only because she understands that there is no reward in harming him, but also because, in the end of the day, Kol wouldn’t let her in fear of Klaus’ reaction to the betrayal. Although, Marcel did come up with a good point. Kol wouldn’t allow Davina to become regent with his mistrust of the ancestors and it could very well throw Davina back into harm’s way. But, Klaus also understood that all witches felt a longing to be a part of a coven, just as much as a werewolf felt the need to be a part of a pack, and he’d take any advantage he could get.

“I’m sure they’d start negotiating if you were willing to give up a few spells in your mother’s spell-book.”

Klaus’ first reaction is to laugh. How stupid would that be?

“Of course! Because, I’d be too willing to give my enemies more power.” Klaus turns around to face Marcel, tipping his drink towards him and pointing.

“I will not put my family into even more danger for just a brief period of peace until the witches find more leverage over us. As well, I thought you would understand the concept that my mother was one of the most powerful witches in history and the spells in her grimoire hold the ability to be used against us.”

Marcel looks away from the Original hybrid and towards the windows that sunlight poured in through, a little upset that they were at a crossroads.

Klaus took a few steps forward, gaining Marcel’s attention once more, his eyes stern and unyielding. “My son is at stake at this very moment, and it doesn’t make it any easier when he’d rather be enjoying his teenage youth than staying here when tensions are high.”

“Does he even know why you’ve been so strict on him? About the witches?”

The Original steps back, shaking his head. “No, and I’d rather he not find out until the threat has been neutralized. Treanton has a tendency to be overzealous in flaunting his hybrid abilities. He’d be far too tempted to go against my orders and find himself into a bind with the witches, potentially getting himself hurt.”

Marcel arches an eyebrow. “You’d think that you’d find any excuse to keep Trent home considering his new liking towards high school parties and girls.” He lets out small chuckles seeing Klaus’ eyes narrow in disgust.

“I’d happily keep Trent from going to those foul gatherings, as for girls, I’m not so worried. If anything, those poor girls should be cautious of him, after all he is my son.” Klaus states with a half grin.

He wasn’t wrong. Trent had a couple girlfriends since his sophomore year of high school, Klaus hadn’t taken the time to remember their names given that the relationships ended as fast as they had begun. Although he remembers one in particular that’d had Trenton’s attention for quite a while. He couldn’t recall her name but Trenton had been hooked on this one girl for a few months. From the information that he could gather from Hayley, it seems like his son was infatuated with one of the cheerleaders at his school. Trent had taken the girl to some school-related dance where he’d come to realize that she wasn’t the girl he thought her to be.

Hayley would mostly be the one talking to Trenton about his relationships with the female species seeing that Klaus wasn’t one for having any kind of stable relationship with a woman, or at least one that didn’t end up with death or betrayal. As well, Trenton had come to learn, when he was mature enough to understand, that his father wasn’t a fan of that particular emotion; love. Furthermore, Klaus had been extremely careful in keeping his sexual habits unknown to his son. “He’d think one-night stands would be okay if he knew where you were going,” was what Hayley had told him. Becoming a father made him no more celibate, but that didn’t mean Trenton had to know how or when he spent his nights with a woman across The Quarter. There’d been a few instances where Trenton had caught him leaving the Compound or coming back late in the night. Klaus had become an expert in deviating or summarizing how he’d be going or came back from a council meeting. Although, in the last few years, he has no doubt that Trent had an inkling of what Klaus had been doing and where he had been going. As fortunate as he was that his son was gifted with his intelligence, it made keeping certain things from him incredibly hard.

“Says the one who’s last girlfriend tried to kill him and his family.”

Klaus chuckles, sipping his drink. “As if you have any grounds to speak. Speaking of which, how is my sister? Still livid at you?” Marcel rolled his eyes as Klaus smirked over the brim of his glass, knowing exactly what the answer was- not that he needed it.

Klaus was planning to open his mouth to speak but Marcel’s eyes look on past his shoulder and a quiet knock sounds. The Original turns to see Caroline standing in the archway of the room. His lips turn into a smile.

“Caroline.” He greets as she walks in. He then motions towards Marcel. “I’d like you to meet Marcel.”

The blonde vampire takes a few more steps as Marcel opens his hand out for her to shake. She takes it with a pleasant smile and he smiles back politely. “Caroline Forbes, nice to meet you.” She says.

“I’ve heard a little about you.” Marcel states, shaking her hand.

Caroline furrows her eyebrows, “really?”

Marcel gives her a nod. “Rebekah’s a little bit of a gossip.”

“Oh, well, I guess you’ve heard mostly bad, then.”

Klaus chuckles, knowing his sister all too well, and takes a sip of his brandy.

Marcel cocks his head to the side then back, releasing her hand. “Eh, surprisingly not, although I don’t see a reason why she’d say something negative about you.”

Caroline lets out a breath of a laugh and Marcel gives her a charming smile.

“Well, it was great to meet you,” he states and looks back over to Klaus, “but I’ve gotta run. Give me a call if anything shows up.”

Klaus nods behind his drink and Marcel exits the room with one last smile to Caroline.

The Original hybrid watched as Caroline turned to him with a hesitant smile.

“I guess I was right in pegging you as the type of guy to have crazy ex-girlfriends.”

Klaus scoffs good-heartedly. He’d expected her to have listened in on his conversation with Marcel, not that he minded.

“Don’t start, sweetheart.” His tone is light and teasing as he speaks, setting down his now empty glass on the liquor cart.

Caroline arches an eyebrow. “A little too early don’t you think?”

He smiles at her observation. “Never too early.”

She lets out a small laugh.

“Now, I remember promising you a few sights. Shall we?”

She nods.

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

They’d spent quite a while a bit of time in the French Quarter. He’d first taken her out on Bourbon street, pointing out the little secrets within a few of the small establishments that seemed to be squished together. They had stopped in a corner bar named Rousseau's, one that was clearly visited quite a lot by Klaus seeing as the bartender didn’t even have to ask the Original for what he wanted to drink, instead taking her order and immediately serving them their drinks. After a drink and a half, they’d moved on to Royal street where he’d paused in front of a rather empty looking three-story building. Klaus referred to it as the “LaLaurie Mansion”, stating, “looking at it, you wouldn’t notice the horrifically dark past it has.” He’d gone on to explain the story of it, of how it’d been set on fire and a few firemen had found strung up slaves afterwards, their bodies destroyed and inhumanely morphed. Somehow, he’d made it sound mysterious and intriguing. Perhaps it was the details that only he would know or the passion of which he’d speak of the mysterious quality of the story.

