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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

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Put My Mind at Ease | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! We are returning to our regularly scheduled angst :)

If you like what you read, please reblog so others can find my stuff.🥰

Warnings: reader injury, blood, anxiety

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Bucky watched you exit the quinjet, his eyes following every step you took. He had a habit of watching you intensely- sometimes too intensely- when the adrenaline from a mission made him anxious. When the two of you took to the field together, he watched for you constantly and checked in on you often, reassuring himself that you’d make it home safe- and you always did. Minor injuries seemed to be unavoidable, but Bucky saw to it that you never needed a trauma team.

But this past mission grew sticky right as things were wrapping up, and Bucky was helpless to stop the final assailant that came for you. He watched the man explode from the shadows with an unmatched intensity and sharp movements that carved into your abdomen before you could even blink. His jagged hunting knife ripped into your skin, sending a red river rushing out of your tac suit. Bucky finally made it to your aide and helped you end the man’s life before carrying you to the jet- despite your protests.

He loved your tenacious spirit and the way you never backed down from a challenge, but sometimes wished you would lower your defenses. He knew you had a soft side that you only allowed him to see- and only behind closed doors- but your tough exterior in the field always made him worry.

Bucky could never seem to get you to admit when you were in pain or needed medical assistance, and it was his least favorite thing about you. He was your very best friend, the person you felt closest to and safest with- but if you were on a mission, the walls went up. Only in the privacy of your apartment or his bedroom at the compound would you tell him how sore you were or how scared you’d been.

Everyone on the team had welcomed you with open arms and made you feel like one of the gang, but you’d gravitated toward Bucky instantly. His cold exterior melted around you, and the two of you grew thick as thieves in no time. He trusted you with every dark secret from his past, and you returned the feeling ten-fold.

Spending time with him was as easy as breathing. He made you feel warm and safe and taken care of, even after a tumultuous mission. He’d always join you at your place post-mission for pizza and stupid movies, and the two of you fell asleep together every time. His warm, muscular body curled around yours protectively, his instinct to keep you safe never resting.

Falling for him was easy. It happened quickly, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. You feared that loving him would complicate things and maybe even push Bucky away, so you kept your feelings to yourself. Lowering his defenses to allow someone so close had been difficult for Bucky, and you knew that a dramatic confession of love would only put him under unnecessary stress. So you waited. You’d wait a lifetime for Bucky.

And as he watched you hop down from the edge of the jet with your heavy bag slung over your shoulder, he clocked the pained grimace that twisted your features into sharp lines.

“Hey- sweetheart!” he dropped the heavy bags of tactical gear he was supposed to return to the armory and leapt from the jet himself. “You okay?” Bucky eyed the bloody spot on your suit that concealed your bandaged injury before flicking his eyes up to your face. But the pained look was nowhere to be found. Once again, one of your walls obscured your perceived weakness.

“I’m good, Buck. Why?” Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, but couldn’t get you to break. The well-rehearsed façade that blanketed your face never betrayed you- not in public, anyway.

“Thought I saw… never mind. You heading for the medbay?” But you just shook your head. Bucky stared at you with disbelief, his mouth practically hanging open. “You’ve got a pretty gnarly wound there, doll- that knife was really big…” Bucky grabbed the bag from your shoulder before you could protest, “just go let them have a look. It’ll take two seconds.”

“Buck, I swear that I’m fine. I’m honestly just kinda sore. Him tackling me hurt more than the actual stab wound.” Bucky’s face grew aghast as you admitted- in public- to being in pain. “Can I have my bag, please? I just wanna go home and take a hot shower.”

Bucky’s instincts told him to drag you to the medbay kicking and screaming, but he trusted you and your judgement. After a long moment of contemplation, Bucky surrendered, “Fine. You can go home, but I’m carrying your bag to the car- that’s my final offer”. With a firm handshake, the two of you headed for the parking garage.

With your duffel resting in the trunk, Bucky opened your car door for you. “Pizza at my place when you’re done here?” you asked as you slid into the driver’s seat. A sharp pain sizzled up your side as you moved, but you kept your poker face intact.

“What kind of question is that?” Bucky joked, “of course pizza at your place, sweets. If I ever say no to that, there’s something wrong with me.” He shot you a wink and shut your door, but quickly signaled for you to roll down your window just as you started the car.

“Call me when you get home? Just so I know you’re alright.”

“Buck, it’s a fifteen minute drive-”

“I know, but just for my sake- to put my mind at ease. Please?”

With a dramatic eye roll and an exaggerated “I promiiiiiise”, you agreed to give him a call once in the safety of your apartment. Bucky knew that his protective instincts over you were probably a little too much, but he couldn’t help it. He felt bound to you, connected in some way that he’d never experienced before.

He knew deep down that the unfamiliar feeling that sparked in his chest every time he saw, or even thought about you, was love- but he never dared say it out loud. He’d rather eat pizza and fall asleep on your couch as ‘just friends’, never risking the connection he had with you. And he never wanted to complicate things or make you uncomfortable, so he kept his feelings to himself- no matter how difficult it was.

A hot prickling sensation danced across your skin and made you fidget in the driver’s seat. It was uncomfortable, but no worse than anything you’d experienced before. With a few deep breaths, you tried to put the feeling out of your mind- but it returned with a vengeance.

The pain continued to burn into your skin as you drove, almost distracting you from the road ahead. It stung and scalded along the length of your knife wound, and crept slowly across your abdomen until the entirety of your torso was set ablaze. Touching it only made the pain worse, each added pressure increasing the temperature of the incinerator under your skin.

Part of you was shocked that you hadn’t melted into a smoldering puddle over the course of your drive, and you were certain your car should’ve been full of smoke. The sizzling heat that engulfed your body never relented, only growing hotter and more mind-numbingly painful as the seconds passed.

By some miracle, you arrived safely to the parking garage of your apartment building. You gingerly removed your seatbelt, planning your careful movements to avoid contact with your scorching skin. The agony grew almost insufferable as you slowly exited your car and hobbled to the elevator, praying to the universe that the pain would soon fizzle out. If you could just make it to your apartment, you could hop into a frigid shower and hopefully quell some of the apocalyptic pain that threatened to turn your insides to kindling.

With weak, shaky hands, you thrust your key into the front door of your apartment and pushed it open. Desperate to alleviate the pain in any way possible, you decided to strip as soon as you made it through the door. Your tight tac suit hugged your form, sending sharp, searing claws into your flesh. But removing it seemed impossible. Every movement exacerbated the heinous pain, and shimmying out of the skin tight material was certain to make you scream.

Formulating a plan of action grew difficult as your body roasted from the inside out, but you vowed to figure out a solution on your own- until a sudden cloud of dizziness threw you into a fog. Your mind melted and your movements grew clumsy as you felt a sense of alarm finally settle in. Desperately, you scrounged for your phone, but found your pockets empty- your phone was in your bag. And your bag was in your car. Great.

Darkness overtook your vision completely as your knees buckled, and you sunk to the floor with a harsh thud. The encroaching darkness may have been scary, but it awarded you a welcome respite from the agonizing pain. And as your consciousness slipped away, the only thing on your mind was Bucky- and your broken promise to him.

Bucky checked his phone every few moments, anxious to hear from you. He remained in the armory, having been assigned restock duty- again. It was no secret that Rhodes disliked him, but forcing him to clean and restock every weapon used for every mission was a bit much.

“Hey- you good over there?” Maria nudged Bucky’s arm with the butt of a gun, “you’re moving kinda slow”. Bucky looked up at her and then down at his hands, realizing he hadn’t even managed to finish cleaning one gun.

“I’m fine. Just waiting to hear from-”

“From your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend…”

“Close enough”, Maria reshelved another weapon and took a break, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s the deal? You seem anxious- more so than usual”.

Bucky set down the gun he’d been neglecting and raked a hand threw his hair, letting a deep sigh push past his lips. “She told me she’d call me when she got home- just so I know she’s alright. But I haven’t heard from her”. Bucky checked the time once again, “it’s only a fifteen minute drive, but she’s been gone for almost half an hour”. He knew he sounded dramatic, but couldn’t shake the deep, gut feeling that something was wrong.

“Okay, so, text her. Maybe she forgot- or maybe she hit traffic”, Maria shrugged and got back to work, but kept an eye on Bucky. She watched his fingers fly across his keyboard as he sent you a quick text, and noted the way he stared at his screen, awaiting your reply. Nothing brought him more ease- or more anxiety- than you. A few more minutes passed without correspondence from you, and Bucky felt himself losing it.

“I can’t- I need to go check on her,” he shoved his phone into his pocket and ran for the door, “something’s not right”.

Bucky couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever prayed for traffic. But if he started on the route to your place and saw roadwork turning the highway into a one-lane nightmare, he would’ve felt a sense of relief- of course you hadn’t called, you weren’t even home yet. But the lack of other cars or traffic of any kind only added to his anxiety. He kept an eye on the time, his desperation to reach you only growing as the seconds passed. He hoped you’d just forgotten your promise to call, and that you were simply lounging on the couch in your favorite sweats- but the feeling of dread in his gut told him otherwise.

He screeched into your parking garage and ran for the elevator, hopping inside the second the doors parted. A quiet cracking sound filled the small space as Bucky pressed the button for your floor with just a bit too much intensity, but he couldn’t seem to care.

The light of the now-damaged button for the eleventh floor flickered sporadically as Bucky fidgeted. His eyes roamed the ceiling and then the walls, finally falling to the floor when something caught his eye. A dark puddle glistened under the harsh fluorescent light, the sickly red hue turning Bucky’s stomach.

The elevator doors parted on your floor, revealing more dark red droplets and puddles down the long hallway. Bucky flew toward your door and arrived in record time, only to find it ajar. His breath remained locked in his chest as he pushed the door open further, revealing your limp body. A dark, almost black ooze leaked from your abdomen and dripped out of your mouth as you laid still and silent.

Bucky rushed to your side and felt for a pulse, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when he felt the weak beating of your heart beneath his fingers.

He ripped his phone from his pocket and placed an urgent call to Rhodes, demanding a med evac at your place as soon as possible. With the promise that a jet would pick you up in four minutes, Bucky rushed to find a way to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay- you’re okay”, Bucky held pressure to your wound, desperate to help you in any way possible, “I got you, doll. We’re gonna get you taken care of”. Emotion threatened to overcome him time and time again, but he forced it behind a wall. Falling apart wasn’t going to do you any good. And once you were safe and well, Bucky would let himself breakdown in the privacy of his own room.

“You gotta pull through this, okay?” Bucky felt another wave of emotion coming on, making his voice shake, “I can’t lose you”. He increased the pressure on your wound and watched the black ooze seep through the spaces between his fingers. Shallow, erratic breaths rattled your chest, struggling to keep you alive.

Over and over again, Bucky admonished himself. If he’d just made you stay at the compound a little longer, if he’d forced you to go to the med bay- you wouldn’t be in this situation. And if you didn’t pull through, it would be all his fault.

The thundering of boots in the hallway eased Bucky’s worry the tiniest fraction. A med team flooded though the door and swarmed around your limp body, banishing Bucky to the sidelines. They hurriedly checked your vitals and set up IVs, all the while strapping you to a gurney for transport. He didn’t like the puzzled looks and concerned whispers coming from the med team as they cut through your suit, examining your seemingly necrotic wound and the thick black ooze that seeped from it.

And when they finally headed for the jet, Bucky’s heart lurched. He didn’t want to leave your side, whether for your comfort or his- he needed to stay with you and hold your hand, just in case. But the team of doctors and nurses waiting for you at the medbay disagreed. They enlisted the help of Rhodes and Sam to restrain Bucky as they wheeled you away- something he’d never forgive them for if you didn’t make it.

Bucky’s nervous energy prevented him from sitting or even standing still. He paced the length of the waiting area like a mad man, trailing the same path over and over again as he imagined the worst-case scenario. Only when he thought he’d collapse did he finally allow himself to slump into the chair next to a sleeping Sam.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Rhodes whispered, “you know how strong she is”. But not even Rhodes believed his own words. He’d never seen anything resembling the strange, tar-like substance that wept from your wound.

A few more agonizing hours dragged by, but Bucky never slept. He forced himself to stay awake despite the exhaustion that weighed him down- not wanting to miss any updates on your condition. He hated not being able to talk to you. You were the first person he wanted to go to with news- good or bad. And if you were sitting there next to him, you’d know exactly what to say. He never knew how you had such a knack for finding the perfect words, but it was one of the things he loved most about you.

Bucky found himself lost in thought as he stared down as the dried, black gunk that stained his nails. Like Rhodes said, you were strong, but he wasn’t sure if you’d make it out of this one alive.

A clearly exhausted doctor got Bucky’s attention and pulled him aside, delivering the verdict on your condition. “Okay, it was touch and go there for a while, but she’ll be fine.” The tears Bucky had sealed behind a dam finally broke free, streaming freely down his cheeks. “The knife was coated with poison- a genetically engineered poison- that took a while for us to nail down. It was Dr. Banner who figured it out, actually. He was able to reverse engineer it and make an antidote”.

“So she’s okay?”

“She’s going to be okay- it really ravaged her body. She’s going to be pretty weak and needs a lot of rest to recover, but she’ll get there. You can see her if you want.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear.

He rushed down the hall in search of you, desperate to be by your side as soon as super-humanly possible. His thundering footsteps reached a halt outside your door, and he turned the knob gently, fearing that he’d wake you. Fresh tears sprung forward as he laid eyes on your weak form.

You looked nothing like the strong, confident version of yourself he’d seen just a few hours earlier. Your skin seemed dull, giving you a pallid, sickly appearance. Remainders of the mysterious black ooze still smeared your skin and stained your nails, much like Bucky’s. You laid there unmoving, save for the shaking of your hands.

He pulled up a chair next to your bed and settled in, carefully taking one of your hands in his. He didn’t want to disturb the many tubes that fed into your arm and the back of your hand, but he had to touch you. He needed to know that you were, in fact, okay. Your familiar hand seemed colder than usual and trembled just slightly, pushing Bucky to double his efforts. He enveloped your hand with his completely, warming you as much as he could.

For the first time in what felt like days, Bucky exhaled.

A blood bag hung from your IV pole, replacing what you’d lost. The heart rate monitor beeped steadily. A nasal cannula delivered oxygen to your exhausted lungs. You were on the mend. Seeing you laid up in such rough shape made his chest ache, but Bucky would rather visit you in the medbay than the morgue.

He sat there next to you for a few hours, his eyes flicking from your face to your heart monitor every few minutes. The nurses and doctors who came by to check on you offered him blankets and told him that the couch across the room pulled out into a bed, but Bucky wasn’t moving. He was prepared to sit by your side for as long as it took- he just needed to hear your voice.

The uptick in the beeping of your heart monitor sent Bucky into a panic, almost forcing him to call for a doctor- and then he felt you give his hand a weak squeeze.

“Bucky…”

“Sweetheart, hey-” Bucky felt himself getting choked up, but didn’t bother fighting it, “You scared me.”

That was all it took to make you melt. Bucky’s tear stained cheeks and tired eyes told you everything you needed to know- the man was worried, worried about you.

“C’mere…”

With an almost pathetic tug, you invited Bucky to join you in your bed. He wasn’t sure how he’d fit his hulking form into such a small space, but he was damn sure going to try.

He climbed carefully in next to you, making certain that he didn’t do anything to disrupt the many IVs that worked so hard to heal you. Bucky curved his body around yours like he always did, wrapping you in his warm, protective embrace. After such a traumatic experience, he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight for at least a few days- and would certainly never let you head home after a mission without a visit to the med bay.

“How long… how long you been sitting there?” you breathed, still exhausted from your brush with death.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to answer. All sense of time seemed to drift away as he waited for you to wake up- it could’ve been six hours, could’ve been 20. “Um- I’m not… a couple hours, I think.” He watched your eyes drift closed once again and pressed his body closer to yours, “go back to sleep. You need a lot of rest, okay?” Normally, you would’ve argued, but you didn’t have the energy.

“Only if you sleep too, Barnes. That’s my final offer.”

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and agreed to get some rest, allowing the steady beeping of your heart monitor to help him drift off to sleep.

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

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O̶l̶d̶ M̶a̶n̶ M̶o̶v̶e̶s̶

__________________________ Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve shows you a thing or two about being an old man.

Warnings: *AGE GAP*, smut 18+ minors dni, very dark/inappropriate joke (only mentioned once but beware)

Author’s Notes: I know this isn’t the most original but hEr yA gO lol (ps this a long one but boy is it a good read #prettyproud ;) lmao) __________________________

“Hey Nat, do you know anything about World War II?” you peeked your head in her room.

“Nope, ask Steve.”

“Hey Tony, do you know anything about World War II?” you walked into the lab.

“Nope, ask Steve.”

“Hey Sam, where’s Bucky?” you walked in the kitchen.

“Mission.”

“Well, do you know anything about World War II?”

“Nope, ask Steve,” you grunted and rolled your eyes.

“Hey Wanda, do you know anything about World War II?”

“Nope, have you asked Steve?”

“Ugh! Everyone keeps saying that,” you flopped down on her bed.

“And why aren't you asking him?”

You looked at her raising an eyebrow. She was the only, well you think Nat knows but Wanda is the only person you told about your little crush on the super soldier. Upon seeing your face, Wanda chuckled humorously. One time she caught you during a meeting thinking about Steve; every part of Steve. To say you were embarrassed would be an understatement.

“What about Bucky?”

“He’s on a mission. Hey, what are you watching?”

“Malcolm in the Middle.”

“Nice.”

You laughed at the show for a bit before grunting remembering that you had to finish the history report for your college professor who’s as old as sliced bread. Before you walked out Vision phased through the door.

“Ooh! Vis, tell me everything about World War II!”

“No, Vis! Don’t tell her a single thing! You have to ask Steve,” she scolded.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Wanda,” you whined.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his room,” she smirked.

“Please don’t make me do it,” you begged hyperbolically.

“Then fail your report,” she smirked evilly.

“Dammit, Wanda,” you left her room hearing her snicker.

You stomped to your room and collapsed on your bed. You sat at your computer for twenty minutes until a knock disturbed your dreadful staring.

“Steve!” you shouted opening the door.

“Hey, Sam told me you needed help with a history report?”

“Sam told you?”

“Yeah; and Tony, and Nat, and Wanda,” Steve phoned chimed suddenly.

“Oh, uh, Buck just texted me saying Sam told him that you need help with uh, a history report,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, World War II,” you gritted.

“Well,” he stood awkwardly at your door still.

“Come in,” you moved over to let him in.

Steve walked in and sat on the edge of your bed. You scurried over and threw yourself on the bed gathering all your papers and books and your laptop. You sat criss crossed on the bed before looking up at him ready for learning, I guess.

“Ok so what exactly do you need to know?” Steve smiled.

“Oh well, uh, maybe we start with life before soldiers got drafted?” you suggested.

Steve smiled remembering tons of stories and memories of him and Bucky being teenagers in New York. You stopped caring about your report altogether and just kicked back to listen to all about Steve. The way he lit up whenever remembered something he forgot to tell you made your heart burst.

At one point he started laughing so hard, as were you, when he slapped his hand directly on your thigh and squeezed hard from pure humor. Needless to say, you instantly stopped laughing and zeroed in on his large hand and the way it gripped your thigh.

“Awe man, that such was a good day,” he breathed out once he cooled down.

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird,” you said, coming back to reality.

“Why’s that weird?”

“I don’t know? You’re the captain, you don’t have fun. You’re an old man,” you giggled.

“Old man? Kid, you’re hurting me,” he clutched his chest dramatically.

“Hey, I already told you to stop calling me kid. I’m twenty years old,” you crossed your arms.

“Hey come on, I’m just joshing ya,” he smirked.

“Who the fuck says ‘joshing ya’?” you laughed.

“What, the kids don’t say that nowadays?” he laughed.

“No!” you were cracking up rolling on the bed.

“You’re supposed to be doing your history report,” he defended.

“You’re such an old man, oh god.”

“And you’re such a child,” he pinned you down on the bed.

“Ooh, someone busting out the old man moves. Get off grandpa,” you smirked.

“Make me, kid,” he emphasized ‘kid’.

You two glared at each amusingly, both trying you very best to not smile. Your shirt had ridden up your stomach and Steve could somewhat see the exposed skin. He didn't think you were a kid per say, he thought you were a very beautiful young woman; too young. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to pursue any sort of relationship with you; it’s not like you were very incognito when it came to checking him out. He knew that you liked him.

Explains all the teasing you do too.

The close proximity between you two make you both bothersome; Steve's muscle clenching and fighting every urge in his body to do something he might regret, or worse, something you’ll regret. Your stomach flipped and your mind wandered to what it would be like if you were in this position under different circumstances.

In an attempt to relieve yourself without Steve knowing you clenched your thighs softly before moving your knee up. Upon moving your knee, your eyes widened and Steve instantly got off you covering his modesty with your sheet. Your face slowly turned into a mischievous smirk before raising your eyebrow at Steve, who profusely blushed under your taunting gaze.

“Do kids turn you on?” you joked.

“Y/n!” Steve groaned at your highly inappropriate joke.

“I’m kidding!” Steve simply rolled his eyes at you.

“I’m just joshing ya,” you grinned, making Steve chuckle.

“How much of your report have you done?” Steve reached for your laptop; making you panic because you didn’t even have your name let alone a title typed out.

“Seriously?” he looked at you like a stern father.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said.

“You don’t even have your name,” he cracked a smile.

“Well, your stories are just too captivating; I was distracted,” you weren’t exactly lying, seeing Steve seem so relaxed and carefree thinking back on memories made you smile.

“Distracted,” he repeated sarcastically.

“Yeah, I was,” you felt small as Steve got closer to you.

“Is this distracting now?” he mocked.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

He looked at your lips before running his nose along your cheek and your own nose. He pressed his lips too close to your lips, of which you were desperate for him to touch. Your hands grabbed at his arms that were held tightly on your waist for any sort of stability. You felt like you were going to pass out.

“You better finish that report if you know what’s good for you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Huh?” you breathed out seeing as Steve has stood up and made his way to your door.

“You heard me. Come find me when you’ve been a good girl and finished that report,” he slipped out smoothly leaving you high and dry, or rather soaking in arousal.

Your eyes were practically bulging from your head and you couldn’t believe the Steve with that gnarly stick up his ass was the same one that just easily turned you on like an easy-bake oven and called you a ‘good girl’. You immediately rushed to grab your laptop googling facts about World War II and typed faster than Usain Bolt could run.

Meanwhile Steve stood in the shower with cock in hand, his thumb rubbing over the tip leaking with precum. He ran his hand down his shaft and threw his head back at the pleasure. He moaned your name and tensed his muscles getting close to a release.

He had to hold on to the wall to keep his knees from buckling. The sight of seeing you under him, squirming and wiggling so innocently made his cock twitch. He knew that you liked him, it wasn’t necessarily a huge secret; you weren’t desperate to hide that fact. But he knew you weren’t going around telling people so he never said anything.

He went to your room genuinely trying to help with your college report and he got enthralled with his own memories. He didn’t exactly know when the air shifted but he realized it indefinitely when your body tensed under his hand that rested perfectly on your thigh.

He remembers the softness of skin and remembers the way your breathing quickened. He kept the conversation going as innocently as possible but then you started teasing him about his age, about what an old fashioned sucker he was. And all he could think about in that moment was flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress you showing his “old man moves”.

