#I associate his face and voice with danger so I’ll be on edge all day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 4 years ago

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Part 2 baby, I'll put these up on my ao3 soon as well so they're in one place together

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"Dad... you're dead."

Jack laughed. He probably shouldn't have, Danny seemed to be very genuine in his assessment, and Jack recognised that he should probably take this more seriously. But still, dead?? It was laughable.

"Come on Danny be serious." Danny's face remained stoic, "I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"You're a ghost, dad." Danny's lips were pressed tight, his entire body tense. "You died."

Jack was feeling a little ill at this point, was Danny okay? Was there a ghost messing with his head? He leaned toward Danny and grabbed his hand, it was cold, Danny's hands were always cold.

"Listen to me son, you're not talking sense, there's probably a ghost somewhere tha-"

Danny stood up fast, impossibly fast, his chair skidded behind him and toppled over.

"No! Dad can you just- how did you get to bed last night?" He asked.

Jack hadn't been expecting the question, he'd gone to bed... the usual way right? Like he always did, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got into his pyjamas, kissed his wife goodnight, although for some reason the details felt a little fuzzy.

But before he could answer Danny continued.

"When did we leave the party?"

Party? Jack's brow furrowed, oh the party! It was his 50th, how could he forget his own party, had he had that much to drink?

Oh, oh of course. He'd gotten drunk and done something stupid, said something upsetting. That's why everyone was mad at him, that's why last night was foggy.

Danny kept going, he sounded frustrated, angry, but his voice cracked a little. He was upset, oh boy Jack must have done something truly awful.

"What happened after the toast?"

The toast... He had just blown out the candles on the enormous cake Vlad had bought for him, ah that's right, Vlad had been there! He'd hired the venue, planned the whole party, it had been a surprise.

He had handed him a drink...

Danny asked another question, Jack knew it was the last, it felt heavy and final, it didn't even sound like a question.

"What's the date today."

Jack knew the date, of course he knew the date, it was the day after his birthday why wouldn't he know? He'd never been particularly good with dates but not even he could forget his own birthdate.

He glanced over to the calendar on the wall, just in case, he had a sneaking suspicion this was some kind of a trick question.

Jazz was the one to mark off the days, she used it to keep track of her assignments and her tutoring sessions. Each day would be marked with a tidy little line, not an X because they had 'a negative association with failure' or... something. He didn't really understand a lot of Jazz's ideas.

The days were marked off up to June the 18th... the 18th, it should have been the 10th. His birthday was yesterday, on the 9th, today should be the 10th.

How could he have missed a whole week? Maybe this was a joke, a way to get back at him for getting drunk and embarrassing everyone.

But this... didn't feel like a joke.

Maddie's sobs hadn't felt like a joke, Jazz's silence hadn't felt like a joke.

Danny's eyes gouged into him. Danny had always been an awkward kid, he took after Jack in that way, he was shy when he was young, always had difficulty maintaining eye contact. He had no such difficulty right now. They were so bright, had they always been so bright?

It was unsettling.

Why couldn't Jack remember what happened after the toast...

The drink had tasted strange, bitter. He never particularly liked champagne, he assumed that it was normal. Vlad had been smiling, his teeth were sharp... his eyes...

Danny's hands were clasped together tightly, his knuckles bumping against his lower lip as they shook. His gaze had shifted from Jack's face to the gravy-stained tablecloth.

"You're dead. I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I know you still feel like everything is the same but it isn't. You... you're a ghost, dad. Not the kind you're used to, you're just a haunting spirit right now, nobody can see you, nobody can hear you. You can't interact with anything, not yet."

Danny dropped his hands away from his face and looked at him sadly. Jack felt as though there was more to his expression, but he'd never been particularly good at reading people. Vlad had always been better at that sort of thing, it often felt like Vlad could speak a whole other language Jack simply couldn't understand.

Vlad... something was tickling the back of his mind but he couldn't quite grasp it, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Vlad had given him a drink. Vlad had smiled. It looked like a real smile, but Jack felt like... there had been something more to it, Jack had never been good at reading people... Vlad had smiled, his teeth were sharp, his eyes... red, they were red.

The champagne was bitter. He could almost still taste it.

Jack jumped to his feet, startling Danny as he balled his hands into fists.

"Vlad." he growled, Danny breathed a sad sigh.

"Yeah, it was Vlad, he-"

"He was overshadowed by a ghost!" Jack roared, "It's still got him doesn't it? Mads is out there looking for-"

"No! Fuck, dad- SIT. DOWN."

Jack sat. Without thought or question. Danny's command was loud, not deafening but loud in a different way, like he'd heard it through not just his ears but his entire body. It reminded him a little of the concerts he and Maddie used to frequent back in their college days, where the music was so loud it vibrated through them, head to toe.

It took him a moment to realise he was shaking, Jack always considered himself fearless, and that was generally true, so true that he almost didn't recognise the feeling as it swept coldly over him.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed at them in frustration, Jack was almost certain he caught a flash of vibrant green beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry I... I didn't want to use that- I didn't mean," he sighed heavily. "You just never listen."

He was listening now, if not simply because he felt too shaken to do anything else. His thoughts rattled around trying to piece themselves together, something within him was screaming like he'd just touched a hot surface or a live wire. Danger danger danger danger.

"Vlad wasn't being overshadowed," said Danny, leaning against the kitchen bench, his body almost sagging with exhaustion. "It's... a lot more complicated than that."

"I can't be a ghost." Jack muttered, indignant, "They're monsters, they don't even look human. They don't wake up and hug their wives, they don't want to sit down and eat breakfast with their daughters."

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny's voice was quiet, it had none of that fierce intensity like before. What was that? It wasn't normal, it definitely wasn't human. Jack glared up at him as a hot flush of rage washed over him.

"How do I know you aren't the ghost. That you haven't done... something to my family, to make them think I'm dead!" Jack growled.

He wanted to stand up, but under Danny's icy stare he felt locked into his seat. His expression was mostly blank, but Jack could see a twitch in his brow and tilt to his lips. He could see it, but he couldn't read it. Ghosts were easier to read than this, ghosts weren't usually very subtle.

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny repeated, his voice was so quiet now, tentative and fragile.

He walked over to the sink, Jack wanted to get up, wanted to keep his eyes on Danny and the ghost that might be controlling him, but he couldn't seem to make his legs work. The command still rang in his ears. Sit. Down.

"We aren't going to get anywhere like this." Danny filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of Jack. "Pick it up."

It wasn't a command, Danny's expression had softened once more.

"Please."

Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he did as requested. He could feel the cold glass in his hand, the condensation on his fingers, but as he tried to lift it... the glass remained as it was. His hands simply slipping over it.

He tried again, and again, it wasn't as though it was slippery, or heavy, or even that he couldn't grip it. The glass felt normal, his hands felt normal, the glass just wouldn't... move.

Gritting his teeth in frustration he grabbed the glass and squeezed with all his strength, it didn't break. The water didn't even ripple.

"This is a trick..." said Jack. "It's just a trick..."

Red eyes and a bitter drink, people stood around him, faces blurred. He was falling, someone screamed.

Danny started rooting around in a nearby drawer, he pulled out a ragged newspaper cutout. The ink had run in some spots, he placed it down in front of Jack.

It was an obituary. It was his obituary. Tear stained and rough around the edges, torn from the rest of the paper instead of cut, he skimmed over it, almost unable to take it in.

Jack Jonathan Fenton... age 50... survived by his wife Maddie and two children Danny and Jazz...

There was a list of his degrees, complete and incomplete, engineering, physics, mathematics, it listed the names of his high school and university, his reputation as a local ghost hunter, a blurb about his dedication to his work and his love for his family. Jazz had written it, he could tell. She was so good with words.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, please." Danny's voice cracked, his eyes were bright with tears as he righted the knocked over chair and sat back down across from Jack, gripping his hand tightly.

Vlad leaning over him, Vlad gripping his hand, he was smiling, his teeth were sharp. Glass smashed, he'd dropped the drink. It was bitter.

He could almost still taste it.

"No..."

Maddie running past him in the lab, like he wasn't even there, crying. Jazz at the breakfast table, not seeing not hearing, eyes red and puffy. They hadn't looked at him, not once had they looked at him. They couldn't see him, they really couldn't see him.

But Danny could.

"If... I'm a ghost," the words tasted foul and heavy on his tongue, "and you aren't... why can you see me?"

Danny sighed, still holding tight to Jack's hand.

"It's complicated." he said, staring down at the table.

"Vlad, he did this. I'm..." Jack whispered. "But his eyes were... he was overshadowed. It was a ghost that-."

"He wasn't overshadowed." Danny kept his gaze averted, his expression was hard and cold. "It was the accident with the proto-portal, it changed him. He-"

Danny choked up, tears were slipping from his eyes, he gasped a few unsteady breaths.

"He blamed you, he blamed you and wanted to kill you, he's been trying since the attack at the reunion. I tried to protect you dad I tried I tried I'm sorry, I didn't know about the poison until it was too late I'm sorry, I couldn't get there in time I couldn't-"

Danny's sobs shook his whole body, he buried his head in his arms, shaking hands still clasped around Jack's.

Red eyes, sharp teeth, the reunion...

"The Wisconsin Ghost," how had he not seen it? "He's the Wisconsin Ghost."

Then another thought struck him. He looked at his son like he'd never seen him before, sobbing loudly, painfully, his body wracked with spasms as he choked on every breath. He had been trying to protect him, all this time he had known and was protecting him, alone.

When Jack had been told to sit, compelled to sit, unable to move and paralysed with terror, had he imagined the glint of green in his son's eyes? He knew a ghost with green eyes, who could incapacitate someone with a single terrifying scream, who was mortal enemies with the Wisconsin Ghost, who claimed to be a protector, who looked just like a kid.

Danny had been in the lab that day, when the portal turned itself on.

Had the portal turned itself on?

Jack stood, his legs finally acting of his own accord once more, and he rounded the table to pull his son into a tight hug.

"Oh Danny, it was you, the ghost boy, it was you."

"I'm sorry dad, I'm so sorry." The words wouldn't stop pouring from his lips, tumbling over and over. Jack's chest grew tight from the pain in his voice.

He ran a hand over his son's hair and shushed him gently.

"It's okay Danny-boy, it's not your fault, you did your best. I'm so proud of you son, we should have realised, you did so much all on your own, I'm so proud of you." It was Jack's turn to start blubbering.

"I should have told you." said Danny, voice muffled against Jack's chest.

He and Maddie always talked about all of the things that they would do to Phantom if they had ever caught him, they'd talked about it during family dinners. Danny had sat there listening, the whole time he had been right there listening.

"I... understand why you didn't." said Jack.

Danny had stopped shaking, he pulled away from Jack and wiped his eyes.

"Vlad told mom that he'd been overshadowed, she's been out hunting for the Wisconsin Ghost all week." Danny sniffed, "I wanted to tell her the truth, I wanted to so badly but Vlad he... he said he'd go for Jazz next. Said if he got past me once he could do it again. I couldn't risk it."

Jack had never understood why a ghost would choose to remain tethered, why they couldn't just move on and leave the living to go about their business in peace. He always told himself that when he died he would never return, he would take what was to come with open arms.

But that wasn't what happened. He'd gotten up to start his day as usual, but he was already dead. There had been no choice, and were he given one now, he didn't think he could bring himself to take it.

His family still needed him, how could he leave them behind? It wasn't wrong if he stayed to protect his family, right?

Jack placed a heavy hand on Danny's shoulder, and gently knocked his chin with a large fist.

"Buck up kiddo, I might need to get a handle on this whole bein' a ghost thing but when I do," Jack's voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl and, for just a brief moment, his eyes flashed a vibrant green, "I'm not gonna let him hurt anyone else."

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #Bitter #jack fenton #am I projecting my neurodivergant ass on this man absolutely not how dare you sir #I just find not being able to tell if people are lying to me super relatable #danny phantom fanfiction #thanks y'all who told me how to do the readmores

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90stvshowgoth · 4 years ago

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— BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: dabi is on the run from the cops when you just happened to leave your window open.

tags: drunk sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon but not really,

wc: 6729

a/n: this is my first dabi fanfic so i’m worried i might’ve made him a bit too ooc but tbh i don’t care. soft dabi is what i want and soft dabi is what i will get. huge thanks by the way to @a-monsters-love who beta read this story and made it a lot less sucky!

my requests are open by the way!

What woke you wasn’t the explosions or the screams, but the sirens. The mechanical moans echoed through the streets of Musutafu, and that sound pulled you up out of bed, looking out your window in a bleary state of half-asleep fear.

‘What was going on?’ Goosebumps ran up your arms as you peered out your alleyway view window, overlooking the fire escape to the siren that had recently been installed in your neighborhood a few months back. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you tried to recall when the Pro Hero Association had brought it, and that same chill sank to your bones as you remembered just what they were for.

A villain had attacked the prefecture. A dangerous one.

You tried to calm your breathing, slowly walking backwards from the window to think rationally about the situation.

‘There’s no reason for somebody to attack a random apartment building, they’re off fighting heroes,’ The reasonable side of your brain said.

Despite that the siren was still wailing across town and it began to set you on edge. You certainly weren’t falling back asleep any time soon. If you couldn’t go back to bed you thought you’d might as well make some tea to calm your frigid nerves. You smiled when you saw your well-loved cardigan hanging next to the door and hugged it close, otherwise wearing nothing but your bra and leggings.

When you stepped into the main room you breathed in the warm scent of the candle that you’d accidentally left burning. Cursing yourself for your lack of fire safety, you shrugged and used the wick to light your path to the counter. After filling up the kettle under the sink you left it under the lit stove to boil, taking a moment to admire how the burner’s low flames were almost purely blue.

From here you could see the small television beside the couch and with a press of a button it came to life before you. The harsh glare made your eyes wince before they adjusted to the unfriendly light.

You were drawn to the red index near the corner that blinked the words ‘breaking news.’ This made your sleep-addled brain finally connect the dots between the sirens and the reporter. The screen cut to a newsman outside of what used to be a ten-story building when all that remained was a smoking husk. Hesitantly, you increased the volume to hear what happened.

“—before fleeing the scene. We have reports that say the hero fighting him was put into critical condition following the attack, and is currently being taken to the hospital. A video was taken by a nearby woman who sent it to the authorities. We believe this clip to be of the suspects,” the journalist paused, and a low-quality film began to play. Whoever was recording had badly shaking hands so It was difficult to make out. Your eyes widened at the sight of the building you walked by every day for work, the Shishido hero agency, razed by a torrent of blue wildfire.

Escaping from the crumbling building were four or so figures, too far away to see with any accuracy, but each had an unmistakeable silhouette. The League of Villains.

They were something of a modern socratic dialogue. Whenever someone brought up their name or the hero killer Stain’s it was always just to be a contrarian towards whoever was on the opposing side. Fanatical opinions would spark heated arguments online but you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Although, if you’d have to pick a side, you would choose the League’s. After Stain’s video had spread through Japan you dug deeper into the shady histories of some of the Commission’s most well-respected heroes. Whatever standard you held those pros to crumbled into dust under miles of ‘collateral damage,’ and omitted crimes that were swept under the rug by police. So when the faces of the league went up on the screen you couldn’t help but smile at their victory.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from the television. You rushed to take it off the stove before it could get any louder, and routinely began to fix the tea just the way you like it. You hummed, smiling as the first sip of the warm brew spread down your body, fending off the cold.

You threw the remote onto the couch that sat across from the small kitchen. Moving back to your bedroom and getting cozy with the tea, you reveled in the way that the mug loosened the frozen joints of your fingers. But before you could relax and block out the sirens with some music, you noticed another chill rush through the small room. Groaning over-dramatically, you set the tea down to retrieve another blanket from your pile; but your eyes widened when you tracked down the source of the cold.

Your window was open.

That caught you off guard. You were absolutely sure you closed it before bed knowing how low the temperatures would drop, though with growing panic you noticed how you specifically don’t remember locking it. There’s only two ways it could’ve been open now. Either you simply misremembered earlier that night and forgot to close it...

Or someone else broke in.

The tea’s warmth was long forgotten as you reached shaking hands to close the window. But before you could slide the panel shut a calloused hand clawed itself around your mouth so you couldn’t scream.

Fear gripped your lungs as you struggled to breathe, thrashing desperately against the second arm your assailant had snaked over your waist to keep you still. Your leg banged painfully on the side of the windowsill as you struggled but it didn’t deter you from opening your mouth wide enough to bite down on the attacker’s hand.

“Fuck!” He cursed when your teeth drew blood around his thumb and practically threw you to the ground. As you were about to use your newfound freedom to scream for help, the man lunged towards you with one outstretched hand.

His flesh was suddenly engulfed in a hissing blue fire and you winced at the wave of heat that flared so close to your face. From here you could easily make out the assailant’s features from the illuminating glow of his flames.

He had deep scars circled under his eyes using what looked like piercings to hold the tattered skin together. His lips quirked after realizing he’d caught you for good, making his charred skin pull against the metal in his cheekbones. Panic hadn’t altered your memory, you knew exactly who was standing over you. Dabi of the League of Villains.

Before either of you could make another move someone banged on the front door. You turned to look towards the sound but the heat close to your reddening throat kept you from doing anything stupid.

“Ma’am this is the police, open the door.” You and Dabi stared at each other from the implications and you could already see a plan forming behind his eyes.