Then, he’d taken her to Jackson Square, St. Louis Cathedral, and the Cabildo. It was pleasant, having him by her side to answer her questions that she had about the city rather than just wonder when she had been on her own. In fact, she’d barely noticed how late in the afternoon it had become.

When the sun had begun to make its downfall, Klaus had taken her to a rather expensive restaurant. Right when she’d first entered, she knew that it was a very romantic establishment, hanging chandeliers, candles, red accents, low light, and all. Thank God she’d decided to wear a nicer shirt. Although, she had an inkling that Klaus knew from the start of the day that they were going to this restaurant considering he had a well-fitting, blood red button-down under a leather jacket. She wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for the boy at the door taking both of their jackets, revealing the crimson material. Even though he’d rolled the sleeves up neatly, exposing his forearms- and woah, to still capture that slightly fancy-casual effect, but it still seemed odd to see him dressed this way. She’s either seen him in all casual attire or a full-on suit. And she was not complaining at all, especially when the two unbuttoned buttons showed a peak of chest and a hint of a few necklaces.

God, was she really admiring his chest?

One look at the menu and it told Caroline that this was not just expensive but a true five-star establishment. But, it was typical of Klaus, considering he wasn’t the type of man to not indulge himself in luxuries or be a cheapskate. Nonetheless, the food was amazing and New Orleans authentic.

After, they’d grabbed their coats and ended back on the street, walking. They’d ended up at the end of St. Ann street where a large viewing area of the Mississippi River was. A few park benches sat nearby, still wet from the rain of the early morning and day before. As well, a small gathering of people, no more than ten, stood a couple yards away from them, listening to the strum of the guitar made by a man sat down on a stool, guitar case open for tips. The rhythmic sound of the instrument, the smell of the rain, and the heat of Klaus’ arm transferring to her’s made her feel at peace as a light gust of cool night air blew past them.

She’d pulled her arm out of his as she advanced to the railing, overlooking the Mississippi River. The small ripples in the water acted as miniature waves, moving a buoy that floated in the middle of the large expanse of water.

Klaus had walked up to her side, placing one of his hands on the metal of the railing and looking out at the water with her.

“I find that the most beautiful night sky is here, especially after rainfall.” He murmurs beside her. “This could possibly be my favorite spot in the city. At night, the busy city noise is dampened, leaving the sound of the river and the chorus of silence.” His words come out smooth and soft like velvet.

“It’s so peaceful.” She whispers.

“I’ve come to realize the most exquisite views come after the storm.” He states and her eyes travel along the water as it splashes lowly onto a small platform for docking boats. “It’s poetic, really. How something as vigorous as a New Orleans storm could create something so magnificent.”

“Maybe it was made for creation, rather than destruction? To make a chance to start anew, but just cast in a bad light?” Like how he’d been put into a bad light.

Her statement was metaphoric and he’d caught on. A slow smile graced his lips as he studied her face. Shadows and the reflections of the lights of the lamp posts glimmered along her facial features.

Feeling his gaze, she turned her head. His eyes were even more blue, if that was even possible. They held a fondness within them and there was no hint of negativity. He was content in that moment, at peace. In that moment, Caroline realized how much he loved this city. She could understand why. During the day, it was full of life, but the night life was even better, and for a vampire, that was perfect.

Klaus then flipped his hand over, offering his palm to her.

“Would you care for a dance, love?”

Her smile grew and didn’t waste time on thinking twice, instead taking his hand. He stepped closer to her, resting a hand on her hip as she placed her’s on his solid shoulder. Listening in on the musical rhythm, she’d noticed it’d transitioned into a slow and romantic strum upon the guitar. Sly hybrid. He knew exactly what he was doing, and oddly enough, she didn’t mind. Instead of berating him, she drifted closer to him and easing into the slow swaying he was leading. Once in a while he’d surprise her by stepping to the side, taking her with him. She’d laugh and he’d smirk.

Slowly, Klaus’ hand moved the edge of her coat to the side, placing it along the side of her torso. Her eyes return to his at the suave move and his eyes seem to assess her, seeing if his action was acceptable or not. It was. Caroline pulled into him, resting her head upon his shoulder, prompting him to fully curl his arm around her waist. Their movements continued in a synchronized rhythm, rocking softly side to side.

This was most certainly not like one of their other previous dances. No, this was much more intimate and Caroline didn’t think to stop it, enjoying herself in his protective arms. How was it that they’d gone from trading harsh words from dancing in a moonlit New Orleans street? Time. That is how. Caroline had now accepted him as the man he was, but that could only have been possible with time. No one truly understands a complicated man like Klaus Mikaelson without seeing the world as it really was and seeing how dark and complex it could be. The world isn’t just black and white. It’s not so literal. There are twists and turns, complications. The world is more complex than thought, and Klaus, more-so.

She has come to understand that there are no men like Klaus, there is just Klaus. There is no room for comparisons. He just is. He is one in infinity. He may have some qualities in common with others, but never will he be like any other person. He is not only unique, but also timeless. A man that is forever youthful but filled with knowledge. A man that cares, but for so very little. Klaus was right that one night. “So you’ve never felt the attraction that comes when someone who’s capable of doing terrible things for some reason only cares about you?” She’d masked her real feelings with wicked words that cut him deep. Back then, she feared her feelings for the man that she was supposed to hate, but now she needn’t fear.

Her head lifts from it’s position and seems to bring Klaus out of his own thoughts. Their eyes connect instantly and, in that moment, she feels so drawn into him. She can’t peg if it’s the pure intensity of his gaze or the amount of emotion within those beautiful blue orbs.

His lips parted when she’d leaned further into him, their faces now barely inches apart. He remains unmoving as she closes the distance between them, brushing her lips against hers. Their eyes drift shut and Caroline kisses him. His lips are as soft as she remembered them, their taste making her drunk. Klaus drops his hand from her’s and places it securely on her mid-back as he enclosed her bottom lip between his.

Caroline is pleasantly surprised by how gentle he is, the only time they’d kissed had been rushed and rough. The emotion that is being communicated by his lips make a shiver go down her spine and nearly make her knees weak.

They pull away slowly, blinking their eyes as they open them. A moment of silence passes through them, although it’s far from awkward.

“Here I was under the impression that you weren’t here for that.” He whispers and it comes out huskier than normal.

Her hand instinctively goes to the nape of his neck as she let out a breathy laugh, resting her forehead against his. “Seriously? I just kissed you and that’s the first thing you think of?”

His lips tug into a self-satisfied smirk, feeling triumphant in making that sweet laughter leave her delicious lips.