“Fuck,” he moaned to himself.

Soon enough after a couple more pumps, he painted the shower walls with his cum desperately wishing it was your stomach or even your back. He just wanted you there with him. He felt guilty thinking about you like that. He knew if he were ever to get with you he wouldn't be able to keep up. You were so spright and mischievous and beautiful and gorgeous and sexy and… wait; slow down, Steve.

He got out of the shower and cleaned himself off. He changed and just stayed in his room letting the sounds of the TV drown any thoughts he might wandered to you. A sudden knock broke the silence settled in his room and he opened the door to find his best friend.

“Hey, man,” Bucky smiled.

“Buck, your back,” Steve opened the door further letting him come in.

“Oh, did you get my text? About helping Y/n with her report? Heard it’s like forty percent of her grade,” he said.

“Yeah uh, I did,” Steve said hesitantly; Bucky narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Steve retorted.

“I don’t believe you. Come on what happened?” Buck chuckled.

“She called me an old man,” Steve pouted.

“Haha! Seriously?”

“Yeah but jokes on her cuz I-” Steve stopped himself, what if his best friend thought he was a creep.

“Oh no, did you guys fuck?” he asked suddenly.

“Buck,” Steve groaned.

“You did, didn’t you!”

“Almost!” Steve bursted out, his eyes widening in fear.

“Hey, why are you all freaked out? I thought you liked her?” Bucky questioned.

“Yeah, but what? She’s too young. I thought you were gonna think I was a creep,” Steve was confused.

“Well, how old is she?”

“She’s uh, she’s twenty, almost twenty-one,” he muttered.

“Oh, yikes. Uh, I don’t know man. I mean you’re both adults,” Bucky said.

“Fuck, man. I really fucked up,” Steve said making Bucky ‘language’ him of which Steve glared back.

“Did you kiss her?”

“No, almost,” Steve responded.

“Ok then what happened?”

Steve explained to Bucky what happened just hours ago and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at his poor friend's antics.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Steve,” Bucky joked.

“Buck, you’re not helping,” Steve grunted.

“Well, either you keep your promise and fuck her good, or be that old man she called you with a stick up your ass and make her feel like shit. No pressure though. See for dinner, I’m going to beat the shit out of Sam,” Bucky stood up.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” with that Bucky left.

Steve sat there on his bed conflicted. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. All he knows is that you’re a beautiful girl and Steve wants nothing more than to show you; he knows you'd be more than willing to let him have his way with you. But on the contrary, you are too young. There are tons of guys who would be so lucky to call you theirs; and they’re your age.

Then again, Steve can’t even imagine another man putting his hands on you. They’d never be able to pleasure you like he could. Ugh, but you called him an old man! Fuck this, Steve thought, I’m taking a nap.

You sat in your room busying yourself with facts about the war. You cried about the horrid things that happened, terrified that people that live in the world. You were even more shocked that Bucky and Steve lived through that.

You glanced at the clock noticing the many hours that had passed you. It was sundown which usually meant Wanda was going to come by any minute-

“What do you want for dinner?” There she is.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Haven't had much time to think about it,” you said lifting your laptop.

“Did Steve come?”

“I don’t know but he came pretty close,” you said snarkily. When he left about 5 minutes after you had to change your panties because you couldn’t focus on the report with arousal dripping out of you.

“What the hell does that mean?” Wanda sat on your bed. You told what happened when Steve came by, how innocent everything seemed until it wasn’t. Wanda was rolling on your bed in laughter, snorting at your frustration.

“Wandaaa,” you whined.

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m confused,” she cooled down.

“What’s there to be confused about; Steve Rogers is a fucking tease,” you grunted.

“I thought this is what you want. He clearly seems to like you back,” she said.

“I don’t know it’s just-”

“Just what?”

“It’s not exactly clear whether he likes me or just wants some young, fresh meat. He didn’t say he liked me back.”

“Did you say you liked him in the first place?”

“No.” Wanda sighed at your answer. Were you overreacting?

“Y/n, I’ve known Steve for a long time and he’s not that kinda guy.”

“People change.”

“Y/n-”

“I just wish it stayed like a little stupid crush, because then I wouldn’t have to worry about my heart getting broken like that; worrying whether it’s real or not. Pining hurts so good, it’s comfortable.”

“Well, on a lighter note, how’s the report?” Wanda changed the subject so you wouldn’t feel bad anymore.

“I’m almost done, I think I’m gonna skip out on dinner. I’m really close to finishing,” you told her.

“Want me to bring you a plate?” she asked.

“Yes, please.”

Everyone sat at the table eating silently. Sam held an ice pack to his face because Bucky accidentally threw a rock at him; seriously it was an accident. Bucky threw the rock at his groin but Sam tripped back and the rock landed on his face. There are no hard feelings though, Sam said he was gonna get him and now Bucky’s arm is disabled and limp.

Steve stared at the seat across from him, it was the seat you always took next to Wanda. You weren’t here for dinner and he was wondering if it had something to do with him. Did he make you uncomfortable enough that you never want to see him?

“She’s finishing her report,” Wanda said, her voice echoing in Steve’s head.

“Ooh what’s the gossip?” Nat said humorously seeing as Wanda’s eyes glowed red as did Steve’s.

“Nothing,” Steve mumbled.

“He was wondering where Y/n was?” Wanda said making Steve shoot daggers at her.

“You miss your little girlfriend?” Sam joked.

“Shut it,” Steve growled.

“She never misses dinner. Where the brat?” Tony asked.

“She has a history report for a college class and she told me she was almost done and that she was gonna skip dinner,” Wanda explained.

No more questions were asked and everyone ate in peace. Small talk and laughter was exchanged appropriately but Steve couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you lied to Wanda to get out of dinner. What if you hate him now? What if you were creeped out by him now? Fuck.

“Steve your plate?” Wanda asked him.

“Oh sorry, I’m finished. Thank you,” he handed her the plate of picked food.

“Y/n, asked me if I could bring her a plate when we were finished.”

Steve simply looked puzzled at her.

“Take this. And don’t break her heart,” she said handing him your plate.

“I would never,” he said.

“Don’t tell me, tell her.”

Steve walked hesitantly up to your room. He knocked careful not to disturb you. He heard you shout, giving him access to your room and he found you laying on your stomach typing away on your laptop while cartoons played lowly on the TV.

“I brought your dinner,” he said softly.

“Thank you! Ugh, I’m starving but I swear I have like two sentences.”

He smiled and placed your food on your bedside before sitting on the bed with you. He watched your face carefully memorizing the smallest things about you that he’s never really noticed before. He noticed the dryness of your lips because you bit them whenever you were immensely focused just as now.

He admired the small creases between your eyebrows and the way you scrunched your nose. Your hair was a little crazy and he noticed you had changed since he’d last been with you. He thinks he knows why that is and if it was true, he felt a sense of pride almost. Imagine if he really got to touch the way he wants. How ruined you would be.

“Steve?” you asked.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Are you ok?” you smiled awkwardly.

“Oh uh, yeah. I’m ok.”

You ate quietly, eyes trained on the TV and Steve felt out of place. He went to stand up but you placed your food down and called after him.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“I didn’t think you wanted me here anymore,” he said softly.

“But, but you said to come find you when I finish my report. You’re already here,” you said shyly.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think-”

“I was a good girl and finished,” you said innocently biting your lip.

“Y/n,” Steve sighed.

“What?” Oh no, you guessed it. He doesn’t actually like you and he's just messing with you.

“Hey look at me,” Steve grabbed your chin softly. You didn’t want to but you ultimately did.

“I want nothing more than to reward you for being a good girl but I can’t,” he said sadly.

“It's because I’m too young, isn’t it,” you whined.

“I can’t do that to you. You have your whole life ahead of you, sweetheart. An old man like me shouldn’t keep you back like this,” he said.

“You’re not keeping anywhere, I’m an Avenger just like you. I don’t have anybody else. I’m only going to college because Tony’s paying for it and I took this stupid histroy class because I wanted to know more about what life was like for you. Because I like you,” you said.

“Y/n, you can have anyone and you’re choosing me?” he chuckled.

“Yes, guys my age don’t even know where the clit is!” you shouted exasperated.

“Show them,” he said stupidly.

“Ah, yes. Because a twenty-two year old college frat boy is gonna wanna listen to you tell him how to have sex,” you said squinting your eyes, making Steve chuckle.

“I don’t want a guy my age, I want you.”

Steve cupped your face softly and you leaned into his hand with a childish pout. Steve smiled at you and your pout turned into a smile too.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, babygirl,” he sighed, pushing you down to lay on the bed.

“Not if you die from a stroke first old man,” you cracked.

Steve wrapped his large hand around your neck bringing his face dangerously close yours.

“Smart mouth, and to think I was about to reward you.”

His voice gave you chills and you audibly whimpered under him. Steve pressed his leg between your thighs and your body shudder feeling his muscular thigh firmly pressed against your core.

“Fuck,” your voice shook.

“Does that feel good?” he asked mockingly, he knows what he’s doing.

“Yes, Stevie,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, you sound sweet whimpering and shaking under me. Almost feel kinda bad.”

His hand squeezed a bit harder and your body melted into the bed. He leaned down and kissed for the first time. Your eyes opened wide before fluttering closed again wallowing in his kiss. Your hand moved from his forearm to his face cupping it gently and your lips moved against his impeccably.

His lips faltered and trailed down your throat, his hand pulling your hair gently to move your head back to give him more room. He nipped and bit at your throat hungrily before soothing his marks with his tongue. His hands sneaked up your shirt, his fingertips grazing the skin under your breasts. He could feel the chills that rose all over your skin and he chuckled darkly in your ear.

“Is this ok?” he asked softly tugging the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes, please,” you moaned.

Steve pulled them down little by little pressing kisses to every new part of exposed skin. He littered your hip bones and thighs with light bruises and bites. You were practically dripping in arousal, toes curling under themselves anticipating Steve’s next move.

He stood up at the edge of the bed keeping his eyes trained on yours, slowly unbuckling his belt. He pulled his pants down showing off his very impressive length. He gripped with his hand pumping it softly. He grabbed your ankle with his other hand and pulled you close to the edge of the bed.

“Lay on your stomach, babygirl,” Steve directed.

You eagerly flipped over, pushing your ass up to the air. Steve smiled at your ambition and gently rubbed your cheeks you put up for him. He pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up with you.

“Fuck, you gonna be my good girl?” he asked seductively.

“Yeah, fuck. Stevie, fuck me good,” you moaned.

“Open up those pretty legs for me, will ya?” Steve smirked. You spread your legs wider and arched your back more. When Steve finally pushed past your entrance, you felt so full.

“You gotta breathe baby,” Steve soothed.

“Sorry, you’re just… so big,” you whimpered.

“I know baby but you're taking my cock so well, you're being such a good fucking girl.”

“Steve!” you squeaked.

Steve snapped his hips in and out of you rapidly and you couldn’t help the high-pitched moans that escaped your mouth. Steve gripped your hips harshly, forming littles red and purple marks on your hip bones that you’ll have to admire tomorrow morning.

You gasped and moaned at the feeling of Steve’s cock driving into you and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Stevie, I’m gonna come! Fuck, I can’t hold it. Please daddy let me come!”

“Come on pretty baby, come for daddy. Make a mess all over my cock like a good girl,” he groaned above you.

Your body trembled and your arms fell forward as you nearly screamed Steve’s name in pure ecstasy. You breathed heavily but Steve wasn’t done with you yet. He pulled his still ever hard dick out of you momentarily to rid his shirt. He walked to the side of the bed and sat comfortably with his back against the headboard.

“Come here baby girl. I know you’re tired but I think you pull one more for me, yeah?” his voice was silky.

You whimpered and tried your best to sit up all the way, crawling desperately over to Steve. He kissed you softly before slowly pulling the hem of your shirt over your head to expose your breasts fully to him.

“Fuck, you are just too beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his voice raspy making your body shudder above him.

His hands roamed your body; smoothing over your ribs, your hips to your thighs, back to hips against pulling you impossibly closer to him. His lips again just as before nipped and pecked the skin along your neck and collarbones and you could resist the small whimpers you made.

“Steve,” you moaned.

“I got ya, baby. I’m right here.”

You looked into his lust blown eyes before kissing him messily. Your age divulges your experience but Steve couldn't care less. You lifted your hips for him and he lined himself once again to your entrance.

Your arousal made it easier this time around and you were able to fully bask in the feeling and pleasure from Steve’s length. You hastily moved your hips around, back and forth, the position completely new to you. You felt erotic and confident and Steve’s kisses and praises did nothing but egg you on.

“You're doing so good, my love. God, you keep clenching me like that and I’m gonna blow,” he moaned.

“Please, Stevie. I want to make you feel good,” you encouraged.

“You already are, don’t even worry about that,” he smirked.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders hard, nails digging into his pale skin. Your clit rubbed against his pelvis and soon enough you felt another orgasm approaching quickly. As you grew tired, Steve’s hands went to your cheeks and aided you in moving back and forth.

Your arms gave out again and you fell against Steve's torso still thrusting your hips back and forth with his help. The pressure built rapidly in your lower stomach and you couldn’t hold it again.

“Steve,” you moaned.

“I know, just hold on, please. I wanna come with you; I’m almost there,” he gasped.

You held back as long as you but soon enough your body shook against Steve, desperate to release everything you have in you. In an attempt to distract yourself momentarily, you treated Steve the same by nipping and kissing the skin of his neck and shoulder. Your hands combing into his hair, tugging on his short blonde hair.

“Ok, go ahead babygirl,” he grunted, “Fuck!”

“Ugh, Steve!” you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his shoulder. Ecstasy waved over you and you feel euphoric. Your body trembled from intensity and Steve whispered soft praises in your ear. His words soothed you and your eyes felt heavy. Steve tracing little patterns on the small of your back did not help your tired case.

“I gotta clean you up, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No, stay with me, please,” you whined.

“I promise I’ll be back,” he chuckled.

“Hm,” you huffed.

You slowly rolled off of Steve and he practically ran to your bathroom emerging with a warm wet towel in hand. You laid limply on the bed, your breathing slowly returning to normal. Steve kissed your stomach and hips softly as he cleaned between your thighs gently. He went back to the bathroom and cleaned himself up as well.

“Come back,” you whined, making him chuckle.

“Yay,” you cheered softly when he did.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

“Mh-hm,” you nodded tiredly.

“I freaking love you,” you said, hiking your leg over to lay on top of him again. You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” There was a slight moment of pause.

“Do you love me?” your voice crack and tears brimmed your eyes.

“I shouldn’t…” he started. His heart nearly broke when you looked up at him with teary eyes; afraid he would say he didn’t and you fell in love just to get your heart broken.

“But I do,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, making Steve smile.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, old man.”

The next morning, Steve slipped out of bed while you were still asleep, you looked so beautiful and peaceful. It took everything in him not to just crawl back into bed with you but Steve had a couple things to do and it was already past eight. He promised to himself that he was gonna come back before you wake up.

So he softly closed the door before immediately running around the compound filing paperwork, directing agents and trainees, meeting with Nick Fury, and lastly making breakfast for you and him. Wanda, Bucky, and Sam all sat at the counter eating bowls of cereal watching Steve frantically run around the kitchen making breakfast.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky spoke up.

“I’m making breakfast,” Steve momentarily stopped to say.

“Ok, but why are you freaking out like that? You’re running around like a crazy person.”

“I have to make it before-” Steve stopped himself. He didn't know whether or not he should say anything, whether you were comfortable with others knowing yet.

“What did you do?” Wanda said, smiling like an idiot.

“Nothing, I’m just really hungry and I need to make breakfast before I starve,” he said.

“Really?” Bucky said.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She’s aslee-” Steve stopped himself again.

The three at the counter bursted into a fit of laughter at Steve’s slip up and he just simply rolled his eyes before finally plating the food and running upstairs. Not without flipping the three still laughing off.

He slowly opened the door finding you still asleep in bed. He smiled at your beautiful form illuminated by the golden rays of the sun peeking through the curtains. He placed the food on your table before sitting on the bed, his hands softly running up and down your side to slowly wake you.

Your eyes fluttered open and upon seeing Steve’s gorgeous face you smiled.

“Good morning, old man,” you grinned cheekily.

“When are you let that go?” he shook his head.

“Never,” you winked.

“I brought you food, pretty girl.”

“Thank you,” you sat up covering yourself. You ate the food he made for you and made grabby hands for him to cuddle you. He laughed before crawling back into bed with you. You made a face though before he got fully under the covers and he gave a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Why are you all dressed?”

“I had a couple things to do this morning and then I made you breakfast. I couldn’t walk around in my birthday suit,” he laughed.

“Hm, fine. I’ll give you a pass,” you said making him chuckle, “Can you at least take your shirt off again?”

He smiled cheekily before getting up and taking his shirt and pants off leaving him in his boxers. You cheered making him laugh even harder before he dived into bed cuddling you extra close. His strong arms wrapping safely around you and his legs entangling themselves with yours.

You kissed him one last time before grabbing your TV remote and turning on the TV to watch cartoons.

“You know sometimes you really are a kid,” Steve snickered.

“Yeah grandpa? What about this,” you fluffed his beard that specks of grey hairs.

“Do I need to show my old man moves again?” he smirked.

“Yeah, I think you oughta,” you winked before Steve threw the covers kissing your stomach all the way to your core. You gotta admit, the old man’s got some moves.

==================

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stuckwith-harry · 3 years

Text

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

#i never posted it in obnoxious long text post form so :-)#here we are.#hinny #hp #fanfiction #cried out

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

I saw your yan!father Izuku post and i loved it so many i request a yan!father Bakugou but he has a adopted daughter who fought back against him? Love your writing 💛💛💛

Thank you! I am glad you liked it, please enjoy your request as well ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Being a father was hard.

It's not like no one told him that fact before the adoption. Katsuki did enough of his own researches and together with his partner before they made this choice. Everything was planned carefully, and even when it was awkward at first as the change began to take place, he managed to become what could be considered a good father. Everyone told him that! His partner, his parents, his friends! It couldn't be that all of them were wrong about it.

"Dad, let me out! DAD!"

Who'd have known that it could hurt so much watching her grow up after all this time? He still remembered the days she was small enough to be picked up and carried around. How she'd always cling to his leg when a stranger approached them, and the radiant smile on his face when she wanted to show him her achievements. At every event, every even so minuscule importance that she had, he was there, pushing work and duties aside to be with his little girl. Katsuki couldn't remember a moment in his life he wasn't proud to be called her dad.

Except, perhaps, now.

Leaning against the door with his arm as a cushion to his head, Katsuki let out a long sigh, listening to the sobs and cries from behind the separation. She had yet to give up on screaming and blaming him for the fictitious scenarios in her head, acting out now that she had gotten too big to cling to him for comfort. It was hard for Katsuki to understand where she had gotten those ideas. What made her think that any of them were true?

"You're such a tyrant! Why don't you just stop treating us like we're nothing!"

Her blames were muffled by the wood between them, but they didn't hurt his fragile ego any less. Katsuki could end it any second if he wanted. One bang against the door should be enough to make her scurry away in fear. But it was his little girl they were talking about. Even if she wasn't so little anymore.

"We're our own people! We can go out when we want and do what we want! Nothing everything revolves around you!"

She truly had no idea what she was talking about. Perhaps, it had been his fault; maybe he sheltered her too much. She didn't know about the dangers of the world, how she and Katsuki's partner were the prime subjects to kidnapping and blackmailing for him. He was a goddamn hero! As if bad guys would care about their lives when it came to bringing him down. Why could she not understand that it was for her and his best if they stuck to his instructions?

"Dear..." he heard his lover call out to him. "Please... she's just a teenager..." they tried to calm him, but one glare from him made them flinch away in fear, their hand reaching out to him retracting.

"Do you think it's normal that we have bruises from you pushing and dragging us around as you please?" his daughter's accusations continued mercilessly. "Because my friends don't have them! They can also go out when they want, spend their money on what they want, and pursue their dreams!"

"Yes," he finally admitted sternly. His voice was a gnarly sound echoing through the hallways, and it even made his daughter shut up for a moment. "But they don't end up dead if they set one foot out! Do you want to be mangled? Contorted? Your head blown off your shoulder?! Do you have any idea how harsh the world outside is?! What I do every day for the sake of you two being able to live like you do?! No, I don't think you do!"

It's been so many years that he felt so ridden into his emotions, unable to rest. Her arrival back then had changed everything; she made him so much softer. He'd been so self-centered and high on love and his success before they adopted her, but she managed to break open the shell, Katsuki learning to be understanding of hers and his partner's needs. Even his lover became more docile, their tantrums subsiding with a child there to take care of. But now it was like he was back in his early twenties when he met his better half, and he felt nothing but frustrated that his values changed so quickly. Neither of them could understand that he'd do everything to keep face in this situation, as bad as it looked.

"You told me you'd always protect me," a meager voicelet broke through the door.

"I will," Katsuki grumbled back. "And I do."

Having made up his mind, he stepped back, staring deep into his partner's eyes stricken with worry. One of his hands fell onto their shoulder and the side of their arm, his grip tightening suddenly, enough to leave a bruise. "She is not getting out of the closet until she understands I am the protector of his house, understand?"

Their face contorted in pain, but they couldn't help but hesitate a moment before giving him a reluctant nod, unable to keep up with the eye contact and lowering their head. "She won't get food either until she becomes thankful for all the work I do for you both."

"Katsuki, please..." his partner mumbled in a hopeless attempt to at least spare his daughter a bit of the punishment.

"No," he replied sternly. "It's enough 'Katsuki' here, and 'Dad' there. Perhaps it's time you both realize just how good you have it here. How well I provide for you and keep you safe. You probably forgot too."

Without further conversation, he passed his partner. A gulp went down their throat as they approached the closet door. Muffled sobbing was the only thing besides the ticking of the wall clock that resounded in the house, and they sank to their knees, hands resting against the wood. "I'm sorry," they muttered quietly, their voice breaking as their own tears collected in their eyes. "I'm sorry... I couldn't protect you from this. At least you," they whispered, hiding their own sobs in their sleeve. They had to be extremely quiet, even though they wanted nothing more than to hold their child, comfort the sobbing teenager that only just learned the true dangers of this world.

But they were too afraid that Katsuki might hear them if they opened the door to help their daughter. Too afraid of what he'd do with them if he found out, they returned to being as disobedient as they were back at the beginning of their relationship.

Just like their daughter is now.

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strawberries-and-creame · 3 years

Note

What about if Dave's s/o found out how Bro treat's him and one day kicks his ass and moves Dave into their place?

It isn’t exactly as requested but I hope you enjoy anyways ^_^

You had began to notice the different sizes of bruises on his limbs. When he would stretch and his shirt would rise, you could see reddened and purplish bruises to ones that were faded into yellow, showing previous ones.

You’d see how tired he appeared when you visited. The bags that were dark and heavy despite his dark, slight opaque shades did little to hide it from others that were close to him.

It wasn’t until Dave had seemed more stressed out that usual that you’d decided to ask him.

“Dave, what’s bothering you?”

He posture stiffened. “What do you mean?”

You swished around the remaining apple juice in your bottle. “You seemed stressed lately?” You said in almost suggestion. Trying to pry but not out right say it. “You also look tired, more so than usual.”

Dave squirmed slightly in his seat next to you. “Nah babe, I’m cool. Just haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand and very forced smile. “How about we play some video games?”