He leaned far too close, keeping his lit hand still hovering over your neck as he whispered his words into your ear, “Listen to me nice and close, doll,” you couldn’t bring yourself to breathe underneath the searing tension. “You’re gonna answer that door. You’re gonna smile and say that nobody’s home. And if you give away fuckin’ anything,” Dabi’s flames somehow stoked themselves, the heat so intense that your teardrops evaporated before they could leave your eyes, “I’ll set your hair on fire first. So you can feel your brain cooking.” He spoke with a dripping malice that made your blood run cold despite the flames creeping up his arm. You nodded, too terrified to form words as he pushed forward; telling you to get up.

The brief walk from your bedroom to the front door had never felt so long. Your legs felt like the static emanating from the television, all shaky and unstable. Once your hands curled around the handle you decided not to spare a glance back.

‘What do I do?’ You didn’t want to die, at least not by immolation of all things, so you’d have to play along. You cupped your feverish face in your hands and took an unsteady breath. ‘As long as I can fool these cops, I’ll be fine. I can do this,’ At least, you hoped.

Opening the door caused the hallway’s lights to flood through your darkened doorway. Once your eyes flinched with discomfort you saw the unmistakeable uniforms of two police officers, both middle-aged and looking much more disinterested than you would’ve thought.

“Is there a problem?” You could lie smoothly enough but your voice was still feeble from Dabi’s strain on your neck.

The one who had called out earlier answered your question, “A member of the League of Villains was seen climbing in through a window to this apartment building, but the witness didn’t remember exactly which floor or room. Is anyone else with you?”

You feigned confusion, going so far with the act as to tilt your head slightly to the side. “No, I’m sure I’m alone, sir.”

At that moment a painfully loud squeak echoed from your bedroom and your eyes widened at the audible gap in your story. There was a loose floorboard right beside your bookshelf that creaked under even the slightest weight. You’ve learned to avoid it over time but Dabi had no idea.

That bored expression on the cop’s face shifted and you scrambled to come up with a explanation. “I thought you said you lived alone?”

An idea popped straight from your brain to your mouth, “My cat! His name is—“ you thought of the old, lovable house-cat your family had kept while growing up, “Byron. He like to get into my plants.”

“...Alright then, Ma’am, just keep yourself safe.” It seemed to just barely convince them.

You almost couldn’t fight back the elation as you waved off the oblivious pair, heeding their words by locking the door behind them in a rush. Pressing your back against the wood, you tried to settle the adrenaline pounding through your chest. Unfortunately as soon as you started to calm down, Dabi strode from the bedroom with a curious look in his eyes.

“Not bad, lady. Didn’t think you’d give it your all like that,” he must’ve kicked himself for making that noise and thought you would’ve used it as a way to give him up, “especially for a villain like me.”

The tension in the air had noticeably lessened, and you started to think you had a good shot at surviving the night. “I mean, I didn’t want them to find you either.”

Dabi paced around the living room, turning on one of your floor lights in his path towards the couch, “And why’s that?” He asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the secondhand loveseat.

Sure, you were still half pissed at the guy for breaking into your apartment and threatening to kill you, but it was clear that everything he did wasn’t personal. He just needed to escape from the police, but since they were gone what would happen now?

“Because...” you wanted to find the right words to convince him, “because I hate heroes too.”

Under the dim glow of the lamp you caught a glimpse of a half-handsome smile from that answer. Now that there was none of the malice from before you could appreciate just what he looked like under the warm lighting. Especially his eyes, which turned out to be a truly stunning shade of blue.

He kicked his feet onto your coffee table and patted the seat next to him. You’d have to deal with whatever dirt or soot he’d tracked inside tomorrow morning, but for now you found yourself accepting his invitation.

“Lucky me, huh?” Dabi asked rhetorically, and you found yourself almost smiling back at him. The couch was still cold underneath you but you painfully realized that Dabi was emanating heat like a goddamn generator.

‘It must’ve been from his quirk.’ you thought bitterly, shivering despite yourself.

Dabi drew a pack of Newports from his coat pocket and slid a cigarette out with his teeth. Instead of using a lighter a thin blue flame ignited on his index finger. He held it to the tip and drew in a deep lungful of smoke.

“So, what’s your deal, anyways? You got a thing for villains or something?” He wondered out-loud, teasing another blush onto your face as you shook your head.

“No, I just— I mean not like that,” From the look on his grafted face you could tell he wasn’t convinced. “The Hero Commission is corrupt, I agree with the league on that at least. Stain’s video kinda affected me, you know?”

Another small grin graced his lips and a small part of you decided that you wanted to see that expression more often, “What’s your name, doll?”

The question put you at ease; When he repeated it back, rolling the syllables over his tongue, you couldn’t wait to hear him say it again. Wordlessly, he extended his hand towards you, offering the lit cigarette between his fingers. When you took it all you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against yours for those brief seconds.

Wisps of smoke danced in the air as you inhaled, coughing a bit after the dry tang started to sting the back of your mouth. He smirked at your reaction before taking the cheap cigar from your fingertips.

Dabi saw the remote you left laying on the couch and mindlessly turned on the TV across from you. The news station was once again playing, this time an interview with one of the heroes who fought at the scene. This hero in particular was an older man with a receding hairline and an honestly ridiculous outfit that looked somewhere between a scuba diver and a 70s golden-age comic book character.

Beside you, Dabi groaned at the sight of him, “This fuckin’ guy...”

“Were you the one that fought him?” He nodded without breaking his attention from the screen.

“His quirk was such a pain to deal with. He controlled all the oxygen in the room— made it hard to set his ass on fire.”

There were a surprising lack of injuries on Dabi as far as you could see, aside from a few scrapes alongside the bruised scars that crawled below his loose shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder how far down they went, but quickly turned your attention back to the screen to ignore those ideas. The hero he fought looked far worse for wear, skin marred with fresh burns that singed holes into the costume; His legs shaking similarly to how yours were just fifteen minutes ago. Dabi seemed to have that effect on people.

Before you could ask him how he’d won his fight he was off the couch and walking towards the kitchen. He casually searched through your apartment with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

You sighed, a bit annoyed at how he helped himself to your fridge, “Dabi, if you’d tell me what you’re looking for I could show you.”

“Nah, already found what I wanted.” He dug open one of the drawers and smirked as he pulled a chill bottle of wine from the fridge.

Dabi tracked down two nearby glasses and a corkscrew before returning to your side and started to twist the metal tip into the pliant seal. It pulled loose with a soft pop and he filled each of your cups with the cherry wine you had been saving for a special occasion.

As you raised the rim to your lips and breathed in the fermented smell you paused. Were you really about to drink wine with a villain? A wanted criminal who broke into your apartment? His hand had been around your throat as he whispered about how he would burn you alive less than half an hour ago. There had to be something wrong with you to even consider it. Beside you he nearly emptied half the glass in his first sip before going back to enjoying his cigarette and you found your resolve crumbling at his lazy half-smile. Making possibly one of the dumbest mistakes of your life, you followed his lead and took a long swig from the bittersweet drink, intent on letting the alcohol relax your nerves.

The effects were slow to come, it was only wine after all, but as the night carried on and the two of you kept drinking you started to notice the effects taking hold. At the very least, conversation between you flowed easily, trading questions about each other that never grew too inquisitive. He didn’t try to pry too deeply, he didn’t even ask for your last name, and you were sure to never bring up his scars. You talked for what must’ve been hours, and as the bottle emptied, the space between the two of you grew smaller.

Dabi could handle his alcohol, but you couldn’t, clearly. To be fair, he was tipsy, but the way you unashamedly leaned your head on his shoulder when you grew tired was anything but sober.

“So, doll, got a boyfriend or something?” He asked, testing the waters. You leaned up and sighed at the question.

“No, nothin’ like that... I haven’t had the time.” You tipped your glass back but the wine never reached your lips. You groaned at the sight of the empty cup and leaned up to grab the bottle from the table. Unfortunately, Dabi’s hand held onto yours before you could reach the vice; You felt him pull you back towards the couch by your wrist until you lost your balance, falling back against his shoulder. If he minded he didn’t show it as his arm rested around your hip.

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” The condescending tone in his voice was annoying but it wasn’t enough to make you move from his comfortable grasp.

You scoffed, messing with your hair to avoid looking at his face, “God, who are you, my dad?”

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “Oh, so you’re into that Daddy shit, huh?”

The comment took you so off-guard that you broke into a fit of giggles that did nothing to temper the blush returning to your face. Dabi loved how much of an effect he had on you; the simplest words turning you into a flustered mess.

“Nah, not my thing-“ ‘Unless you’re into it,’ You barely kept yourself from saying that second part out loud. From this angle Dabi had the perfect view of your tits pressing against his chest and he stared shamelessly. You barely noticed, too focused on how warm he was while holding you close to his side. It almost looked like something a boyfriend would do, but you knew better.

It was a strange feeling, to be so under Dabi’s influence. Every lingering touch, every heated stare... It was driving you crazy. And he knew it. He was toying with you and you couldn’t believe how much you loved it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a chill running down your spine, only realizing that you were so caught up in your time spent with Dabi that you forgot to close the very window he had snuck through. As the night carried on it somehow got colder and you cursed the thin cardigan you found yourself wearing that did nothing to shield away the biting air.

“You cold, doll?” Dabi was surprisingly perceptive, noticing the trail of goosebumps that ran down your arms. Although, perhaps it was the sensation of his hand trailing over your skin that caused it rather than the wind.

Nodding hesitantly, he wasted no time in wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t have held back the relieved sigh that left your lips if you tried. Because when Dabi wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest, it felt like heaven to your frigid bones.

As you curled into the embrace he couldn’t ignore how you felt on top of him. The pressure of your ass sitting on his dick drove him crazy, and it took damn near everything in him to not push you down face first and take you then and there.

“Dabi, you feel amazing,” His eyes widened, your slurred words almost making him lightheaded, “so warm...” You trailed your hands up and threaded them through his coarse dark hair. The faintest of groans left his lips as you got comfortable and accidentally dragged yourself down the front of his jeans.

All at once he took hold of the skin of your thighs, stopping you from moving and damn near shaking with effort to keep still. “Doll... cause’ you’re drunk, I’ll ask you this one time—“

“—Please, Dabi,” You didn’t budge under his bruising grasp or struggle like before, instead holding eye-contact, resolve heavy in your voice, “I want this- want you so bad,” It was enough for him, and he didn’t hold back.

He was ravenous when he finally pressed his lips to yours, leaving you tongue-tied and moaning into his mouth. The alcohol only added fuel to your desire, easing the tension on your clit by grinding against him. He broke the kiss in a choked gasp, his hands cupping you around your ass and fondling you through the thin material. When he stood up from the couch gravity somehow felt heavier, but it must’ve been from the wine. His hands still held you by your thighs and while he backed the both of you towards the bedroom his lips never left yours, even when he went to rip your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving it behind along with his coat, you in only your bra and leggings.

The loud bang from Dabi kicking the door open startling a squeak out of you and he chuckled into the kiss, running a stapled hand through your bedhead and pulling hard enough to make you keen into his touch. Rather unceremoniously he threw you onto the bed, briefly disorientating before you could make out Dabi’s alluring figure ridding himself of his clothes. Once he pulled over his shirt you saw his maimed chest covered in taught muscles and scars. As he broke your gaze to turn his attention to his jeans, fumbling with the cheap zipper, you couldn’t help from crawling towards him slowly on your knees before whispering, “No—“ He looked up from his trance, wondering if you’d changed your mind before you quickly perished the thought by pulling him towards you by the loops on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at your show but didn’t make a move to interrupt the adorable way you took care of him.

So you began, looking into his eyes as you kissed down his deformed chest. It seemed a miracle he was even standing before you, with haphazard staples barely holding him together. You couldn’t resist giving the seams of his wounds special attention, pressing light kisses to the metal as you made your way down.

You unhooked his jeans easily, eagerly reaching to feel him through his boxers. His nails dug into your scalp when you finally eased his shorts off, breaking your eyes away to look between his legs and—

You couldn’t’ve stopped the needy moan from your lips if you tried, too attracted and nervous about the shiny bridges of metal through his dick. “Fuck, Dabi...” he had the most cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face as he watched you salivate over him.

“What’s wrong, baby? Never had a guy with piercings before?” You didn’t even hear him, instead responding with a dazed shake of your head; far too tipsy on the sight of him towering over you, reddened head leaking against his stomach.

He pretended to come to a decision, “Guess I’ll have to take my time with you before fucking that cute pussy,” his words sent heat straight to your core, slick pooling in your ruined panties, “but then why am I the only one naked? You’re gonna make me embarrassed you know.” The amused look on his face put you at ease and you laughed a bit at the idea.

“You? You’re the most shameless person I’ve ever met.” The smile he brought out was enough to ease the nerves that came with being so vulnerable to a man like Dabi.

The foe-offended look on his face wasn’t any less ironic, “You wound me, doll,” when his attention fell back to your clothes he didn’t hesitate to snake his hand below your arched back and unclasp your bra. Before you could think of covering yourself he’d already raised your arms up and thrown the lace material into some corner of your room.

He was on you in an instant, biting and sucking on the plush skin of your tits with abandon, enjoying every small tremor it brought from your shaking lips. To him your body was a blank canvas just begging for him to bruise, and he would take his sweet time carving teeth marks into your chest.

But while he had his fun you had yours, running your hand along his collarbones and carefully worrying the stapled hem of skin. You weren’t sure how the stitches would hold up otherwise. But before you could worry about it too much you felt him pull away, a deep hickey left in his wake.

“You don’t have to be gentle with them,” he looked up at you with an unexpected sincerity.

With that there was nothing to hold you back from dragging your nails down his chest, the villain groaning as you felt his solid stomach beneath you. From a distance he looked like a patched rag-doll that was barely holding itself together but up close the wiry muscles that clung to his calloused body couldn’t be ignored. Dabi practically hissed when he felt your soft fingers wrap around his cock, only spurring you on further. The piercings weren’t as rigid as they appeared but they were scalding to the touch.

His breathing stuttered around you as you picked up your pace, the heat of his breath pulsing on your cheek as you took in every sinful expression on his face. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut at the pleasure. You stared unabashedly, taking note of how peaceful he looked above you. Like for the first time that night his body wasn’t wrought with chronic pain.

When you pulled your hand away his eyes shot open. “I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ stop.” He sounded pissed but before you could lose confidence you shifted your weight to the side, locking your arms together behind his to roll him over, leaving you on top.

“I wanna make you feel good, Dabi,” Thankfully he seemed to be curious as to what you had planned, letting you stay on top for now. You crawled down his body until you reached his painful hard-on. Wrapping your hand back around him you gave him the most doe eyed gaze you could manage before taking him into your mouth.

“God, that’s fuckin’ good,” He cradled your head and set his own pace, not too rough but far from gentle as you fought the urge to cough. The metal of his piercings were hot against your tongue, the heat unlike any other experience you’ve had before. Wrapping your tongue around him you intentionally hummed, the keening moan it brought from him more than worth the burn. Tears crowded near your eyelashes as he chased his own pleasure, breaking his gaze to crane his head back in ecstasy. His neck bobbed with the effort and the sight made you almost proud.

It was over far too soon and once he pulled away you almost missed the weight of him in your mouth. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, hear me?” His words made you all too aware of how badly you needed him, but he continued to run his mouth as he pushed you up the sheets and took his place back on top of you, “Gonna fill you so good, babydoll,” He caged you beneath him and you whined at the feeling of his slick cock heavy against your thighs.

His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, which do you want?” His blue eyes looked black in the feint light, staring at you with such an amused intensity that you didn’t even register what he said.

“What?”

Dabi tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and whispering, “My mouth? Or my fingers?”

You normally wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye after he said that but liquid courage still ran through your veins and you leaned forward until you could nestle into the crook of his neck.

“Your fingers, Dabi,” You groaned as you felt his grip around your jawline move until his left hand curled around your neck and his right tore off your leggings before slipping below the waistband of your underwear. As soon as he touched you his eyes widened, a feral glint in his eyes.

“Fuck— Doll, you’re so fucking wet,” He squeezed your neck experimentally and the rush of endorphins sent to your head felt divine. It wasn’t to be outdone when you felt him circle your clit with his thumb, rushing into such a fast pace from the get-go. The onslaught of pleasure made a scratchy cry slip from under the grip of his hand. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you were almost thankful for the immovable grip around your neck. It served almost like an anchor to ground you underneath him.

He pulled a startled squeak from your throat when his two fingers pushed their way inside. It barely hurt, but the maddening feeling of his long fingers curling and stretching your walls was one you wouldn’t forget. Dabi shushed your eager cries with an endless stream of filth whispered into your ear, “Can’t wait to fuck my cum into you, dollface. You want that? You gonna be my good fucking slut?” He was downright mean as he took his time stringing you like a bow. “You wanna feel me drip out of you like a street whore?”

“Yes, Dabi, I’ll be good, I promise just please—” You were too far gone at that point, grabbing fist fulls of dark hair to yank him to your mouth, the kiss muffling his groan from you pulling on your hair. His index finger curled so slightly into you, the pace on your clit turning soft once he added his third finger. The sound he brought out of you was somewhere between a dying choke and euphoric moan, each sensation coaxing you into his touch. Feeling him move so easily within you was almost enough to bring you over, your whimpers increasing against his lips, only for all of it to be taken away.