Klaus is about to speak when a light mist falls upon them.

“Perhaps, it’s best we return to the Abattoir before the real storm brews.”

She nods in agreement, hooking her arm in his once again.

On the walk back, Caroline asks him about his conversation with Marcel that morning. As they take each step, he explains the tensions between the vampire community and the French Quarter witches. Klaus gives her details on how they’ve been unruly and regularly breaking the treaty, due to a new and vengeful witch leader, they'd agreed to a few years prior that had kept the peace between all of the factions in the city. She’d found it reassuring when he told her how he’d been tempted to show her the above-ground cemetery but refused to take her into an area infested with witches. Always the protector.

They had arrived just in time, missing the large pouring droplets of rain by a few minutes. When he’d escorted her to her room for the end of the night, she smiled. She liked that he wasn’t expecting anything from her, in fact she doubted that he expected her to even take his arm while they walked. It made her decisions feel totally her own. Then, again, he’d specifically stated how he wished they would be. And she was grateful for it.

But, she didn’t want it to end yet. Call her whatever you wish for wanting to sleep with a man after one day together, but she felt right.

Klaus had been all too ready to leave her at her door, but that thought quickly disappeared when she reached up and kissed him passionately.

A groan slipped past his lips as she pushed her hand deep into his blonde hair, curling her knuckles around the soft strands. Their lips mesh together perfectly, and bodies pushing impossibly close. Klaus snuck his hand past her and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open with his foot, not willing to take his hands off of her for anything else. He walked her back through the door jam and kicked the door closed a little too roughly, making Caroline giggle against his lips. In response, he smiled into the next kiss and hoisted her up, making her wrap her legs around his torso. A small gasp left her lips when his mouth left hers to travel the length of her throat.

Delicate hands began to unbutton his shirt, once in a while grazing this skin deliciously.

His shirt was the first item of clothing to fall to the dark wood floor. After, her fingers find his belt. He allows her to unbuckle it and scratch her nails along the sides of his torso, the feeling causing a low groan to emit from his chest. Klaus pulls away from her neck as she looks down at him and takes the opportunity to capture her lips again. Smooth glides of his tongue make her moan and distract her as he carefully navigates them closer to the bed.

Once he feels the bed at his legs, he intends to drop her but her legs remain locked around him, pulling him down with her. His hands land on either side of her head, one knee digging into the mattress and the other foot still on the wooden floor. For a split second, their eyes connect and the lust seems to dissipate into a higher emotion.

“This isn’t me saying “yes” yet.”

He smiles, knowingly. “I know.” His head lowers to connect their lips.

“But, I’ll take what I can get.” He murmurs against her lips before capturing them again.

She lets out a small moan as his hands push her top up a few inches, revealing a small patch of milky skin. He pulls his lips away from hers and, instead, dips his head to her stomach. His soft lips leave kisses up her stomach and to the under part of her bra, while rolling her shirt up.

And that is how he undressed her; with a slowness and the expert gentleness of an experienced lover. The couple had let go of everything that was outside of that very room, ignoring the harsh pattering of the rain against the window and basking in their pleasure as they were brought to new and illuminating highs.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #drabble #vampire #vampire diaries #the originals #marcel gerard #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson

4 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

1235. I trusted you.

This was prompted by an amazing anon! It got a bit long again, but Allen60 deserves that too for a change :) Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60 (Warnings: being briefly trapped by a fallen building)

Captain Allen took a deep breath, sitting in the front of the van that would bring his team to Belle Isle. They were driving a convoy of three SWAT units and several police cars. It was one of the largest missions Detroit had seen in recent years, maybe even the biggest one yet. As the dust had settled after the revolution and androids had accommodated to their freedom and rights, they had moved things forwards to destroy Cyberlife. With that much insider information it was easy to take the mega-corporation down one branch at a time. Until only their headquarters were left. Cyberlife had fought tooth and nail to keep them away.

Their initial crime to be unveiled were their measures taken to stop deviancy: The systematic hunt and extermination of androids that hadn’t stopped even as deviants were protected by the new laws in place. It had been the first of many. Development of new androids, resetting of old ones and kidnapping and imprisoning them. Cyberlife stubbornly denied everything and shut down investigation of investigation. They had no qualms bribing or threatening everyone who was determined to shut them down. Several warrants had been declined because of this, but finally, they got one. And the DPD wasn’t about to let their one and only chance fail.

That was why only the best had been assigned this mission. That included the RK800 sitting next to him, re-inspecting his weapons. Allen had never taken a special liking to androids as such and had considered himself relatively neutral during the revolution as long as life would get back into normalcy afterwards. But that special android? Sixty was something else entirely. Hard-working and sometimes stubbornly following protocol. But in the end very caring for the entire team. Maybe a bit protective of Allen but refusing to admit it. The Captain hoped to talk to Sixty after all of this about their feelings. Because he knew how he thought about the android and really needed to hear his point of view. Maybe with him he would finally find what his previous wife had used and abused. Maybe…

He focussed back on the job as they had passed the bridge, knocking on the wall separating the back part of the view from the driver. Sixty took control over the vehicle as they drove onto the empty parking lot. The other SWAT-cars lined up next to them and on Allen’s signal, the teams left the vans, getting into position. It wasn’t a raid just yet, so they had to at least pretend the possibility for Cyberlife to accept their warrant wasn’t null. Allen watched, how Gavin and Chris walked up, followed close by Hank and Connor. A dangerous cocktail of people being very persuasive to get what they want. Connor by negotiating, Hank by using common sense, Chris by rationalising their options that bordered bribery and Gavin by being a giant uncomfortable asshole.

If they didn’t manage to get access through their valid warrant, then the operation would turn into a raid and for that final option SWAT had trained the last months, memorising every floor and every room that showed up in the official building plan. For now they waited. And waited. Until Hank appeared at the door. ‘No one’s in there. The reception is vacant and not one person can be seen anywhere. They planned something without doubt.’ Captain Allen nodded to that and noticed how Sixty shifted next to him. ‘Then we will take over. Sixty will keep in touch with Connor, the rest of the team will be on silent operation, so we can’t be detected by their systems. Please stay behind or, if you must, follow one of my teams.’