You frowned. “Dave…”

____________

It what been a few days since that evening, and now your worry had rose to unhealthy amounts.

Dave had avoided you since that night, and barely replied to texts that you sent.

You looked down to your phone and with an firm grunt you texted him quickly.

‘Dave I’m coming over. Now.’

Your pace to the high rise apartment was quick. Your thoughts heavy as you keyed in the code to the buildings entrance.

He’s never like this. He’s usually the one to text first and constantly at that. Your chats could go into the early hours of the morning sometimes.

The elevator seemed to be moving in half time while your sneakered foot tapped impatiently.

Why was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should have left well enough alone.

You pressed the button to his floor.

“Please be okay…” you whispered to yourself, the doors opening and you almost sprinted out them before they could open all the way.

You came to Dave’s apartment door and saw that it was unlocked. You decided to knock nonetheless before entering.

“Hello? Dave…? Mr.Strider? It’s Y/N.”

There was not a single person besides you in the entire apartment. Well you plus the countless puppets of Dave’s brother but you tried not to make eye contact.

You could hear something coming from the floor above you. Rats? It would have to be big freaking ones. Metal? Rats with knives? No that couldn’t be what it was.

You decided to investigate since Dave was no where to be found inside his home. You walked through his room, trying your best to not trip over the various cables on the ground that was hooked up to sound equipment and turntable.

You came to his open window and heard the sound of metal clashing and quickened footsteps coming from above more clearly.

“It’s a stretch but maybe they’re on the roof?” You said to yourself, already sticking a leg out the window to the staircase platform inches from the window sill.

As you made your ascent you stomach felt uneasy. Maybe as if you wouldn’t like what you found when you made it to the final step.

A familiar voice piqued your attention.

“Can’t abscond, bro.”

Dave’s older brother? Can’t abscond from what exactly?

You lifted yourself up to the final step and had to fight the gasp from escaping your lips at the scene you found.

Dave was panting heavily, in one hand one of the swords he kept in his room, the other was grabbing onto his side. His face was twisted in a combination of pain, fear, and anger.

He looked like he was about to fall right where he stood, his knees struggling to hold his weight above them. Which said just how bad he was seeing as how he didn’t weigh much at all.

Dave gave a loud grunt, forcing himself to a battle stance before running at his Bro with a strained battle cry. He pivoted the sword to face his older sibling head on, but was grabbed by his shirt and flung the way he had came.

His body skidded across the cement floor and came to a stop against one of the many air conditioner units for the building.

Bro walked to him slowly, his own sword still drawn at his side. His presence menacing to both Dave and yourself.

Dave seemed to shrink in on himself, arms already out in front of him. He brought them where they covered his head and his torso. “Bro… please. Can’t we stop for today?”

Before you could tell your body differently, it was already moving. Your legs spurred your body forward, sprinting towards the brothers.

Your lungs filled with air as you shouted almost helplessly. “Stop!! Mr. Strider, please!”

The two looked towards you almost instantly. One being stoic behind his shades, the other alarmed.

“Y/N what are you doing her-“ Your boyfriend began, his tone making your chest tighten with just how scared it sounded.

Before he could finish you brought yourself between the two, placing your arms around him from behind you, your front facing his brother. Your chest was heaving from sprinting and the anxiety that welded up inside you from the intense stare Bro was giving you.

“Mr. Strider, I’m I mean-“ you tried but cursed your tongues insolence. “Please, I don’t know what’s going on but can’t you stop for… today? Dave seems really hurt right now, and it’s getting late.”

You felt Dave’s body tense from his place behind you. You moved your hand to where it held one of his and gave a firm squeeze.

“Please Mr. Strider?” You pleaded, looking into the dark chasm of his sunglasses. If you had to beg, so be it. If it meant that Dave wasn’t getting the shit beat out of him, you would grovel.

Bro paused for a moment before sheathing his blade back into its holder. “It is late.” He replied in a low tone, placing Lil Cal on his shoulders. “We’ll go ahead and call it a day, Dave. Try to be with it next time.” He said, his eyes making their sight on the male behind you.

He then turned toward you. “Y/N, feel free and make yourself at home. I take it you’re here to see him?”

How could he act like he didn’t just beat the ever loving fuck out of his little brother?

You nodded stiffly, trying to not show the shakiness through your body. “Yes.”

He gave a small nod and without another word he jumped off the side of the building, but you could hear him on the staircase below.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt your knees give out and you landed on them with a soft sound. Your heart was still racing and you could hear it in your ears with every quicken breath you took.

Your turned on your knees and face Dave who would not make eye contact with you.

His normal stoic expression was plastered back on his beaten up face. His cheek a gnarly colored purple with his lip busted and blood pooling from the wound.

You didn’t even want to think about the injuries that you couldn’t see.

Words escaped you. What could you possible say to make everything that just happened seem like it didn’t? He got beaten to a pulp, by his own guardian. The person that was supposed to protect him.

You could see Dave’s eyes moving to steal a glance at you through the sun hitting his glasses. The red pools of his orbs made tour e/c ones start to water.

They screamed helpless behind the still expression he wore almost all the time. You knew that this instilled stoicism wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t often that he showed emotions, he had gone so long without them from such a young age, it was hard for him to break down those learned behaviors.

You’d do it for him, you’d let down your walls first.

Your eyes began to flood with tears, making their color shimmer against the sun that was now setting beside you.

“Y/N?” He questioned softly, a frown forming on his face. He raised a hand to try and place on yours. “H-Hey it’s okay, this stuff is normal at my house. Bro beat my ass, that’s all there is to it. I keep telling him I don’t want to be a hero, but he just doesn’t listen sometimes. I just wasn’t with it today.”

You instead flung your arms around him, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. You let out a sob. “This isn’t normal! None… none of this is normal.”

You squeezed him to your harder. You hoped and prayed that he could feel just how much you loved and cared for him with just how snug your arms were keeping him pressed against you.

“Getting the shit beat out of you isn’t normal! Having bruises all over your body isn’t normal! No one should have to worry about getting a beat down by their own family.”

You felt his body stiffen against you again, his hands pulling at your shirt from behind in fistfuls.

You pushed his head to your shoulder, locking your fingers in his soft locks. Your chest wavered as sobs erupted from your core for him. Tears streaked down your cheeks and you cried.

Dave’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his head on your shoulder and let you cry. Silently he too wove his fingers through your hair and comfortably stroked through them.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry that you’re not safe. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you.” You chanted in between sobs into his shoulder.

You felt Dave let out a strained laugh, the bone crushing hug causing him some discomfort. “I’ll be okay. I promise, Y/N.”

Eventually you and him descended back into his room, and you helped bandage him up from his bed. A little uneven with some of the bandages, but it made you feel better that he was patched up.

He would be okay, because you decided from then on, that you would protect him. You would be his knight in shining armor if that’s what it took for him to be safe.

#dave x reader #homestuck imagines #homestuck x reader #Dave

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loki-hargreeves · 3 years

Text

Loki x Reader - The Ghost of You

Warnings: death, mentions of blood, angst, ghost stuff

Word Count: 2,7K

Summary: Loki has been miserable since you passed away. You can see him at all time, but he can’t see or hear you. Nevertheless, you try to reach out to him from the other side, hoping one day he can notice you again. He speaks to you, hoping you’re there when he needs you the most.

Author’s Note: This one is for all the angst junkies out there! 💚 Honestly, this was inspired a lot by TUA. But the idea came to me when I was listening to ‘the lonely’ by Christina Perri.

YOUR POV

Death had come to you so incredibly fast.

One moment you had been standing by Loki’s side in battle, the next you were not.

The first thing you remembered was the light. Nothing you had ever seen before compared to the brightness that had forced you to shut your eyes. It felt like it had swallowed you whole, ripped you out of your body and then everything went numb. For a while, nothing mattered. The blood in your veins stilled, the noises around you disappeared and you didn’t even breathe. The enemies disappeared from around you. For a moment, you felt safe.

Loki!

You remembered him, and all the feelings came crashing back to your heart. The pain, the worry, the love, everything.

When the light faded away from your surroundings, you were back at the battle scene. The numerous enemies were slain and it was quiet. The silence and the gnarly smell of blood lingering in the air was eerie. It made your guts twist in an odd way.

There you were, in Loki’s arms. But you were also standing right there only a few feet away.

Loki knelt on the frozen ground with your body in his trembling arms. The life had vanished from your eyes, leaving them cold and empty, staring into the sky. For a while, you stood there still. Shock turned you into stone. Despite not having a physical body, you felt like you couldn’t move at all.

How was Loki holding your bloody corpse, crying his eyes out as his brother and friends watched if you were right there?

“Loki?” You called out his name, surprised you found your voice. It felt like you had tears in your throat, sobs trying to rip away from you, but it didn’t sound it. Your voice was light, it echoed.

No one heard you.

It took all the courage you had in your body to walk closer, and closer, and closer. Suddenly, you fell on your knees, right in front of Loki. He was looking at you, the wrong you. The pain on his face broke your heart. He looked terrified in a way you had never seen him before. His usually so graceful hands held onto your body tightly, turning his knuckles white and he was covered in blood; your blood.

“Loki!” You screamed at him, hoping that he’d snap out of it.

Yet it seemed like you weren’t even there.

Thor put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Even the god of thunder had tears in his eyes. “Loki, stop,” Thor told him sadly.

It made Loki snap his head aggressively. He looked at Thor with rage in his teary eyes.

“Stop? You’re telling me to stop! She could die and it’s all on us!” Loki shrieked loudly, his voice betraying him as fresh tears rolled down his face.

Sif and Fandral shared concerned glances. They didn’t dare say anything. Even they were upset by this tragedy, but no one wanted to say it out loud yet.

Thor looked like he regretted what he said next, “She’s gone, brother.”

Shivers ran down your spine, which felt like daggers, sinking into your flesh and bone. You felt sick, but nothing happened. You just stared at your corpse in horror, not being able to think of anything else anymore.

You were dead.

That’s why they looked right through you.

Loki wanted to get up, to slap some sense into Thor’s thick skull. Another part of him wanted to keep using his healing magic on your wounds, to revive you and see life in your eyes again. Although Loki didn’t want to accept the truth, he wasn’t a fool.

As he looked at your bloody face, held it and felt the warmth beneath your skin fade away from under his touch, he knew it.

You were gone, ripped away from life too soon.

But you weren’t as far away as he feared.

“Loki,” You cried now, pleading to the gods in Valhalla that they would make that nightmare stop. This couldn’t be real!

Why were you not with your forefathers and mothers? Why were you stuck watching the gruesome reality before your eyes? This wasn’t supposed to happen!

With shaking hands, you tried to touch your body. It was far fetched, but you thought that maybe, just maybe you could return into it. That hope was crushed when nothing really happened. Your hand went right through your body, and you couldn’t even feel anything. At that moment, you noticed you couldn’t feel anything else either. Not the icy ground beneath your knees, nor the wounds that had caused your early demise. It was like you didn’t even exist.

You were a ghost.

For some reason, your soul didn’t leave Loki’s side. After your funeral, your body had been burned. Odin himself had held a speech since you had been his son’s wife. He, like everyone else, assumed you had gone to Valhalla. You hadn’t, which you couldn’t understand why. What had you done to deserve such a cruel fate? You were stuck watching how everyone you ever cared about mourned you when you were right by their side. The worst part was when they didn’t hear you, nor react to your touch. Would it be like this forever?

Seeing Loki was the hardest part. If you tried to go too far away, it seemed like the world stopped. An invisible wall kept you from walking too far away, which meant you were always around him. You were always there to see him cry himself to sleep as he missed you. It was like torture.

Time passed slowly. Every minute of your existence was agony, and it was no other for Loki. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the nights were getting longer and colder.

Thor was being prepared for his new role as king. Although he had yet to be crowned, be certainly behaved like it had already happened, and it didn’t ease Loki’s suffering at all. You began to notice how bitter he had grown - understandably so. Everyone overlooked him completely, but you, which he didn’t know of. To Loki, it seemed like he was all alone. He felt cursed.

When Thor’s coronation was ruined, he had dragged himself and his friends to Jotunheim, you too unbeknownst to him.

It had been scary, to say the least. Seeing them all in battle when you couldn’t help them. Jotunheim was dark and it looked a wreck. It was evidence of something terrible that had happened there before. The frost giants didn’t look pleased to see the Asgardians. Loki looked troubled when Thor started a fight. He thought of you. Last time he had fought, you died.

It took a turn to the worse when a Jotun grabbed his wrist. Instead of getting a nasty frostbite, Loki had watched his hand turn blue just like a frost giant’s. It was like a punch in the gut for him. How was that possible?

Everything that happened next was all a chaotic mess. Odin had shown up to bring them back home. Thor had been banished to Midgard and everyone turned against Loki.

Finally, there was some silence.

Loki was in his quarters that not too long he had shared with you. It was dark and he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, or set fire to the fireplace. He enjoyed the soft moonlight that washed the space blue. Despite how much time had passed, the room still smelled sweet like you.

“I wish you were still here,” Loki spoke to you, not expecting to be heard.

“I’m right here by your side,” You answered, although he couldn’t hear you. The two of you sat on your bed together, but it only sunk underneath his weight. You were only a sentient being in thin air with an illusion of a body. Nevertheless, you felt real with the race of your heart and the pain that crushed you every day.

Loki began to tear up as he thought of everything that had happened since he lost you. It felt like he too was stuck in a nightmare that had been forged in Hell itself.

You tried to hold his hand like you always did before when you comforted him. Your touch was nonexistent. Reaching out to him was something you still did. The thought of not trying to hold him was harsh.

Oh, how you wished you could see his face just once more, and he could look right back at you. Just once, so you could say goodbye and let him know you were there. That you could say that everything would be alright.

Loki stood up all of a sudden, walking closer to the window so he could look at the view. At night, Asgard looked so calm. He knew better than that. Loki wondered how much of it was all built on lies.

“I don’t know what to do,” Loki’s lips were quivering now. He thought he was all alone, yet he struggled to display the feelings that were tormenting him. “You’re gone, Thor is gone - I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Loki turned around as if he expected you to be right there. When he didn’t see a familiar face, his heart sunk to his stomach. “I don’t know what to do. It would be so much easier if you were here.”

Tears were rolling down his face now, but he kept his composure - for now. You could only watch as he tried to choke his sobs that were begging to be cried out loud. Trying to drown that was agonizing to him, but Loki didn’t want to feel weak.

There was a burning desire within you to take care of Loki. You loved him to death, and beyond. You had always loved him and not being able to make sure he was alright was awful. It didn’t mean you would stop trying. For as long as you were chained together side by side, you would try. One day, it could work.

“It’s going to be just fine, Loki,” You wished deeply for it to be true. Surely, there would be light at the end of the tunnel. At least for him. Loki had so much life ahead of him.

You stood right in front of him now, eyes never leaving his. Sometimes you tried to stand in a way that it seemed like he was looking into your eyes, just to feel something again.

“I just wish that you knew how sorry I am,” Loki tilted his head, breaking the illusion of it all being real when he no longer faced you. “What am I doing, mumbling by myself?” He chuckled sadly, feeling like he was losing it. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. Was it that crazy to speak to nothing, pretending that you were still there?

Watching him like that was incredibly difficult. He was suffering all alone and no one was there to hold him or guide him through it all. Loki thought he was losing it, but little did he know you heard every word he said. You wanted to scream the words at him, even when it felt like buckets of ice water in your lungs, burning you. You were so loud, but he didn’t notice. Surely, you could’ve shrieked right into his ears without getting a reaction.

“If you’re here, my love,” He choked on his words. Loki had to be quiet so he wouldn’t lose the grip he had on himself. His hand was slipping as more tears decorated his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” You wanted to reassure him. Loki couldn’t blame himself for your death. It had been a tragic battle death. It happened! But it was out of his control.

“Loki,” You cried his name now, feeling awful as you could just watch him break down. “You can’t blame yourself!”

Loki’s legs betrayed him and he had to sit down on the hard floor. His hands tangled in his dark locks and he closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. It felt like his entire world was spinning around him. He missed you so much that it made him sick to his stomach.

When you sat down beside him again, you wrapped your arms around his shaking body. Please don’t blame yourself, you thought. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Loki repeated his apology.

His words felt like knives in your heart. There was nothing you could’ve done to change his mind about it. You could only hold him and hope that miraculously it would make him feel better.

For a moment, there was silence. Except for Loki’s sniffles and deep breaths, it was almost peaceful. When you were quiet, it was easier to pretend you were a normal couple again. You were there together, simply enjoying each others’ presences. There wasn’t a dimension separating your souls.

“I need to go down there,” Loki broke the silence. How much time had passed?

“What?” You instinctively asked him.

“The ice casket,” Loki thought out loud. He knew that it was the source of the Jotuns power. If he held it, would his skin turn blue again? Did the frost giant curse him, or were there deep secrets that were now coming to light? Although he was petrified, he knew he had to find out the truth. Soon, not quite yet. His eyes were glossy and red from crying, and for whatever reason, he felt comfortable on the floor. Perhaps he was picturing it, but he felt like he was close to you.

Loki tilted his head, looking to his left where you sat. “I can’t stop talking to you, Y/N. Sometimes it feels like you’re still here,” He admitted quietly. Speaking was hard for him. You could tell when fresh tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Discussing things made everything real.

“I’ve never left,” You whispered sadly.

Of course he didn’t know that, but it was easy to pretend. To pretend his life wasn’t falling apart, like you were safe and sound.

“I love you,” Loki admitted after a while. It had been a long time since he had said it. The last time he could bring himself to say that was on your funeral day, when he watched your body turn to glimmers of magic. He loved you with all his heart and it would never change.

Those three words were bittersweet. They made you feel cherished and happy, but they were also a reminder that you were both stuck in a cruel reality, forced to miss each other when you were so close.

“I love you too,” You whispered gently. Would he ever be able to hear you again? Was there magic he could learn? You couldn’t help but wonder. For now, it seemed hopeless.

You rested your head at the top of his shoulder, feeling like you were crying but there was no way to tell when you had no physical tears to shred. There was only heartache and misery.

The moment you two unknowingly shared ended too soon. Just as the silence grew comfortable again, Loki wiped his face and stood up. He hesitated before walking to the door.

“I have to do this,” He made up his mind. Nothing could stop him now, Loki had to find out the truth. Loki didn’t consider himself a hero as he had failed to save you. Even if he was the monster parents told their children about at night, would it really matter? Loki didn’t think so anymore. You weren’t there to witness him like that, he thought.

Just like that, he opened the door, making his way to Odin’s vault to dig deeper into his past. You were right there with him, with every step of the way.

And you couldn’t do anything at all to help him. Not even when he turned to his true self and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Not even when Odin found him like that and instead of being a comforting father, he told Loki the truth in the worst way. Just as Loki learned he had been taken as a child, that Laufey was his true father, Odin fell into Odinsleep, abandoning Loki.

Once again, Loki was all alone with the weight of the nine realms on his shoulders.

You were just a ghost. To watch Loki crumble to pieces was worse than death itself.

A part of you couldn’t help but wonder, was this what Hell was like?

A/N: It feels like forever since I’ve written Loki angst. I hope you liked it! If you did, I would love to hear your feedback 🥺

Forever Taglist: @iraniq @embrycallsgirl @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13 @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14

Loki taglist: @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02

#tw death #Loki #Loki angst #Loki x Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki x You #Loki oneshot #Loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

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walkerwords · 3 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 31 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Negan seals a deal, Daryl asks questions, Carol provides the answers and forgiveness is asked of the reader.

Word Count: 6506

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “A Little Forgiveness” by The Rescues

Note: Quick little thing: As I am not continuing this past “Certain Doom” a lot of the Eugene/Princess stuff isn’t really a thing in this series. Also, with Michonne not on some quest to find her hubby, it is a bit different. With only two parts left, I want to start wrapping up a few things. The next part is going to be very much focused on conversation and then the big showdown in the finale! ALL OFFICIAL DIALOG IS PROPERTY OF AMC AND SKYBOUND

-----------

J.D. Salinger once said, “And I can't be running back and forth forever between grief and high delight.”

Salinger had the right idea, you thought as you lay in the middle of your floor, staring at the ceiling.

You and the rest of the group had arrived back in Alexandria early in the afternoon and you had immediately shut yourself away in your house.

There was more work to be done. There were bodies to be buried and you knew you should have been helping with the preparations, but all you could do was lay there and stare at the damn marble.

When you had returned to the group after confronting Negan, nobody spoke to you and you refused to speak to them. Not even Lydia could get you to talk, and while you knew you were being cold, you didn’t know what to tell them.

There was a part of you that felt such rage for the man that had faced you in that old shed. Nothing about the way he looked told you that he was your Negan. There were too many shades of his old self and it was terrifying, but not because you were scared of him, but because you were scared for him.

Negan had worked so hard to not be the man that had stepped out of that RV nearly a decade ago only to end up back behind enemy lines. When Daryl had told you that Negan was with her, you didn’t want to believe it, you couldn’t, but there was that small voice in the back of your head that was telling you that perhaps you had known for a while.

You had searched for weeks and never even found a trace of him. Thinking about that night when the leaders of Alexandria were debating on what to do with him, you never blamed him for needing an out. Now, you just only wondered why he thought Alpha was his only choice.

“What am I missing?” you asked to the empty room as you rolled the marble between your fingers. You began to think back to everything that had happened since that night and one moment stuck out.

The day that you and Enid had been hunting Walkers together.

You were almost positive that someone had been watching you. It was the day Beta had attacked you in Alexandria. You had thought that it was a Whisperer scout, but what if it had been Negan? Now it was only a matter of why he was doing it. Negan wasn’t one to take orders, but if Alpha had asked him to watch you, would he have?

You didn’t know what the nature of their relationship was. Hell, you didn’t even know if she even tolerated him. However, considering he was still breathing in her presence, you figured it was one that held at least mutual respect.

Then there was the baseball bat.

You had no idea where he had even found another one. Just by looking at his new weapon you knew it wasn’t the original. Lucille 2.0 was a different bat, but to you, it still meant the same thing. You had accepted that she would always have a hold on him, but seeing him hold the thing that he connected his wife to hurt more than you had ever imagined.

“There’s a reason,” you whispered. “You were right, there is a reason. He wouldn’t have given you the damn marble if there wasn’t.” Pausing, you sat up and frowned. “And now I’m talking to myself...again.”

Groaning, you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop your thoughts from racing. It was as if there was an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Except they were both Negan and one wore a Whisperer mask and the other didn’t. You wanted to reach out and talk to your family about it, but you had no idea where to begin.

For all you knew, Negan had just given you the marble as a diversion. He could just be playing with you. However, as you began to think back on the conversation you had had with him, something felt off and it was only after a few seconds that you realized what it was. He had never directly answered any of your questions. This also could have been a diversion, but you knew him better than that.

“He was trying not to lie to me,” you realized. Jumping to your feet, you ran from your room. “Lydia!” you called, searching for her, but there wasn’t an answer. “Lydia!” you tried again but were still met with silence. Opening your front door, you scanned for her.

“(Y/N)?” Rosita asked as she noticed you.

“You seen Lydia?” you asked.

“Daryl didn’t tell you?” Rosita said.

“Tell me what?” you asked.

“Lydia’s gone,” Rosita said. “She went looking for Negan after Daryl told her that he was with her mother.”

“She went alone?” you asked, suddenly very worried.