Dabi left you grasping around nothing when he took his hands away, no doubt enjoying the desperate way you tried to rock yourself back onto him. Only when you did, you were met with something far bigger than his fingers.

“Come on...” When he called you by your name it brought you back to earth for a minute, “I want you to beg for me,” looking to see his heavy length pressed against you as he rubbed the glistening tip onto your clit. “You’re gonna beg for a villain to fuck you,” The promise of pleasure was so enticing that it was worth lying to the cops, worth risking your safety, and enough to toss your pride out the open window.

Grabbing him by his hair, you forced him to look at you. “Dabi, please, I need you... Need you in me ‘til you cum,” desperation and lust coated every sinful word you said, but Dabi wasn’t satisfied. “I wanna be good for you, Dabi, want you to fuck me, fill me up, ple-“ your words were cut off by the intense stretch of your walls trying to take him in. You’d never screamed someone’s name so loudly before in your life.

“Oh, fuck-! Shit... your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” As each inch sunk deeper you couldn’t speak or even breathe.

He wasn’t wasting any time, mercifully toying with your clit as he filled you. The air felt thin in your bedroom, like you were hundreds of feet from the ground, drawing short, shallow gasps beneath him.

“Da-bi!” His hips ground slowly against yours and you were suddenly thankful for his prepping, unable to come to grips with just how full you felt.

An overwhelmed laugh fell from his burnt lips as he slowly pulled himself from your dripping sex, “What’sa matter, babe? Can’t take it?”

The pout on your face only made him grin, the childish indignity adorable to him. But his teasing was starting to push you to your limits. He might’ve been a powerful villain and you a civilian, but it didn’t mean he had to treat you like glass. Hooking your legs around his waist you forced him forward. Dabi’s eyes shot open and both of you choked at the sharp friction. Any trace of playfulness died then and there, his knuckles turning white from the grip on your hips.

He kept your legs tight around him as he surged forward, your mouth caught open in a daze. You weren’t sure what his piercings would’ve felt like inside of you but god, was it good. The metal spokes impressed into your body with fervor, constantly dragging against your sensitive walls.

Tomorrow you might say that the wine was what drove you so crazy for him, but you knew you’d be lying to yourself. He was by far the most intoxicating libation you’d ever tried. The sound of skin against skin was almost deafening, only broken by the dulcet groans from the man above you and the siren that still echoed outside your widow like white noise. In the back of your mind you wondered if they were still searching for him.

Dabi leaned his head into the crook of your neck, revisiting the marks he’d already made. His teeth bit down your chest all the while abusing your aching clit. It was all too much. You couldn’t help clawing at his broad shoulders, leaving inflamed tracks in your wake. When your nails made contact with the scorched seam on his back Dabi moaned, the loud whine in his voice got you to realize something crucial. The motherfucker got off on pain.

His touch turned ravenous after that, pulling you tight against him until there wasn’t any space between your bodies. The rough texture of his skin-graphs and the blistering heat of their staples pushing against your breasts just made his brutal pace feel more intense.

Your voice was higher pitched than you’d ever thought you could manage, squeaking out small moans with every quick pulse of his hips. Your ankles were sore and locked together— he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. The legs that were still wrapped around him twitched involuntarily as you felt the string inside your core about to snap.

“Fa.. fuck, Da—bi I’m—“ you stuttered against him, crying into his shoulder when you felt his pelvis grinding so perfectly onto your clit while he railed you, screaming his name one more time as he pulled you overboard, being sure to scratch at his back as you thrashed futilely against him.

All at once his teeth were buried into your throat, digging in so hard that you mistook his spit for blood; his bite only sharpening the orgasm that sent waves of heat coursing through you. Against your dented skin he groaned and cursed, his voice coarse but dripping with pleasure as he cursed expletives onto your shining skin. The wetness of your climax dripped down your legs, making him somehow push faster against you, but despite the blinding orgasm he’d thrown you into he couldn’t stop until he’d finished and the overstimulation burned white hot through your entire body. Just as the drive of his cock bordered on painful, Dabi shoved you down onto him, stilling above you and choking on a groan.

Twitching inside your cashmere walls you felt the warm rush of his cum paint your insides as his hips jerked into yours. His heart beat wildly against his chest— you could feel it over yours, his eyes still glazed with pleasure. Dabi was sure to pull out slowly, through the dim glow of your room he could see his cum seep out of your glistening pussy, and he couldn’t help but push his fingers inside you one last time. He might’ve liked pain, but he was an asshole who enjoyed the uncomfortable keen it brought from your trembling lips.

Thin moonlight shone through your window, illuminating the maze of blemishes that razed against his alabaster skin. It might’ve been because of the bleary tears that still half-clung to your eyelashes, but above you, with a winded smile on his torn-up face, he looked half a corpse and half a god.

“Still with me, baby?” He noticed your staring, teasing you by waving his hand in front of your face.

You felt almost high, all drowsy symptoms included, only responding to his question with a feint grin. The wine and the rough sex both made you exhausted in more ways than one, but before you could complain Dabi had shifted his weight off the bed.

“Nooo...” Admittedly you felt a little childish but you couldn’t help but pout as he grabbed his briefs and went to leave your bedroom.

Through the open doorway he’d said, “Just getting a towel, stay put.”

His absence gave you a second to think, staring up at the ceiling with a thousand opposing thoughts bidding for your attention. You just slept with a villain— a murderer. You might side with what he stands for but Dabi was still dangerous. He could’ve killed you tonight, after all. And yet, the only thing you could wonder was what was taking him so long.

Soon he returned wearing his boxers, carrying a heavy towel that he ran under the sink with warm water and took to cleaning the dribbling mess between your thighs. You cooed at his touch, the afterglow of your orgasm cleaned away until Dabi read the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4am.

“You know I can’t stay, right?” He asked bluntly, and you nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show too badly on your face.

“Villain stuff, huh?” You shrugged, curling up into your pillow. Dabi had to continue hunting down the rest of his shed clothes while he mumbled some kind of agreement.

He flashed you a grin while he zipped up his tattered jeans, “Doesn’t mean I won’t break in some other time, doll.” Relief spread through your fingertips once he said that, the weight disappearing from your shoulders.

Your content smile followed him as he threw that thick coat around his shoulders, walking up to your bedside and leaning low. You grinned, leaning forward and trying to catch him for one more kiss, only to be interrupted by the sound of something below you.

Looking down, you saw Dabi slapping a handful of crumpled bills on your end-table, that smug grin from earlier evident on his face. Without bidding you some kind of goodbye kiss he made his way to the open window, sparing you a glance before saying, “Buy some plan B, alright?”

You hadn’t even thought of it, grinning and waving him off as he swung himself onto the fire escape. The sounds of metal clanging against his boots faded away into the distant echoes of the city, and you brought your hand to your throat. Softly you traced the deep blemish his teeth had left behind, your smile turning giddy as you thought about his promise of another visit, but unfortunately the wine was still simmering through you and without Dabi to keep you awake your eyelids started to feel heavy.

Under your plush covers, you continued to cup your hand over the mark he left as you faded off into sleep, the siren that still echoed through the streets acting almost like a lullaby.

#dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #smut #my hero academia #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #ao3 repost #touya x reader #mha headcanons #lov x reader

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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Title: first meetings [ii. the small pink-haired boy] Genre: just angst, drama, romance, historical fiction Pairing: Sorcerer!Sukuna x gn!sorcerer!reader (heian era; pre-curse sukuna)

Synopsis: in which you befriend the slave boy you’re supposed to spy on.

Warnings: not canon stuff, future dark themes,, smoll manga spoilers, slavery, whipping, mentions of rape, language and violence Notes: im kinda back i guess skksks also these are pretty much random au’s of my own take of sukuna’s back story uwu, theyre arranged in no particular order and you can read them in any order. This started out as a random one shot and i couldnt get it out of my head lol ksksksks, def not canon btw but it is canon that sukuna used to be an all powerful sorcerer before he turned to the dark side or smthng.

lil dictionary: non-person- usually what they called slaves during the heian era.

masterlist [for other parts] ;; taglist

“That’s beautiful.”

Contrasting to your rather clean and prestigious appearance, the young boy was dressed in rags and had dirt painted on his face. You could tell by his uncommon red eyes that he didn’t want you here nor did he even want to be associated with you.

“...the boy is rather prideful.” your otosan recounted a few nights before, you’d usually have conversations like this since you were quite close with him and he did like to confide you with these things,“but he has spirit, he’d be good for a ward.”

“What are you doing here?” He spat, being a part of and the sole heir of your family meant you were also treated with dignity and respect, it seemed like this boy wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, this made you grin wildly much to his disdain, “Oi, stop grinning like that. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Has anyone told you that you’ve got quite the temper?”

“Well, has anyone told you that you’re being an annoying bitch?” he bit back, five minutes into your first meeting, this strange boy seemed to want to get furthest away from you. He seemed to be rather ignorant to his overflowing cursed energy, your father was right, this boy was definitely no joke.

“That’s sad.” You pouted, “All I wanted to say was how beautiful that Kimono is.”

“I was at a store, looking for some clothes that best suited you when I saw a young boy of your age…” your otosan narrated, “Who had a rather high cursed energy, he seemed unaware with it. He works as an errand boy, I believe, he carries heavy clothes and silk… His looks are hard to miss Y/N, so I’m sure you won’t miss him...try to talk to him…”

The boy looks up to you, completely annoyed, “Well, you said it. Now fuck off, yeah?”

You chose to ignore him and just bend down to his level, you had no training for today so you might as well join the boy for a moment since you had time to kill, “You know, if you keep keeping that attitude up, you might scare the customers away.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah?” he clicked his tongue, “Looks to me that you aren’t even here to buy anything.”

“He seemed rather…” Your otosan described, “perplexed...so you might as well go in my stead…”

“Ah.” your grin doesn’t seem to fade despite his rather rough way of speaking, “You just seemed around my age so I got interested.”

“No shit, now buzz off. I got no time for kids like you.”

He talks as if he was older than you, it’s no surprise. Boys like him tend to think they know quite a lot.

“Do you wish to tell me your name now?”

He was silent for a moment.

That’s when realization dawned upon you, why he seemed perplexed around your otosan, why he thinks you were an annoying buzz, and why he couldn’t reply when you asked for his name. You feel yourself inwardly cringe at your mistake, it seems like the boy your father took interest in is a slave with no name, “Twenty.” he mumbles, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What?”

“They call me twenty.” he recounts, his voice is still rough around the edges, remaining uncensored by his identity.

“Right…” you tilt your head, “Twenty…”

“You’ve got silks to bring to the next town, boy!” a loud voice calls out, cutting you short, making the pink-haired boy put the pretty kimono down and back for display. Without even sparing you a glance or a word, he retreats to the back and you’re left squatting there alone. You watch him from behind, specifically at the bandages that peeked through his wrists.

The boy had piqued your interest to the point that you made it your weekly agenda to visit him and a-some-nights agenda to watch over him. He still ignores you and seems to be annoyed by you every time but he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it so you just sit there.

You were also still in awe by how much raw energy he possessed, you’d ask your otosan if he knew any sorcerers with lost children because it surely seemed as if this boy wasn’t ordinary.

“Just keep an eye on him,” was all your father said as you watch the boy close up shop late at night from on top of a roof, “He might make a great sorcerer and shift the tides.”

Your otosan was not one for gambling on people but it seemed like he made a large bet on this boy.

As usual, you’re watching over him close up. It’s late and the owner of the place walks out, a pipe on his lips. Right then and there, he slaps the pink-haired teenager right at the face, “You should’ve joined the customer awhile ago in the dressing room, boy.” he growls, “It would’ve been quick…”

You feel the negative energy emit stronger than ever and your grip on your knife is tight, “Don’t get involved, Y/N.” your otosan’s warning echoes in your head, yes your otosan may have been interested in him but he was never one to dwell in human affairs, saying they were annoying and a mess to clean up.

“...It seems like the lesson a few nights ago wasn’t enough.” you snap back to reality and watch his boss stretch out a whip with its pointy ends and you feel your blood run cold.

‘Don’t get involved-’

You ignore your otosan’s words in your head and throw a stone right at a nearby sign, resulting in a booming clang, making the cat nearby yelp outloud. The pink-haired boy jumps on the spot and so does the older man at the sound.

“Ah fucking-” the older man curses, tucking the whip back in, “No food for you for three days. Know your fucking worth, non-person.”

Your grip on your nodachi lessens as you let out a sigh of relief, whatever legal terms your father must be talking about needs to be done quickly.

On the next day, you’re on your way to visit him again. Carrying the bento box that you know he’ll refuse again because of his ‘pride’ yet you stop dead on your tracks when you find his owner and an older man talking, Sukuna seems to be standing behind them, looking quite uncomfortable.

It didn’t take two and two to guess what was going on, the amount of cursed energy leaking on him was strong so you could only guess this was the man who wanted to get his way on him yesterday. Your nose crinkles in absolute disgust, “Don’t get involved-”

Once again, you ignore your otosan’s words.

“Hey!” You call out, you see his red eyes widen, “What are you doing?”

The older man frowns at your sudden appearance, “None of your business brat. Now go home-”

“I said,” You repeated, your voice dangerously low, “What are you doing to him?”

“He’s a non-person, kid.” his ‘owner’ growls, you notice his hands dangerously close to his whip, “A fucking slave in simpler terms, now get the fuck out before I beat him and you.”

“You don’t scare me.” Your eyes are narrowed, truthfully, no one ever scares you. You were the heir of your clan. It was to be expected and drilled since your curse energy manifested when you were five that fear would come last, “Now unhand the boy.”

“This bitch-”

“Now, now.” The other man smiles, cutting the pink-haired boy’s ‘owner’ off, “Maybe I can take that young child with me too. After all, they seem to be good friends. Two is better than one…”

You watch the other older man snake an arm on the young boy’s shoulder and you could feel the fear leaking out, it was harder to mask and hide now.

“Is it alright to put a little scar on’em? So that they’d know-” He gets ready to take out the whip while your fists are clenched, this would be easy. You could get away with this later, at least you’d take the boy away from this place and help him control his energy after.

Yet before you’re able to land a blow, the pink-haired boy yells at you to move as his ‘owner’ takes out a whip to whip you.

For someone who didn’t seem to like your presence, he was rather quick to defend you, having his face get hit in the process by the sharp whip. Your eyes widen in surprise, “Ah, shit… Y/N, run!” he yells but you’re staring at his very bloody face.

It would obviously leave marks like the wrists and who knows which parts since he was always covered by that very loose raggedy kimono.

You clench your fists tightly and look up from his blood features, the ‘owner’ stops on his tracks when he meets your very cold gaze, “Do you know who you just messed with?” you asked, “You really think I won’t tell my otosan that you planned to make me your prostitute?”

“Y-Y/N, jesus christ just fucking run-” he tried to stutter out, any evidence of the prideful and strong boy who tried to shoo you away was now gone.

Yet like the stubborn child you are, you ignore him and instead take out your family seal and drop it in front of them, ignoring the pink-haired boy’s plea’s and watching the two men in front of you turn white as a ghost as they see the nameplate, “My name is Ryomen Y/N.” You stated, voice loud and clear, “And you better hope that I’ll let you out here dead or me and my otosan will hunt you down for the rest of your life.”

taglist [if your name is crossed out, i cant tag you!] @shinhiromi ;; @hcn421 ;; @airybnb ;; @coldbookworm ;; @kristineyoshaii ;; @frankenstein852

@iguessimastannnow

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagines

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knifefather · 3 years ago

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Looking Up at Us [Submission]

'Looking Up at Us

|*| DISCLAIMERS: Hello! It me! This is my first fic ever. Uhhh, Giorno’s a giant dick and Narancia’s an angel (literally and figuratively :] ) So yandere-ish themes, manipulation, and other mean things. This is a three-year span after the events of VA. |*|'

I APPLAUD YOU ON YOUR FIRST FIC ANON!!! This one really hit me right in the feels :'') Honestly you wrote Giorno so well because I literally wanted to strangle him!! He reminds me so much of Dio here and I fucking love it. I can't believe he stole their song ;a; OP outlined the yandere and manipulation content warnings, but there is also some major character death! Please be warned!

“Hey, when we get married let’s use that Aerosmith song.”

Narancia laughed as the smaller of the two let out an embarrassed squeal and tried burying her head deeper into his neck. They laid together on his bed in his rather untidy room talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. But he was always so brash, and making her red was a favorite pastime of his. “Duuude, don’t even joke about that!’” she giggled, “We’re, still, ya know teens,” she emphasized that by flicking her hand around. He continued laughing, tightened his grip on her, and kissed the top of her head. Even if he was teasing the poor girl, he always meant what he said.

“You’d look really pretty in this dress I saw the other day. It wasn’t long as shit like those rich people…” Narancia slowly trailed off realizing she wasn’t responding. When he looked down at her, he saw she wasn’t smiling anymore and looked lost in her own thoughts. He wiggled away from her a little to look at her properly and softly called her name. “Hey, you good?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she looked at him earnestly and caught the poor boy off guard. What was going through that busy head of hers? He was speechless and for a moment he gawked at her. The frenzied teen then added with intensity, “You better stay with me forever and ever and and- I don’t- just… please..” And it finally clicked what she meant, and he gave her his biggest smile.

“Don’t worry, miele! You’re gonna have to deal with me for a while,” he chimed as he pulled her closer and gave her another peck to her forehead. She looked up at him with watery eyes and smile, “I’d love nothing more. Just promise me, please?