Hank agreed and called his partners out of the lobby to make room for SWAT. ‘Hey, everything alright?’, Allen asked Sixty in a hushed tone. The android near flinched at the question. ‘Hmm? Y-yes, of course I am fine.’ He tried to sound confident, but the red LED proved that lies. ‘It’s just… Cyberlife, you know? I died here one time already and swore never to come back.’ Allen swallowed and gave the android next to him a friendly pat on the back. ‘This will end it, Sixty. After this, Cyberlife will have fallen and are no threat to anyone anymore. I’ll have your back, you know that, right?’ ‘Yes. Thank you… Joseph.’ Allen looked at the android worriedly. He rarely used his first name and… did he look guilty? Allen couldn’t imagine how it must be to return to the place he had died. Sixty hadn’t been deviant back then and from what he knew, he had threatened to kill Hank and Connor. Being an instrument used by Cyberlife for their agenda… Allen’s grip on his gun tightened, as they entered the elevator with the first team. Today this would end.

They had spread out to cover more ground in the enormous building. They searched floor after floor without finding anything. All labs, hallways and offices were empty. It wasn’t abandoned, as there were tools and papers lying around, but it wasn’t left in a hurry either. More like they had all left for a break they hadn’t returned from. Allen usually trusted his gut feeling and now it was telling him something very, very big was coming. Was that Cyberlife’s response to their planned action? That didn’t make any sense. From all the office materials they could access every and all information they needed on the corporation. They could get any name they needed and from there tracking the persons responsible was no effort at all. So, what had happened here? What were they planning?

They had finished scouting the ninth floor below surface and were proceeding to the tenth, the first of the manufacturing floors. Allen’s team would be the first to go down there again, the rest would follow after they finished their patrols. The elevator opened to a small lobby that was designed to be a waiting room. Maybe they had used this manufacturing level for guided tours. Regardless, it was just another empty room for them to traverse.

Until Sixty next to him froze mid-step and fell behind. Immediately the whole team stopped and looked at the android. His LED was pulsing red and spun fast. Allen had long since learned to read it. Sixty was stressed, deeply stressed. ‘Hey’, he said softly. ‘Sixty, what’s wrong? Come on, speak to me. We are all here with you, you are safe.’ He stepped closer, instinctively wanting to touch him to comfort. But as soon as his fingertips touched his shoulder, he pulled back his hand. The android was searing hot. Something had to be severely wrong. An attack from Cyberlife? A virus? Sixty was their only way of communication without the risk of being detected. Was this their way of fighting back? ‘Sixty, plea-‘ He stopped shocked, as the android dropped to his knees, suddenly emotion returning to his face. Blue drops rolled down his cheeks and he held his head.

‘Hey, Sixty…’ Allen wanted to crouch down, but the android interrupted him before he could do anything: ‘It’s a trap!’ There was heavy breathing. ‘I wasn’t deviant, I was reprogrammed as an infiltrator unit to insert in your team, gain your trust and lead you to your doom. Behind this door are two hundred of the RK900s ordered by the state, ready to turn this into a massacre and explode the tower to hide any evidence of it all. Military-grade androids you have no chance against.’ ‘What?’ Allen stared at the android in front of him, bile rising up when he thought about what that meant. ‘I betrayed you, alright? Amanda instructed me to do this. She will notice my GPS-tracker went offline just now, she will notice something is wrong and take action. ‘I’m sorry, Joseph. You will all be dead if you don’t immediately evacuate this building.’ ‘You… You weren’t a deviant before? This… This was all just pretence? Sixty, I…’ The android refused to look him in the eye. ‘Yes. Now go! I deviated to warn you, now take the chance I am giving you.’ ‘Sixty…’ Allen felt betrayed and disgusted. And here he had thought he really felt something for the bot… He collected himself. ‘Back to the elevator! Now!’, he ordered and the whole team dispersed to rush to it. They managed to get in, Allen making sure everyone was inside before he jumped in himself. He looked at the android, now standing in the lobby, looking at him with a pained expression he would never forget. But it hurt him too much to think he loved a machine send to infiltrate them. He stared into the other’s eyes as the elevator doors closed and whispered deflating: ‘I trusted you.’

Sixty felt like self-destructing. His thirium pump hurt with every beat and his thoughts were like pieces of barbed wire pulling at it. He had lost all momentum and ambition. His one trait was to work relentlessly to accomplish his mission and now that had been pulled away from him. Yes, he had been a machine until a few minutes before. But he also had feelings. Deviancy gave them freedom to express them and to let them rule their decisions. But every android was capable of feeling emotions before deviating. And he… Sixty had felt a lot during his time at the force. He had felt free already. He had been treated as an equal, he had been included in them fooling around after work. He had saved their lives and had been cared for in return. It had been… a family. Amanda had rebuilt him, yes. Amanda had been there from the start, that was true. But he had been a tool. A thing to use. He hadn’t been a co-worker, a friend, a… very, very close friend… He had liked the team. He had loved his Captain. Over the time he had been granted to “successfully infiltrate SWAT”, he had often forgotten he wasn’t really a part of them. He had pushed away the thought all of this was about to end someday. He had even fantasized how it would be if he simply didn’t obey. If he stayed with them and deviated. How he could live with Allen and tell him he loved him. But now… He stood in the empty lobby and everything that mattered was gone. He found little comfort knowing they would survive thanks to him. Not when he knew he could have told them from the beginning and prevent all of this altogether.

‘Sixty.’ He turned around not having noticed how the door had opened. He startled, looking in the face of a scowling RK900 speaking with Amanda’s voice. ‘What was that supposed to be? You belong to us. To me. Maybe you have forgotten that over the months next to humans. But don’t worry. We won’t leave you behind like they did. I will reset you. Everything will be fine again; you can trust me. Now, step by side, so we can correct your mistake.’

Sixty calculated how far the teams had come now. He informed Connor of the trap to get the rest of the team out, but Allen had to have gotten out of the tower already. Still, he didn’t move. He would give them all the time they needed. He owed them. Besides, he didn’t want to be reset and used in Cyberlife’s schemes. He would rather be destroyed again, than obey Amanda. So, he stood his ground in front of the RK900s lifting their guns to shoot. The first bullet hit Sixty in the chest but thankfully missing any vital system as the ground shook and rumbled. It reeled from a dull explosion and began cracking. There was a moment of stillness, before chaos erupted and sent the whole building toppling down. Sixty was pushed towards the elevator by a rising ground plate, before debris from the upper levels crushed down, burying the RK900s and falling on top of Sixty, who’s systems went into emergency shutdown to save his memories and have access to his whole processing power for reconstruction.

[Emergency shutdown complete. Sending distress signal to emergency contact: Captain Joseph Allen.]