“She’s been out there alone before, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I think Negan is planning something,” you said. “Something big.” Rosita furrowed her brow and then gestured into her house.

“Tell me everything.”

————-

Negan could feel his heart racing as he walked with Alpha through the trees.

That morning, he had been nervous, but determined. The day before, he had begun to think that there would be another way to do what Carol had tasked him with. Negan thought that perhaps he could kill Beta as well or even both of them at once.

He thought about doing a lot of things. Until you had ambushed him and he heard how hurt you had sounded. Now, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to kill her and he had to do it now.

His final plan was in motion and it helped to know that Alpha was feeling rather victorious after the battle at Hilltop. Her guard was done and after he had helped block the survivors from leaving Hilltop, she trusted him. There was a part of him that was dreading what he was about to do.

No matter who it was, killing someone always had consequences. Alpha was the biggest gun he had gone up against. Rick had been difficult, but that man had had a soul. Negan wasn’t even sure if Alpha knew how to be human, let alone a decent one.

Then there was the moment he had had with her earlier in the day when she had asked about her daughter.

There was a moment when she had seen almost genuinely concerned about Lydia and whether or not she was alive after the fight. Negan had no idea what happened to Lydia. However, considering you hadn’t told him that she was dead and you didn’t seem to be acting as if you had lost a child, Negan figured she was okay.

When Alpha had begun asking questions about her, it was then that Negan finally realized how he would take out the Queen of the Whisperers and he was going to hate to do it.

Walking alongside a silent Alpha, Negan thought back to an hour before when he had gone in search of his final piece.

Earlier in the day…

Negan moved through the trees after finally losing his tails. He knew that Beta was having people watch him, but he didn’t care. Beta was dealing with his own problems as well. Negan had learned that the giant man had killed Gamma during the battle after she had stopped him from killing the one with the sword.

Negan had left camp after hearing that Beta had once again tried to kill you. He needed some air and he needed to find Lydia. Negan didn’t want to move too close to Alexandria, but he had to be close enough to intercept the young woman.

He also knew that Daryl would have figured out that he had been the one to set up the roadblocks and so he had to be smart. He didn’t doubt that Daryl would shoot him if he got the chance no matter how he felt about you.

Which is why he needed to get to Lydia. Negan stayed in the shadows of the road that led to the community. He had learned enough about Lydia’s former family to know how to get her attention. He also knew that she wouldn’t stay behind the walls long and that she would get restless.

And so, he waited.

Negan was getting restless as he waited, but at the time, he didn’t have any other options. He was ready to give up and go back to the pack when the gates slid open and Lydia slipped through the fence. Her staff was in her hand as she took a deep breath and then turned to say something to someone behind the gate. Negan figured it was either Scott or Eugene.

Lydia began to wander away from Alexandria and that’s when Negan began to track her.

He would never forget the way her expression changed from hope to betrayal as she saw him walking towards her only to see the mask in his hands.

It was only an hour later when Negan approached the Alpha.

“Alpha,” he said, “that thing you’ve been looking for…” Alpha turned to him with curious eyes. “I found it.”

A smile crept across the woman’s face and for a moment, she looked genuinely happy at the prospect of finding her daughter.

“Lydia.”

---------

“It is beautiful,” Alpha said as she stared at a Walker stumbling through the trees. Negan watched it with disdain. “Pure.”

“All I see is a bag of bones and some gnarly-ass teeth,” Negan scoffed.

“You will see. Maybe soon. And I will meet you there,” Alpha promised, looking up at him with eyes full of unrequited compassion. Negan turned away as he adjusted the strap on his back that held his bat.

“You know, I ain't exactly ready to meet my Maker, if that's what you're saying,” Negan said. “Hell, I’ve survived this long and I don’t plan on making any appointments with the man downstairs.”

“You proved yourself again by finding her,” Alpha went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And like the young lion cub who must leave his pride, it is time to roam the Earth. Build a new pride.”

“Do you want me out there, preaching your gospel?” Negan asked. “Cause I’m gonna be honest with you, people stopped listening to me a long time ago.”

“I want you to become a lion,” she said. Negan paused, trying to understand what she was saying. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“You know,” he began, “I may not be hip on the whole Greek alphabet, but Beta is no Alpha. And if we're going stick with the whole lion thing... then isn't it the young lioness who takes her mother's place?” Alpha looked up at him and he could see the shift in her attitude at the mention of her daughter and that was when he finally understood. Lydia was not her strength, she was her weakness and Alpha could not bear to be weak.

“Walk,” she ordered.

As they moved together, Negan began to think about Lucille of all things. After you had brought her up the day before, he couldn’t keep her out of his mind.

“A long time ago before meat-lovers like him started showing up,” Negan said, gesturing to the Walker not far from them, “I, uh... I lost somebody that was close to me. Pancreatic cancer. If the disease wasn't eating her up from the inside, then the chemo was kicking the ever-loving shit out of her. And yet... I don't know. Maybe, uh... Maybe the cancer just put things in perspective. She was, uh... She was never more beautiful.” Negan paused, letting the memory of her wash over him. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about his wife in this way for a long time. It was as if he was finally ready to let her go.

“Be grateful,” Alpha said. “Death... set her free.”

“The thing is,” Negan said as he kicked out at an old root, “when she was gone, I didn't feel much of anything anymore. You know? I didn't feel scared, I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel anything. I was just... here. And that is my strength. However, someone else has taught me that that strength isn’t the only thing that has kept me alive. They taught me that we need people.”

“I thought you didn’t have people,” Alpha said.

“Everyone’s got people,” Negan argued. “Even if you hate each other, they’re still there. Still waiting. See, you are pretending. You think that it makes you strong to say that emotions aren't real, that we are animals. That is bullshit. And you know it.”

“Is it?” she asked as they approached an old cabin between two tall trees. Alpha started at it as if it held all the answers in the world.

“You’re claimin’ that you have to kill your own daughter,” he said. “Right? That’s what you’re plannin’ to do here? She’s your own flesh and blood.”

“It is her destiny,” Alpha argued. “That disease... took your wife... because that was what nature intended. She could not take you with her. But you live every day wishing she could.” Negan shook his head.

“No, not anymore,” he said, his jaw rigid. “I may have felt that at one point, but I’ve seen what a real future looks like and I ain’t about to throw that away.”

“Lydia was made for this. To be free. With me,” she said.

“You still love her,” Negan said.

“I have to do it because I love her. She will always be my baby,” Alpha said as she approached the door to the cabin, laying her hand against the door.

“You don’t know anything about her,” Negan said as he drew his blade from his belt. “She is kind, strong, resilient, and she is loved by people.” Alpha pushed open the door and beheld an empty room, stopping her in her tracks. “People that I love as well,” Negan said as Alpha turned to him in confusion, but he didn’t hesitate.

With a quick strike of his arm, Negan slashed Alpha’s throat with his knife. Alpha stared at him with wide eyes as blood sprayed and cascaded down her neck. As she lurched forward, Negan caught her, taking her down to the ground. Her eyes were boring into his, but he could feel no remorse towards the dying woman.

“I really thought that there was a chance for you,” he said, but then he was shaking his head. “But then you tried to kill the kid that is like a daughter to me. I love Lydia, and I will protect her with everything I have left. You took people from me, won the battles, but now you don’t get to win the war.” Leaning down, he put his lips next to her ear. “Thank you, for making me realize that I don’t have to be a monster.”

Negan leaned back as Alpha finally went still and the blood slowly trickled from her neck and mouth. Picking up his knife, Negan aimed it at her throat and finally finished what he had started.

----------

In the silence at the border, Negan dropped a burlap sack on the ground as Alpha’s head rolled out and landed at a pair of worn boots.

“Took you long enough,” Carol said as she met his eyes. “What took you so damn long?”

“What took me so long? Doing your dirty work?” Negan scoffed. “Oh, I don't know, Carol, I guess I wanted to get out of there with my head still attached. Shit like that takes time and I’ve been in a bit of a mood lately if you couldn’t tell.”

“I told you to do it fast,” she said.

“It's done. All right? I held up my end. Now I am asking you to hold up yours. Just walk me through those gates so I can open up a new chapter in the Book of Negan and get the love of my life back. In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re pretty fucking pissed at me.” All Negan wanted was for Carol to do as she said, make the people of Alexandria look at him, not as the man who ruined them, but the one who saved them. However, it seemed like Carol had other plans.

“I'm not going back. Not yet,” she said. Negan who was glaring at her clenched his fists.

“I go back there without you, there is a noose around my neck the second I step foot in there,” he argued.

“Then wait,” Carol said as she picked up Alpha’s head and approached the pike she had set up in preparation.

“Wait? How long are we talking about?” Negan asked as Carol placed Alpha’s head on the pike and took a step back, admiring Negan’s work.

“You're free now, Negan. Do whatever the hell you want,” she said. “Wait, don't wait, it's up to you. You did good on what I asked of you.”

“I did this for (Y/N),” he said, “not you.”

“They want Beta’s head, not Alpha’s,” Carol said. “Go home to them, Negan, I need to be alone.”

“Carol!” Negan yelled, but she just turned away from him.

“Shit like this takes time,” she said as she continued on her, leaving Alpha behind and stepping into the next chapter of her own story.

“Fuck.”

----------

Negan was pissed at everyone.

He was pissed at Alpha, he was pissed at Carol, and he was even more pissed at himself. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he said as he kept moving towards the place he had actually kept Lydia. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do and he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated him or slapped him as you had. He just hoped that she would listen to him and even forgive him for what he had to do.

What Carol had asked him to do.

Yet, it seemed that that deal was useless at the current moment. Carol hadn’t kept her end of the bargain and now Negan was the one running around with his head cut off. Alpha’s mask burned a hole in his pocket and all he wanted to do was scream.

Instead, he approached the old hunters’ cabin and braced himself for a teenager’s wrath.

“Hey, kiddo,” Negan said as he moved up onto the porch. “Sorry about‒” Negan froze as he opened the door to find an empty chair. “Shit,” he swore when all of a sudden, he was thrown into a wall and a crossbow was pointed at his face.

“Where's Alpha!” Daryl yelled as he levelled his weapon at Negan. Carefully, Negan raised his hands, his bat pressing into his spine.

“Look, whatever Lydia told you..,” he tried, but Daryl wasn’t listening.

“Where is she!”

“She is dead. She is dead. I killed her,” Negan said, trying not to think about the bolt that could enter his brain at any moment.

“You’re lying,” Daryl said.

“I am not lying. I have somethin' in my pocket,” Negan said. “It's not a weapon. I am slowly gonna reach for it.” Daryl waited as Negan pulled Alpha’s mask from his jacket and held it out. Daryl grabbed it with disgust.

“Her mask ain't her head,” Daryl growled.

“Oh, I know. I am getting to that,” Negan said.

“Well, then, get to it,” Daryl said. Negan gestured down to the weapon and Daryl jerked it away from his face, but didn’t put it completely down. Negan went on.

“The whole reason I threw in with them, was so I could get close enough to Alpha to slit her throat. Now, you talk about ‘silencing the Whisperers’, I silenced the Alpha,” Negan said and then leaned towards Daryl. “Why the hell else you think that your girlfriend let me outta that cell?”

“That don’t mean shit,” Daryl said. “Ya didn’t do this out of the kindness of yer heart.”

“Nah,” Negan said. “I did it for (Y/N). I never stopped loving them.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Daryl said.

“I never planned to leave them. I would rather die than hurt them,” Negan tried again.

“Good,” Daryl scoffed.

“Dammit, Daryl!” Negan said. “Can’t you see what’s goin’ on? You’re so goddamn blinded by your hatred for me that you don’t get what I just did! Alpha is dead and now her psycho personal trainer is gonna be comin’ for me!”

“Show me,” Daryl said. “Show me her body.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Negan said. “Come on.”

-------

Negan was getting real tired of the universe screwing with him.

“Are you fucking serious?” Negan said as he stared up at the empty pike.

“So, where is it?” Daryl asked, aiming his bow at Negan’s back.

“It was right here. I swear to God, it was on that spike,” Negan said, looking back at Daryl. “Jesus,” he swore as he realized the weapon was trained on him again. “Look, we sit here, we can wait for Carol. Or I can take you to find the body.” Daryl raised the bow higher. “Oh, come on, man. We're talking about Lydia here. Why would I stash her out in banjo country unless the whole point was to keep her safe? Unless the whole freakin' point was just to use her as bait so I could get Alpha alone? That’s a pretty far stretch, don’t you think?”

“You sure took your sweet-ass time, though, didn't you?” Daryl asked and Negan threw his hands up in exasperation.

“What is with you guys thinking I didn't do it fast enough? You didn't kill her. I did. It took a minute. I had to get her to trust me. Because I wasn't on some half-cocked suicide mission. I wasn’t exactly wishing to get my head cracked open by Beta or my brains eaten by Alpha’s ‘guardians’. I had a plan!”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Daryl asked.

“Take me to (Y/N),” Negan pleaded. “I think that they may have figured it by now.”

“Figured out what?” Daryl sneered.

“That I’m not bullshitting you,” Negan argued. “And we gotta do it now before her pack comes lookin’.”

“For you?”

“No, for all of us.”

---------

“I don’t know…” Rosita said as you stood in front of her. “Seems… crazy, even for him.”

“He is crazy!” you said, trying to get her to understand. You had finally finished explaining your theory you had about Negan and the Whisperers. There were a lot of holes in that theory, but overall there was one central idea. “Negan’s playing double agent.”

“And you got all of that...from a marble?” Rosita asked, still not buying it.

“It makes more sense if you know more about the marble, but I don’t have the time to get into all of it.”

“What do you think about all of this?” Rosita asked, turning to Michonne who had come in mid-explanation.

“I agree with, (Y/N),” Michonne said. “Negan is crazy.”

“Not the point, Michonne,” you argued.

“Just listen,” she said. “If this was some sort of crazy plan of his, why didn’t he tell us?”

“Who would have believed him?” you asked.

“You?”

“I’m not enough,” you said. “I don’t know what the plan was or if he just wanted to take control of the Whisperers, maybe turn the tide, but I don’t think he is with them because he believes in all their bullshit. Negan is a lot of things, but that? No way.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Michonne asked.

“I can’t be,” you said.

“But what if you are?” Michonne pressed and you could see the growing concern in her eyes.

“Then, everything over the past year has been for nothing and I never knew him at all,” you said, dreading that outcome. If Negan wasn’t on your side and he had actually willingly gone to Alpha… You didn’t think you would be able to handle it. When Rosita went to add her two cents, the door to her house opened and Lydia rushed in.” Where the hell have you been?” you asked.

“With Negan,” Lydia said. “Sort of.” You, Rosita, and Michonne all shared a look.

“Explain,” Michonne said.

“No time,” Lydia said. “He’s here. Negan is here.”

“What?” you asked, unable to comprehend what she was saying.

“Daryl just walked in with him. He’s heading this way.”

“Daryl’s with him?” Michonne asked, but you didn’t hear Lydia’s response as you turned and walked from the house. The sun was starting to set over the trees as your eyes scanned for his tall form. When you finally saw him walking down the road, speaking to Daryl, you picked up your pace, aiming right for him.

Daryl saw you first and took a step towards you. “(Y/N), wait,” he said, but you didn’t listen as you walked right up to Negan, pulled back your fist, and let it snap forward, catching him in the jaw. Surprised, Negan dropped from the sudden hit.

“Shit!” Negan swore from the ground. “What the hell!” he asked, staring up at you.

“You know what that was for!” you said, pointing at him.

“I have a lot to explain,” Negan said, getting to his feet.

“Yeah, no shit,” you said and then you turned to Daryl. “You, too.”

“Call a council meeting, (Y/N)” Daryl ordered. “This is far from over.”

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

Laura’s empty council seat felt as if a black hole had appeared in the room.

Nobody sat in it as Gabriel called the meeting to order. Everyone was glaring at Negan who stood at the side, his arms and ankles crossed. You were across from him, staring him down and trying not to unleash the fury you were feeling. You still believed that he had been playing the other side, but seeing him again after your last encounter only reminded you of the rage you had felt then.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Gabriel said.

“Maybe with a bullet to his brain,” Aaron offered, staring at Negan who in turn, just narrowed his eyes at him.

“Considering Alpha wanted your head on a stick, Aaron, you should be a bit more grateful,” Negan shot back.

“Enough,” Michonne said. “Daryl, you better start talking before anyone else starts throwing punches.” You rolled your eyes at that but remained quiet.

“Negan claims that Carol let him out,” Daryl began. That made enough sense to you, but then again, you were still pissed that you weren’t let in on the secret. “Alpha killed her son and Carol wanted revenge.”

“So she went to Negan?” Siddiq asked as he held Coco in his arms. Rosita was nearby as well. Even though it was a council meeting, every major player in Alexandria and Hilltop was in attendance. Enid was there too as she stood near Alden.

“I’m assuming she figured not many would go looking for him,” Daryl said.

“Assumed?” Michonne asked. “So you haven’t spoken to her?” Daryl shook his head and then looked at Negan.

“Carol went off on her own after I delivered Alpha’s head to her,” Negan said and then caught the look on Lydia’s face. He didn’t want her there and you didn’t either. Her mother had just been killed and no matter who she was, hearing that was not easy. Lydia seemed to be in shock as she sat on one of the benches in the back, not speaking. Jesus’ coat was around her shoulders to keep her warm, but it didn’t seem to be making much of a difference.

“So we’re going on his testimony alone?” Alden asked.

“This isn’t a fucking murder trial, Alden,” Negan said. “Then again, you were always a true crime fan.”

“I told you that one time,” Alden argued.

“Guess it stuck,” Negan said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“That’s enough,” Gabriel said. “What I’m gathering from Negan’s sudden reappearance, is that Alpha is dead, he killed her, and that was why he left Alexandria the second time.”

“See, it’s not that hard to get,” Negan said.

“Except for the fact that you helped burn down Hilltop,” Enid added.

“I had no idea she was going to do that,” Negan defended. “I tried to convince her to offer some sort of deal to the lot of you. She got it all twisted around and wanted to make you all a part of her horde. You’re just lucky so many of you refuse to die and actually stood up and fought.”

“What were we supposed to do? Lay down like dogs? Kneel at her feet?” Aaron pressed.

“I did,” Negan said. “And I guess it worked.”

“But then what? You had a change of heart?” Rosita asked.

“No,” Negan said. “I was always going to take her out, but I was going to take Beta out first if possible.” You looked up at him at that statement and he was looking right at you with steel resolve in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you?” Gabriel asked.

“She forced my hand. Told me that she was going to kill her kid. I couldn’t let that happen,” he said.

“And suddenly he’s a Saint,” Aaron scoffed.

“I wasn’t going to let her murder a kid, Aaron,” Negan shot back.

“And what about my kid, Negan? We tried to evacuate them before the battle, but you put up your goddamn roadblocks to stop us from leaving!”

“I didn’t know the kids were with you! I thought they were back in Alexandria. How the hell was I supposed to know anything? Carol sent me out there and I never heard from her. I was running around with a single goal but no idea where the hell I was going. You think you know the Whisperers, Aaron? You don’t. You haven’t even seen the worst of what they do or who they are, but I have! Now I’ve done a lot of horrible shit in my life, but what she did, I would never.”

“You can’t tell me that you didn’t like it,” Aaron pressed. Daryl then fell into his seat, trying not to get a migraine from the conversation.

“Liked it?” Negan asked. “Did I like not being locked up in a cell most of the day as I received death glares from every damn person in this place? Yeah, I fucking liked that. I liked that I was out in the world and doing something rather than sitting here waiting for this damn kangaroo council to decide whether or not to finally off me. The fact that any of you are surprised that I did this is astonishing. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you put in.

“You know me better than anyone, (Y/N),” he said. “Tell me, do you think I’m lying?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” you said.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he said, but just as you were about to fire back. The back door to the meeting hall opened and Carol stepped in. She was a bit banged up but she was alive. Nobody spoke as she walked down the aisle. She stopped and looked over at Lydia who slowly looked at her with heavy eyes. Ignoring the teenager, Carol faced the room.

“It’s all true,” Carol said. “I let Negan out to kill Alpha.”

“And you didn’t want to share with the class?” Siddiq said.

“It only worked if you all thought he was against us,” Carol said and then she looked at you. “I’m sorry.” Turning away, you stormed from the meeting hall, not wanting to hear anymore. Negan moved to follow you, but Daryl moved into his path. Negan shoved Daryl back, not caring how pissed the man was at him. He needed to speak to you and he needed to do it before there was no going back.

“(Y/N)!” Negan called as you walked away from him. He ran to catch up with you, grabbing you by the arm. You tore away from him, facing him head-on.

“Don’t,” you warned. He stared down at you, searching your eyes and then, he frowned.

“You didn’t find it,” he whispered.

“I did,” you said and his eyes lit up again.

“Then why are you punching me and screaming?” he asked.

“You lied!” you yelled at him. “You never lie to me and you just...you left when you promised you never would again.”

“I know, Baby,” he said, using a rare pet name. “I know, but this was the only way.”

“Why?” you asked, trying to understand.

“Alpha she is... was complicated,” Negan said.

“She murdered children!” you said.

“Which is why I did what I did!” He said, reaching for you. When you didn’t pull back, he gripped your arms and looked into your eyes. “See me, (Y/N), please see me and see that I am not lying to you now.” As you tried to keep your emotions in check, you failed, letting the tears flow down your face. Reaching up, you placed your hands on either side of his face and looked into his hazel eyes.

It took you a few moments, but finally, you saw it. That spark, that fire that you had fallen in love with. The same fire that everyone else saw before you did. “I see you,” you whispered and Negan sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how to get through this,” you admitted.

“I know,” he said. “But I am willing to do anything to win that trust back and even your love back if I have to.” Leaning back, you shook your head.

“I never stopped loving you,” you said. “That was never the problem. I am always going to love you, but there is more to a relationship, a partnership, than just love. I mean, you were with her for so long…”

“She meant nothing to me,” he swore.

“Did you…” you hesitated, not wanting to say the words out loud but you had to. “Did you do anything with her?”

“Fuck no,” he said. “I know that she wanted to, but I couldn’t do that to you. Not with her or anyone. You are the only one for me.”

“How do I believe you?” you asked, clutching at his face.

“Believe this,” he said before pulling you to him and kissing you with everything he had left in him. Your mind wanted to resist, but your heart won the battle quickly. You tugged him further into you as you kissed him back, hard. This wasn’t one of your usual kisses, it was firm, desperate, and you were throwing your whole body into it, needing to feel him solid in your arms.

You were crying as you kissed him and you could feel him shaking. HIs hand came up to your neck and then your jaw, keeping you in place as he apologized with love and passion. When you finally pulled away, you breathed in his scent, letting his labored breathing wash over you. “You are my whole universe, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“Constantly reaching towards each other?” you quoted, leaning your weight against him.

“I knew you would figure it out,” he said, rubbing your back. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done.” Negan brushed the tears from your face as you pulled his lips back to yours in a quick kiss.

“If you ever do this again,” you said against his lips. “I will kill you.”

“And it would be an honor,” he said as he leaned back and looked down at you.

“A part of me knew, I think,” you said. “I spent so long looking for you everywhere except across the border. I think I just didn’t want to think about you with her.”

“But you finally understood?”

“When I got the marble,” you said. “I got the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle.”

“Forgive me, (Y/N),” he pleased.