He leaned lower to kiss her softly on the lips. They both knew that was an impossible promise but still, “I’ll try my best.” He snuggled back up to her and they both slowly sunk back into the previous loving tranquility. They’ll both try, but mafia life was so unpredictable, but it’ll be worth the try if they could stay together.

“So, what are we gonna name our first kid?”

“Narancia Ghirga!!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Ghirga?” Narancia couldn’t stop laughing even as he was shoved off the bed.

Three months. It’s been three months, but his voice still rings in her head. His goofy smile, bubbly laughter, his smothering hugs were all nothing but distant memories that no longer warmed her, but instead chilled her core. Their places where they caused mischief and held impromptu dates only held ghosts of what was and what could have been. These thoughts haunted her every waking moment. Even when she slept, they caused nothing but sweet dreams that left her bitter and empty in the morning. But Narancia wasn’t the only one she missed dearly. Finding Abbacchio in the state he was and running back full of hope to the colosseum only to find out Bruno was the final victim. But thanks to him, they find out he was actually the first. Giorno had admitted after their discovery that they had been travelling with a reanimated corpse. At the time her, Mista, Trish, were too busy crying to even care.

For the new Don’s first year, she was present. When Fugo returned, she welcomed him with open arms. She stayed for as long as could but looking at Giorno mad her sick. Violence and anger grew inside by just being around him and his voice made her gag. Staying there brought her closer to the edge as she struggled between collapsing into tears or killing her Don in a fiery fit. That’s when she distanced herself from everyone. Of course, it worried Fugo and Mista to death when the last surviving member of their gang suddenly went off the radar. Even if it was for the wellbeing of everyone there, it didn’t sit right with anyone. Especially Giorno Giovanna.

�� The two-year absence was hell, for her anyways. At first jobs would take her resumes and interviews, but soon they would turn her away at sight of her face or sound of her voice. Her temporary apartment kicked her out and hotels refused service to the point she was forced to either stay in motels or rent somewhere for a while until they too kicked her out. When people started to whisper and gossip as she passed by, that was the final straw. It was lonely. It was frustrating! Was it because of the mafia association? No, that should guarantee a decent job and place to stay. And then it clicked. The root of her problems lies at the head of Passione.

So, here the young woman stood in front of him, arms wrapped securely around herself, as Mista stood watching them at the closed entrance. Giorno’s grown, nearly six feet and obviously physically stronger than before. She squeezed tighter hoping to mimic Narancia’s hugs as she tried to gather her courage and find the words. For a while it was suffocating silence as no one dared to speak first. They were both strategizing, planning how to attack and counter the other’s words. But finally, the devil’s replacement spoke, “Hello, tersoro. I’m glad to see you’re-“

“Cut the crap. I know what’re you doing. Stop it.” And with that she turned to leave. Mista stepped out the way to let her go until a soft laugh stopped her, “Are you still torn up about them? Really?” She stopped and slowly turned to face him. She finally snapped.

“Are you serious?” She spat at him. “Why wouldn’t I be upset that you killed my friends? My family?!”

“The love of your life?” She glared at the blonde as he had the audacity the smile at the thought of their deaths. In that moment, she wanted to kill him. Her stand was at the ready. Mista didn’t even attempt to reach for his gun as he knew she wouldn’t do something stupid like that, but he, too, thought of shooting Giorno as well. Giorno tsked and slowly walked around his desk to lean against the front of it, showing just how little her threat meant to him. “My dear, you don’t understand. They were steppingstones to help change Passione for the greater good.”

“Steppingstones?! Don’t act like their bodies were your path to “greatness”! What exactly have you fixed, huh? There are SEVEN more assassin squads. You haven’t stopped drugs like you promised Bruno. Instead, you’ve barely stopped selling it kids ten and under! Don’t act like they were your sacrifices!” The rage burned inside her, and she could no longer control her words. “Why did they have to go to heaven, huh?! They deserve to be here, not you! Bruno should be where you are! Leone should’ve left you die! Narancia should be back in school! It’s all your FAULT!” They both lunged at Giorno only for GER to grab the opposing stand and for Giorno to effortlessly grabbed her fist. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other then swooped in and tilted her head up to kiss her ever so softly.

“My, my such a temper,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved that about you.” In that moment all the fire that was built up for years turned ice cold, as fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t expecting this strength. Wide eyes stared up into the unnatural turquoise of his. He slowly turned her head from side to side, as if examining her. “You poor thing. You look so tired and overworked,” and she was. “I bet those horrible businesses could see it on you. Turned you away like street trash. Poor, poor thing.” The young woman’s voice had left her as she tried to process everything. Just what was he planning?

“D-Don’t act like you didn’t do all that crap to me” She hated the sudden stutter in her voice but was thankful words even came out. The young woman started fighting in his grip which caused him to tighten. “Let me go! What was that kiss?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” But she was only met with a chuckle. As he spun her around and pressed her back against his chest. “My dear, I was only trying to bring back what was mine. Tesoro, mia. So independent. We’ll have to break that.” She fought harder and let out a cry of pain as Giorno dug his fingernails in the meat of her cheeks, getting annoyed at her fighting spirit.

“Now, I want you to listen to listen to me. I really don’t want to repeat myself,” he nipped her neck, “nor do I want to hurt more than I should.” Giorno leaned closer and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ve loved you for too long to let you get away and whore around like you did with him.” He shoved her to the ground and held her there with his foot, pressing harder with every squirm. “Go against me, and your little angelo will be dug up, burned, and flushed down a portable. Or maybe I’ll finish off the rest of your gang.” She struggled to look up at him as he glared down at her. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he spoke again, “Whose to say mafioso even go to heaven, hm? My sweet, delusional darling.” Giorno dropped to the floor and scooped her up in his arms again hugging her tightly. She was too scared to fight back. Not knowing what would set him off. He quietly laughs at how broken the poor woman was. So easy to break in already.

“Let me take care you. Love you. Cherish you like you deserve. You’ll learn to love me.” He gripped her arms in a bruising grasp and whispered dangerously smooth, “Or you’ll die trying.”

___________________________________________

Her wedding gown shimmered and swayed gently as she and her new husband made their way to the center of the dance floor. Each step weighted heavy on her heart as the gravity of it all grew. Their movements were calculated and coordinated, just like everything else because it was all artificial for her. There was no true love, no true feelings in this forced arrangement. No more fight in her dull eyes that refused to make eye contact with anyone because then they would see just how much he’s broken her in just a year. One wrong move will surely be the one she’ll ever make.

No one in the ballroom could see the despair ripping away whatever dignity was left as she wrapped her arms around his neck or the bile she choked back as he greedily slipped his arms around her waist. If only she could keep tightening her arms like a noose until he was no more but a horrid memory. The room was filled with ‘awws’ and loving gazes as the couple settled gracefully into the position they had practiced many a times before. She finally turned her emotionless gaze to him. Giorno Giovanna chuckled at her. His new wife was so dramatic.

“And now the newly weds will share their first dance together!” someone, who she didn’t care enough to learn their name, announced as if he was getting paid on his excitement and not on the fact if he squealed, he gets killed. She closed her eyes as the crowd cheered, swallowed her sickness, and sighed. She made it this long without throwing up or crying, she can get through this dance.

“The groom has picked this song out specifically for his new, beautiful wife. Isn’t that romantic?” The crowd cheered and clapped in blissful ignorance at the display of affection. The bride’s eyes snapped open at this new revelation and stared in shock at Giorno who only smiled. But when the music began, her heart finally burst. Tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks as that Aerosmith song, their song, played and she was forced to move to its now bittersweet beat. Giorno’s wife shakily looked up at him and chocked on her tears. Once again, chuckled and lean in to whisper with honeyed venom his final victory,

“Oh miele, I bet he’s looking up at us right now, amore mio.”

(OK Tumblr formatting is weird but I wanna add: Yes it Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that Narancia and darling picked as their first dance which Girono stole. And Narancia was the only one allowed to call darling Miele as an inside joke for “Honey! I’m Home”. Also WHY WAS THIS 2K+???)

#god im still in awe of this #so freakin good #narancia ghirga x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #cw yandere #cw major character death #submission #not mine #jjba #not sfw #suggestive

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fireinmoonshot · 4 years ago

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SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART FIVE

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave. Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 2,501 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. A/N: I had honestly intended to squeeze the rest of Episode 4 into this part but this one particular scene ended up being longer than I’d expected it to be, so I decided to put it all into one part and I’ll just do the rest in another part. Especially because this particular scene is quite important to the relationship between Bucky and reader. Thank you once again for reading and do let me know your thoughts!

The plan had been simple. The four of you were going to head to Donya’s funeral and try and talk to Karli. Sam had spoken to Sharon – you’d been a little annoyed that you hadn’t been able to talk to her, though you’d pushed that to the side for now – and settled on a plan.

Not too long after your conversation with Bucky, you’d left Zemo’s apartment to head to the location of the funeral. And then you’d turned a corner and spotted the unmistakable suit of blue and red. The wannabe Captain America had found you.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” Walker calls, heading down a flight of stairs at speed towards you. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen the man in person and honestly, you’re not phased by him. Even when you’d seen Steve Rogers on TV, it was obvious how different he was, how special. To you, John Walker seems like nothing more than someone trying to be something that they aren’t. It irritates you to see him in the suit.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ah! How’d you find us now?”

Despite the fact that there were several people on the street, attention hadn’t been on you before. Now that Captain America was here, and yelling at that, every single set of eyes was on you. You shrink a little at the attention, shoving your hands deep into the pockets of your coat and shuffling a little closer to Bucky and Sam.

Bucky notices and moves closer to you unintentionally.

Lemar chuckles. “Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“We were certainly doing fine before now,” you mutter.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker continues. “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison. And who the hell this new chick is and why she’s with you. Last I checked, she’s not an Avenger.”

Bucky stands a little taller. “He did that himself, technically. And she’s a friend, not a chick. That’s all you need to know about her.”

“Oh, this better be an unbelievable explanation!”

Sam steps up and holds a hand up to stop Walker as the two groups finally come together. “Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.”

Walker looks pissed off. Honestly, you feel the same way.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo steps up. He says the words, figures that they’re all he needs to get by and starts to go around Walker, intending to lead the way. Instead, Walker stops him.

“Well, where?”

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re gonna intercept her there.”

You look past Zemo and spot one of the children he’d been speaking to earlier watching you all anxiously. The sight of her makes you want to throw a punch Zemo’s way, and you hate that he made this innocent child trust him so easily. Bucky can sense the change in you. He nudges your shoulder with his and you snap to look at him. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what he means.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties,” Lemar adds.

“All right, good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

You roll your eyes. “Good? How is that good?”

Bucky snorts.

Sam ignores both of you. “No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again,” Walker shakes his head.

“Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. If there’s any time to reason with her, it’s now,” Sam argues.

The words strike a chord with Walker. He hurries ahead in front of all of you, forcing you to stop. “What? No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay? I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

Lemar agrees. “Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you.”

“And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

You step forward. “Then I’ll go in. Karli doesn’t know who the hell I am, and maybe it’d help – woman to woman, you know? And hey, if something goes wrong and I die, at least it’s not an Avenger dying at her hands. It’s just me.”

Bucky’s head snaps up at your words. Fear strangely spikes in his veins that you’d even suggest that and he shakes his head instantly. “No. No way are we sending you in there alone.”

“I mean, it’s not a bad idea,” Walker admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “Look at the alternative. You letting your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone. Would you really let him do that?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” He says straight-faced. “And she is not going in there either. It’s a damn bad idea and we all know it is.” He turns to you. “You included.”

Sam sighs and walks past the both of you so he’s face to face with Walker. “I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.”

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea. That’s why it’s a better idea to send the girl in there – like she said, it’s better her dying than an Avenger, right?”

You see Bucky take a step forward out of the corner of your eye and twist to stand in front of him before he can get to Walker, a hand going out in front of you and resting on his chest. You push him gently. “Don’t, Bucky.”

“You’re not going in there.”

He feels protective. He doesn’t know why, but Sam has an idea. He watches the two of you, sees something pass between you, and furrows his eyebrows. He hadn’t seen it coming, that’s for sure. Hadn’t seen you to be the one to bring out the ever protective side of Bucky Barnes that Sam really hasn’t seen in a long time. He hadn’t seen Bucky acting this way over anyone. And yet here you were, days after meeting him, making Bucky fear for your life on your behalf. Sam doesn’t know what to think.

Bucky lets out a long, shaky breath and then finally looks at you and meets your eyes, tearing his glare away from Walker. “You’re not going.”

“Okay, fine,” you relent, voice soft. “I won’t go in there.”

He steps back and nods, trying to calm himself down, and you step away from him, not wanting to crowd him too much after your apparently bad idea. You hadn’t expected him to react so much. In fact, you’d expected Sam to be all for the idea, and for Bucky to go along with it. Even if he was starting to trust you, his reaction to your suggestion had been entirely surprising. You stare down at the cobblestoned street beneath your feet and frown. What was he thinking? And why had he reacted that way?

“John,” Lemar starts, once he senses the tension has gone down a little. “If Sam can talk her down, it might be worth a try. And since we’ve just established that she’s not going in there…”

Walker and Sam share a look before Walker finally gives up. He looks over at Zemo. “We’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo points to the child and begins the walk towards her again.

You, unwillingly, follow him. Bucky makes sure he stays close to your side, as if he’s afraid that you’re going to run off and do something reckless. You doubt he’d let you get the chance.

A few minutes into the walk, he finally talks to you. But his voice is quiet. You’re walking at the back of the group and he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “Why would you even suggest going in there to talk to Karli?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You frown. “It seemed like the best idea.”

He shakes his head. “You dying is not a good idea.”

“What does it matter, anyway? I said it. I’m not an Avenger. It was a good idea. And I think it could have worked if you’d let me. No one would miss me.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I find that hard to believe.”

“No, it’s true!”

“What about Sharon, huh? She’d miss you.”

You kick at a loose stone on the road. “She hasn’t even spoken to me since I left.”

“What about me, then?”

His question takes you by surprise. “You?”

He nods. “Yeah, what about me?”

“You would miss me?” You could laugh. “Sure. You barely know me.”

Bucky feels weirdly irritated by your words. He knows you, he thinks. He knows that he likes you. That you understand him better than any stranger he’s met recently. He knows that you scare him a little bit. That your way of thinking, of reacting, of simply being sets him on edge and makes him feel right at home all at the same time. He clears his throat, tries to come up with an answer that isn’t conspicuous and settles on: “I think I know enough about you to know that I’d notice when you’re not here.”

“That’s not the same thing as missing, Bucky.”

He opens his mouth to reply just as Zemo announces that you’ve arrived and the two of you are forced to pause your conversation. The child leads you into the back entrance of an old building and then disappears. No one questions the location.

As soon as you’re inside, your conversation with Bucky is long forgotten and the mission takes first place. Sam goes off on his own, heading further in while Walker handcuffs Zemo and claims that Sam has ten minutes before you do this his way.

You sidle up to Bucky. “Can I punch him now, or do you want the honour?” You mutter, only loud enough for him to hear. He smirks at your words, though you can see he’s still obviously on edge by the whole situation.

And not just by the situation. Because of you, too. Though you don’t need to know that, Bucky thinks. That, he can just keep to himself.

After a few minutes of silence, Bucky heads towards the stairs that Sam had gone up and leans on the railing, as if guarding the entrance. You suppose he probably is, not wanting Walker to get past him, and decide to settle down on the steps themselves, adding another barrier between Walker, Sam and Karli despite the fact that you’re honestly probably not much of a barrier compared to Bucky.

It doesn’t take long for Walker to get on your nerves. He’s clearly anxious about Sam wanting to simply reason with Karli instead of kill her on sight. He’s staring at the shield – the very shield that Bucky wants to steal – and you briefly wonder how he’s going to do it. Simply by the way Walker is holding it, you know he’s not going to give it up easily. He holds it tight, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him, and you feel like it probably is.

He starts pacing less than ten minutes after Sam leaves.

“Uh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” he mumbles as he walks.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight,” Bucky offers.

Walker speaks with venom in his voice. “Don’t do that. Don’t patronise me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky is unaffected.

Tension rises in the air between all of you once again, as it always seems to do when Walker is around. It’s been a constant state of tension ever since he joined you.

He walks towards the end of the room, pauses for a moment, and then you can see the way his face changes. He hoists the shield higher, and then walks at speed towards you and Bucky. “I’m going in.”

Bucky stands up and stops him with a hand to his chest.

Walker, surprisingly, backs up. You think he’s going to listen to Bucky for just a moment before he looks up, staring at Bucky with a look you’ve only ever seen in a few people before, and never good people at that. You sit up straighter.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?” He starts. “All that serum running through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

You can’t see the look on Bucky’s face, but you have a feeling you know how he’s looking at Walker. Slowly, you rise to your feet, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Back up, John,” you warn. “If Sam needed our help, we’d know.”

His eyes flicker to you. “Who do you think you are? I don’t even know you. What makes you think I’d listen to you?” He scoffs. “I’m John Walker. Captain America. You’re not an Avenger. You’re no one special, so I think you should be backing up.”

Bucky’s glare hardens. He narrows his eyes and takes a step towards Walker.

“Watch your mouth, John.”

Walker stares between the two of you for a few moments, and then before you know it, he slams the shield into your stomach, knocking you off to the side, and disappears up the stairs and into the building after Sam. You gasp for breath, the wind having been knocked right out of you.