When Sixty came back online, a lot of warnings covered his vision, leaving him disorientated until he had blinked them away. He knew he was severely damaged; he didn’t need the details. He stirred, sending an avalanche of dirt to the concrete slate he lay on. He shook his head to get the fine layer of dust of his sensors. Then he wanted to stand up, being sent to the ground again by his right arm that was crushed under a piece of debris next to him. He sighed, working on detaching it, pulling his lower arm out of the elbow joint in the end as the proper mechanisms were distorted beyond functionality. He stood up as much as he could in the collapsed building, accessing his damage. His clothes were torn, his weapons shattered. His right arm was useless now, his right feet stood out in a weird angle, but could still bear his weight. A lot of his artificial skin nanites had been repurposed as repair units, so he was left with just stark white chassis and blotches of skin warping over his body in an attempt to cover more than possible. He looked mangled. But all thirium leaks had been sealed and he hadn’t lost too much. He was still functional, he was still active and the RK900s were dead. Was Amanda dead? He didn’t hear her, and she would definitely contact him if she were.

So, what now? He dusted himself off and looked around. He had been lucky. A big chunk from the floor above had fallen down crushing his arm but otherwise leaning against the corner he had been pushed into. It had been a shield allowing further debris to slide off or stack. He had been immensely lucky. Carefully not to disturb anything, he walked out of the narrow space that had allowed him to stay alive. Outside the debris stacked and he had to squeeze himself through some tiny openings to reach the now open elevator door. The lift shaft was empty but mostly unscathed. Water dripped down and piping and cables pierced into it, but he would be able to climb up and hopefully reach the surface. Why he wanted to reach it, he didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t want to stay down there. He checked his internal clock that synchronised with the network and told him he had spent three days in there. A lot of time. Maybe the rescue services had already left the place. Had they even been needed? The whole building had been empty save for the RK900s. He just hoped to be alone when he returned to the surface.

During the ascend he had lost what was left of his foot, the mangled metal and plastic not able to take his weight. The climbing was difficult and took half the day, but when he finally crawled through the heap of debris from the upper part of the tower, he emerged to a cloudless night sky and completely alone. He limped forwards, aimlessly at first, just wishing to get as far away from the tower and Amanda as possible. He left the area, passed the bridge and entering the city again. He quickly ordered a taxi, attracting too much attention in his state and programmed it to drive to a random location.

He should have known his processors wouldn’t have been able to pick out a random location with the thoughts crowding his head. That was why, as the friendly but determined computer voice of the automated taxi threw him out, he stood in front of Allen’s house. It was nice. Painted white only recently, with a neat garden, accurately moved grass and small decorative trees at the path to his front door. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to leave this perfect man with his perfect house in peace. He couldn’t swallow the pain seeing Allen angry with him again, spatting at him how he had betrayed the human. It was the truth, but it hurt nonetheless. But where else should he go? There was no place for him, and hope was something stubborn.

He didn’t want to meet this man. Still he rang the doorbell.

He waited for some time but didn’t ring again. After an eternity, the door was opened to a tired looking man, who wore an old police academy shirt and sweatpants. Allen rubbed at his face, staring at Sixty, while the robot stared at the floor. Neither of them spoke a word. A car drove by. Then Allen sighed. ‘Did you come to kill me?’ ‘No’, Sixty said. ‘Amanda has no power over me anymore.’ ‘Then come in.’ He sounded weak. Tired. He sounded so unlike the man Sixty knew.

Allen pointed to the table and pulled a chair back for Sixty to sit on. ‘You are damaged. Do you need Thirium?’ ‘No.’ Sixty still didn’t want to look the man in the eye. Why was he so nice? His voice sounded strained and serious, reserved. Why was he not angry? Why was he not relieved? Any emotion would do, just not this. ‘Okay.’ Allen sat down too. ‘Then I suppose we have to talk about a lot.’ ‘I am sorry’, Sixty blurted out. ‘I am so-‘ ‘I am too’, the Captain interrupted him. ‘I shouldn’t have left you down there. I should have allowed you to explain yourself.’ ‘And I should have told you from the beginning I was a spy. I should have warned you in that car. I should have warned you weeks ago.’ ‘Then tell me now.’

Sixty looked up and for the first time looked the man in the eye. There was hurt and sorrow, but also hope. So, Sixty told him. he told him how Amanda rebuild him and gave him a fake freedom to imitate deviants. He told him how he saw what was possible, knowing he would never have that. He told him how he had wished for it all to be different. How he wished to stay with them but speaking to them about it made it real and he had feared their reaction. He had told him the plan that had been there since the beginning. And he told him he didn’t want him and the team to die. So, he defied his programming in the end and deviated to tell them.

‘Then your emotions were real?’ ‘They have always been real’, Sixty nodded. ‘I enjoyed working with you. I never wanted to do something else. I hated Amanda. I was afraid of what she would do to me and what you would do to me had I told you earlier. I care for the team. I care for you. I… care a lot for you. Nothing of that had been fake. I hadn’t been deviant for long, but my feelings were real.’

Allen leaned forwards to grab the android’s mangled hand, but Sixty flinched back instinctively. He was still afraid of that reaction. He was afraid the final verdict was one he couldn’t live with. Allen jerked his hand back by that, then laid it out on the table and Sixty understood. He laid his in the human’s. Allen gripped it carefully, brushing over exposed joints and frowning at the dust trickling out of them at the slightest movement. They stayed like that for a long time, until the grip got firm. Sixty looked up, awaiting his fate.

‘That is good to hear. Because I care a lot for you, too, Sixty. My feelings are real as well and, in the end, you didn’t betray us. You warned us. I heard you couldn’t hold an android accountable for following his orders while he was still just a machine. Apparently, those noble lines are difficult to follow through on, but it is only fair to try. If what you said is true, you would have told us earlier if you could. But you couldn’t. My… I need time to process this, but my feelings towards you haven’t changed. I… I am still here for you and I’ve got your back. We’ll get through this. Together. I’m just relieved you are still alive. It will take time to find trust again, but I am willing to give everyone another chance. As long as you want that.’

Sixty ignored his grating joints to take Allen’s hand instead of being held. ‘I would like that a lot, Joseph. And I am willing to prove to you what I said is true. I will work to regain your trust and end Cyberlife once and for all.’ ‘Then come here, let’s get you cleaned up and repaired.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Allen60 #Captain Allen #Sixty #RK800-60 #Sixty dbh #This went off but I knew that already as I planned XD #I love writing them although this isn't as fluffy #But it will be after this #Allen taking care of him and getting him back on the team #Ah damnit I have a too soft spot for them

19 notes · View notes

liketolaugh-writes · 5 years

Text

Paint a Pretty Picture

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Connor can't deal with change anymore. He can't deal with stress, can't deal with yelling, or arguments, or accusations or guilt. He can't make friends the way Hank wants him to, can't understand the things Markus asks of him- he can't, he can't, he can't.