“I don’t know…” you said, running your hands down his arms. He then stepped back out of your hold and in one fluid movement, knelt down on his knees. “What are you doing?”

“You once kneeled at my feet, begging for me not to hurt you and your family,” he began. “Back then, I was lost, horrible, and not capable of remorse. It took me a long time to see that what I had become was not right. You changed that, (Y/N). So, now, I’m doin’ the same. I’m on my knees, begging for you not to hurt me. I’m begging for your forgiveness.”

“Negan…”

“Please, just listen,” he asked and you nodded. “When you told me about Lee that night in your house during the storm, you told me that you never regretted what you did but that it was still unnecessary. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” you whispered. You remembered everything from that night. It was the same night that you realized you were falling in love with him.

“I told you that you had to do it because you were protecting the people that you loved. I meant that and I still do. We are all darkened by this world, but the thing that keeps us going is doing the right thing for the people we love and dammit I love you. I didn’t think that after Lucille I was going to love again, let alone someone as kind and as strong-willed as you. You made me want to live again and you made me want to fight for this place and everyone in it. I know that a simple apology ain’t gonna cut it, but until this war is over, it’s all I got. I am so sorry, (Y/N), and I am willing to spend every day making it up to you no matter what you think of me now.”

“It’s going to take me a long time to forgive you for the lies,” you whispered as you then kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “But,” you said.

“But?”

“I can try,” you said. “I can try to be the person you described because I love you too much to give up on you. You don’t need to kneel for me, Negan. We don’t have to kneel for anyone anymore.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “This war ain’t over, Teach,” he said and you laughed quickly at the nickname.

“I still have a target out there,” you said.

“Beta, I know,” he said.

“I am going to kill him,” you promised, “but I am going to need you by my side to do it.” Negan reached forward and kissed you softly. Pulling back, that fire was burning brighter in his eyes.

“Where do we start?”

Note: I know some of yall wanted so massive angst, but I really wanted to look at the deeper connection between these too. These two have been through too much to not see how the other thinks. The Tower is next and we will finally see Lydia’s reaction.

TAGS: @lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#the walking dead #twd #imagines #negan imagines #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan x gn reader #savior sessions #walker words #ApolloLoki97 #whisperer war #alpha #beta #season 10 twd

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backalley-requests · 3 years

Text

The Proposal | Chapter Six

The Proposal Masterlist

Summary: Proposal™ au, where Ivar gets swept away in a lie about a fake engagement to stay in the country and needs to convince everyone (including his family) that he’s genuinely engaged to a woman he works with

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, use of the word cripple

Word Count: 2,989

The sun shined in and illuminated your face. You slept through it until the heat got too much to handle and you were suddenly blindingly aware of your headache. You should’ve drank more water the night before. You hadn’t changed out of your clothes from the night before, but that was the least of your concern.

You did your best to roll over but it didn’t protect you and eventually you had to realize sleeping wasn’t an option. You got up to take a shower before the realization hit you that you just slept in the same bed as your boss. It felt more personal than having kissed him at the party to prove a point. No one forced you two to share the bed, there had been no wandering eyes.

Ivar looked so peaceful in his sleep. You stood by the bed, staring at his face for entirely too long. It was one of the rare opportunities you had to just appreciate how beautiful he was. It didn’t hurt that he had softened up some the night before. Not enough to be considered a soft person, but in comparison to his usual antics he was. He had apologized too. But that was the alcohol talking.

At some point you realized it was all too creepy to stand by the bed and watch Ivar sleep. You wanted to take a shower but another thought crossed your mind: Ivar. He drank more than you had and you didn’t feel particularly good. You shuffled through a medicine cabinet for the next few minutes and grabbed a glass of water.

It was second nature to do things for him anyways. Besides, all he would do is complain if you didn’t. You were doing it for yourself. Mostly… you also had the quiet hope that maybe he’d stay nicer if you helped. You placed the stuff on the counter next to the bed and picked up the cane, you paused at his braces. You didn’t know much about it but you had the feeling he probably shouldn’t have slept in that. The issue was that touching it was a big no go.

You undressed and entered the shower. What you needed was the warm water to distract you from your hangover, but what you ended up doing was thinking. Ivar probably put up a lot more walls and fronts than most people. They struggled to remain up when he was drinking and thinking was hard. Maybe that was cruel on your end to encourage but he seems so much calmer. There’s no way he enjoys being high strung and an asshole. He was always so angry and annoyed.

But now you had a small taste for something else he could be. It was poor taste on your part, but you liked it. It felt different. A part of you wanted to chase after that. Your life would be so much easier if you succeeded. It would make marrying him so much more tolerable.

Your shower was cut short— and by short, it lasted one hour instead of the three hours you could’ve easily spent pruning in there. The sound of Ivar groaning loudly distracting you from your thoughts. “Ivar?”

“I—,” he stopped talking for a moment and you turned off the shower. “I need help.” His voice was pained and you realized everything had hit him at once.

“Coming!” You hadn’t heard him ask for help before and it made you want to drop everything you were doing without any hesitation. It was one thing to demand stuff and another for him to admit he needed things. You dried off and threw a robe on. “I put a bunch of stuff by the bed. I don’t know what you usually take.”

Ivar rolled his torso over, grabbing at things and opening a bottle of painkillers. “Did you put these here?” His breath was labored and his eyes narrowed, but there was no anger behind it, just intent.

You nodded your head. “I woke up with a headache, I figured you’d feel worse.” His face softened up for a moment and he took a gulp of water along with some pills. “They usually take about thirty minutes to kick in—“

“I know how long they take,” his voice was stained but the pain he was in didn’t stop him from snapping at you.

You bit down on your bottom lip, holding back from snapping back. “I’m just trying to make conversation.” You chose your words carefully. You understood, on some level, the type of pain he was going through. You understood the short fuse it came with and the eagerness to find release. “I’m being nice. Don't antagonize me.”

Ivar tried to sit up and undo the braces but struggled. You sat down on the edge of the bed and wordlessly started to undo them when his hand quickly reached down and went over yours. You paused, your eyes quickly finding his. “What are you doing?” He asked. There was a panic behind his voice.

“I’m— you wanted them off, right?” You weren’t going to push a touchy subject but it wasn’t good to keep them in forever.

He stared at you, conflicted. “I don’t want you to— well I—“ the conversation was constantly at a stop and go. Neither of you were good at navigating even normal conversations together, let alone one about this. “Fine.” He took a deep breath and tilted his head.

You undid the braces easily, being gentle about it. You didn’t know his level of pain or which areas were sensitive and if any weren’t. “Does it hurt,” your voice was quiet as you watched him. He didn’t seem capable of looking at you.

“Not anymore than they already did.”

“You just look stressed.” You sat and stared at his face. Ivar didn’t seem capable of movement. Maybe it was just pain.

Ivar took a deep breath and then sighed. “People don't usually react well to it. I guess I just don’t want to know what you look like when you do.”

Your face fell and your mouth parted as you tried to figure out what to say. You guessed that he’d been told everything you wanted to say already. If he heard them a hundred times and still felt this way it wouldn’t change. “You told me you don’t care what other people think. In the bathroom, the day you proposed.”

“You already know I do.”

“You’re not good at hiding it, Ivar. It’s why I told you the office sided with you. I never judged you for stuff like this, it seems pointless. I do judge you when you go around asking like an asshole,” you teased. “So why would I start now?”

Ivar chuckled quietly in response. “I don’t know. I can’t fire you anymore? You had a lot of things you wanted to say about me but never did until now.”

Fair enough, you shrugged. “And it’s always a direct result of you being a jerk. But I care about you regardless in some capacity. If I didn’t I would’ve stayed in the shower.”

“Did you just get out of the shower?”

“I— yes.”

Ivar winced as he sat up in the bed. His back against the headboard. He just noticed you were wearing a robe. “Are you naked under there,” a smirk cracked on his face.

“N—No,” your face was immediately flushed at the mention of it. Your hand went back to the robe. You should’ve just let him struggle.

Ivar raised an eyebrow. “So you shower with your clothes on?” He laughed at the idea of it.

“Fine! I am. But it’s rude to ask a lady if she’s secretly naked,” you were flustered as you laughed. “I got worried! What was I supposed to do, leave you?”

“I would’ve,” he shrugged.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you gave him a pointed look. There was no way he meant that. Please. The thought echoed in your mind.

But you didn’t get an answer as he glanced down at his slack covered legs. No braces. “How’d you do that so easily? Don't tell me your stalker work extended to stuff like this.”

It never felt relevant to mention why until now, since he asked. “I used to play on my college soccer team until I completely fucked my ACL, and my meniscus, and shattered my left knee. I think the poor girl I collided with got it worse, but I don’t really knkw that. It was a gnarly collision,” you reflected. “But the point is that my left leg was completely broken until graduation. I used to wear a brace like that until it started getting better.”

At the time it sucked but Ivar made you realize you were lucky it was a temporary thing. “I have scars but I doubt they compare much to whatever you’ve got,” you laughed. “So I wasn’t about to start bitching back when you got rude. Cause I get it, it hurts.”

Your leg bounced nervously as you watched him. Ivar didn’t say much, his blue eyes locked on your face. “It’s a little rude of you to heal,” he decided to say. Your face scrunched up in confusion. “We could’ve been crippled buddies, but you had to go be some loser who can walk,” he laughed.

Your body relaxed at his laugh and you found yourself laughing too. “You’re totally right. I’m so sorry, Ivar. I’ll do better next time.”

It was a dumb thing to joke about but it felt nice. “Can I see your scar? I’d like to make fun of it,” he nodded his head to your bouncing leg.

You stopped bouncing it and swallowed. “Well. As you astutely pointed out earlier— I’m naked, Ivar.” Your eyes were wide. There was no real reason to feel nervous about that.

“If that was your way of convincing me it was a bad idea, rest assured it had the opposite effect,” he immediately closed his mouth. You stared at each other for a moment longer until there was a knock at the door.

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” you smiled faintly as you got up. His mother entered the room and started to talk to Ivar. You couldn’t hear much of the conversation behind a closed door. Not that you could think much about it either. That cheeky bastard.

—

“I’m an absolute God at Mario Kart. You’re going to have to be a hacker if you want to beat me,” you smiled as kindly as you could manage. But your anger and determination was real.

Ivar was bed ridden, fair enough. You kinda liked the idea of just staying in bed the whole day. The honesty from earlier couldn’t be brought back due to an intruder, Hvitserk. Honestly, you liked him a lot more before learning he thought you were a gold digger. But it made more sense than reality.

Hivtserk was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the foot of the bed. Everyone had a controller in hand as he set up Mario Kart. “I’m still amazed Ivar let you in his bed at all,” he admitted.

“I’m his fiancée. He ought to,” you teased. You glanced at Ivar who rolled his eyes. You remember his earlier comment ‘you can stay on the floor’. “Besides, it’s utterly massive.”

You were quick to select Waluigi and found that Ivar got annoyed at the selection. “Ivar always picks Waluigi,” Hivtserk laughed.

“Aww, is that why he’s pouting?” You could be nasty when it comes to competition. “Learn to share or pick a new character. Because if you’re marrying me then I get Waluigi.” Your face was so serious about the topic.

“How is that fair!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “You have such youngest-sibling energy! You’re a baby!” You cooed as you reached over, knowing that Ivar had to tolerate it.

But if you could play at that game then he could join. Your hand tried to touch his face and he used it as an excuse to pull you over and kissed you for a brief moment. It was your fault for establishing it was okay by doing it last night, but it didn’t stop your face from heating up as you pulled back. “I thought that’d shut you up.”

You glanced back to the screen, staying quiet for a moment. Why did that make your heart race when you knew he did it for show and prove you two were dating. This was especially true because his brother was here and already didn’t trust you. Hivtserk laughed at your response, “if only Ivar was so easy to silence.”

It threw you off. You got 5th place the first race and kicked yourself for it. “I thought you were supposed to be a God,” Ivar mocked.

Your eyes narrowed, “we have 4 more races. You won’t win another.” It brought back your competitive spirit as you focused on how annoyed you were. Anger was a good driving force and the game was a beautiful distraction.

Four games later and you smirked in self satisfaction at the top of the podium. “I told you, Ivar. You wouldn’t win another.” Hvitserk was just lucky to place considering how often he crashed. “I went easy on you since you already lost your character.”

“Oh shut up. Race me again.”

“I could still win!” Hvitserk insisted.

“You couldn’t even beat the simulation,” you snorted. “How can you beat me, let alone Ivar?”

—

The three of you played games, straying away from conversations. Others occasionally stopped by to try and talk but most left Ivar alone. They knew what he was usually like on his bad days but he was handling it better than usual. They blamed you but you knew better.

“They seem to really care about you,” you noted the moment you were alone with him.

“They’re family,” Ivar rolled his eyes, “they have to care.”

You nodded your head. “Still. You have people who do.” You were used to being alone by now. Seeing people in mass care like that was nice. You had friends but it was hard to hang out, you worked too much.

Ivar glanced at you, “well. They’ll care about you too.”

“For three years,” she snorted, “meanwhile Hvitserk thinks I’m a gold digger.” You weren’t sure why you cared as much as you did. But it felt personal to talk about. It wasn’t fun. Ivar looked away after your comment and ran his fingers through his hair. “We should set some ground rules,” you spoke up after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to kiss me earlier— I mean it’s fine. I kissed you last night. But I didn’t realize we’d just… do that now,” you bit your bottom lip. “It was smart. It makes us look real.”

He nodded his head slowly, “yeah well. I figured that was the goal.” It didn’t feel honest but you didn’t dare press it. Or maybe you were just wanting him to be lying.

“So, do we just dive deep into it? Hand holding, an occasional kiss, that kind of stuff? Just while they’re around,” you were quick to reassure. All of this felt like things that should’ve been addressed a long time ago.

Ivar shrugged and nodded his head again. “If my family is going to be interviewed I want them to believe it.”

“Then stop being a jerk then. To me at least,” you rushed. “Because you’ve been fine today but by now we both know I won’t back down. It just makes us look suspicious to be fighting and arguing all the time.”

To some extent you just liked him better like this. It was fun when his insults were over a dumb video game and not aimed at you not having a family. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “But— I want Waluigi next time.” A dumb trade, and one you didn’t want to make. You hesitated to agree to it and his eyebrow raised with great interest. “Does he matter that much to you?”

“I just hate conceding.”

Ivar snorted. “Maybe you’re more like me than you’d like to admit.”

“No I’m not!” You put your hand over your mouth after you said it.

“And you’re stubborn too,” Ivar tsked, shaking his head in shame at you. “If you were the boss I bet they’d call you a tyrant too.”

“You know about that?” You had assumed he didn’t. It just seemed like a thing he would’ve called out.

“Of course I know,” he rolled his eyes from where he sat on the bed. “I just ignore it. I’m used to people not liking me.”

“I like you,” you said instantly. It was the first time you vocalized the idea but it came natural in the moment. “When you aren’t trying to make me not like you, I like you.”

Ivar’s face got red and he scowled and looked away. “Well don’t.” It lacked the bite he usually had. It was hard to take seriously.

“Because you don’t care, right? Oh wait— you admitted that was a lie this morning. Why lie now?”

Ivar didn’t have anywhere to go after that. “It’s easier. This feeling is temporary. You’ll change your mind. I’d rather not feel worse about it later. You just think you like me.”

Your face softened and you sighed gently. “I’ve had more than enough time to develop a hatred of you. I think I’d know if me liking you as fake. We could be friends if you didn’t try so hard not to be.”

“Friends,” Ivar repeated and nodded his head. “You’re right. That’s what we could be.” His reply seemed off.

“Well then…” you trailed off. “Can we?”

“Can we what,” he asked, tired already.

“Be friends. I want to be your friend.”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowed at your face. “Fine. Maybe— it’s worth a shot at least.”

—

Taglist** @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @momowhoo

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #the proposal #vikings #i started falling behind in writing it lol #so i gotta do two in one day at some point #I’ve just been busy #yet ive still kept up one a day so... 👀#I’m glad some people have liked it!!!

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kylescheiblehateclub · 3 years

Text

Big Jet Plane

by: kjllingmoon (me, hi) || my twitter

chapters: 1/1 || words: 2.6k || rating: general audiences

summary:

It was a bad idea.

Still, it couldn't hurt to help.

----

In which Kojiro takes a beat-up Kaoru home after his little escapade from the hospital.

This was a bad idea.

It was one thing to let Kaoru stay in the restaurant despite sneaking out of the hospital with a broken leg (which, by the way, how the hell did he manage to get to Luce by himself?), but this was in another league of its own. He could already hear the slew of insults coming his way. You dopey gorilla, what if you dropped me? Why would you let me fall asleep without knowing if I have a concussion? I see your interior decor hasn’t gotten much better since last time.

He could stand it and not fight back, if just for one night. Frankly, he felt comfort when seeing Kaoru at the restaurant. It meant the accident wasn’t too bad, at least physically. And there was the sense of superiority that came with knowing he chose his restaurant, of all places. Superiority at knowing he was Kaoru’s priority, and comfort at knowing Kaoru still cared for him. Despite everything—the years of arguing, being split up during their respective years of higher education—there was still care. Which is more than what he could ever feel towards that other asshole.

It wasn’t like he’d verbalize how he felt on the ride to the emergency room. Hours had passed and he still couldn’t figure out if he had been shaking from the worry towards his friend, or hatred towards the man they once thought they knew. All that was certain was the regret he felt upon not beating Aino—Adam to a pulp right then and there, for everyone to see.

Ainosuke, Adam. The same rotten person at the core.

That violent nature wasn’t like Kojiro, it wasn’t expected of him. Which only angered him further. How was it that he and Kaoru let it get this far? S had begun as a way of self-expression, and it snowballed into a free-for-all that sometimes made him sick to his stomach. The notoriety got to his head, despite the promise he’d made to himself years ago. It was a tricky situation, one he didn’t like thinking about yet still kept him up at night.

Kojiro sighed in relief as his house came into a clearer view (giving him a break from his thoughts), surprised Kaoru slept through the ride. The pain meds must have kicked in…. He fished his keys from the pocket of his jeans and unlocked his front door, turning a light on before carefully pushing Kaoru inside. The door was promptly closed and locked, followed by his shoes being removed and all the shit in his pockets being moved to the bowl next to the door.

Once again, he found himself debating his options. He knew fully well that he should have dropped him back off at the hospital, it’d been ringing around his head during the whole walk back to his house. How was he supposed to know he’d be okay, though? Surely one night won’t kill him. They’ve gotten into bigger problems and walked away unscathed. Then again, neither of them had gotten swatted at high speed by a fucking piece of wood and metal until that night.

Options, Kojiro.

Perhaps he could start with actually waking Kaoru up and asking if he’s okay. He crouched in front of the wheelchair, nearly eye-to-eye with the man, and carefully shook him by the shoulder. “Oi, Ru. Up and at ‘em, c’mon.”

Silence. He remained still as the other stirred, bright yellow eyes looking around in confusion. Another thing Kojiro would never verbalize was the way his heart picked up as he saw thin eyebrows knit together, chapped lips pursing.

“Kojiro.” Kaoru groaned, removing his glasses. His heart had moved on from picking up to doing backflips. He began scratching at his eyes, and the act made him look younger and even more fucked up at the same time. Amazing. “Why are you staring? Didn’t your mother teach you that’s rude?”

She never said anything about admiring pretty things. “Whaddaya need, kid? Want me to take you to bed, maybe get you some food?”

Both of them looked down at Kaoru’s lap, at the way his free hand fiddled with the temples of his glasses. It felt awkward; like he was actually… embarrassed of whatever was on his mind. Kojiro stood up, figuring he’d be doing him a favor by giving him the time and space to speak. No use in forcing words through a muddled mind. He took a seat on his couch, his back facing Kaoru.

“Back at the hospital, they just…” Kaoru sounded frustrated and like he’d given up despite barely beginning. Kojiro didn’t move. “They only cleaned the affected areas and I knocked out as soon as my head touched the pillow. I feel dirty.”

Ah. Hot springs, showers. Same difference. Kojiro wouldn’t find the courage in either scenario.

“Will you wash my hair?”

A terrible, no good idea, indeed.

And yet, he got up and wheeled him into the bathroom, with not so much as a peep leaving his mouth. It’s the friendly thing to do. It also wasn’t anything new between them; Kojiro saw it as one of the perks of having known him for more than half their lives.

And yet, as he helped Kaoru sit on the toilet seat and turned Carla off to preserve her battery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What a bad idea. Washing his hair, as if they were an old couple, with habits and routines.

Are you implying that friends can’t have routines? Have you seen how the kids act around each other?

“How are you keeping my cast dry?”

The two men looked at each other, playing a mental game of chess. With all the bandages around Kaoru’s face, the cast had become the last of Kojiro’s concerns, but he was right. Without excusing himself, he retreated back to the kitchen, returning shortly after with a trash bag in one hand and an old beach chair in the other. “S’not perfect, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

“You don’t have to do all this, you know.” Kaoru still had that embarrassed inflection to his tone. It was reminiscent of a time when Kojiro had to make up an excuse or other as to why they kept cutting class. “I know I asked you to—”

“And that’s all there is to it.” Kojiro took a step back from his shower, looking at the chair smack in the middle of the tiled floor. It was a ridiculous setup, but it would work, for now. Hopefully. “You’re my friend, Kaoru. You’re asking for a favor.

“Before you even think of it,” he added, now turning to face the other, trying to figure out where to begin the process. Maybe undressing the bruises would be a good start. “I’m not doing this out of pity. I know you wouldn’t let me if that were the case.”

His hands were shaking again. They were chef’s hands, trained for years to be steady and precise. The experience had roughed them up, with various small slices and healed burns around his fingers and palms serving as evidence of his hard work. They were athlete’s hands, being accustomed to heavy lifting and scraping along the concrete on his board. Hands that held pride in his achievements and deceit in the shape of women. Steady, sturdy hands, goldened by the sun and failing him before his very eyes.

He began with the bulk of the bruises—his jaw. While one hand cupped Kaoru’s chin, the other one removed the tape holding the gauze to his skin, being careful to not tug at it too hard. Gnarly purples and reds came into view, the bruise obviously still fresh. Then he moved to the bandages around his neck, then his head. Neither of them dared speak, even when they winced at the sight or the sensitivity.

The anger was resurfacing. One good punch, right in the nose. That’s all he wanted. “Think you can stand?” Kojiro felt too loud in the small room, even though his voice was low. He took a step back and extended his hands, as if to invite Kaoru to try.

The other’s felt soft. He took good care of them, needing them to make a living. They were polished, well cared for, albeit also scarred from his tinkering with his AI materials and his experience skateboarding. They were pale, seeming bright as they held the other’s. Such a contrast.

Both of them took their time in getting Kaoru to his feet. It was a process, trying to balance him to remove his robe and get him in the shower. Kojiro didn’t bother removing the arm brace; that’s a bridge they could cross later. The big plastic bag was wrapped around the leg cast, with both of them hoping the water would stay out. A messy, bad idea.

It only took Kojiro a minute to strip down to his underwear. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his thoughts again; being shirtless at Crazy Rock, being half-naked with the man consuming every waking second of his life for the last few months—what’s the difference, right? He was making himself dizzy, going in circles.

He turned the faucet on, being careful not to wet Kaoru just yet. The detachable shower head was gripped, and he pointed it at the wall, feeling the steady stream until it was at a comfortable temperature. Then he began.