“Asshole,” Bucky hisses, stepping towards you just as Lemar brushes past you.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, go after them.”

He looks worried. You’ve never seen him look at you this way before.

“Bucky, I’m fine. Go.”

He gives you a nod, promises to come back and then hurries out of the room after Walker and Lemar. He’s needed more there, anyway, and you both know it.

You rub a hand over your stomach as you try to breathe again properly.

“You okay?” Zemo calls over to you.

“Yeah, a shield to the stomach is nothing,” you roll your eyes.

It doesn’t take you too much longer to catch your breath, so when you do, you figure Zemo isn’t going anywhere and head out after Bucky, Walker and Lemar, even though you won’t be much – or any – help to them at all, but you can’t stay in that room with Zemo any longer, and truthfully, you’re worried.

Worried about Bucky, even worried about Sam. You don’t have any reason to be worried about them, and you know that, but you are. Bucky especially – he’s confusing you more than anyone has ever confused you in your entire life. You don’t know what to make of him, why he acts the way that he does around you. But whatever the reason is, you want to find out.

***

Tag List: (If you want to be tagged, just reply to this post or message me!) @rexorangecouny @mischiefmanaged71 @rebelspykim @johnmurphys-sass @americaswritings @toribentleyva @purplewcrld @zozebo @ren-ni @felicityofbakerstreet @stealapizzamyheart @okayline @lilacs-lavender @andievgs @mvpluv @themaddies-obx @shawnartmendes @my-little-writer @vvipgot7be @hatemyselfbutitsokay @kittengirl998 @tanyaherondale @abitofeverythinggg @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #spider

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.

The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list.

You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.

That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.

You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.

You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.

You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.

“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”

You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”

He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”

“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”

“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.

“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.

“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”

“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”

He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”

You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.

“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”

👁️

You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.

“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”

“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”

“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”

“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.

“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”

“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”

“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?”

He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”

“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”

He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.

“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”

“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”

“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.”

Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”

You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.

“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.

“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.

“What?”

“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.

“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”

👁️

“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”

You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.

“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it.

“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.

“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”

“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway.

Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”

“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you.

“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.

“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”

“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”

Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”

👁️

You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.

After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.

It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.

You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.

The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.

You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it?

It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.

You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.

You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs.

You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep.

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.

"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.

"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."

You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"

His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot.

"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."

He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."

He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.

Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."

He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.

You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.

"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."

"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."

"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."

He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."

You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."

"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."

"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."

👁️

Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.

You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.

You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.

You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.

“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.

“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”

There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.

You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.

His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.

You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.

You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.

You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers.

Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.

You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…

Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.

You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.

You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.

You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.

Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.

You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.

You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.

“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

449 notes · View notes

snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Moon - Part 3

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) What’s this? What’s this?! Yes, I have decided to be kind and give you part 3 early! After this, updates will resume as normal, as stated on the Masterlist. ……..Unless I crumble again, and cave, and post early, but we’re not talking about that. *ahem* Surprise!

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 3,037

Xxx

After everything had been cleaned up, and Derek was resting peacefully on his bed, the pack left, giving you a quiet reassuring word, pat on the shoulder, or kind look, offering their time if you needed to talk.

Thanking them, you slid the door closed, letting your forehead slump against it lightly. Your breathing was deep, trying to gather yourself from the chaos of the day. Comfortable silence settled around you and you smiled softly before turning to survey the now empty loft.

Derek was sitting up on the edge of his bed staring at the floor between his feet, and you jumped slightly before walking over to him slowly.

“You feeling better, champ?” you said playfully.

His shoulders shaking in a silent laugh, he finally looked up to you. “I am, thanks to you.”

“Pfffft,” you waved him off dismissively. “If I hadn’t been here you would have kicked ass for me.” You grinned as he shook his head disbelievingly.

“Learn to take a compliment, okay?” His gaze held yours, his own grin climbing.

“I will, but you see, that requires you to give them more often so I can understand what this new sensation is and associate it with a compliment from the mighty Derek Hale.”

He snorted out a laugh, shaking his head as he stared at the floor again. For some reason it was hard for him to meet your gaze, something that had only gotten worse after today’s events.

Cupping his cheek, you made him meet your eyes and held them there for a second. You didn’t miss how he melted slightly into your palm as if to seek out more of your touch.

“Derek, look at me. I will fight for you, the pack will fight for you, but you have to let us. You’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong. The world just sucks sometimes. So do Stilinski’s plan’s, but that’s an argument for a different time.” You both smiled gently at each other.

Your thumb traced his cheek bone, and his eyes fluttered shut as a sigh passed his lips, fully leaning into your hand. “I know.” His voice was small and quiet, not typical of the Alpha bravado you were used to.

“I know you do.”

You let things sit in the comfortable silence for a few moments more before broaching the topic you had wanted to all night.

“What’s going on with you and Jennifer?”

He went stiff in your hold, not pulling back, but obviously on edge. “Why do you ask?”

“I just….” You bit your lip, looking down and to the side as you studied the floor hoping it held your words. Derek’s finger hooked under your chin and tilting your face back up to look into his made you gulp before letting out a heavy sigh.

Closing your eyes briefly as you gathered your thoughts. You almost forgot them when his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek bone like you had him, and you melted.

Letting one last soft sigh leave your lips, you took a deep breath and met his eyes again as you spoke softly. “I just, I have a bad feeling about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something I can’t shake.”

You sat back on your haunches, effectively removing his hand from your face and yours from his. Your gaze went back to searching the floor, eyes darting up to meet his as you spoke, gauging his reactions as you continued.

“You’re different when you’re around her. Earlier on the phone your personality did a one eighty as soon as you knew it was her, and you practically rushed me out of my own home.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” he said somewhat standoffishly.

You scoffed. “Yes, I did. You won’t let me leave your sight unless I’m at school with the pack! If anything, tonight proved I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“That’s for your own safety! The Alpha pack is dangerous and-”

“And so am I, Derek.”

He stared at you, no response coming.

“I’m just trying to look out for you. It’s almost like she’s lulling you into a false sense of security.” Derek scoffed. “Think about it, Derek. When did she show up? What weird thing coincided with her arrival? I have only been in this world for all of five minutes-”

“Five months isn’t five minutes-”

“Thank you for counting, but you know what I mean.”

Silence settled around you both once again.

“I have barely been in this world, and already it’s showed me enough to trust my instincts, and they tell me something is off. I’m just looking out for you, Derek.”

“Well, thank you, but I can look out for myself,” he snapped. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and scrunching your eyes shut. “I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted.”

Right then a tentative knock on the loft door drew your attention, and you turned to see it slide open to reveal the bit- wit- woman of the hour.

Spinning back around to see Derek’s unapologetic gaze, you held your ground, your voice the only thing giving way. “She’s back?” Your voice was almost venomous.

Derek shrugged. “It’s my loft.”

Grabbing your duffle from earlier as you brushed past her shoulder, you swear you saw her smirk.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Derek sounded slightly concerned but mostly annoyed.

“I don’t know, Derek. But far from here.”

“Y/N, it’s dangerous-”

“So am I, Derek,” you seethed. Eyes leveled on his, he huffed out a sigh. “So am I.”

Jennifer opened her mouth like she was going to say something to you, but you held a finger up in her face. “You don’t get to talk to me outside of the school.”

She scoffed, her mouth snapping shut, and she turned wide eyes to Derek.

Turning back to face him, you grabbed your set of keys, shrugging on your jacket. “Let me know when your loft is empty again.” You were tempted to say “habitable”, but knew the shit storm that would start.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” He stood up, aggravated now.

“Like I said, I don’t know. But like I also said, if tonight proved anything, I can take care of myself.” You looked down to the keys in your hand, still covered in his blood from earlier, and you held them up by your face for emphasis, making him close his mouth, drawing it into a tight line as he stared at your wiggling fingers.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled back, fiddling with the keys.

Looking to Jennifer once more, trying to contain your disdain, you looked back to Derek with a sigh. “I’ll stay with someone in the pack, just to be on the safe side. We still have to come up with our plan for this.” You wiggled your fingers still covered in his blood so he knew what you were talking about without going into specifics in front of the she-devil. He nodded briefly.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said, going for his own keys.

“No, Derek,” you let out on an exhausted breath. “You don’t have to come with me.” You parroted his words back at him.

Letting the loft door close with a gentle thud, you swiped at angry tears before they fell and made your way down the steps, dialing Stiles’ number.

“Hey, Stiles. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

Xxx

“I’ll kill him,” Stiles said matter of factly, rubbing circles into your shoulder with his thumbs where his hands rested, you curled up into him on the couch. The two of you had always had a close relationship, and tonight was no different.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “No, you won’t, Stiles.”

“He hurt you!” He kept his arms around you, but pulled back enough to look at you. “With his words!” He looked off into the distance, “Which almost makes it worse, because Derek Hale does not use his words….”

“Stiles….”

“He’s like a mime. A very large, very violent mime….”

“Stiles!” you chuckled.

“Hmmm? Yeah? What?” He zoned back in to the conversation, meeting your gaze again.

Shaking your head gently with a smile, you snickered. “Just do what I do, and don’t call him ‘Derek’, I just call him ‘Dramatic’.” You quickly turned, a finger close to Stiles’ face, making him go slightly cross eyed if he focused on it. “But not out loud. In your mind. Out loud, you die.”

Stiles let out a loud laugh, and you giggled, fixing your feet where they were tucked under you, and leaned back into him.

“On to more pleasant matters, Miss Jennifer Blake….”

You groaned, tossing your head back in the process, face screwed up like you ate a lemon. “I thought you said more pleasant matters, not her.”

Stiles chuckled as he went on, “I think you may be right about her.”

You sat up straight, pushing against his chest to look him in the face, jaw dropped in disbelief. “She’s evil? I can kick her out? Kick her butt? All of the above?”

“Woah, hold on, tiger,” Stiles said, snickering. “I just agree something is off about her, and the way she and Derek are, I get heebee jeebee vibes more than usual. …..And not just because it repulses me to see him in a relationship. Blech.” Stiles shuddered dramatically, making you smile and cast a glare at him at the same time.

“But on the note of kicking ass-” Stiles perked up, changing the subject, thankfully- “you kicked some serious Alpha ass back at the loft!” Stiles grinned down at you, and you couldn’t help but look down sheepishly. “I mean, can we talk about the awesomeness of you?!”

You laughed at this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, feeling your cheeks tinge pink in slight embarrassment, but your grin broad with pride. “I was kinda awesome, wasn’t I?” You lifted your face up fully to look at him straight on. “You wanna know a secret?”

He leaned into you, nodding almost imperceptibly, mouth slightly ajar and eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Half the stuff I don’t even know how I did it. It was just instinct.”

“Get out,” Stiles said in mock surprise, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “You mean you’re like all my other ‘new’ friends-” you felt yourself making the same face that you had in the hall at school, now realizing it was a distinctly Stilinski reaction- “and are just inherently good at things now that you have been cursed?”

You knit your eyebrows together, and you both spoke in unison, “The bite is a gift, not a curse.”

“See? I told you. Sourwolf Syndrome.”

You just shook your head at Stiles and rolled your eyes.

“No, but seriously, Stiles!” You adjusted your position on the couch once again, grabbing your ankle tucked under you with one hand, the other bracing your elbow on the back of the couch as you gestured while you spoke. Another intrinsic Stilinski thing to do.

“I literally did some of that stuff and in my head I was just saying, ‘What did I just do?’ over and over and over again.” You looked Stiles in the eyes, his face amused but serious at the same time. “Don’t get me wrong, Derek is a great teacher-” Stiles let out a “Pfffft” and looked away disbelievingly, waving that thought away with his hand- “he is!” The look he leveled on you, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly down and to the side, had you chuckling. “But he never taught me some of that.”

“Maybe you were a superhero in a past life, or something,” Stiles mused, his eyes dancing playfully.

“Or a supervillain,” you countered, grinning in a way you hoped looked evil and mischievous but probably, with your luck, looked more like a grimace.

“This is highly plausible.” He nodded in agreement, looking off into the distance and scratching his neck as his head bobbed.

His arm was braced behind you on the couch, outstretched, and he pulled it in close, scooping you towards him, holding you tight to his chest, his cheek against your hair as he spoke. “Either way, can I have your autograph?”

You laughed, the silence comfortable between you, until it was broken by Stiles’ phone going off on the coffee table. This was the second time this had happened today. You swore, if it had anything to do with Jennifer again….

“Oh, look. The bell.” You mimicked his words from earlier today at school, making him level a small glare on you, to which you just grinned.

“I was thinking on my feet.”

“Are you sure you weren’t thinking with your feet?”

“How does that…. That makes literally no sense, Y/N. Do better.” He shook his head in disapproval of your joke, making you giggle, as he finally answered the call.

“Scott, hey, what’s the big-”

Because of your enhanced hearing, you didn’t need to move closer to hear the other end of the phone call.

Something about some scuffle that went down at the old abandoned mall with the Alpha pack, he was cut up but it should heal soon, the others were okay, but they think Derek is dead.

Your mind went numb.

“They ‘think’?” you asked Stiles.

“We couldn’t get to him, we had to get out….” You couldn’t pay attention as Scott’s voice faded out and all you heard is the short panicked breaths you’re making.

“Scott, I’ll call you back,” you heard Stiles say, hanging up even though Scott’s voice kept going, and taking your face in his hands firmly. “Y/N, breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“That’s not breathing, that’s hyperventilating.”

You can’t help the slight twitch upward of your lips, and appreciated his trying to distract you, but you just felt your eyes start to glow. Reaching up you grabbed his wrists and screwed your eyes shut.

“Breathe.” He elongated the word, his voice soft, and stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, still firmly holding your face in his hands.

“He can’t be dead, Stiles.” You opened your eyes, knowing they have returned to their human color, but now they held tears threatening to fall.

“You’re right, we don’t know, that sucker has been dead to me multiple times, literally, and it never really took. I think he makes it to the afterlife and they just kick him back as ‘return to sender’.” You chuckled sadly, tears finally falling. “And don’t even get me started on Peter.” You groaned.

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

“No!” His thumbs stilled as your grip on his wrists tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut again. “No.” You lowered your voice this time, trying to be calm, and gave his wrists a reassuring squeeze before loosening your hold again. Meeting his eyes, you willed your tears to stop. “You don’t understand, Stiles. Scott isn’t a member of the pack. I am. When Erica died, it was just like Cora said- like losing a limb. I would feel if my Alpha was dead.”

“You don’t know that-”

“But I do. It’s like the fight, it’s an instinct. I just know, Stiles.” He resumed rubbing your cheeks with his thumb, swiping errant tears away. “I just know.”

You sniffled, squeezing his wrists one more time and then rising from the couch before he quickly caught your hand, stopping you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go look for him!”

“It’s not safe, Y/N-”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?!” you yelled in frustration, your hands finding the few remaining tears as you try to calm yourself once again. “This whole world is dangerous, Stiles! It comes with the territory! Everyone else got to go help, meanwhile I was stuck here-”

“Geeze, say what you really feel,” Stiles cut you off, his voice somewhat offended, but his face was determined.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I just….” You cradled the side of your face with the hand Stiles wasn’t still holding on to. “We should go look and see, he might need help.”

“If they all left, I can guarantee it was because it wasn’t safe for anyone, and Derek wouldn’t want everyone rushing into a situation like that for any reason, you know that.”

He was right. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but he was. You looked down at the carpet as he spoke.

“Look, I have that out of town meet tomorrow with the rest of the pack. We will all come up with some solution, meanwhile, you stay here.” His voice extended on the last few words as his grip tightened on your wrist like he knew you would put up a fight, meeting your gaze dead on when you leveled wide eyes on him.

“You stay here,” he continued, holding your gaze, “and see if he shows up at all. Check the hospitals, the police station, stuff like that, just avoid the loft because they already know you live there and the vet clinic because Deaton will let Scott know the second something happens. I can’t ask my dad to help at all, he doesn’t know anything about this world, and he won’t take me seriously if I ask too many questions. I have no idea why the man thinks I am always scheming.”

“Because you are,” you said softly. “You are right now, Stiles.”

“Just living up to my namesake,” he grinned, making you chuckle despite your tears.

“When we get back, we’ll handle this, but for now, just stay here. You can stay in my room, I’ll tell my dad you just didn’t want to be home alone while your parents are out of town, and once we get back, unless we call and something has changed-”

“Stiles-” you gripped his face in your hands- “breathe.”

He chuckled, grabbing your wrists like you had his. “I am breathing,” he countered.

“No, you’re scheming,” you corrected, both of you grinning at the other.

“It'll be okay, Y/N. We’ll sort this out.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 25 – Out of Time

Chapter 1 Chapter 24

Dick woke up to a far too early knocking, more like pounding, on his door. He and Jim Gordon had been up half the night talking about the corruption in the police force and whether Dick should join, before deciding he could make a difference if he did. He would be able to help Jim slowly weed out the corruption if he was working with him from the inside. ��They’d even filled out all his applications for the Police Academy, starting in a month. He would have to be away from Marinette and the twins during the day, but he would be able to come home to them every night. If she let him. And she would know where he was.

But all that talk meant he had only gotten a few hours of sleep last night and he was dead tired this morning. He really just wanted to go back to sleep, but the pounding on the door continued unabated. He groaned and made his way to the door. “Answer your damn phone, asshole,” Jason growled at him, pushing past him to look around the room. “We’re fucking thrilled if you and Pixie got back together, but let us know you both aren’t dead.”