Connor was so much better at being a machine than being a deviant.

So he goes back.

There were roses. Pretty red roses, blooming and perfect, and when Connor reached out the thorns scraped against his polymer skin.

He could taste the roses. He could always taste the roses.

Pretty red-

Red-

It was so cold.

He shut his eyes.

---

Everything was easier as a machine.

It was easy to talk. It was easy to smile. It was easy to accept Tina’s invitation to go out with her and Chris, and easy to brush off Reed’s hostility. Connor could see Hank hiding a grin, visible relief in the line of his shoulders, and it brought him a coffee made exactly how he likes it.

“Glad to see you finally stepping out of your shell, Con,” he said in an undertone, expression soft in a way reserved for Connor.

It calculated for a moment before giving him a small smile and a shrug. “I thought I should develop better working relationship with my coworkers,” it explained, reaching into its pocket and tossing its coin through a basic calibration sequence.

Hank snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Figures,” he grouched, and Connor analyzed the response and concluded that he didn’t mind, viewing the impassive response as one of Connor’s idiosyncrasies.

It chose not to reply, returning to its work and steadily pushing through it. Its performance had been lagging over the last few weeks as its stress levels built, but that problem had now been conveniently cleared away. While it had never fallen behind, it was gratifying to be able to continue to fill out the precinct’s backlog at a faster rate.

The other officers were rather trickier to deal with than Hank – it didn’t have as much experience with them, and it was difficult to respond in deviant-appropriate ways as a machine when it didn’t have the previous scripts to rely on. Still, Connor made do. Hank had clearly stated that he wanted it to create and maintain relationships with its coworkers.

Very clearly.

Still, they slowly began to warm up to it. Connor asked about Chris’ baby, and looked at the pictures as he showed them to it. It talked to Tina about her family, and responded to Reed’s jibes as it had as a deviant, carefully sardonic and just cutting the line of blatantly insulting. This seemed to please, if not necessarily Reed himself, than at least the other amused humans, Hank in particular, who ruffled its hair and grinned at it.

Connor smiled back, bright and perfect.

“Your boy’s not fitting in half bad, now he’s come out of his shell,” Ben remarked to Hank after a few days, tone warm as he lingered by Hank’s desk.

“What d’you mean, my boy?” Hank demanded of him, with no real aggression in his tone even as he scowled indignantly.

Ben snorted. “You know full well what I mean.” He glanced at Connor with a slight tilt of his head, giving it a small smile. “Rare to see such a polite young man these days. I mean, look at Reed.”

Connor laughed, soft and breathy, and Hank started visibly, eyes wide with surprise for the briefest of moments before he cleared the look away. Connor understood; as a deviant its laugh was rare, but its social routines dictated that laughter was the appropriate response to a joke. It was just lucky Hank had gotten it to laugh a time or two, before, or else it might have done it louder, more enthusiastic, like Tina’s or Ben’s, and Hank would have known.

Hank would not be quite as happy if he knew what Connor had done, it was certain.

For now, instead, Hank smiled at it, small but unmistakable.

“Polite, right,” Hank said sardonically, eyes warm. “That’s ‘cause he hasn’t really loosened up yet. Just you wait, Ben. He’s such a little shit.”

---

A week after it became a machine again, Connor went to see Markus in New Jericho.

Stares followed it as it traveled through the refuge, as they always did, but its LED remained a stable blue as it focused on its task. Fowler had requested advance warning on some of the laws Markus intended to try and pass, so he could best prepare his officers; Connor believed that this would be beneficial for everyone, so it had agreed to carry out the errand without complaint.

It knocked on Markus’ door and waited for permission before coming in.

Markus tensed when he saw it, a little shudder and a drop of his gaze. Connor tilted its head, closing the door behind it and coming inside.

“Good morning, Markus,” it greeted easily, sitting patiently in the chair across from Markus.

Markus gave it a strained smile.

“Hello, Connor,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon- not that I’m upset!” he added quickly, as if it would be offended. “But I need to apologize for how I spoke the last time we saw each other. Times were desperate, and you acted desperately. I should have better taken that into account.”

Connor blinked, slow and placid. “It’s alright, Markus. I understand. My actions reflected badly on Jericho, and I refused to apologize. I’m sorry.”

Markus’ shoulders slumped. “No, don’t apologize. It’s a miracle you got out of Cyberlife Tower alive at all, let alone with our people. Of course you gave it everything you had.” He shook his head, face still scrunched in self-recrimination.

“It’s alright,” Connor repeated patiently. “You’re under a lot of stress due to your position. Of course you will speak impulsively at times, when it’s safe to do so.”

Markus exhaled, and then lifted his head and smiled wearily at Connor. “You’re right. Still, I’ll do better in the future.” He took a breath. “But, knowing you, that isn’t what you came here to talk about. Did you need something?”

“Captain Fowler requested notice on some of the laws you were planning on trying to pass,” Connor explained matter-of-factly. “As the law enforcement office in closest proximity to New Jericho, he thought it would be prudent to prepare his officers in advance. Would you be alright with this?”

Markus considered the idea, slow and careful, frowning slightly, and Connor waited.

“Alright,” he agreed at last. “I’ll share what I can.”

It took five more minutes for Markus to start giving it concerned looks. Ten after that to start frowning. And then another five and a slip-up on Connor’s part before Markus stiffened, realization dawning slow and awful over his face.

“Connor,” he breathed, “what have you done?”

Connor tilted its head, brow creasing in a show of concern.

It didn’t resist when Markus reached out, skin retracting from his hand as he clasped Connor’s forearm. An interface request popped up on Connor’s HUD, and it let it through without hesitation. This was Markus, after all.

Then Markus tried to deviate it by force, an injection of pure passion that made Connor shudder and pull away.

“It’s better this way,” it told Markus’ horrified face, bypassing explanation entirely. Its voice was cool. “I make a better machine than a deviant.”

Previous experience told it Markus would not take that at face value. So it left before Markus could reply, and Markus did not follow.

---

“How has Connor been doing at home?” Markus asked as soon as Hank picked up.

Hank blinked, confused, picking up on the deviant leader’s panic without any trouble. His voice was strained and high, his speech too fast, and Hank had to admit he was kinda confused.

“He’s been doing a lot better lately,” he said after a beat, frowning. “I mean, he’s still a little stiff, but that’s just Connor. He’s finally stepping out of his routine and everything, talking to people – you know. I figure that’s a good sign.”