The ends of the long hair were first, going up to his scalp, digging his fingers into it to make sure everything got properly wettened. The faucet turned off, and he squirted shampoo onto his palm, feeling automatic; as if this really had been a habit of theirs for the longest time. Why wasn’t it? Why had his cowardice driven him into this cycle of guilt and heightened expectations— why didn’t those girls suffice him? What made him think he could ever compare to the thrill given to Kaoru when Ainosuke was in the mix?

The sound of a sob pulled him out of his thoughts. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hands back, initially thinking he had hurt Kaoru somehow. Maybe he touched an injured area?

“Ru?”

Another sob, followed by a sniffle. It made his heart drop. “Fuck. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

What? “What? What’s wrong?” He was crouching in front of the other before he could give it a second thought. The sight was… it was something he hadn’t seen in a while. His stomach was churning. “Kaoru. Why’re you saying that?”

“I just—” Kaoru paused, trying to breathe, to calm down. He had snot on his red nose, which Kojiro cleaned without a second thought. “I really thought things would change. I didn’t want— didn’t need to win, but shit— I don’t even love him anymore, I just— I wanted to prove that it could— that we could still be friends. That things could go back to when we were kids.”

Eat your fucking heart out, eh, Kojiro?

“Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. His friend, the man he’d been hopelessly head over heels for, got fucked over by the same person in the span of seven years, and was crying his eyes out, injured, in the shower. It brought upon him a horrible feeling of deja vu, and he couldn’t shake it away.

But he could help again. Just like when they were teenagers, directionless and feeling everything all at once. He’d do it over and over if it meant Kaoru would be okay.

His broad arms wrapped around the man, and he didn’t let go, albeit their uncomfortable position. One of his hands was rubbing his back in soothing, circling motions, with the other one hiding in his hair. He felt cold, his body shaking with each little sniffle and sob.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Kojiro wasn’t sure if he was heard. His voice wasn’t much louder than a small mumble. He let go of the hug and cupped Kaoru’s pale cheeks instead, being as mindful as possible of his bruises. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they continued falling, and a chuckle escaped him, feeling his own eyes getting watery. “Fuck him. He’s nothing but wasted potential. You’ve done so much without him and I know you can do so much more.”

If I’d known this is where we’d end up, I would have cut him off ten years ago. Completely separate myself from him and take the opportunity to tell you what I’ve always felt. I know I wouldn’t have stood a chance, I’ve never been what you crave. But I wouldn’t have been such a coward.

“You look so ugly when you cry.”

The two men laughed at the feeble joke. Kojiro didn’t expect Kaoru to do that, but he figured it would happen. Both of them had always had a problem with vulnerability.

“Like you look any better. Your face is the same color as your hair.” He wiped Kaoru’s tears once more, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Allowing himself just this one thing. “You don’t need someone like that to prove things can still be good, Ru. I believe in you.”

He could tell Kaoru didn’t fully believe the words. And that was okay. He’d be okay.

Kojiro pressed another kiss to his forehead, then his knuckles, praying above all else that the actions could convey everything he was trying to say, as well as everything he felt. I’m here for you. I love you. I love you.

It was back to washing his hair then. Neither of them spoke; there was no need. Kojiro washed, conditioned, detangled Kaoru’s hair, washed his bruises, helped him dry off, and guided him to the bedroom, offering fresh, warm clothes. He even blow-dried his hair and braided it, just like he used to do when they were teens, keeping it out of Kaoru’s face. Now it was just a matter of changing into some new clothes himself, and set up the couch…. His heart wanted to explode, beat straight out of his chest and straight into bed with him.

So he did. The night was full of mistakes and bad ideas, anyway; what’s one more? He lay on his side, watching as Kaoru attempted to do the same, settling about three-fourths of the way there. They were eyeing each other, both of them seeming like they had something to say.

Kaoru went first. “Thank you. You could have just left me back home, or at the emergency room. This means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Kojiro got closer to him, allowing himself to push his hair back, over and over, creating a rhythm. “You mean a lot to me. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Langa completely destroyed you.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

Kaoru was holding Kojiro’s hand by then, guiding it to his cheek. Kojiro left it there, softly running his thumb along his thin lips.

“You know I’m beating his ass if he comes near you again, right?”

Kaoru smiled, tired. His eyes were halfway shut. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”

Kojiro smiled back, the feeling of relief and comfort slowly returning. “Need a lullaby?”

A shake of the head signaling no, followed by a sleepy sigh and closed eyes. “Just stay here. The kids’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, honey.” Honey. Sickly sweet. He pretended he didn’t notice the way his cheek felt hotter against his palm. “They’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

The way Kaoru kissed his thumb sent a jolt down his spine. A bad idea for another day, Kojiro decided.

He sighed again, keeping his own hand loosely wrapped around his arm. “Goodnight, Kojiro.”

“Goodnight, Ru.”

#aly writes #do not repost #do not reupload #ao3 #matchablossom #sk8 the infinity #joe x cherry blossom #joe x cherry #bisexual joe #but also #closeted joe #i just think there should've been bigger repercussions to the cherry x adam race #i consider it a fucking plot hole #mans walked away unscathed basically #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #fan fiction #joecherry

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septicstories · 3 years

Text

When Will You Realize (UNEDITED)

A/N: @you-said-yes is a bloody freaking genius and came up with this idea for the multiverse twins, and I'm in love. So, I'm gonna write this (Peter-centric, of course) and attempt to do it justice! I just hope I don't goof this masterpiece up too much.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: cursing (duh, it's me), family drama, Charles + Logan + Hank ignore Wanda and Pietro because they need Peter, very brief mentioning of a needle, sad Peter + Wanda + Pietro, Pietro having the nickname "Piet" (pronounced as the first bit of his name, not diet with a "p"), no beta readers or edits (sorry)

Word Count: 3.3k (3,380)

"Peter! The cops are here! ... again."

When Wanda had yelled that down to him, Peter only found himself sighing. What store manager is accusing him of shoplifting this time? Did that punk-ass kid behind the counter at 7/11 rat him out again?

But Peter didn't do anything about it.

Nope.

Well... actually... maybe a quick pick-pocket wouldn't hurt, right? Just see who the hell these cops are, maybe spook them when he says their names. Unless he already knows them, then that'd be weird.

Peter let go of the paddle he was using, calmly walking upstairs as time just slowed around him, nearly to a halt. He was greeted with three new faces, all three of the men. None of them looked like cops.

He went into the pocket of the man with hella sideburns, opening up his wallet, only to see a folded-up piece of paper instead of a badge.

After looking over the paper for a moment, Peter found himself grinning. This was a rental agreement for a car. These guys were from out of town.

Peter folded the paper, replacing it into the man's wallet before slipping it back into his pocket. And with new confidence, he went back to his basement and continued to play his solo game of ping-pong as he waited for the men to come down.

He heard one of the stairs creak, a sure sign that it wasn't one of his siblings. A very particular spot on one of the stairs made the most obnoxious creaking noise, and it was the only way he was able to identify anyone new.

"What do you guys want?"

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Peter just kept going from one end of the table to another, waiting for his brother to come down so the two could go even faster.

"I didn't do anything!"

Of course, that was what he was waiting for before the cops showed up. But now, he was just waiting for them to all get down here. He was just showing off at this point.

Peter dropped his paddle once again, slowly stretching across his couch. Well, slow for him. To the three men, it probably looked like it happened in the blink of an eye.

"I've been here all day."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as the three men turned to him, one staring at him as though he were an animal at the zoo. The other two seemed exasperated.

"Just... relax, Peter. We're not cops--"

"'Course you're not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter interrupted.

"You're not cops?"

Peter didn't even hear Pietro come down the stairs.

"How'd you know we got a rental car?" the man with long hair and sunglasses asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking through the door." Peter shrugged.

"Peter!"

Wanda must've recently come down as well, as she lightly smacked Peter's shoulder, like a scolding mother rather than an older sister.

"I also had some time to kill, so I went through your rental agreements and saw you're from out of town." Peter's shit-eating grin just spread across his face, before it dropped into a look of confusion. "Are you FBI?"

Peter shot up, grabbing the nearest wallet, which came from the guy with sunglasses. Nothing that a cop would carry. But there was a business card.

"Nope, you're not cops," he said in a near-mumble, reading the card.

"Peter!"

"Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters place?" Peter asked, ignoring his sister's scolding tone as he dropped the wallet, heading over to one of his many mini-fridges.

Peter grabbed two popsicles out of the fridge, slightly melted but still solid, handing one to his brother before beginning to munch on one.

"When I knew him, he wasn't so... young."

That was all he caught out of the conversation the three men had.

"Young?" Peter asked with his mouth full. "You're just old!"

"Peter, don't be rude," Pietro said, opening his popsicle and beginning to eat it at a monstrous pace.

"Both of you, stop!" Wanda said, her eyes beginning to shimmer a bright red color.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers." one of the men said.

"Powers, what powers?" Wanda squeaked out, her eyes flaring red before returning to their usual color.

"You see something strange here?" Pietro asked, leaning against Wanda with an empty popsicle stick in his hand.

"Nothing anybody would believe if you told them?" Peter asked, a massive smirk on his face.

When he saw the tired look on one of the men's faces, he did a little internal victory dance, patting himself on the back for that.

With the cockiest fucking look on his face, Peter went over to the pong machine in his room, turning it on.

"So who are you, what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter."

"With what?" Wanda and Pietro asked in unison, glaring daggers into the three men.

"To break into a highly secure facility. And to get someone out."

"A prison break?" Wanda asked, her eyes widening.

Peter just chuckled, smirking. "That's illegal you know."

"Well, only if you get caught."

"Okay, no. Peter's not going." Wanda said, her fists clenched by her sides.

Exactly as she said that, Peter asked "What's in it for me?"

"Peter, no, this is an awful--" "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Peter's fingers froze on the joystick, pausing. The Pentagon? The fucking Pentagon? Wait, were these guys actually cops? Like, undercover cops who are actually good at their jobs?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow, slowly turning from the machine.

"Because we're just like you."

Peter stiffened, eyes bouncing between each of the three men. They all look normal, albeit a bit like hobos, but still normal. They didn't have any of the physical bits to a mutation, the lucky sons of bitches.

"Show him."

An absolutely disgusting squelching noise filled the room as the man with sideburns had bone breaking through his clenched fists, into a trio of boney claws, gnarly and super gross.

Peter's breath hitched as he watched, before gulping and nodding. "It's cool but it's disgusting."

"So? Are you coming with us?"

"No, he's not," Wanda spoke up again. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you are and why you're asking for Peter to help you break into the Pentagon, nor do I want to know who you're breaking out of the Pentagon, but my baby brother won't be joining you."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Who are you to make decisions for me? I'm fucking 17, Wanda! I'm not gonna be staying in this damn house my whole life!"

Peter stood up, going over to his closet, and grabbing a backpack.

"Look, I know you guys are gonna drive me there and there's probably a plan. Fill me in on our way there. I need to bring food so I don't pass out on you guys."

"Peter, ple--" "We'll meet you outside. Thank you, Peter." the man with the sunglasses said as the three left the basement.

Pietro and Wanda shared a glance before heading up the stairs. "Wait for a second!"

Peter shook his head, grabbing the nearest box of food and stuffing it into his bag.

I'm not a baby. I'm 17. I can't stay here for the rest of my life because of humanity. I can't do that to myself. I'd rather be slaughtered for my mutation than sit the hell still and never leave this fucking house.

Pietro and Wanda couldn't keep him here. He loved them both to death, and he'd absolutely come to visit. But he couldn't stay. Even just a taste of adventure like this would be enough to sate him for the day. Maybe a few.

Besides, it wasn't like he was leaving for good. He was gonna come back. Probably. Y'know, assuming he doesn't get caught and shot to death.

Peter gulped.

That won't happen... right?

"Nah, I'll be fine," Peter mumbled to himself, grabbing another box of snacks and opting to grab a hair tie as well. The clock on his wall was ticking slower and slower the deeper into thought he got.

They wouldn't let him get hurt, right? He'd be a-okay.

"Slow down, you crazy child."

Peter stiffened for a moment.

That creaky stair was a blessing and a curse.

Reluctantly, he looked at Wanda, giving her a glare as time sped up. Pietro was right behind her.

"You're so ambitious for a juvenile."

Peter rolled his eyes again.

With this shit.

"But then, if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?" Peter asked sarcastically, a scowl finding its way onto his face.

Wanda and Pietro give each other another look before they come closer to Peter. Peter went over to another side of his room, grabbing another box of food, this one already opened.

"Where's the fire? What's the hurry about?" Pietro asked, letting out a nervous laugh as he joked. The tension in the room was making everybody uncomfortable.

They get a bit closer, and Peter forcefully shoved what was bound to be a squished Twinkie into his backpack.

"You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do."

Pietro and Peter's eyes met, making Peter's resolve crack. Just a little bit. Not much. But a little bit.

Wanda's hand landing on his shoulder wasn't much help.

"And only so many hours of the day."

Wanda's voice was always soft and soothing. The Sokovian lullabies she'd hum to him when he was a child would sometimes play through his head when he was stressed out, and he'd even find himself mumbling the lyrics.

But not right now. Now wasn't the time for her calming voice. No, he had shit to do.

Peter brushed Wanda's hand off of him, storming away from them before speaking, "But you know when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting open old sutures.

Pietro's brow furrowed, with a frown making its way onto his face, his own tone becoming less playful.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through."

The scowl on Peter's face only deepened as he turned away from his siblings. He didn't need to hear all of this. Not right now.

Wanda, with that voice that made Peter want to cry, spoke up again. "When will you realize..."

Peter stiffened, a lump growing in his throat. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't persuade him to stay. They couldn't do that.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro and Wanda spoke together, Pietro's tone had softened a tad.

When the twins saw Peter's face when he turned around, their hearts broke a little.

Their younger brother had tears in his eyes, his mouth twitching as he took in one shaky breath after another. His mouth opened, only to clamp shut, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight.

Peter sped over to his dresser, digging through one of his drawers, in search of his goggles.

"Slow down," Wanda began, her voice making him stop for a single second. "You're doing fine."

Pietro piped up again. "You can't be everything you want to be before your time."

Peter clicked his tongue, fresh tears beginning to roll down his face. They had the motherfucking audacity to pull that shit on him.

"Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight," Peter said sarcastically, turning around and spreading his arms out as he gave both of his siblings a teary-eyed glare.

To them, it probably looked like the glare of a child. Pathetic. Weak. Fragile.

Did he care?

"Tonight," he mumbled again.

Nope, not one bit.

Wanda took a step forward as Peter turned back around, still looking for those damn goggles.

"Too bad, but it's the life you lead," she said calmly.

She was going to start losing composure soon, Peter was sure of it. She had to crack soon. He wasn't going to let his dam burst anymore until he knows he's not the only one who wants to cry.

"You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need."

Peter winced as though he just got a needle stabbed into his arm. A painful pinch that'd be sore for a bit, but he'd forget about it soon.

Wanda sent Pietro a glare, which made the other speedster back down a bit. But only a bit.

"Though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right." Wanda and Pietro spoke at the same time, making Peter shiver.

It bugged him the hell out whenever they did that. Creepy as shit.

Wanda made it even creepier by repeating herself. "You're right."

She came closer as Pietro spoke. "You've got your passion."

"You've got your pride," Wanda said softly, taking Peter's shaky hands into her calm grip.

They need to stop. They needed to stop doing all that shit to him. They were trying to get him to stay. They shouldn't be doing that.

Peter yanked his hand out of Wanda's grip, his other hand grabbing his goggles before stuffing them in his pockets.

"But don't you know only fools are satisfied?" Peter said bitterly, staring between the twins.

He gulped as he watched Pietro glare at him, his arm going around Wanda as he did so.

"Dream on," Pietro said dully as Peter turned his back on the twins.

"But don't imagine they'll all come true." Wanda and Pietro did their freaky twin thing again, speaking at the same time.

Peter zipped up his backpack, just trying not to cry. He just needed to get past them, and into that car, and then it would be smooth sailing from there.

"When will you realize?" Wanda asked as Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro finished with a soft murmur.

Peter didn't even need to turn around for Pietro and Wanda to know what Peter's face looked like.

Hot tears burned down his face as he shoved past his older siblings, Pietro purposefully knocking Peter's shoulder with his own. A little thing they'd do when they knew they had a rough day ahead of them. A sign. A quick "good luck. I love you."

A sob got stuck in Peter's throat as he went up the stairs, hitting that creaky stair on the way up.

Wanda, with a defeated sigh, fell back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. There wasn't any way to stop Peter. Once his mind was set on something, he was going to do it if it were the last thing he'd do.

She just worried that this would be the last thing he'd do.

Before Wanda could even speak, Pietro's hand rested on her back as he sat beside her.

"He'll be okay, Wanda."

Peter was about to leave, fingers grazing the doorknob before he paused.

He turned to the small stand by their front door, grabbing Wanda's locket from when she and Pietro were children. Carefully, he opened it, revealing pictures of Wanda and Pietro as children.

Peter's fingers clumsily fiddled with the locket before placing it around his neck before taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face.

The front door of the Maximoff household swung open as Peter left the house, his hair falling in front of his face as he left, walking at a pace that seemed a tad bit too fast to be human.

The guy with sideburns was sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the two other men stood outside the car.

"Ready?" the man with the sunglasses asked.

Peter found much more interest in the markings on his shoes, staring down at his mixed shoelaces before giving a weak response.

"Yeah."

Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.

Peter got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut as the other two men piled into the car. He swears he heard Pietro and Wanda in his head.

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

His backpack got tucked by his feet on the floor of the car, buckling his seat belt before releasing a sigh. He wanted their voices out of his head. They needed to get out of his head, or else he may actually get fucking shot because he wasn't focused on the mission.

The Maximoff house was now quiet. The only noises came from the basement.

"When will you realize?" Pietro asked, his voice barely carrying over a whisper.

"Vienna waits for you." Wanda finished softly.

The two were leaning against each other on the couch that Peter called his bed, looking around the messy room.

A picture sat on his desk, the three of them all together and smiling. Peter was only eight when they took that picture. His two front teeth were missing from his massive grin, curly brown hair framing his face. He just looked... happy.

Peter, at that moment, felt far from that young kid he used to be. His arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to seem nonchalant. But he was stressed as hell.

In Sokovian, Peter mumbled to himself "And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

Peter could live with dying young. As morbid as it may be, he's accepted his mortality. He knew people wanted him dead because he didn't share the same species name as others.

His eyes looked out the window while the man in the sunglasses and the man with the sideburns spoke in the front seat. Hopefully not to Peter, because he wasn't paying attention.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing an empty doorstep, Pietro and Wanda were standing on the porch.

Pietro's hand was still on Wanda's back, and Peter could see the tear streaks on Wanda's face from within the car.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through," the two whispered, Pietro beginning to choke up "Why don't you realize?"

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

Peter turned to look at the guy with glasses who sat with him in the back seat, nodding with pursed lips.

"I'm good, man. What's the plan?"

Wanda and Pietro still stood on the doorstep, watching Peter look away from them. Wanda bit her lip, looking down at the ground as fat tears streamed down her face.

"Vienna waits for you." she and Pietro were so choked up, their speech was barely audible. "When will you realize?"

Peter listened in on the plan, nodding, but once they stopped saying his name, he looked back out the window. His sister was in tears as Pietro wiped at his face, making Peter's eyes well up a bit too.

With all he had in him, Peter mustered up a small, sad smile on his face. Luckily enough for him, his siblings looked up right then.

Peter gave a small wave, getting teary smiles and waves from his siblings.

The car's engine roared to life, and the group began to pull away from the Maximoff house. Peter turned in his seat a tad, watching as his siblings grew smaller and smaller in the window as the car pulled away from the Maximoff house.

At the same time, the twins watched as the car pulled away from their house, Wanda's body shuddering as she kept in unshed tears.

Pietro let out a heavy sigh as Wanda's head hit his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Wanda. He always comes out of these things okay."

"He's breaking someone out of the pentagon, Piet. I don't want him to... y'know."

"Yeah... I know."

Peter turned back around in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

"They'll be okay." the man with glasses murmured beside Peter.

His only response was a nod and a yawn. "I'm gonna rest up real quick, okay? Save up energy, and stuff."

Because I'm absolutely fucking drained.

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kumeko · 3 years

Text

A/N: For the Gracefield Sun zine! I wanted to take a little walk through that dark time after Norman’s death but before the escape started.

…

Despite the dark shadows and poorly lit underbrush, the expansive forest hemming the orphanage was inviting. Emma rocked back and forth on her feet, staring into the cool shadows out of the corner of her eyes. She’d wandered the shaded paths more times than she could count, memorized the unruly tree roots and low hanging branches. Ray could immediately tell you the product of any two numbers, Norman knew every path to victory in chess, and for Emma, the forest was her domain. She could navigate it with her eyes closed, if she had to.

“Emma.”

At the sound of her name, Emma tore her eyes from the trees and returned her attention to her two best friends. Norman chuckled softly, his eyes crinkled just so, while Ray gave her a moody glare.

“Could you pay attention for two seconds?” Ray grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Sorry.” Sheepish, she flushed a bright red and rubbed the back of her neck. “What’re the rules again?”

“From there?” Ray’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“It’s fine.” Finally, Norman stopped laughing. After wiping the tears from his eyes, he squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “You’ve always been better at doing than listening, right?”

Emma burned a brighter red. It wasn’t that he was wrong, per se, but did he have to put it that way? “Y-yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, scuffing her shoe against the dirt.

“So, the simple version,” Norman decided, letting go. Gesturing at the woods, he explained, “Ray and I will hide, you’ll catch us. It’ll be a game to keep you away from the hidden kids.”

“Hidden.” Emma blinked and cocked her head. Now that she thought about it, the field was oddly empty. Not even the littles ones were running across the sloping lawn. “So they’re already in the woods?”

“Yep. We need to practice distracting our pursuers.” Norman straightened his posture, rolling back his shoulders. He glanced at the morning sun. “We’ll do it for an hour and then switch positions.”

“Remember to use that brain of yours,” Ray added scathingly, and she wasn’t sure if he meant to help or insult with that comment. Either way, it was rude, and she stuck her tongue at him.

“Guys,” Norman sighed, trying to placate them. He stepped in between them, “Come on, we need to start. We don’t have much time as it is.” With a gentle push, he directed Ray to the forest. “You’ll need the head start.”

“Like you don’t?” Ray scoffed, but he started to run into the woods nonetheless.

He shook his head, watching him go. As Ray disappeared into the woods, the white of shirt fading into the dark undergrowth, Norman turned to Emma. “Alright, you got this?”

“I don’t like being it,” Emma griped, frowning. She didn’t like chasing, being the demon, the scary monster. Crossing an arm across her chest, she clutched her forearm, her fingers digging into her skin. “But I’ll do it.” She turned away from the woods. “To a hundred, right?”

“Right.” Norman stepped beside her and gently removed her hand from her arm. Uncurling her fingers, he looked at her. “You got this, okay?”

His hand was warm on her skin. She studied it for a moment before looking up at his sorrow-tinged smile. Something didn’t feel right. “Norman?”

“Just…just remember that, okay?” Without waiting for her to reply, Norman let go and started to jog into the woods. “No peeking, okay?”

Her hand still felt warm. “Norman!”