Dick shook his head and scrunched his face in confusion. “That we’re what? I haven’t gotten to talk with Marinette yet. I’m hoping that’s how it will go, but I think that’s probably overly optimistic.”

Jason’s expression turned in an instant from annoyed to scared. It was not a look he was used to seeing on Jason’s face. Jason never got scared, or if he did, he never showed it. “Pixie is here, right?” he asked again, enunciating each word clearly. “She’s with you.”

“No… I just woke up. I was talking with Commissioner Gordon all night. Why would you think she was with me?” Dick shook his head again, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Had Marinette planned on meeting him here? Maybe she came back and fell asleep. He ran to her bedroom to check, but the room was exactly as it had been for the past few weeks. No sign of Marinette. He returned to the living room and shook his head.

“Shit!” Jason looked around desperately.

“Tell me what is going on right now. Why did you think Marinette was with me?” Dick asked carefully. His breathing became strained. This isn’t the way this was supposed to go. He had saved her. He had stopped the Court of Owls. He stopped their plot. She was safe.

Jason pulled out his phone and called Tim, talking as he did, without bothering to acknowledge Tim when he answered and putting him on speaker as soon as he did. “She’s missed all her appointments today. Adrien said she said she was going to talk with you today. She isn’t in Adrien’s apartment or Wayne Enterprises. Her phone is in her studio, but she isn’t,” Jason answered slowly, eyes darting around as if calculating something. “We figured she must be here.”

“We didn’t set the time yet. I haven’t heard from her. When was the last time someone saw her?” Dick asked frantically, running to his bedroom to start getting dressed.

“I’m going to start going through security footage around Adrien’s apartment and her studio,” Tim reported.

Jason’s phone started flashing with another call. “Patching Adrien into the call too,” he informed them and pushed a few buttons to enable it. “Adrien, tell me you have something.”

Adrien’s voice hesitated for a moment. Dick and Jason shared an apprehensive look. “I have something, but it’s bad… Someone told me you’d know how to get in contact with Batman?”

Jason froze and looked up at Dick with a panicked expression. There was no way that was good. “I think we might have a way to contact Batman, why?”

“I know where she is, but we’re going to need Batman and his team to get her back.” There was barely a quiver to Adrien’s voice as he spoke, but years of training made it come across as clear as glass to the others on the call.

“Where is she?” Dick yelled into the phone.

“Dick? They don’t have you? That’s good… I guess. It means they only wanted her… Actually, no, wait, maybe that’s worse,” Adrien prattled.

“Who is they?” Dick demanded.

“Some people with owl masks.” There was a hedge in his voice as though he didn’t think they would believe him.

Dick stopped breathing. The Court had taken Marinette. No, no, no, no. He had stopped them. He had made sure Marinette was safe. He had protected her from them. That’s what the past few months of hell had all been about.

“You can get ahold of Batman, right?” Adrien asked again, in a more strained voice. “I know someone who’d like to talk to him.”

Jason furrowed his brow and looked to Dick to see if he had any ideas. “Who?”

“Chat Noir.”

Jason looked at Dick communicating their intentions and agreement through minute body quirks and purposeful looks. “We can get ahold of someone. We will make sure someone is on the top of the Wayne Enterprises building in half an hour. Is that enough time for him?”

“He’ll be there,” Adrien confirmed confidently.

Jason cut Adrien’s connection and glared at the floor in thought. “Why would they want Marinette?”

“The plot you stopped was all about the power grid, wasn’t it?” Tim interjected. “Trying to run up prices for some of their members who owned supply and power companies?”

“Yeah…” Dick answered uncertainly.

“Then there was no reason for them to be at the Stone concert, right? Those execs were from Netflix, no way associated with this,” Tim elaborated.

Dick drew in a deep breath and cursed. “They were there watching Marinette. They were planning this all along. They wanted Marinette from the beginning. Why?”

“Everyone go get suited up. Get there as soon as possible. I’ll text the others,” Jason stated, moving quickly toward the door so he could get to his apartment.

<><><><><>

Batman, Red Robin, Signal, and Red Hood made it to the rooftop with time to spare, since they were already close to their costumes. Nightwing, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Robin had further to go to get to their costumes and had to trickle into the meeting, but they kept track of the conversation through the coms until they could be there in person.

“Chat Noir.” Batman stepped forward and nodded.

“Batman. Bats and Birds.” Chat Noir nodded to Batman and the rest of the bats. “I was thinking there would be more.”

“They’re on their way but listening in,” Batman assured him briskly. “Let’s start with how do you know where she is?”

Chat looked over to the edge of the building at the sound of two sets of boots landing, he continued to speak as he silently acknowledged Nightwing and Robin. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on Marinette since the pharmacy incident. You might say I’ve had a catbug on her… with her permission of course. She sent the scout to find me when she thought they were in her final location. They didn’t seem interested in immediately harming her or the scout would have stayed. We have time, I just don’t know how much.”

“Do you know how she was taken?” Batman asked.

Chat nodded, annoyance settling in his expression as he did. “A couple men dressed as cops approached her at her studio and said something happened to Dick, her boyfriend… kind of… it’s complicated. She went with them. By the time she figured out they were not headed to the hospital, there was a knife digging into her bump.”

“Any ideas on why they took Pi… her?” Red Hood broke in.

“They said something about a Grayson, so I have to imagine it’s to get at Dick Grayson, the babies’ father, for some reason or to get her twins perhaps for ransom. I don’t suppose you have any ideas why they would want to get back at Dick, would you? Is he a member? Did he double cross them?” Chat mused.

“What?” Nightwing exclaimed. “No!”

“Well…” Spoiler hedged as she and Black Bat landed.

“Dick Grayson didn’t do anything to them,” Nightwing gritted out.

Chat Noir studied Nightwing carefully then suddenly whipped his head over to Red Hood, running his eyes over him in a calculated manner and moving quickly to do the same to Red Robin. “Fuck. That’s why he said you guys would know how to get in contact with Batman. That’s why you’ve been disappearing.” He stuck an accusatory finger in Nightwing’s direction. “Why the fuck didn’t you just tell her that, you fucking dumbass!”

“See! Even the catman agrees.” Red Hood exclaimed.

“She wasn’t supposed to get stressed and I didn’t want her knowing I was putting my life in danger every night, constantly,” Nightwing attempted to defend himself, but even to himself, his voice sounded unsure.

“She put up with me for years. She is perhaps the world’s foremost expert in dealing with idiots who constantly put their lives in danger,” Chat exclaimed exasperated. He had to have known that. Marinette had talked to him about how frustrated she had gotten with Chat. Hell, he was there for some of those conversations with Dick, while she glared at Chat the whole time.

“You think memories of that didn’t add stress?” Nightwing exploded, stalking slowly toward Chat as he spoke. “She still has nightmares about it. And pregnancy hormones make nightmares even more realistic. You weren’t there almost every night when she woke up crying because she saw you sacrificing yourself in new ways or when she dreamt it was me instead of you. And the last one she had before our fight… She sobbed almost nonstop for almost an hour. I was terrified for her.”

“And you weren’t there when she was sobbing because you said you loved her then ran away like she didn’t matter,” Adrien returned just as angrily, standing his ground against Nightwing. “Or when she broke down because she couldn’t trust you anymore. Because you spent months lying to her. Not because you had a secret. Secrets she understands, intimately. Because she trusted you and you lied and without an explanation, she had to assume you lied about everything.”

“I was protecting her from the Court of Owls,” Dick yelled.

“So that’s what the cult is called? Bang up job, there.” Chat growled back. He moved away to collect his thoughts and deescalate the situation. Fighting now wouldn’t help Marinette. They needed to work together to rescue her. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead like he was trying to ward off a migraine. “She owes me a hundred euros for this. So, what’s these guys’ deal? Do they know who you are or are they asking for ransom?”

“We don’t think they know who he is, but ransom isn’t really their deal either,” Red Robin answered.

“Why would they want her otherwise?” Signal asked.

Chat opened his mouth a few times before cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brow and grimacing as if trying to figure out how to say what he was thinking. “Could they know about… her association with the Paris heroes?”

“What exactly is her association with them?” Batman asked

Chat opened his mouth and closed it quickly. “That sounds like a question for Marinette.”

“Well she isn’t fucking here is she?” Red Hood pointed out curtly.

“Close. Very close,” he answered carefully.

“Clearly,” Spoiler huffed motioning to Chat.

“Closer than that.” He grimaced. He was definitely skirting the line of flat out telling her secrets, but if it saved her babies, he was sure she would be okay with it. He just wasn’t sure yet if it actually related at all. “But I don’t know how they could have found out. She hasn’t been around any costumed heroes in years.”

“And they said this was about Grayson,” Robin pointed out. “It is far more likely they know Grayson’s identity and this is punishment for stopping them.”

“If they’ve been tracking her since the concert, maybe earlier, it isn’t just about ruining their plans,” Red Robin clarified.

“They were doing what?” Chat’s head whipped around to look at him.

“I saw a talon at the Stone concert. That’s why I disappeared. I was investigating,” Nighwing explained distractedly. “We can figure out the reason later. Let’s focus on freeing her, making sure she’s okay. You said you know where she is. She’s probably terrified, and she doesn’t need more nightmares.”

“Yeah, she’s being held under here,” he pushed a few buttons on his baton and sent the location to the Bats.

“How did you do that?” Signal asked with amazement in his voice.

“Magic,” Chat answered, flaring out his fingers.

“So what’s the plan?” Stephanie asked.

“Oracle do you have the building layout?” Batman asked into the coms.

“I’m having trouble getting in. It looks like they have several layers of security and self-contained power. It might take me a bit,” Oracle responded.

“We wait to see if we can get insight into the building then create the plan. Our tech person is having difficulty getting in,” Batman stated so Chat could hear.

Chat nodded and teetered back and forth from his toes to his heels, anxiety ramping up in the silence. “So, any tips or tricks I should know before fighting these guys, if that’s what’s happening?”

“The guys with glowing yellow eyes are highly trained. The rest will try to kill you, but they’re like drunken toddlers, it’s the yellow eyed bastards you have to watch out for,” Red Hood answered as he leaned against the half-wall running along the edge of the building.

“They’re not drunken toddlers. They’re dangerous too,” Batman emphasized affronted. He’d fought those guys in a group. They had almost overpowered him.

“Okay fine,” Red Hood waved him off, “but not like the talons.”

“Any weaknesses for those yellow eyed talon guys?” Chat asked apprehensively.

“Not really. They’re highly trained, highly skilled, superhuman speed, superhuman healing,’ Nightwing answered.

“Fuck,” Chat answered with a whistle.

“Appropriate response,” Red Robin nodded.

“They need a substance to keep healing,” Batman corrected.

“So if we injure enough of them they won’t have enough substance for everyone?” Chat offered.

“Not the route I want to go, but yeah,” Signal agreed.

“And cold. They’re susceptible to cold,” Batman added.

“Cold?” Chat clarified, suddenly listening very intently.

“Yeah, it interferes with their healing,” Red Hood explained. “Makes it so their injuries stick.”

“So if we could make it freezing cold down there…” Chat trailed off.

“Doesn’t have to be the whole place, just where the talons are,” Red Robin mused out loud. “There likely won’t be many, if any. They can’t be expecting us yet. They were too careful. If it wasn’t for Chat’s scout, we’d have no idea. But yes, if you can make them cold, we’d have a better chance.”

Chat stopped and looked contemplative for a few moments. “Let me make a quick call.” He turned around and walked a few steps away. After a few minutes he returned. “Snowflake will be here in 35 minutes.”

“The ice chick from New York?” Red Hood asked.

Chat nodded in response. Damian eyed him suspiciously. “That’s awfully quick.”

“She’s going to catch a ride with Uncanny Valley and Uncanny will be able to hack into their security as soon as she gets here. She just has to be close. We can get the plans from her and break into their security system.”

“How can she do that? No offense to your friend, but if Oracle can’t do it, it’s unlikely anybody else would be able to so quickly,” Red Robin asked.

“Thank you,” Oracle cut in.

“Uhhh… magic?” Chat offered with less enthusiasm than before.

“Let’s move to a closer position while we wait. We’ll come up with a plan once we have more information,” Batman said already taking out his grappling hook. “We have family to save.”

Chapter 26

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - time

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Laughter

Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: some spoilers for the last of us (the first one),

Author’s Note: Shut up, I went into this thinking it was gonna be meh but i LITERALLy love it so much. Grumpy old man joel, you have my entire ass heart. With how easy this came out I’ll probably do more for him

Also, I’m going to try and finish the special hannibal one for tomorrow. It usually doesn’t take me longer than a night to write a story but this one is special lmao so hopefully you’ll see that soon! In the meantime, this :)

Summary: You, Joel and Ellie are driving. Very mellow. Much vibes.

Genre: Fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Figuring out how to navigate the world with zombies tended to be a harder job than you thought it would be. When Tess died you didn’t honestly think you would be able to keep going. She was your best friend and you and her had been inseparable.

You couldn’t fathom risking your life with anyone else.

Especially not Joel Miller and some kid you picked up along the way.

You only knew Joel by association. You had never been in the same room with him alone. You had barely even seen a child let alone dragged one around the world.

But damn if they didn’t grow on you.

Ellie sat in the back seat of the truck. You sat in the passenger seat and Joel drove. You had just gotten the truck from Bill who proved to be just as unhelpful as you remembered him being. Ellie laid down across the back seat, a comic resting open on her lap. Her breathing rose and fell evenly in her sleep.

You put your feet up on the dashboard and looked out the window.

“Get your feet off the dash,” Joel muttered, tapping your leg. You looked over at him and definitely kept your legs up.

“What are you my dad?” you teased. “Plus, this isn’t even your car. What do you care.” He gave you a pointed look and you gave him one back.

“If we crash your legs are going to be crushed and I can’t drag you around if your legs are crushed,” he explained simply. You thought about it for a moment and slowly took your legs off the dashboard.

“Who knew you had a heart Joel Miller.” He shook his head.

“It’s just a matter of convenience,” he argued. You looked over at him and smiled. He really was a handsome guy. He was rugged around the edges but who wasn’t these days. You had never really looked at him before.

“You can say it Joel. You like El and I a little bit.” He shook his head.

“I’m taking her where I need to take her. You’re extra help.” You shoved his arm a bit and watched his face.

“You like us. Come on,” you teased. He shook his head and glanced over at you. You locked eyes longer than you should have, considering the fact he was still driving.

“I’m not going to tell you that I like you.”

“It’s okay babe. I can tell from your eyes,” you said playfully. You looked ahead again but felt more comfortable than you had in weeks. Probably months. Maybe even years. It was always touch and go. You, Tess, Joel and some others would get some resources coming in but they would be gone soon. Your life was the inbetween of the packages you were able to smuggle.

This was dangerous and it was unsteady but you felt like you were with people who you could be with forever. You never thought this would be the scenario but here you were. You leaned your head against the glass.

“Maybe you should try and get some sleep,” Joel said quietly. His voice had a rumble to it that you liked.

“And leave you to think for yourself? No way,” you said gently. The playfulness in your voice was gone although you hadn’t intended for it to be.

“I’ve got some music,” he said, gesturing to the stereo.

“Thank God for Ellie and her slippery fingers huh?” He chuckled.

“You’re right about that.”

You looked in the rearview mirror at her. She was sound asleep. She was a good kid and she knew how to defend herself. Not a bad mix to have. Plus, she was funny.

“What were you like before all this?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean what were you like? The same grumpy old guy that I see before me now?” He rolled his eyes.

“Just a little younger around the eyes,” he explained.

“Did you always have the beard?”

“Why you wanna know?”

“Because you without the beard feels wrong. I was just curious,” you told him honestly.

“What about you? You always been a snarky hothead?” he asked. You smiled and shrugged.

“I was born a snarky hothead.”

Ellie’s eyes opened very slowly. She didn’t bother lifting her head, wondering if she should just drift back to sleep. She looked up at the front seat that was illuminated in the sunlight of the day. She wondered how long it had been since she fell asleep.

She was beyond surprised and a little caught off guard to hear laughing. Joel was laughing. It was hearty and deep.

“No she didn’t!” you were saying.

“I swear. On my life,” Joel said. You shook your head, laughter bubbling.

“What a bitch. Damn Tess,” you muttered, still smiling. Ellie closed her eyes again. She felt safer than she had in a long time. She was with people she liked and trusted.

Sleep came easy.

She slipped into subconsciousness to the beautiful sound of you and Joel laughing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagines #the last of us imagines

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light-yaers · 4 years ago

Text

No Saints: Chapter Eight

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 5.4k

Chapter Eight

You woke serenely, when sun started to stream into the hull of the Razor Crest. You fluttered your eyes open, taking in the ship as you breathed away your sleepiness. You were pressed against Mando’s chest, focusing on the rhythmic way his ribs moved up and down as he breathed calmly beneath his undershirt.

You indulged in him, pressing your cheek into him and hearing the pitter patter of his heartbeat. This was nice. This was needed. And stars, you savoured every moment you got with him.

You allowed your gaze to trickle over the rest of him, noticing the curves of his muscles that you so craved whenever he was covered head to toe in Beskar. His legs were bare now, with his cargo trousers pushed to the edge of the small sleeping space the two of you had adopted on the hull floor. You thought yourself silly, as you spent many minutes just looking at the way his thighs met his knees, and his knees met his calves, all the way down to his ankles and his sock covered feet.