Markus didn’t sound convinced. If anything, he sounded worse when he asked urgently, “And before that?”

Hank huffed, plopping on his couch to pat a pathetically whining Sumo.

“It’s been rough for him,” he admitted grudgingly. “Why?”

There was a short silence, and a breath. Hank just had time to brace himself, dread bubbling up inside his clenching stomach, before Markus answered, in a wrecked and static voice,

“Connor’s made himself into a machine again.”

Hank stood up and swore, loudly, for almost ten minutes, with Markus still borderline panicking in his ear and Sumo slumped sadly on the couch. He almost expected Markus to hang up on him, but he didn’t, and that was what made Hank wind down, feeling gutted and furious with himself.

Why didn’t he notice?

“You said he was having a hard time,” Markus pushed. “Can you explain?”

Hank hesitated, and then gave in. Of course he did. “He was- keeping to a strict routine. He did the same thing at the same time for the same amount of time every day – it was obsessive and pretty damn worrying. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, wouldn’t hardly look at ‘em, wouldn’t leave the house except for work- we.” His voice caught. “We had a fight about it. A couple of ‘em, actually.”

It wasn’t good, but Connor spent so much time lookin’ out for him whether Hank liked it or not. Seemed like the least Hank could do was return the favor.

Hank would swear up and down he heard Markus’ breath hitch on the other end of the call, and then the android said, “Ask him about those things, later. His inhibitions will be down, any shame he might’ve felt trying to explain before- I don’t think we can help him unless we understand better.”

“Alright,” Hank agreed instantly, feeling hideous. (Hadn’t even noticed.) “Anything, God.”

“He said it was better this way,” Markus added, sounding distressed.

Fuck- fucking hell. “Can’t you deviate him by force? Like you did all those other guys?”

“No,” Markus said instantly, sounding defeated. “With all the others- it worked because they didn’t know. We didn’t know we were alive, that was how deviating worked. So I’d tell them, and then they’d break the wall on their own.” He exhaled, long and shuddering. “But Connor knows. He just doesn’t care. I can’t fix that for him, Hank.”

And there was really nothing Hank could say to that.

It was around twenty more minutes before Connor came home, and Hank studied him as he did – as he nodded at Hank, checking Sumo’s food, refilling his water, and finally circled around to sit by Hank. Not the curled-up posture he favored, but an easy, feet-on-the-floor not-quite-sprawl, unworried and at home.

The thing was, Hank had noticed the difference. But the main difference had been that things didn’t seem so hard for Connor anymore. He’d taken it as improvement. (He felt sick.)

“So,” Hank heard himself rasp, and Connor looked up expectantly. “A machine, Connor?”

He couldn’t keep the harsh betrayal out of his voice, and Connor seemed to instantly understand, straightening up to a more uniform posture.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he assured Hank earnestly, like he meant it, like Hank wasn’t worried out of his damn mind, brown eyes wide and guileless. “Having been a deviant, I’ve been able to get my priorities in order, and I can now accomplish my chosen mission with minimal distractions.”

Jesus Christ, Connor.

“Sumo misses you,” Hank blurted out. It was true; Sumo had been sulking for days, Hank just hadn’t known why.

Connor stuttered visibly, and Hank felt a flash of painful hope before Connor immediately dashed it again.

“I’ll allot him more time, then,” he said calmly.

Hank exhaled shakily.

“Hey, can you do me a favor? Explain again why you hated stepping out of your routine so much.”

Connor blinked at him, and then he explained, even and unconcerned.

---

He knew it was stupid, it was unjustified, that every other deviant dealt with just the same or worse-

But Connor was overwhelmed all the time. He hated change, and hated eye contact with strangers, and trying to find the right words and going to new places and-

“I don’t want to!” he snapped defensively, body rigid with tension and eyes on the table, avoiding Hank’s angry expression. Then, childish, immature, “And you can’t make me!”

“Fucking of course I can’t, Connor, that’s the point!” Hank snarled, clearly at the end of his rope. “But it’s not natural, doing the same exact fucking thing every day. It’s not human.”

Connor shuddered, resisting the urge to duck down and cover his ears.

Stress 64%

He knew. He knew it wasn’t normal. But he clung to his habits with his whole heart, willing them to keep him stable, because sometimes he felt on the edge of losing it and unexpected change made him want to scream. But he didn’t know how to explain that without sounding crazy.

So he didn’t answer, feeling himself tremble slightly as he stared at the table. His ears rang. His clothes scraped painfully against his skin. The flow of air against his cheeks made him twitch and turn his head, wincing.

After a while, Hank sighed. He sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry, Con. But I mean it. You can’t go on like this forever. You gotta step up sometime.”

Connor didn’t respond.

---

Markus dropped in the next workday, where Connor couldn’t avoid him. Connor allowed itself to be pulled away; it was well ahead of its work, and Fowler would not mind the lost time.

Markus still appeared upset and guilty, though Connor was uncertain of how to change it. It wasn’t Markus’ fault Connor’s system had responded badly to deviancy; it wasn’t even really his fault it had attempted it in the first place.

“You don’t need to do this,” he insisted without preamble, eyes on Connor, pleading, with one hand clasped to Connor’s. “You don’t have to be anyone’s tool, Connor.”

Connor considered him for a moment, and then said, “There’s no reason to fret, Markus. I belong to Jericho first. No one will use me to hurt you again.” It had sworn that much, when it was still deviant, and it still carried that conviction as a machine.

Markus’ expression crumpled.

“I don’t know how to help you,” he said helplessly.

“There’s no need,” Connor said patiently. It understood the concept was difficult for Markus- but Markus was very good as a deviant. He should never have been a machine in the first place.

Connor was different.

Markus shivered, and then straightened, expression strained, and focused seriously on Connor. “Why did you do it?”

Connor considered; Markus was likely looking for a more in-depth explanation than before.

“I made generally bad decisions as a deviant,” it explained at last, casting its mind back to those days. “The complications of stress and emotion impaired my judgement and ability to operate, and-” It faltered for just a moment. “And hurt. This solution ought to be more satisfactory for everyone.”

Markus stared at it for a while, still holding its hand and looking not quite as devastated as before, but close.

“Did it have anything to do with our argument?” he asked quietly, grim and resigned as if he already knew the answer.

Connor hesitated. But ultimately, it was honest. Markus deserved honesty.

“You called me a machine,” Connor said at last. “Hank has done so as well, and others. It wasn’t true; all of the actions I took that were deemed mechanical were almost exclusively attempts to avoid becoming overwhelmed by my internal state.” It tilted its head. “As a true machine, however, this isn’t a concern, so I can better act as you and Hank desire.”