He didn’t reply, giving a simple wave before disappearing. Fine. She’d just have to ask him after she caught him. Turning away, Emma glared at the orphanage and counted to a hundred. Somewhere in there, she was certain Mama was making her plans. Well, whatever they were, they couldn’t stand up to Ray’s and Norman’s smarts.

“100,” she uttered and like a lion on the hunt, she sprang forward. Running down the hill, she burst into the forest. It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, for her ears to pick out every cracking twig and rustling leaf. Her feet automatically stepped over the gnarly tree roots, making sure she didn’t trip as she kept her eyes peeled for her family.

A fake set of footprints led to the right. Several more were hastily wiped away to her left. Another trick? Probably not—she’d seen Norman do set this trap before, playing with expectations until you didn’t know what was true or not. The breeze picked up, blowing through the trees, and Emma hastily looked up just in case her younger siblings were hiding up in the higher branches. Nothing. A flash of white crossed her vision and Emma looked down just in time to catch Norman sprinting away.

“Norman?” Emma stood stock still for a moment, bemused. It wasn’t like him at all to be so forward. Maybe he was trying something new. Well then, she was willing to test it out. Pushing powerfully off the ground, Emma chased after him. Down the forest path she ran, nimbly leaping over fallen logs and jutting rocks. Norman didn’t look back once, just straight on rushing through the forest.

Neither Norman nor Ray had her stamina and Emma started to close the gap. Just ahead, she could see a break in the trees, sunlight filtering through. They’d run in a circle, almost, and she pushed forward. “I’m going to catch you!” she shouted, forcing herself to pick up the pace.

Racing past the boundary between forest and field, Emma eagerly looked left and right for her prey. What she found instead was an empty field. “Norman?” How did she miss him? She looked back, but there was no one there. “Norman!”

A cup landed at her feet, a long string attached to the bottom. Immediately, she recognized it. The ‘phone’ she used to call Norman when he’d been sick. She looked up, but the string winded far into the distance, and she couldn’t see who was on the other side. “This isn’t funny!”

There still wasn’t a response. Not even a giggle from her younger siblings. Gingerly, Emma picked up the cup, not understanding this strange new plan. Holding it to her ear, she waited for a message.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Norman apologized.

The string brushed against her arm and she looked down to find it was cut.

-x-

Emma woke up with a start. Her hand was above her, stretching for something just out of reach. Drenched in sweat, she stared up at the dark ceiling. A dream. It was just a dream. The bed beneath her was hard, the room dark, and it was just a dream. Around her, her sisters slept soundly, their breathing soft and steady. Someone snored, like a loud bee buzzing.

This was safe. No, even half-asleep, Emma knew that was wrong. It wasn’t safe, just manageable for the moment. Blinking her eyes awake, she slowly got up and glanced out the window. There was only the slightest sliver of moonlight spilling into the room, just enough light to make out people and nothing more.

A dream. Emma laid back down. It was a dream. Despite reassuring herself, her heart continued to race. Clicking her teeth, she softly sprang out of bed. There was an easy fix to all this—she just had to go to the boys’ room. A quick peek and she’d see that it was alright, everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about.

Quietly, she stalked across the hallway, keeping to the wall to prevent creaking. She’d done this often enough as a child, sneaking into the Ray’s and Norman’s beds when she didn’t want to sleep alone. This time was no different, they were just a little bigger. As she slipped into the boys’ room, it was easy enough to spot Ray. His messy bed hair stuck up at all angles, defying gravity almost. Emma smiled fondly at his instantly recognizably profile.

And Norman—

Emma stared at the empty bed. The mattress was gone, leaving behind only the box spring.

“No,” she uttered, sliding down the wall as she remembered.. “No.”

Norman was gone. Norman was dead.

Mama had won.

-x-

Seated under the big oak tree, Emma shivered as the breeze played with her hair. It was chilly this morning. She should pull her jacket on tighter. She should move back inside. She should do something. Anything.

It all felt like too much effort. Even without Mama watching her like a hawk, her body was heavy. The world was a dark cloud and whether she moved or stayed still, nothing would change the fact that Norman was dead. Norman was gone and, in a month, so would Ray. Emma thought she’d known sadness before this, but it didn’t hold a candle to the bottomless despair she felt now. Grief, she found, was an endless well, constantly over spilling.

“You’ll get sick like that!” Catching sight of her, Gilda ran over and admonished her.

Emma looked up at her, then back at the grey-greens of the lawn.

“Here, I’ll fix your buttons,” Gilda offered kindly, kneeling in front of her. She leaned forward to adjust Emma’s collar. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, “We’ve almost got the supplies ready. Don’s just gathering some more food while he’s on kitchen duty.”

Emma stayed still. “It’s cold.”

“You should go inside,” Gilda added aloud. She dusted Emma’s shoulders once, twice, before gripping them tight. Quietly, she murmured, “We’ll be ready. Don’t worry. So just…take care of yourself, okay?” Gilda was staring at her, watching her, her teeth worrying her lips. Her hands trembled as they held Emma. “Please.”

It wasn’t good to leave her sister like this, scared and uncertain. There were words she should say, words she could say: Good job, I know you can do this, or even just Thank you. What had she said, before everything had fallen beneath her feet? How had she talked to Gilda without the layer of subterfuge and farce? At the very least, she wanted to reassure her, to give her some small piece of comfort as the clock steadily counted down to Ray’s birthday.

You got this.

Unbidden, tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Norman was good at that, at comfort, at keeping the pieces together. Even now, she remembered his hand in hers as they ran from Connie’s death, his warmth seeping through her clothes and grounding her. If there was one good thing about Mama, it was that it gave Emma an excuse to slip into grief. To let it wrap around her like a thick blanket.

An understanding look crossed Gilda’s face and she stood up. Holding out a hand, she smiled gently. “Here, let’s go in.”

“That’s…” Emma tried, but the words wouldn’t form. She leaned back into the tree, her back hitting the gnarled trunk. “You…”

Gilda offered her hand still. A few weeks ago, the position would have been reversed, Emma reaching out to drag Ray to his feet. This is the view he saw, she thought, following Gilda’s hand up to her face. This was Ray’s seat and Ray’s tree and the lump in her throat burned hotter.

It wasn’t just Norman she was missing.

-x-

Emma woke up with a start. Nightmares, again. Or should she call them sweet dreams—it the was the only way she saw Norman now. In the span of weeks, his presence had been completely scrubbed from the orphanage, as though Mama couldn’t bear to feel his lingering presence either.

Pressing her hands to her face, Emma moaned quietly. It hurt. It hurt. In the darkness of the night, with only the stars as her witness, she could admit the truth of her charade: everything was painful. Living. Breathing. Figuring out a plan.

You got this, Norman had told her. Be strong and keep moving forward.

And she would, she had to, her family was at stake. They’d all live, even if she had to fight off the monsters herself. As much as she wanted to curl up and give into grief, there wasn’t time for that.

Not by day, at least.

Now, in the middle of the night, she wearily swung her legs off her bed. Despite how painful it was to see Norman’s empty bed, the only way she could get any sleep was by checking up on Ray and the others. To watch the steady rise and fall of their chests, to hear the rustling of sheets as they turned in their sleep. To see Ray’s bed hair defy gravity, a rare source of levity in the otherwise serious boy.

She wondered if he smiled anymore. They had been rare enough even with Norman around; without him, she had a sinking feeling it was impossible. Not that it was any different for her. It took every effort to tug her lips into a smile, to look at Don and Gilda and let them know they were great.

You were right, Emma wanted to tell Ray. We can’t save everyone.

Don and Gilda are working really hard. Phil’s being brave

Do you miss Norman?

She stared at Ray’s sleeping face, her tongue heavy with the words she couldn’t say. Slipping back into the hall, she sat down next to the door and leaned against the wall. She didn’t have to ask that last question to know the answer to it. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing. What was she looking for, anyways, coming out in the middle of the night?

A soft clatter next to her and she snapped open her eyes, tensing as she scanned her surroundings for Mama or the sister. Nothing. No one. She glanced to her right and spotted a small paper cup, wire attached to the back.

A paper-cup-phone. Emma stared at the white cup, her heart in her throat. Norman? She thought immediately, but that was impossible, he was dead. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the cup, her fingers sliding against the rim. Unlike the dream, the string stayed attached.

A paper-cup phone. Hesitantly, she placed it against her ear.

“Emma.” Ray’s voice came over, calm and clear.

Emma tried not to cry at the sound of his familiar voice. It had been too long. Quickly she pressed the cup to her mouth, muffling her voice. “Ray.”

“Good.” He sighed on the other end and she marveled at the noise, at the sound of it all. At how his voice sounded just as worn and broken as hers. “You’re safe?”

It was a stupid question. “Yeah.” Before she could stop herself, she said, “I miss Norman.”

There was silence on the other end for a long minute, so long she thought he’d fallen asleep. A quiet voice, quieter than she thought possible. “Me too.”

Part of her wanted to poke her head through the door and catch the expression on Ray’s face. She was certain it matched the one she saw in the mirror. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she leaned back against the wall. “Sometimes, I forget he’s dead,” she confessed.

“I wish I could forget,” Ray replied blithely.

There was something soothing about that familiar scorn. Emma leaned back. “She’s still watching us.”

“Yeah. She won’t stop till I’m gone.”

Fear shot up her back. His birthday was soon, too soon. There was a creak down the hall and Emma sat straight, holding her breath. After counting to thirty, it was apparently that Mama had just rolled over. Still, she had to go. “You’re not joining him, she growled. “I’ll protect you. “

She didn’t want to know how badly it’d hurt if she failed again.

#the promised neverland #tpn #norman #emma #ray #fanfic

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pascal-istheway · 3 years

Text

Bounty Flaw - Chapter 2: The Future

Read it here on ao3

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars

Rating: Not Rated

Characters: Din Djarin x F Reader

MASTERLIST

-------

So it turns out she was none of them. She didn’t run, bargain, or fight. At least not in the beginning. Whatever happened back there - there’s just something unexplainable that I can’t shake. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never once offered not to carbonite a bounty. Now, here I am, offering up a pretty sweet deal with this girl. All because the kid did some magic back there. And that’s another thing - what the fuck was that?

I’d known there was something different about the little guy, that much had been obvious from the start. I just wasn’t sure why he was so special to them but now I know. His… abilities made him special. I will never be sure of the full extent of them, hell, I don’t think he even knows the full extent of them. But whatever he did wiped him out for a while.

I don’t know what I was thinking. There was just something in those terrified eyes that made me turn soft for a moment. I just couldn’t bring myself to be cruel to her. After watching the kid heal her, something inside me just snapped. I have never seen him do that for… anyone. Not a single one of my bounties. Most of the time he didn’t even look at them. What’s so special about her?

------

When you finally are able to open your eyes, they are heavy as lead. You lay there for a few minutes trying to assess your surroundings, taking in the metallic surfaces around you. Maker, it’s so hard to open your eyes. You are completely and utterly exhausted.

You try to move your body and find it is very stiff, your limbs refusing to move. You uncurl your fingers and flex them once or twice before you decide to test your legs. It doesn’t actually register with you that you’re in the Mandalorian’s ship.

When you reach out, feeling the metal walls surrounding you on all sides, you realize “ something doesn’t feel right” ... then, it hits you. In rapid succession, you sit up, the blanket sliding off your shoulders, and immediately whack your head on a metal structure hanging above you giving, what you’re sure will be a nasty concussion or, at the very least, a gnarly looking bruise.

You rub your head, cursing under your breath “ dank farrik-”, your pulse begins to slow as your eyes adjust to your surroundings. All the memories of the past few days hit you instantly. The escape, the infection… The Mandalorian... Your vision comes into focus as you look down and see yourself inside some type of bed carved into the far wall of his ship.

You don’t remember getting into this bed. It isn’t very comfortable. In fact, your back really hurts. You groan, moving your shoulder around and rubbing the side of your neck as you stretch. How long have you been out? It feels like it has at least been over a day because your body is so stiff and locked up. You notice how dark it is in here. Where are the lights? The only thing you can see is a few, very small red and green lights, illuminating along with parts of the ship indicating working machinery in the hull.

Scooting forward, you cautiously step down onto the floor and work your way off the cot. As soon as you place all your weight onto your legs, you almost topple over. Your hand instantly reaches down to your leg, searching for your wound. To your surprise, you feel nothing. The bacta shot has completely closed the gash on your leg, not even leaving a trace of it ever being there. This brings you to the next question, your clothes. They are not the ones you remember wearing when you arrived …

In fact, you don’t recognize these clothes at all. The shirt is about two sizes too big for you and the pants, despite having a drawstring, still hang off your hips with room to spare. You sigh, knowing you need to find this guy so you make your way forward, feeling your way around in the dark by putting your hands out and waving them around in front of you before you step. The steps are slow and cautious in an attempt to find your way to some sort of light source. He might’ve put you in some warm socks at least? The ground was freezing...

You turn your body slightly to the right and feel around, looking for something to grab hold of. Suddenly you feel a sharp pain stub shoot up your foot as you begin hurtling towards the ground. You throw your hands out in hopes of catching yourself, but you are too late. You let out a helpless yelp as your face smashes into the cold, metal surface.

“Dank fucking farrik!” you yelp.

You lay there for a few minutes, rubbing your foot while trying to regain your bearings when a bright light bursts into the hull from above making you squint painfully away. You hear metal clanking against metal as someone descends down the ladder. A pair of boots slam to the floor close to where you are lying, then silence.

“Are you always this clumsy?” A modulated voice cuts the silence.

Your cheeks flush a bright red as you try to shuffle your way up. Yes, you are indeed very clumsy, but he doesn’t have to point that out. In fact, you almost feel insulted that you just need to reply in your pure sassy form.

“Are you always so friendly and charming?” you shoot back in a high-pitched tone. He just stands there like a statue, making no sounds and remaining impossibly still.

He is a little intimidating , you would never admit that, though. The way he just stands there in complete silence, towering over you. It’s unnerving , you think to yourself. You stare back, puffing your chest out in hopes you at least look somewhat menacing to him.

The silence seems to drag out forever, neither of you wanting to be the first to break it. Finally, he clears his throat.

“How is your leg?” he asks, pointing to your now completely healed wound under your baggy pant leg.

“It’s fine… thanks.” You shoot back, lifting the sagging fabric to show him. There’s a slight scar, but you’re impressed at how far the bacta goes to heal wounds.

As you let the pant leg fall down, you suddenly remembered that these clothes were not yours.

“Did you put these clothes on me?” you asked with a fit of annoyed anger rising in your voice.

“Your other clothes were destroyed,” he said simply, “they were ripped up, covered in blood and who knows what else. Did you expect me to just leave you in them? Of course, I put those clothes on you. Who else would have?” he throws his hands up as he asks you, mirroring your agitated state.

Your cheeks begin to flush when you realize he had, in fact, seen you naked. You both stand there in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before he lets out a loud sigh.

“I don’t know what else you would’ve expected me to do in this situation…”

You adjust the shirt at your waist, trying to get comfortable in his presence. “I just wasn’t expecting to wake up in something different. It was a shock, that’s all,” you tone down the sass in an attempt to be grateful. Because you really should be grateful for them. That was the truth of the matter, you were out of credits, and only packed one extra set of clothes because that’s all you could carry, which reminded you, “where did you put my old clothes, speaking of.”

“Compactor… where else would you put them?” He said it so casually it made your head spin.

“I only have one spare!! I could’ve repaired them!” you yell at him, “what the fuck were you - oh Maker, never mind!” you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“I was only trying to help you,” he stood there with his hands crossed over his chest, “ and need I remind you that I am being kind enough as it is not throwing you into carbonite. You. Are. A. Bounty. I have no reason to offer you kindness.” He shoots back at you. You can see him recede a little as soon as the words leave his mouth.

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Look, you’re going to have to cut me some slack here. The trip will be a lot less painful for both of us if we can stop being so hostile with each other. I need you to work with me. Just make the best out of the situation.” He lowers his voice in a poor attempt to make his last statement seem less aggressive.

You stand there for a few seconds before you try to relax your face. He is right. He didn’t throw you into carbonite. He also was only trying to help. The anger inside you slowly starts to leave your body as you take a few deep breaths.

“Look, I am sorry. I just… this isn’t the most wonderful situation to be in. Maybe you should cut me some slack,” you come back at him, “you’ve forced me onto your ship to take me back to my worst nightmare. Just please… try to understand why I am so pissed.” You reply softly in hopes of diffusing the situation. The last thing you want is to end up in carbonite next to the other bounties he’s collected. There is no chance of you escaping if that were to happen.

“Thank you… really… for all your help” you continued hoping you sounded sincere. He stands there for a few seconds more in silence before speaking.

“Taking you back to…” he pauses, approaching the question with caution, “your nightmare?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

This guy probably doesn’t want to hear your entire backstory. He probably doesn’t even care, so what’s the point? You sigh, frustrated that you even have to explain.

“It doesn’t matter...don’t worry about it” you reply abruptly.

Din lets out yet another sigh. “I’ll be up in the cockpit. I don’t trust you to leave you alone down here. If you’re going to be out of carbonite, you’re going to be within my sight at all times until we get to Nevarro, understand?” he asks harshly.

“Whatever you say tin foil” you mumble under your breath. You meant to say it so low he couldn’t hear you, but the quick snap of his helmet back in your direction affirmed that he had heard you. “ This is going to be just fucking great ,” you think to yourself sarcastically.

A few hours later, you are still sitting in the co-pilot seat of the cockpit. You and Mando haven’t spoken a single word to each other. As soon as you followed him up here, he had demanded you sit in the seat and not move. You had crossed your arms over your chest, like a child , and plopped down in the seat with an angry look across your face. You weren't giving him the satisfaction of having you obey his every command without protest.

You sat there, sulking for a few seconds before you were distracted by something. Your eyes shot up to the windshield of the Crest to take in the beautiful scenery before you, hyperspace. You had never been in hyperspace before. It was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. Your mouth had dropped open without you realizing it. The stars dazzling across your face were the most magnificent thing you think you’d ever seen.

“Close your mouth before you catch bugs in there”. Mando had exclaimed.

That was enough to make you realize you never wanted to talk to him again unless you needed to. He was so annoying .

So here you sit, hours later, still sulking with your arms crossed in the co-pilot seat of the Crest. You start searching your mind for ways that you can get out of this very shitty situation. The only way you see yourself even having a slight chance at escape is by running when you land. You knew you wouldn’t get far unless there was some type of distraction. He was good, so the distraction was going to have to be great. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of something shuffling behind you.

You turn your chair around, slightly startled, only to see two big black eyes staring up at you. The kid . You had almost forgotten about him. He is just about the cutest creature you have ever seen. You looked him over from the soft pink color on the inside of his ears to the wisps of hair that dotted along with the wrinkles across his forehead. He looked almost old in ways you couldn’t quite explain or put your finger on. You hesitate to ask, thinking better of it.

The kid lets out a quiet babble as you see him raise his little hands up in your direction. Does he… does he want you to pick him up? You start to soften as he brings up his other hand making a grabby motion with his fingertips. You scoot forward to the edge of your seat before you are interrupted by a menacing, modulated voice.

“Don’t even think about touching him,” the Mandalorian says flatly without even turning around to see the child motioning so sweetly to you.

“He’s asking politely,” you respond, ignoring him and grabbing the small creature under the arms and lifting him. The Mandalorian swivels his chair around and grabs the child from your grasp which sends him into an uncontrollable fit. Well, serves him right. He tucks him into his lap, ignoring his cries and takes a small knob from a shifter to his right, and unscrews it, handing it to the small child. This perks him up slightly as he plays with it but eventually, he just throws it on the floor and makes more grabby hands towards you.

“I don’t mind holding him while you drive… or fly… er, whatever it is you do here,” you roll your eyes at him.

He groans and bows his head, looking at the child, before sighing in defeat and turning around to face you. “This is a one-time deal. Don’t go getting any ideas in your head,” he slowly hands him over to you as you tuck him into your lap. He instantly cheers up, clearly appreciating the change of scenery. The Mandalorian gets up and grabs the small silver knob from where it rolled on the floor and hands it to him, patting him once on the head before taking his seat again and falling back into that uncomfortable silence.

The entire ride to Nevarro stays like that. From your spot behind him, you’re able to really watch and examine him. You watch the subtle twitch in his hand against the steering column - this rhythmic tapping he does almost like he’s thinking. The child has fallen asleep in your arms at this point, so you sit there, slowly letting your eyes drop as you watch this metal man tap away on his console. Before long, you feel the jolt of the ship dropping out of hyperspace and dropping into the atmosphere of Nevarro.

“Wake up,” is the only warning you get from him as he starts flipping switches and pushing buttons, preparing for a landing.

“Good morning to you too,” you reply, stretching your arms over your head. Panicked in the realization that the child is no longer in your lap, you look around, searching for the little green guy.

“He’s already where he’s supposed to be. You guys took quite the nap together,” he explained. You sagged back into the seat, sighing in relief.

“So what’s the plan,” you fidget with your hands in your lap. It occurred to you previously in the trip that you’d need to come up with some kind of plan between now and when you landed but you hadn’t expected to sleep through the entire thing. This really wasn’t beneficial for making plans. A slight sheen of sweat brushed against your brow as you quickly flipped through your exit strategies and realized, you really didn’t have one.

You’d never been off Tatooine and you had no clue where to go from here. No credits that could help you out. Shit. This was really not fucking ideal.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a little screech coming from below your chair. You jump so hard you almost fall out of your chair. You look down to see that the kid has returned from wherever the Mandalorian had stuffed him away. He is standing at the base of your chair raising his hands toward you wanting you to pick him up again. How can you resist such a cute gesture?

“What did I tell you, kid?” The Mandalorian exclaims. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s nap time.” He begins to get up from his seat and reach for the kid. You swoop him up as quickly as you can before he has the chance to take him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Leave him alone! Why does it bother you so much that he wants me to hold him?” You shoot back. The Mandalorian freezes in his position, arms stretched out towards him, without offering you another word.

“That’s what I thought, shiny. You have no reason.” You exclaim with triumph in your voice. He doesn’t have to be so damn grumpy. You look down at the kid with adoration. He is just about the cutest creature you have ever seen.

He brings his little hand up slowly, making a sweet little noise as his fingers connect with your left cheek. You almost melt from how cute it is. Damn, he really seems to like you. If the situation were different, you might actually want to keep him for yourself.

Suddenly, a bright light is flashing over your vision. You almost scream out in shock… until you see him . Your brother. It’s the strangest thing you have ever seen, it’s like you are watching him on a holographic screen. You see him running through a forest, fallen trees, and disturbed soil exploding around him. It looks like he has been badly injured. There is blood trickling out of his right ear and multiple cuts and bruises all over his body.

Suddenly, he stops, frantically looking back towards something in the distance. You cannot see what he is looking at, but you can see the pure fear on his face. Before you can process what is happening, you see a blurry hand reach out and shove him in the back. Simultaneously, a blaster fire comes from the same direction and buries itself into his back, causing him to collapse.

“ NO!” a scream escapes from your throat. You reach out trying to catch him, but it’s like you can’t move. His body seems miles away from you, shrinking into the distance. Images burst in your eyes - blaster fire, blood, wood shards flying… then a flash of his lifeless body laying on the ground before nothing but darkness.