Then you made your way back up his chest, winding over his torso, his clavicle, his collarbones, his neck—

His jaw.

His jaw. His bare jaw.

Maker, his helmet was off.

You gasped as you flinched on the floor, sitting up immediately and covering your eyes with your fingers. You panicked while he stirred awake, noticing the way you’d shot up from his body and were almost cowering away from him.

As Mando’s eyes opened, he realised why you were suddenly so on edge. He tensed. “Fuck,” He muttered, before immediately hoisting himself off the floor and rushing around to grab his helmet. You kept your eyes locked tight, focusing on the way you were sucking in air and blowing it out of your lungs.

“I didn’t see your face,” You said timidly, as he finally found his helmet and slotted it over his head. Your entire body was buzzing as you sensed him approach you. Stars, that was a close fucking call, and one that could have ended in disaster. You knew what it meant if you were to see his face openly, you knew it went against his vow to the creed.

Maker, you weren’t about to be the reason he couldn’t don his Beskar anymore. No fucking way. You were certain he’d kill you, even if you’d both found comfort in the arms of one another all this time.

“My fault,” He let out bluntly. “I fell asleep without it on,”

You shook your head, not daring to move your fingers from your eyes just yet. “No—I should have been more careful—,”

“You were careful,” He interrupted, before descending to where you sat the floor. Slowly, he reached out to you, curling his calloused fingers round your wrist and tugging your fingers away from your eyes. You kept them clamped shut, breathing shallowly as you sensed Mando’s visor right before you.

He chuckled lightly at your panic, cupping his hands over your cheeks gently. “It’s safe,”

You gently opened your eyes. Relief rushed over your entire body as Mando’s chrome visor filled your vision. Stars, he was beautiful. There was something about his very presence that could calm you now, despite him knowing everything about you; your past, the things you’d done, your names.

You raised your hand to meet one of his own, curling your fingers around his wrist as you leant into his palm. You smiled up at him as the panicked blush faded from your cheeks, enjoying his modulated silence and the comfort from being inside the Razor Crest.

Stars, you could have stayed there forever.

You could have easily laid back down and shut your eyes, pushed your body into his own and settled for the rest of your life. You would have been happy to never return to the outside world; your shop, Nevarro, facing the danger of knowing that Ah’era were reforming and would probably come after you.

But as long as Mando was by your side, you knew you’d be okay—you knew.

“Good morning,” He said quietly. You couldn’t help it, as your smile all but doubled in size. You let out an overwhelmed chuckle.

“Good morning, Mando,” You replied, and then he did something he’d never done before. Slowly, he inched closer to you, until his helmet was pressed against your forehead. You closed your eyes, shivering at the cold Beskar upon your skin, indulging in having him so close, even if his face was covered once more.

Maybe this was him kissing you, pecking you, making himself known to you, without needing to take off his helmet. Maybe this was him telling you that he didn’t want you to go, just as much as you wanted to stay.

“I have to meet with Karga,” He said coarsely, and just like that his helmet was removed from your head. You nodded sullenly, knowing that this was how it had to be. The endless grind, him coming and going from Nevarro, stealing moments at night when both of you knew it was safer.

“I need to get back to the shop, anyway,” You replied. Mando moved his hands from your face then, depositing them on your biceps and hoisting you to standing. You nodded at him in thanks, strolling around the hull once to make sure you had all of your belongings and tugging your shirt back over your head quickly.

Stars, would it always be like this?

With every visit, you grew fonder of the Mandalorian. You grew weaker at the knees, imagining his hands all over you, his lips kissing every portion of skin, his fingers roaming to places that were rarely touched. You still couldn’t admit that you were falling; hard and fast; for the Beskar clad man, but stars, you wanted to. You wanted to scream it.

“When will you be back?” You said timidly, turning to him as you stood by the ramp.

“In a week or so. I’ll contact you,” He said, gesturing to the communicator on your wrist. You smiled sadly, overcome with the want to embrace him, but you didn’t move from your spot. If saying goodbye was always this hard, then you’d only be making it more difficult to indulge in such things.

So, you simply opened the ramp, letting it descend almost to the floor, before you walked out of the Razor Crest. You tried to focus on walking, to just keep going, to not look back—but stars, you had to.

You dared to stop, to look back at the ship on the barren desert of Nevarro, and what met you was enough to keep you going for the days ahead without him. Mando stood in the hull, near the ramp controls, cradling the kid in his arms. He giggled and gurgled as his eyes washed over you, raising one of his tiny arms in a wave.

You waved back, ignoring the utter ache in your chest as the ramp slowly began to ascend once more. Then, you continued forward, swallowing down the pain in your throat as it fought to close up, all the way back to your shop.

The scarred skin on your ankle had been hurting for three days, after Mando left once again. It itched beneath your boots, jarring you as you worked at your desk and tried not to imagine Mando’s face when you zoned out. Maker, you hated to complain at the best of times, but this week you had a lot on your plate.

Not just the aching feeling in your gut for the Mandalorian, or the flesh-eating anxiety of knowing Ah’era were rising once more, but Karga posed an equally as imposing challenge—

He was sending Guild members into the shop for him.

You spotted the first one immediately, some young hunter who looked utterly lost. You’d seen him around Nevarro a few times, fumbling in and out of the bar and around the neighbouring streets in search of whatever. He shuffled into the shop timidly, like a fucking baby lamb, but it was the first thing he said that cemented Karga was to blame—

“How’s business going?” He asked, clearing his throat afterwards as he overdramatically slammed his weapon on your desk.

You answered him in the only way you knew would get through to Karga— “Business is booming,”

Ever since he’d come to see you about Mando, you’d been worried. Maybe Mando was content with shoving it under the rug, but after the oldie almost shot your Beskar clad hunter it was becoming incredibly obvious that feelings had not healed, but in fact dwindled. What it was about, you didn’t know, and Mando seemed reluctant to talk about whatever it could be that had Karga’s knickers in a twist. Stars, he just didn’t care.

After your initial comeback, Karga had continued to send men in on his behalf. Older, more experienced hunters; rogue runaways; Nevarro locals who were in the palm of his hand; but you refused to let them get to you. These were fucking scare tactics. You knew all about them—stars—at one point you’d been used as a scare tactic for Ah’era. Your presence back then had been enough to instil fear into anyone who dared to deny the creed.

But this? From Karga? This was just fucking annoying. Maker, you even had a dream one night that Mando shot Karga dead, straight through his heart, before whisking you away on the Razor Crest to saints knew where—

Stupid stupid stupid stupid.

You were getting to the end of your tether by the time the week was over. You were counting down the hours to when Mando should arrive back on the planet, biting your cheeks to expel the anxious energy you harboured. Stars, you had to tell him. You had to warn him again; you had to make it known that Karga was once again bad news; that he was planning something.

“Excuse me, Miss,” A voice came from the front door. You swiftly looked towards them, hitting his eyes—and that’s when your soul left your body.

He sauntered inside with an unwavering stare, nothing but black boots and a thick belt and scarred knuckles. His beard was patchy, a lot more than it had been seven years prior. His eyes were the same sickly shade of green; resembling vomit, mixed with that yellow that you’d usually associate with bile.

Kalahan—loyal Ah’era member; cut-throat killer; someone that, even when you’d worked for them, killed for them, been trusted by them; you knew to fucking avoid.

“Can you take a look at my gun?” He continued, approaching you at the desk, now. Close enough that he could probably see the reflection of himself in your eyes. You fought back against the fight in you. You fought back against the need and want to gut and decapitate him where he stood. But that would only prove detrimental.

You’d grown. You were older. And he’d only ever seen your face half-covered, shrouded by a hood, or scowling with rage. This face; your face right now; one that over the past seven years had grown soft; he didn’t know it. He didn’t know who you were.

Kalahan’s methods were by far the cruellest of the creed. You’d never hidden the type of monster they’d forced you to be, but Kalahan—he got off on being all sweet and handsome and nice, right before he’d gut someone without a second of hesitation. He was a killer with the face of a gentleman. He was disgustingly vile.

Maker, you wanted to kill him. You wanted to know what it felt like to see him be the one to have the life die from within him. And you wanted to be the reason he ceased to breathe anymore. But you couldn’t, so instead; you smiled.

“Of course,” You said happily, as he politely handed over his blaster. You busied yourself with the mechanics at hand, ignoring his flittering stare over you, your face, your shop, everything that was yours. Stars, you somehow wanted to thank Mando; if it weren’t for you saving his skin and acting like a goddamn weakling, you wouldn’t know how to pretend to be fine this well. Your body was doing everything it could to keep you from failing, from slipping up, but you knew it would be a matter of time before your heart combusted from stress.

“Is the cartridge shot?” He questioned curiously, leaning down on the desk until you were face to face—nose to nose. You avoided his gaze like the fucking plague.

“I don’t think so,” You said honestly, flipping the gun round in your palms and checking the trigger. Your fingers skilfully pried into the trigger compartment, coming across a lodged piece of shrapnel that had imbedded itself inside, halting the trigger. “Ah—there we are,” You muttered, popping the gun down to grab your smaller tools.

“Damn, you found that fast,” He said in awe. “Finding good mechs out here is a fucking challenge,” He chuckled after he spoke, but all it did was cause a huge shiver to run down your spine, making you feel sick. You swallowed down bile.

“You’ve just gotta know where to look,” You hit back with, matching his upbeat energy as not to come off overly suspicious. You began unscrewing the trigger compartment on his blaster, using the tiniest screwdrivers you owned.

He regarded you for a long time, watching closely as you skilfully opened the trigger compartment and went about collecting the shrapnel. Maker, you tried not to flinch when he got even closer to you, peeing up into your face as you ignored his fire like gaze with a ferocity that had burned within you ever since you’d fled Ah’era.

“You got a name?”

You stopped working and stood to full height, looking down at him sternly. For once, he was the one being suspicious. No one asked for names in hunter country.

“It’ll cost you to ask for names around these parts,” You replied strongly, raising your brows at him sceptically, fiddling with a tiny Phillips-head between your fingers. He let out a scoff, rising himself up to your level. He smiled—some sort of playboy smile that was supposed to make him seem charming, or approachable, or not a member of the galaxy’s deadliest creed.

“How’s a name for a name?” He said playfully, sticking out a hand. “I’m Reynard,”

Reynard. Fucking liar.

Of course, he’d use a fake name. He wasn’t stupid enough to reveal himself as who he truly was; Kalahan. It’s not like he knew your real name; he’d only ever called you the Wraith; but you weren’t about to tell him your true name either.

That was reserved for Mando, and only Mando. No one else was allowed to utter those syllables the way his modulated drawl did. No one.

You grabbed his hand strongly, pretending your heart wasn’t trying to crawl out of your chest. “Melissa,” You replied. He shook your hand a few times, looking you dead in the eyes. You were looking out for sheer signs of treachery; his fingers weren’t pressed on your pulse point, which means he couldn’t analyse if you were lying or not. His gun was still lying on the desk in front of you, out-of-action while you removed the shrapnel from behind the trigger. He wasn’t suspicious—not one bit.

It would have put you at ease the smallest bit, if you weren’t already on edge from the fucking week you’d had. This was just the frosting on top of the fucking cake.

Stars—when would people leave you the fuck alone?

“Melissa,” He repeated, before gently removing his hand from yours. Maker, you wanted to vomit. You’d never touched him before; never had skin-to-skin contact with Kahalan, even during those five years of the creed.

You wished he’d died in that explosion you caused. You wished he’d perished in the flames, never to be seen again; never to kill another soul with his bare hands once more. You would have done the galaxy a favour if he’d been one of the members to die. It was a fucking shame. It made you feel responsible for him being alive— which wasn’t a feeling anyone fucking wanted.

You nodded at him, getting back to work on his blaster.

“How long have you been on Nevarro?”

Maker, what the fuck was his problem? You knew Kalahan, you knew he never indulged in small talk like this, at least not back then. He always had that honey-eyed tone in his voice, but his words were used like a weapon; scarcely, only when he wanted to threaten people in a way that left them running for the hills, or their blood running down from a slit in their necks.

It was a good thing you were brilliant at lying. “Three years,” You lied, making a show of tweezing a piece of shrapnel from his gun. “After my partner ditched me, I didn’t know where to go, but I ended up here. I guess I never left,” The words left your mouth easily, unbothered, as if you hadn’t just thought them up on the spot.

“Partner?” He chided, strolling over to the storage boxes. He took a seat on one—Mando’s usual seat. You refrained from balling your fists in anger, focusing on getting this repair over and done with as fast as possible. “As in, business partner? Or... lover?”

Ah. So—that was it.

He was attracted to you.

Maker, kill you now, if you had to pretend to flirt with him the same way you’d done with Karga. You’d much rather stab yourself in the temple with your tiny screwdriver.

You scoffed as you went back to working, feeling your forehead prickle with sweat. “Lovers don’t exist on this side of the galaxy,” You picked out another piece of shrapnel and tested the trigger with the safety on—it wasn’t jammed any longer. You breathed out shallowly as you polished down the grease from the gun, before pushing it back to Kalahan’s side of the desk. “All done,”

He hoisted himself up from the storage boxes slowly, smiling as he approached you. His eyes ate you up, but only provided you with the extensive need to cover up. Maker, you were in overalls, but he was acting like you were wearing fucking lingerie.

“What do I owe you, Melissa?” He asked. You wanted to laugh at the way the fake name sounded coming from his mouth so seriously, but of course you didn’t.

“Seven hundred credits,” You said plainly, reverting back to your usual shop etiquette when it came to payment. Kalahan only nodded, sifting through his pockets and jangling the credits in his hand. You thought he was going to drop them onto the desktop, but he didn’t—he hovered his hand in the air, eyeing your knuckles in wanting.

You swallowed, sticking out your hand stubbornly. He took his time as his other hand grabbed your wrist, curling his fingers around your skin, before he dropped all seven hundred credits into your palm. His fingers lingered and the feeling was enough to burn your insides. You were fighting against every sense you had within you to fucking dropkick this man.

When he eventually moved away and grabbed his blaster, you let out a small sigh. You tugged yourself away from him, busying yourself with putting away your tools. You squatted to the floor, organising your screwdrivers and taking a quick inventory of screws and tacks; but mostly, you were praying he would leave without a word.

The god never fucking answered, as when you stood up once more, Kalahan was leaning against the doorframe, waiting to say something. “Thanks for the repair,” He said sweetly. “I hope I’ll see you around more often, Melissa,”

More often? Not likely.

“I’m settling on this planet in a few weeks,”

Oh, fuck.

“Good luck,” You said, and maybe you meant it. Even though your entire body felt like lead; even though your ears were overcome with a high-pitched noise that you couldn’t locate; even though you now had knowledge that someone from your past—someone dedicated to the creed, someone who would stop at nothing to reform it—was moving to Nevarro; you meant the luck you sent him.

Because Maker, as soon as you had a plan—as soon as you knew what to do, how to do it, and were ready—

You were going to slit his fucking throat.

“See you around, Melissa,” He said. Then he was gone.

You shot your blaster in the firing range all evening, until you were sure your fingers were going to drop right off your knuckles. You waited for Mando’s voice to cut through on the communicator, happy that you’d be reunited with him that evening—but you were also fucked.

Both of you were.

He had Karga on his tail for something. But whatever it was, you had no clue. Karga had a lot of business with a lot of people; there was no telling who betrayed who unless it was spoken outright, instead of gossiped in the wind.

And you—Kalahan was just the beginning of the creed rising to power once again. And if Kalahan was settling on Nevarro, there was a damn good chance that the rest of the creed would as well, even if it was just temporary.

Mando said your name once then, his voice trickling through the communicator roughly. “Can you come to the Crest?” He asked eagerly. Stars, you could hear the want in his voice. It only filled you with more dread.

“I can’t,” You whispered, lowering your blaster and standing in the darkness of your courtyard. “A lot has happened this week... I don’t think it’s safe for me to leave the shop tonight,” Being honest wasn’t your forte, but you were learning. You were learning because of him.

“I’m on my way to you,” He said sternly, dropping his tone back into that of the bounty hunter you first met, almost nine months before. Despite the danger, you were overcome with that warmth that you’d got used to over the past few months. It hit you in the gut like always, spiralling outwards until every limb, every bone, every hair was washed with it.

“Be careful. I think Karga is planning something for you,” You bit your lip.

“Snake in the grass,” Mando replied plainly.

“Bad news,” You whispered. It was silent for a moment, until the slightest breathy chuckle hit your ears from across the comms.

“I’ll be there soon,”

The static faded then, as you tried to just... keep it together. You were hit with a question that you’d asked yourself almost every day for the past seven years, living in this exile—

Why Nevarro? Why did you pick kriffing Nevarro?

Before, you used to be able to joke with yourself, choosing answers surrounding the hot bounty hunters that visited daily, the utter thrill of being able to run your own business, the beautiful weather conditions. None of those answers were the truth, but just an attempt at getting through the fucking grind of this life. You knew the real answer, the real reason, and seeing Kalahan here had just cemented it to be true—

Nevarro was made for people like me.

As if on cue, Mando wrapped his arms around you a few minutes later. He was so good at fluttering through the darkness, at picking your lock and entering the shop alone at night that you couldn’t even hear him anymore; but you could sense him. Like the air got denser and more agitated, the hairs in your arms stuck up as if you were shivering, but you weren’t even cold. No, it was just him—your Mandalorian—back from the dead and the unknown.