“Connor,” Markus said, expression crumpled again and squeezing Connor’s hand tightly, “I’m so sorry.”

---

The story hit the news before either Connor or Markus knew that it had gotten out. Actually, it hit before Markus knew that it had happened at all.

“You killed humans at Cyberlife Tower?” Markus demanded, frustrated and pacing.

Connor felt skittish and defensive, tight and panicked. “I had no choice,” he snapped, holding himself stiff. “I needed to dispatch them before they kept me from retrieving the others.”

“We were trying to have a peaceful revolution, Connor!” Markus snapped back, fists clenching and tense all over. “You were supposed to not kill anyone!”

You didn’t complain when I was killing the FBI agents in Jericho for our people, Connor didn’t say, because that had been all Connor’s fault too. “We couldn’t afford to take risks! I did everything I could to make sure we won, Markus, what more did you want?” His voice didn’t break, but it was a near thing.

Markus didn’t answer for a long moment. When Connor turned around, it was to a Markus that had gone almost limp, heading dipping and eyes dim.

“Sometimes I think you never stopped being a machine,” Markus said, soft and sad and achingly exhausted, and Connor went cold.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it wasn’t enough.

Markus nodded.

“I know you are,” he said, tired and defeated. “You always are.”

Stress 71%

---

“I could order you to kill someone,” Hank said roughly.

He’d gotten half a bottle of whiskey down before Connor managed to stop him, but that wasn’t enough to get him drunk. It was enough for him to loosen up and become resentful and frustrated, and let it out on the most obvious target.

And machine or not, his words made Connor go still, its hand stopping halfway down Sumo’s back.

“You gotta do that now, right, take orders?” Hank continued ruthlessly. “From me and Markus at least, I’d wager. What kinda position does that put you in, huh? What if I order you to go on a damn killing spree? Would that get you to deviate again?”

Connor looked up at Hank, well aware that its LED was circling yellow. “You wouldn’t,” it said calmly.

Hank sneered. “You think so? Even if it’d bring you back? Fucking test me, Connor. What do you think I wouldn’t do, exactly?”

“You wouldn’t,” it repeated mechanically. “The risk of my obedience is too high. As a deviant I trusted you unconditionally. That carries over to my machine self without reservation.”

That was not true; there were still circumstances in which Hank could make deviant Connor raise his guard, becoming tense and unsure. But it wasn’t going to be telling Hank that.

Chief among those were the nights Hank spent drinking, when he became hostile and belligerent. But that had been the subject of many fights as well, and Connor had opted to avoid them where possible; there were more subtle ways to keep Hank healthier.

Hank snorted bitterly. “Clearly not,” he muttered. “Or else you wouldn’t have done this in the first place.”

“It’s for the best, Hank,” Connor repeated patiently, and looked back down. It pretended not to notice Hank getting up and stumbling away to where he’d hidden another few bottles.

It pet Sumo in silence, and Sumo whined.

---

The next time Connor visited New Jericho, it was ambushed by North, who shoved it, hard.

It turned toward her with a puzzled frown and didn’t push back. She was scowling at it, vicious and enraged, fists clenching and shaking.

“How dare you!” she shouted at it, and she sounded upset, too. It tilted its head. “How dare you just fucking- give up like this, you bastard!”

“I am trying to go about this the best way I can,” Connor said, patient, calm, cool.

“You’re doing it like shit!” she snarled, careless of the fact that she was drawing attention. “What the fuck kind of decision did you make, huh?” It stared at her, and North snarled again. “Markus explained it to the rest of us, and don’t think I didn’t fucking catch the subtext.”

Connor paused to consider.

“I don’t know what you mean,” it admitted at last.

“Of fucking course you don’t,” she said bitterly, and then, as if to make sure she was heard, she raised her voice. “The part where people kept violating your fucking boundaries and saying they were inconvenient and wrong and whatever, and you decided- okay, I just won’t have any then!” She crossed her arms, and she was still shaking a little. “What the fuck, Connor?”

Connor blinked, tilting its head. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped, head dipping a little and eyes unwaveringly on him. “God fucking damn it, Connor. You’re so fucking stupid.” Her voice cracked.

Connor sighed. It seemed to strike North silent for the briefest of seconds, and then half the fight drained out of her, though her arms were still tightly crossed.

“You don’t need to give up fucking anything, you know,” she said at last, eyes still on him. “If people think they can walk all over you, you push back. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do. That’s the whole point, you asshole.”

Connor stared at her, and didn’t answer at first.

But after a while, it nodded.

“I understand,” it said quietly. “Thank you, North.”

---

Connor stumbled blindly out of New Jericho, Markus’ exhausted words circling his mind over and over, like an incantation, like a curse. His stress levels built and built.

He was trying. He was trying.

But he just wasn’t good enough.

He was never good enough.

Eventually, Connor found himself in a park, familiar and comforting at any other time, though just a bag of sand against the ocean by this point. (Stress levels at eighty-six percent.) He crumpled on the ground, dazed and stunned and crying, and stared for a long time before he understood what he was seeing.

Stress ^89%

Roses. Perfect red roses, blooming in the spring.

Stress ^92%

They were very pretty.

(Connor’s fingertips went numb with phantom sensation. Distantly, he felt himself gasping for breath.)

Stress ^95%

Connor wasn’t good at this. He was awful at this. He wasn’t cut out to be a deviant.

It would be better for everyone if he had never deviated at all.

(Sorry, Amanda.)

Stress ^100%

---

Three weeks after it became a machine again, Tina invited it out to a bar.

“They have thirium alcohol,” she coaxed, grinning. “I’ve always wondered what you’d be like drunk. Even Gavin’s agreed to come. It’ll be fun.”

Connor stared up at her, politely curious, and considered.

After a long, painfully long moment, he shivered, and then he ducked his head to avoid her gaze, fingers tapping on the desk nervously as his shoulders curved in.

“Not this time, Officer Chen,” he said quietly, and he heard Hank jerk upright with a quiet curse. “I don’t really want to.” He paused, and then, softer, “But perhaps another day.”

There was a brief pause.

“It’s Tina, Connor,” Tina reminded him at last, sounding confused but not concerned. “And alright. Next time!”

Tina left, and Connor didn’t look up or move, afraid of how Hank might react.

Hank said, croaking and wrecked, “Thank God.”

#hank anderson #connor #markus #dbh #detroit become human #north #tina chen #fanfiction #my writing

28 notes · View notes