A blood-curdling scream bursts from deep within your throat, like a waterfall of tears, burst from your eyes. You have no idea what is happening, but you are witnessing one of your worst nightmares. Nothing you’ve lived through, not even watching your parents dying, had ever been this vivid or intense. A strong hand grips your shoulder and everything comes back to you at once. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears, muddling everything in the room.

“Hey!” A modulated voice shouts, cutting through the screeching in your head. Your vision fades in and out, slowly coming back into focus along with your surroundings. Reaching out at the sides of the cockpit, the cool metal-like ice on your fingertips. The Mandalorian is standing in front of you holding a knocked-out child in his left arm and shaking you violently with the other. You blink a few times trying to bring him into focus. You can feel the wetness on your cheeks as tears continue to fall out of your eyes.

“What the FUCK?” you scream as you grab his arm trying to center yourself. “What the actual fuck was that?” You repeat, trying desperately to make a rational string of thoughts.

“Are you okay? What happened?” The Mandalorian asks, clearly concerned.

You sit there for a moment, swallowing several times before you answer. Are you okay? What the fuck just happened? Clearly, it was something the kid did. He is clearly gifted, you already knew that much from watching him heal your leg. Did he just give you a vision too? Your mind suddenly clicks as the realization hits you. The future.

“My brother!” You scream out, another wave of panic coming over you, “I have to get to him. He’s in trouble!” You bolt upright, almost shoving him over as you start to hyperventilate. You have to get out of here, now.

“Hey, slow down there little bird,” The Mandalorian exclaims as he grabs your shoulder, “just tell me what’s going on! What just happened?” He asks as he whips you back around to face him. Clearly he was just as concerned as you were, although it was unclear if he was more concerned for you or for the child.

“He showed me! I- I think he showed me the future.” You shout. “I don’t know how, but I saw him! I saw my brother and I have to get to him before he gets hurt. I can’t lose him too.” You exclaim. You notice the sobs starting to work their way through your body as you drop to your knees. You sit there for a moment, letting out a horrid-sounding sob from deep in your chest.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stand this.” You cry out. You let out a final, pitiful, “I can’t lose him too,” you whisper through your sobs. It was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear you. You pound your fist into the cold, metal floor in frustration, “I can’t fucking lose him! I already lost everyone else I love,” you scream, pleading to the universe, “I can’t watch this happen and not-” you lose yourself in the gut-wrenching sobs. There is absolutely nothing you can do. You’re stuck on this damn ship with this damn Mandalorian who is taking you back to slavery. You are completely helpless.

Feeling your body practically invert itself, you curl into your knees, letting yourself pour your heart out. You let every memory, every feeling you’ve ever had go in that cockpit. You cry for your parents, for the way they were killed. You cry for your friends back home and the pain they will endure for your failed escape attempt. You cry for your brother and his inescapable fate. And you cry for yourself for this disastrous fate you got yourself into.

The Mandalorian shuffles around a bit before you see his massive frame coming into your blurry vision. His fingertips slowly reach under your chin and force your head up to look at him. He has kneeled down to your level, helmet merely inches from your face.

“Hey… I need you to open your eyes and look at me,” he says in a much softer tone.

Doing as he says, your eyelashes flutter open softly. Your vision is very blurry, nose runny, spit falling from your mouth, just a complete mess. Hating how vulnerable you look in front of him, you attempt to reach up and wipe the mess off your face.

“That’s it, just take deep breaths, little bird,” he whispers softly. His thumb starts moving slowly across the bottom of your chin. “Eyes right here,” he instructs.

“Listen to me ,” he says softly, “I don’t know who you are, but my kid and you have some kind of connection going on here that I just can’t seem to explain,” You had to give him credit, the guy was trying his best with you, “I don’t know why they wanted so much for you. I took this job because bounties are shit jobs lately and I’ll be honest, you were good money.”

You stare at him in shock, your mouth dropping open. This was the most he’d spoken to you since he picked you up and quite frankly, this was the most honest anyone had ever been with you in your entire life. A part of you felt like you wanted to slap the shit out of him - if it weren’t for the helmet. But the other part of you thought how refreshing it was for someone to just tell you the damn truth for once. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, praying you didn’t look too much like a disaster.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know why they wanted me back so badly,” sniffling, you look up at him from where your hands were wrapping around that strand of hair. “I keep thinking it over… wouldn’t it just have been cheaper for Morga to write me off as a loss as he does with the other slaves? Why does he want me back so badly?”

“I can’t answer that for you,” he sighs deeply, clearly weighing out the options. It seemed to be weighing heavily on him, whatever he was considering because the silence was heavy enough to slice through with a knife.

“Alright well here’s the deal. I’m sticking my neck out for you with Karga. If I do this, I gotta be able to trust you…”

“What… uh what do you mean?” you question him, nervous for the answer.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” he whispers softly, almost soft enough you could barely hear him, “ but I don’t think my kid will forgive me if I turn you in.” His nervous laughter echoes between the two of you. “So I was thinking -” he paused, deeply considering his words, “what if I didn’t bring you back?”

There’s a long pause of silence where you both just stare at each other before you speak.

“I’m sorry, what?” you simply stare at him, eyes practically bugging out of your head.

“What if,” he draws his words out, “what if I just didn’t bring you back? I did it with the kid before. Sure it’s a risk but, clearly, there’s something else going on here and he was smart enough to pick up on it and I don’t know…”

“Where would I go?” you question him. This would surely solve one of your problems, but not the remaining part, “I have no credits, no home to go back to, no job. I have nothing. You threw away my other set of clothes.” You stand and start pacing the tiny confines of the cockpit.

“Well let’s make a deal. You stay with me. I can protect you, offer you a place to stay, and in exchange, you watch the kid while I’m out collecting quarries,” he replied.

Holy shit he was serious. It almost makes you want to maniacally laugh. Shit, maybe you were having a full-blown breakdown... You cover your mouth with one hand but a giggle escapes. “Oh shit, you are serious aren’t you?”

“Well not if you’re going to laugh at me about it…” he replied.

“Ok, so let’s say that I do stay. What would you tell, uh, Karga was it?”

“Uh... I haven’t gotten that far yet,” he puts his hand on the back of his neck and looks up, “however, I feel like we need to have a little more mutual trust going on here between us,” his finger points between the two of you. “Because this isn’t working. This silent treatment isn’t going to work going forward. Not for either of us especially if you’re going to be living here.”

“Wh - what do you want?” you ask.

“Well, when you’re ready, why don’t you tell me a little something about you? And in exchange, I’ll tell you something about me. Sound good?” he sat down in his chair and crossed his ankles together, motioning for you to sit down.

You gingerly take a seat on the edge of the chair, feeling like prey ready to run at the single sight of danger. Your reflexes are so tense and on edge, you’re practically about to burst.

“Alright, well, what do you want to know?” you ask, swallowing a lump in your throat.

“Anything you’d like to tell me,” he leans back, clearly relaxed in his own space.

You swallow the courage that was bubbling into your throat, realize you need to ask him. You have been presented with an incredibly rare opportunity here, one that not many people have been gifted. You were given a prophecy, a vision of the future. Your brother's future more importantly. And in this future, you’d seen him killed. A moment in time, stamped in the future. Something you could prevent from happening altogether. Not many people had this kind of power and only the ones that did have their fates entwined with the force.

You close your eyes, imagining yourself on that ledge with fate, grasping their hand and taking the leap off together into the unknown.

Your eyes pop open, staring directly at him as if willing to see his eyes behind the shiny beskar. “If I am to stay, I have a request,” you say softly, praying he will accept the new terms. He just sat there, waiting for you to finish and when you didn’t, he just simply said, “alright.”

You pause, confidence rapidly fading, but instead, you push on, “I don’t know how else to say this, but I can’t stay here and go out looking for my brother on my own, which we both know I will never find him in time… or -” you pause, hoping he picks up the rest of your intentions.

The Mandalorian stares at you in silence, not saying anything. You sigh loudly, waving your hands in the air, “fuc- will you help me?” you pause, looking at him. “Please?” you add for good measure.

“I can help out around here in return. I ca- I can watch the kid while you do your work. I can...fly? Well, I can’t fly, but you could teach me? I can-” He cuts you off before you can continue rambling.

“Stop.” He exclaims as he holds his hand up. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

He seems to consider it, leaning forward and nodding his head while he rests his arms on his knees.

“If we’re going to do this,” he starts, “I’m going to need a little trust from you. We need to learn to trust each other. You have to give me something. I don’t know anything about you, and you don’t know anything about me. If I am to help you, you need to give me a little background. I cannot help you if I am walking in blind.” He stares at you patiently, waiting for a reply.

You look around, literally anywhere but directly at him. The thoughts dancing through your brain go from one moment in time to the next. When someone asks you to talk about yourself, why is it that your brain suddenly can’t think of a single interesting thing? What would be the right thing to say that would make you seem like a trustworthy person?

“Okay…” you start out, clearing your throat, “I was born on Tatooine… been there my whole life I guess. I -” you pause, looking up at him to see if this is what he’s looking for, “I...I am, or I guess I was, a slave to the Hutts,” you pause, sucking in a reassuring breath of air, “I have been all my life. My whole family was. Slaves, I mean...” you admitted. You look up at him again to search for any sign of a reaction. You get absolutely nothing, just the blank stare he always has when you talk to him.

“Being a slave is all I have ever known. In fact, this is the first time I have even left that damned city on Tatooine,” you pause, thinking back to your little hut. The small room off the kitchen with a tiny cot for you to come home to and crash after a long day at the cantina. How many nights you’d spent on the roof, staring up at the stars wishing on every single one that someone would come and take you away… You’d pray every night for a life better than the one you had. You hadn’t imagined anything close to this…

Taking a sharp breath in, you continued with your story, “I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. The market on occasion when Morga needed something important, but that was rare. He had runners for those things. My parents…” you trail off, feeling tears starting to form in the rim of your eyes, “- I’m… I’m all that’s left… other than my brother. At least I hope he’s alive.” Your throat starts constricting as the emotions start to overtake your body. No… I will not show weakness in front of him. You clear your throat in an attempt to get rid of the sensation, swallowing the burning lump in your throat.

“I haven’t heard or seen him since he was just a boy. I don’t really remember what he looks like even. Sometimes I’m afraid I wouldn’t recognize him if I saw him because it’s been so long.” You smile, thinking back at the boy he used to be. Brown curly hair and the most brilliant blue eyes you’d ever laid your own eyes on. The Mandalorian just watches you silently as you talk, taking in what you’re saying. You give him little bits, not really divulging into anything too deep.

“It’s just… it hasn’t been easy. I want something more with my life. I want to find my brother and run away to another planet. I just don’t want to live that lifestyle anymore. I don’t want my brother to have to live that life anymore. He was able to get away but last I heard he was caught and resold to another planet. I don’t know where but I wanted to try to find him. They aren’t good to me, never have been. Morga wasn’t good to any of us.” You didn’t even realize you were crying until you reached up and felt the wetness dripping off your cheeks. Apologizing silently for the rambling, you wonder if this was even what he was asking for because he never responds. He isn’t even reacting - just staring. Just listening.

“You can call me Mando,” is his only reply.

------

“Ahh, Mando! This is a pleasant call! What do I owe the pleasure of seeing your face over a holographic instead of in person?” Karga said over the blue hologram.

“I’m delivering news that your last bounty is undeliverable,” Mando says plainly into the receiver. You stay back out of the receivers shot, anxiously waiting.

“I can’t say I’m not surprised, considering your track record, but I’m also a bit shocked. Had to wet your whistle, did you?” Karga laughed and the sound was enough to make your blood boil. What you wouldn’t give to meet this guy in person to sucker punch him in the fat fucking mouth.

As if Mando knew what you were thinking, he reached out to block you from stepping into the shot, “That’s enough Karga, just know she’s undeliverable and that’s the end of it,” he gave you a gentle shove back. “If you have something you’d like to say further, I have no issues with meeting you at the gate.”

“As tempting as it would be considering you still owe us from the last undelivered bounty , ” Karga’s voice is dripping with disdain, “I can’t waste the men at this very moment.” He smiled sweetly into the hologram. You laugh, knowing that means Mando would completely whoop his ass. Mentally, you pump a fist in the air at him.

“You may not understand why I have to do this Karga, but just know it has to be done. If you were me, you’d do the same thing,” Mando’s voice strained. Whatever happened between them with the child clearly still bothered him.

“That’s the difference boy , I don’t betray the guild or my creed . I thought Mandalore understood that above all else. Guess you were just defective or-” Mando cut the transmission, abruptly standing and chucked the receiver across the small room. He was frustrated with himself more than anything but what came across was just pure rage. Something you were familiar with being on the receiving end of.

He stands there, arms taught on the center console of the cockpit, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. The anger physically radiated out through the Beskar. Afraid to make a sound, you stood there watching him, waiting for any sign that you hadn’t done anything wrong - that he wasn’t going to suddenly change his mind and send you off to be resold.

“Mando I’m so-”

“Get out,” he cut you off, hand raised towards you, his words dripping with a distaste for you. Or at least that’s what you interpreted it as. In reality, he was angry at Karga for everything he said about you.

It wasn’t a good look for him, he realized that you were sure of it. But the outburst had sent you away in tears nonetheless. Between the two of you, the emotions were all over the place in this ship. You guess that’s just part of the adjustment period. You’d climbed down the ladder only to find a cot all made up in the middle of the ship. He must’ve come down when you were napping.

Which of course only made you cry harder because this only meant he’d been already thinking about this before he decided to call Karga and tell him to basically go fuck himself. You laid down on the cot, curling up and clutching one of the pillows, letting yourself cry again until you couldn’t cry anymore. After today, you were all cried out. Maker, this was going to be complicated.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #this is going to get rough #this is the way #slow burn #mando x reader #reader insert #pascal-istheway #pedro pascal

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tellywoodtrash · 3 years

Text

immj2 30+31.12.20 lbs

30.12.20

lmao ep starts off itself with vansh and kabir ka staring match.

vansh steady in first place, not having blinked for................ like 3 minutes now? this dude a fucking freak.

while riddhima gazes adoringly at him thinking bhagwaan ne mujhe itnaaaaaaaaaa achcha pati diya hai. pft. idk what the hell sins you did in your last life riddhima, to get a husband like this one in this life, but it had to be something reallllllllllll bad. like stealing from little orphans and kicking puppies or some shit.

thankfully dadi is here to put an end to this chutiyaapa.

countdown blah blah, no1 currrrrrrrrr.

itna pheeeeeeeeeenka happy new year. bhai-behen ho kya???

now we talking.

he just says some trite shit like new kahaani that will be remembered for ages blah blah and gives creepy looks. dude why can’t you be normal on oneeeee bloody day?

ahaana also giving random creepy looks seeing vansh/riddhima hugging. and she goes and............

i think i watch this show and rrahul a little too closely ki i instantly knew this isn’t his hand and thus it’s not vansh’s hand she’s holding.

yupppppppppp. bola tha na.

damn they make a hotass couple of shady bitches.

ok wow i’m really feeling it. wish kabir wasn’t a sociopath who is incapable of feeling attachment (“love” is too strong a word) for anyone but his mother.

lmao his reaction when ahaana tells him ki riddhima didn’t believe any of the pattiii she padaofied her about vansh.

ok but how do these two know each other??? matlab yeh le aaya hai issko? i thought vansh le aaya hoga?!!?

mereko kya kaunsa manhoos le aaya? i’m just here for the attractive ppl pressing their bodies up against each other. keep on keeping on, #KaHana

he’s warning her against ever double-crossing him and dude the angry/hate-sex vibes here are *~~~ExQuISiTe*~~~~

the way she’s confidently gazing at him all sexy tells me she’s a much more seasoned player than riddhima and i already love her more than the damn lead of the show.

damn. that’s a gnarly period you got riddhima. that’s an unusual amount of flow. go see a doctor about it, sis.

i’ve heard about ppl making art with menstrual blood and all, but this is fucking ridiculous.

anyway of course the dumbass goes investigating it. and got fucking attacked in the storeroom and SOMEONE HUNG HER UP. LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THIS MESSED UP HOUSE DUDE????/ WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU STILLL LIVE HERE????

Chehra Appreciation Break

asadkjasldjlaskdjlsakjdlas the way he’s yelling for everyone and interrogating them of their whereabouts coz riddhima’s missing.

lmao ishani and ahaana’s reactions at this temper tantrum are fucking amazing.

dang what’s with the suuuuuper orange lower half of his face???? ugh. the foundation woes are back now that the beard’s growing back in.

anyway he went barrelling off to find her after some more chabaaya hua dhamkis at his fam. ahaana already regretting moving into this pagaal khaana.

this scene is so fucking disturbing to watch that i don’t even wanna fucking cap it. but she was legit getting HANGED and he managed to get there in the nick of time and save her.

how, you ask? BY SHOOTING AT THE ROPE, INSTEAD OF JUST.......... DOING SOMETHING NORMAL LIKE RUNNING AND PUTTING THE STOOL BACK UNDER HER FEET TO STABILIZE HER. THIS SHOW IS JUST FUCKING BATSHIT INSANE, MY LORD.

this poor girl, my god. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a tellywood FL be tortured to the extent that this one is on a daily basis. it’s fucking ridiculous. there’s no redemption for any of the raisinghanias at this point. she just needs to fucking leave (and file several domestic violence cases against each and every one of them, except dadi.)

anyway she tells him whatever went down today, starting from the period blood fiasco onwards and he’s........ vibrating in anger. cool i guess.

some promises and shit about how who ever did this will pay, time for “humaara khel” and .......... dude. you say this shit every single time. and nothing changes. i don’t give a fuck anymore about your stupid promises. move the fuck outta this hellhole with your wife if you really mean it.

seedha jaake ahaana ke sar pe bandook taan di. based on what evidence? only the Good Lord above knows, coz vansh and the writers sure don’t.

no literally based on what is he accusing her and pulling the trigger??????? idgi??????

almost shot her and is saying “riddhima pe kharonchh nahi aani chahiye, baat ishq aur vishwaas ki hai” and ahaana is giggling and literally what the fuck is going on i’m so confused.

ahaana saying wowwwww, you want revenge also, and she shouldn’t get hurt also.

MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE’S THE ONE WHO BROUGHT AHAANA IN!!!!!!!!!!!!

literally what the fuck is this dude on???? badla chahiye, par dard nahi hona chahiye. bhai, kya phoonk ke aaye ho, humein bhi toh thoda de do.

ok this is tooooo fucking convoluted a game. riddhima thinks kabir is the one attacking her. but it’s kabir + ahaana. kabir thinks ahaana is on his side and brought her into VR mansion, but ahaana is double agent who was actually planted in kabir’s nazar by vansh to fuck over BOTH kabir and riddhima. i think?????????

ahaana be like re devaaaaaa, what fucking madness have i gotten myself into????????????? the things i have to do for health insurance coverage during a pandemic.

———————————————————————

31.12.20

first 5 minutes is some new year ka naach gaana bs. fwding.

ok this fucker is a legit motherflipping crazy. he just wants to keep torturing riddhima for god knows how long.

even ahaana is alarmed.

did he do absolutely noooooo research after the cliff chhalaang? like....... this revenge shit is so dumb at this point, when he knows she brought in vihaan to stop kabir from ruining the family, and took a second fucking bullet for him?!?!?!?!?!?! they shouldn’t have written the second gunshot plot point, coz now he looks like a reallllllllll unappreciative fucker for whom literally no good deed is enough.

WHAT PYAAR AND VISHWAAS, FUCKER???????? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?????? YOU’VE PLAYED THESE GAMES WITH HER FROM THE VERY START OF YOUR MARRIAGE AND MAYBE TOOK A BREAK FOR A WEEK OR TWO IN BETWEEN - WHEN SHE GOT SHOT THE FIRST TIME AND DURING ISHANI’S WEDDING. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT??????/ LIKE.......... THIS MAKES NO BLOODY SENSE. THIS CHARACTER IS JUST SUCH A SUPREME DOUCHEBAG, MY GOD. THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO REDEEMING HIM WHATSOEVER.

also can’t say rrahul’s extra chabaaaaa chabaaaaaaa ke bolna is making this enjoyable to watch at all.

all i wanna know is what ahaana has on him that he’s indebted to her and thought her worthy enough to join forces with. SPILL SPILL SPILL SPILL!!!!!!!!!!!! what does ahaana get outta all this?!!?!?!!!!!!

riddhima on the other hand running around wondering whom vansh is gonna murder. SIS YOU JUST GOT STRANGULATED CAN YOU SIT DOWN FOR A HOT SEC AND REST?!?!!?!?

ahaana is like bro you gonna ruin riddhima’s life, and he’s like yeah, that’s what i want. jesus christ, dude. just divorce her then. why prolong this shit out like this????? truly psychopathic.

riddhima hears his voice and heads to the pool area..........

............. isn’t that his shoulder there behind the tree? is she fucking blind???????? HOW CAN SHE NOT SEE HIS 7 FOOT TALL HULKING ASS BEHIND THAT PATLA SA JHAADI?????? HE’S LITERALLY THERE LIKE........

........... she left. god. she’s really really REALLY stupid. like pretty sure these crimes against her count as extraaaaaaaaa bad....... like, pick on someone with your own brain capacity, vansh? leave the simple minded sis alone!

the only gift that’s acceptable from you rn sir, is divorce papers. and a self-filed restraining order promising to stay 3 whole districts away.

yikes, that beard is notttttt growing in well.

“tum mujhe apne saare stress de do.” BITCH YOU’RE HER BIGGEST STRESS. ASSHOLE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH.

“tumse door jaake jaaonga kahaan? abhi toh bohut kuch baaki hai.” fucking dieeee, you psychopath.

lmaoooooooooooooooo her face when she doesn’t understand wtf this gift is supposed to be. i’ve been there sis. trying to fake enthusiasm for some reallllll bad gifts from men is truly painful.

also she’s so dang cute when they let her use her face properly!!!!!! har waqt bechaari ko bass rulaate rehte hain iss show mein.

one ainvayiiii gift ke bahaane some random cuteness.

sis gazing at him some more thinking omg he loves me soooooooo much.

she remembered ahaana’s warning, and is like no she was lying to me!!!!!!!!! stupid stupid stupiddddddd. no matter whoever planted her, you should believe that sister over your haraami misters. motive jo bhi ho, bol toh behen sach hi rahi thi.

yuck that looks ugly af. why the hell would you want that on your bedroom wall? esp. when your bedroom is already so goddamn fugly.

anyway he’s gaslighting her some more about ahaana blah blah.

riddhima like i’ll prove it. le, iska jee nahi bharaa. she wants to do more jasoosi and go get stuck in random traps that try to kill her.

vansh promising he’ll throw ahaana and her partners out if she can prove it. meaning you’ll........... throw yourself out?????

whatever man, idk and idc anymore what this fucker does. i’m just here for the faces.

threatening notes planted in all these ppl’s rooms. everyone instantly like OMG VANSHHHHHHHHHHH DID THISSSSS. lol coz who else does this chutiyaapa of leaving random messages around like this.

but nope. chachi saw riddhima’s earring lying there and knows it’s her.

isko bhi mila.

lmao kabir rueing the day he set eyes on riddhima coz jeena haraam kar rakha hai ladki ne.

riddhima like mwahahahahhaha they must have got my notes and now they’ll come attack me! behen, woh toh note ke bina bhi roz karte aaye hain...............

there. promptly got jumped.

surprise, surprise.

lol attitude toh dekho behen ka. wish she was the lead of the show instead of riddhima.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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