“You’re tense,” He whispered, embracing you from behind. His cold Beskar was comforting, offering you support to fully lean back into him. His chest plate was flat against your back, his arms wrapped around your torso, holding you in place as if he depended upon you.

“When am I not tense?” You said in reply, smiling at the way his fingers fiddled with the pockets of your overalls. Mando only gripped you tighter, bringing his helmet in close to your ear.

“When I’m between your legs,” He muttered.

It would have been so easy to melt into him, to let him hold you and sway you and tease you until you were nothing more than a puddle on the floor—his for the taking—but in that moment, nothing could stop the anxiety from eating you up inside.

“We need to talk,” You began, and Mando immediately tensed. Maker, you wanted to hit back with something like who’s tense now? but the moment simply couldn’t call for it. This was serious, this was dangerous; and both of you needed to figure out a plan for the future. “An Ah’era assassin, Kalahan, came into the shop today,”

Mando unfurled himself from you, stepping back and removing you from his embrace. You turned towards him, trying not to frown at the obvious way he’d just recoiled from you. It was just worry, anxiety, fright; nothing else.

“Did he hurt you?” Was the first thing he asked. You let out a scoff, shaking your head slowly.

“He didn’t even recognise me, I don’t think. But he always was a good liar,”

“Are you... okay?” His voice had transformed into so timid and small. He was worried— worried for you. Worried about the creed. The Mandalorian has always appeared to be someone who was purely self-entitled. He killed to live, he hunted to survive, rarely stopping to create lasting relationships.

But this—

This made the breath hitch in your throat. It made you swallow uncomfortably as you felt the vulnerability wash over your entire body. You felt exposed, dirty, weak, an imposter in your own body.

You smiled up into his chrome visor, letting blush tint your cheeks. “Yeah, Mando. I’m okay,”

It was a lie, both of you knew it, but he didn’t press you. Instead, you allowed him to lead you inside. He shut the courtyard door behind him, letting you make yourself comfortable atop your work desk, like you normally did. Your legs dangled off the side, swinging with anxiety as you tried to breathe it all away—in and out, in and out.

Over and over.

A never-ending cycle of your past, present and darkness shrouded future.

You told him about Karga, about the hunters he’d send into your shop. How with every visit, you were simply too stubborn to let him keep getting away with bothering you this way.

“I think I made it clear that I knew it was him,” You said, remembering your words to that young hunter, and how Karga would know you were lying. “The old man is up to something and it involves you, Mando,”

The Mandalorian let out a soft chuckle. “What else is new,” He joked.

Why? Why did he joke when his life was on the line?

Maker, this was the last straw. You wanted to believe that he knew what was at stake, you wanted to imagine that he was safe and fine and everything he deserved to be, but with every joke, every unbothered shrug about the prospect of Karga doing something to him—it only broke you more.

You dropped your head into your hands abruptly, letting out a pained groan. Mando stopped where he stood, only having eyes for you.

“I wish you’d take this fucking seriously, Mando,” You let out suddenly. You were pained, straining as the words forced themselves from your mouth. “What happens if you get gunned down tomorrow? What happens to the kid—what happens to me?”

You’d said too much, but you didn’t fucking care.

“This is a fundamental that comes with the job,” He said sternly. “If I cared about every threat, every attempt on my life, then I’d go insane—,”

“Well, I care,” You spat, jumping down from the desk and striding towards him.

He peered down at you, and you could feel his rage He was seething, not expecting this evening to turn into something so incredibly hostile.

“You should care about yourself. An Ah’era assassin visited you today and all you can think about is fucking Karga,” He said it meanly, cascading his voice out in waves of frustration. You settled your face into a scowl. “Your past is coming back to bite you in the ass,”

Stars, you knew he was right—but he didn’t have to say it like that. Not after everything you’d told him, not after the way he’d seen you collapse at the sight of that creed member in the Crest, not after you just came face to face with someone who would have killed you without question, had he known your true identity after so long.

“Are you so stuck on your unemotional high-horse that you have to deflect everything that concerns you?” The words trickled from your mouth before you had a chance to stop them. Mando faltered, stepping away from you slightly.

You could feel the nastiness in the air, the thickness of the red rage rolling off of both of you. When before you felt that warmth, that comfort, you only felt disappointment from the Beskar clad man stood before you.

“I never asked for this,” He said slowly, rolling the words off his tongue with intention. “I never asked for you and all the shit that follows you around like a plague,”

The breath hitched in the back of your throat. You gulped away the desire to punch him, knowing that Beskar was unforgiving on unprotected knuckles. Maker, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t believe the way he was talking to you—rejecting you.

You got in close to him then, shoving down all the alarm bells in your body that told you to get away from him. You looked up at him menacingly, portraying everything you felt in a way that you knew would get across to him. You wanted him to squirm. You wanted him to know that he’d hurt you, even if he didn’t give a fuck.

“If I’m such a burden to you, Mandalorian, why don’t you leave?”

He was the one to flinch then, as you heard an abrupt humming noise from beneath his helmet. He stepped back slowly, tilting his helmet up and down your entire body a few times. You didn’t change your expression, opting to stare him down mercilessly and ignoring the pain in your chest.

“Deal,” He said. His voice was gravelly and raw, but the silence after he’d spoken made your body buzz with a feeling that you’d never had before. You’d felt pain—you knew what it was like to be stabbed, tortured, maimed; you also knew what it felt like to inflict that upon others.

Your emotions weren’t as easily manipulated and toyed with, considering you’d spent most of your life pretending you didn’t have them. The Mandalorian had just taken them and flattened them upon the floor of your shop—but Maker, you’d just done the same to him in return.

Mutual destruction with a means to an end.

With a whip of his cape, he left the shop without another word. You found yourself unintentionally listening to the stomp of his boots as he got further and further away outside, heading back to his ship, back to the kid, back to the hull floor where you’d spent nights with him; kissed him, felt him, craved him.

You didn’t weep, you wouldn’t allow it, but Maker—the yell that left your lips was enough to disturb the dust within your shop. It floated up into the air, sticking to your hot skin and dropping onto your tongue when you opened your mouth to breathe out heavily.

You hardly slept. All you saw behind your eyelids was him—Mando—but he was tarnished. You were haunted by images of his death, of him getting cut down to the ground and seeing the killer; Kalahan. You could see your reflection in his gaze, but it wasn’t the you that you’d expected—

It was the Wraith—

And she did nothing but stare as the Mandalorian breathed for the last time.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars #star wars fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #no saints #no saints fic #smut and angst #smut and fluff #hurt and comfort #update

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before-we-get-started · 4 years ago

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My Favorite Mistake Pairing: Colin Shea x Reader Word Count: 3525 Warnings: Fluff, angst Image by pinterest.com “You sure you don’t want to meet us later? We should be done with dinner by 8.” “No thanks.” “Y/N, you haven’t been out in weeks. You can’t just stay in that apartment all the time. Put on that cute black dress and meet us at Rave’s.” You pulled the blanket up higher around your chin, making sure it covered your socked feet on the coffee table. “It’s ok, I really appreciate it but I’m really comfy here. I’m gonna check out a new series on Netflix.” Your friend sighed through the phone. “Ok. Call me if you need me, ok?” “Thanks,” you said, ending the call and tucking the phone under the blanket in your lap. It was 7:30 on a Friday night and you were alone, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s serving as dinner as you surfed the TV for something good to watch. It had been exactly three months. Three months since your heart was shattered, three months since you thought your world had ended, three months since you’d allowed yourself to enjoy anything. Everyone warned you, including a few friends that had traveled the same road. Colin was trouble. While everyone agreed he was dangerously sexy and incredibly handsome, everyone knew that for Colin, variety was the spice of life. He’d even told you that he tried one time to settle down with someone, and it was so painful when it ended, he would never do it again. That didn’t stop you though. You’d never forget the moment you’d met him – you were moving in to apartment 6C in a gorgeous, historic building in Boston. It was your first place of your own – your folks were so proud of you and helped you get moved in. On day 3 in your new place, your world changed. You were stepping out your door for work when your neighbor in 6A opened the door to grab his newspaper. He was naked but for a flowered bathroom towel that he held to keep his privacy. He was tall and lean with defined pecs, muscular arms, spiky blonde hair and blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean. And then he smiled, a million watts reaching across the banister to your apartment. “Good mornin’ 6C. I’m Colin,” he’d said in that delicious deep voice. Somehow you’d managed to squeak out your name, trying hard to breathe and keep walking. You had to pass him to get to the stairs, trying not to trip and fall or make an idiot of yourself. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” he said as you made your way down the stairs. “I hope so,” you’d replied, your voice sounding stronger than you imagined. A corner of his smile turned up and he gave you a little salute as you headed downstairs. True to his word, he’d knocked on your door that night with a bag of Chinese food and you’d invited him in. You played hard to get that night, even though the four beers and those blue eyes nearly broke your will. But on Friday, when he knocked again, you didn’t even make it through the tacos he brought over. Before you knew it, you’d gone from deep kisses on the couch to your bed, where you fell asleep wrapped around his body after hours of incredible sex. When the sun came up that Saturday morning, you blinked your eyes as you awoke, looking up at the most handsome face and long eyelashes you’d ever seen. You’d kissed his cheek, then peppered his neck and shoulders with kisses, releasing him from sleep and encouraging him to take you again. You’d wrapped your legs around him and he’d carried you into the bathroom, where you ran a hot bath and the two of you snuggled under the bubbles for an hour. The next few days you were inseparable. As soon as you got home from work, he was there. Most every night he stayed in your bed. More than once you’d watched the glow of the sunrise on your bedroom walls as you and Colin couldn’t get enough of each other’s touch. You’d watched some movies, binged a couple of shows, and shared the kitchen preparing some of your favorite recipes. You’d also talked, and talked, and talked. You told him about your ex, the guy you thought was “the one,” even though you certainly never felt for him what you did when you were with Colin. He told you about Allie, who had lived in your apartment before. He’d fallen hard for her and thought maybe he should think about settling with one girl, but she’d broken it off suddenly, and later he learned she’d eloped with one of her exes. The hurt in his eyes had been unbearable. That night you’d made it your quest to make him forget her – he’d called your name more than once and you’d held on to him tight, kissing him with enough passion to wipe out the sad memory of her. There was something so thrilling about being with him. Most of the time you didn’t have a plan, and you loved how each time with him would unfold. You’d spent a few evenings listening to your favorite tunes on the roof of the building, dancing under the moonlight. Colin was always working on songs for his band. He’d strum the guitar and you’d listen intently - you’d even helped him with lyrics on a few. One night Colin texted and told you he had plans and wouldn’t be able to see you. You’d texted back and told him to have a good night, happy to find him waiting at your door the next night after work. A few times he’d left to spend then night at his apartment. You’d noticed he’d checked his phone and figured he had something on his calendar for the next morning. You’d mentioned him to your girlfriends and gotten more than one eyeroll. “How many of you have slept with Colin?” your friend Jenny asked your friends at a bar one night. A few raised their hands. “I’m not stupid,” you’d responded. “I know he likes girls. We’re just friends with benefits.” The words came out, but you knew they were a lie. You were in love with him. Head over heels, heart and soul, forever and ever in love with him. You were in love with a total player who made it his goal to sleep with every girl in Boston. And so, on the morning of the 6-month anniversary of your first evening together, the truth had reared its ugly head. You’d spent the night before at your parents’ house after having dinner with them and had run home to get ready the next morning before heading to work so that you could bring him a gift. You’d picked up his favorite cannolis from the local bakery. You knew he was probably still asleep so you hung the bag on his door and texted him to check when he woke up. As you left for work, you heard a giggle across the hall. A girl opened Colin’s door and peeked around the edge, grabbing the bag of cannolis from the doorknob. You heard his laughter behind her as she closed the door. You froze. You couldn’t catch your breath. Your knees were weak. Tears burned at your eyes. The next few moments were a blur. You marched over to his door and knocked softly. You heard a rustle, then he was there, bare chested, wearing your favorite ripped jeans. “I hope you two enjoy your breakfast. I’m glad I went out of my way to bring it to you on a day that at least means something to me.” You turned on your heel and rushed down the stairs, ignoring him calling your name. You’d broken down on the train, dabbing at the tears to try and save your makeup. The older lady next to you patted your arm as you pulled yourself together. Your phone had dinged all day. Text after text from him, none of which you read. You were upset, but mostly mad at yourself. It was your own fault. He had told you himself that monogamy wasn’t his thing. But it had been impossible not to believe he felt something for you every time the two of you came together. The way he looked in your eyes, the way he held you so close, the way the two of you were entangled for hours on end. Could it really not be more than just sex? That night you’d stayed with a friend, leaving from her house the next morning for work. You’d left work early and slipped into your apartment in the afternoon, changing into his t-shirt and climbing into bed. You’d slept through to the morning, trudging in for another day at work. You couldn’t help but wonder what was happening behind his apartment door. It was unbearable to think of him holding someone else, kissing them the way he kissed you. For weeks, you’d managed to avoid seeing him. More than once you’d heard him come home, then heard a soft knock at your door, but you didn’t answer. There were so many text messages. “Good morning Y/N. Hope your day is good.” “Good night, sweet dreams.” Worst of all, lots of “I miss you” texts that made you want to open the door the next time he knocked. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to just accept that you’d take what you got from him and be happy with it. But knowing that you might be his Thursday and another girl would be his Friday was just too hard. How could he kiss you in that spot on your throat that drove you crazy, and then do the same thing for someone else? How could something so intimate not mean more to him? So for three months, you’d been miserable. Friends had tried to set you up on a couple of blind dates, your mom had even tried to introduce you to one of your dad’s associates, but you just weren’t ready. And now you were sitting home on a Friday night, wrapped up in frumpy sweats and a blanket, feeling sorry for yourself. You didn’t know exactly what got into you but you threw the blanket off and headed for the bathroom. You peeled out of the sweats, turned on the curling iron and grabbed your makeup bag. In 20 minutes you’d pulled on your favorite little black dress, applied makeup for an evening out, curled your hair and grabbed your beaded clutch. You slipped on your strappy high heels and headed for the door. You’d text your friend and let her know you’d be at Rave’s to meet them. As you opened the door, you stopped cold. Colin was in front of you. He had on gray slacks and a pale blue button up shirt, the first three buttons open. His hair was styled, the thin silver chain of his necklace and the tattoo on his chest peeking out from his shirt. His ocean blue eyes lit up when he saw you. He held a bouquet of roses in his hand. You smelled the musky scent you loved so much. “Hey,” he said shyly. “You look amazing.” He licked his lips as he looked you up and down. You went from startled to smug in a few seconds. “I’m on my way out,” you said. “Meeting some friends tonight. Mind moving out of my way?” He hesitated but stepped aside. You brushed past him, looking over your shoulder at him as you rounded the banister. “Y/N, I really want to talk to you.” “Not tonight,” you said confidently, descending the stairs. The club was rocking when you got there and the girls were all glad to see you. You took advantage of all the free drinks they were supplying and did your share of dancing, including a couple of slow dances with hot guys that were knocking each other over to flirt with you. When one asked to walk you to your Uber, you agreed, and took him up on making the ride to your apartment. He’d taken your hand as you ascended the stairs to the 6th floor, chatting and laughing all the way up. You fished in your clutch for your keys when you heard the door behind you open. Your escort put his hand at the small of your back and pulled you in for a kiss just as Colin peered out. You opened your eyes just as he started to close his door. You saw that sadness, the same sadness you’d seen when he’d told you about his broken heart. Your escort started to turn the key but you stopped him. You thanked him for walking you up but said you needed to call it a night. He gave you another kiss and you exchanged phone numbers, then he headed down the stairs. You let out a huge sigh as you stared at 6A. You thought the night out would help extinguish the fire but it continued to rage inside you. You walked over and gently knocked. You held your breath as you watched the door knob turn. “Hey.” “Hey.” “Can I come in?” He pulled the door open a bit more so you could step in. He stood still, looking down at his feet. You pushed the door closed. “Why were you dressed up tonight?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I had a date.” You felt your heart sink a little. “Oh. How’d it go?” “I don’t know.” You cocked your head a little. “You don’t know?” “Nope.” You shook your head a little. “Why don’t you know?” “Didn’t happen.” You blew out a sigh, a little frustrated. “You had a date, but you didn’t have a date.” “Right.” “Ok,” you said. Maybe it was a mistake coming over. You turned towards the door. “Well, sorry to bother you, just thought I’d say hi.” “Don’t you want to know why it didn’t happen?” You sighed. “Sure, I’ll bite. Why didn’t it happen?” He stepped toward you, then put his hands on the small of your back, pulling you closer. “I went to ask her and she was on her way out.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and looked into those ocean blues. “Where’d she go?” “I don’t know,” he said gruffly, “but she didn’t come home alone.” “Hmm,” you hummed, “wonder if he likes cannolis?” He looked down for a minute, something flashing across his face. Guilt, maybe? To his credit, he met your eyes again. “I’m sorry.” You’d hoped to hear those words for so long. You hoped he’d at least acknowledge that he’d hurt you. “I was an ass. Easily the most asshole thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying a lot. I’m sorry.” You let out a quiet chuckle. “Definitely a move that will get you in the Asshole Hall of Fame.” It was his turn to laugh and he met your eyes again. “I was scared,” he said. “Scared? Scared of what?” “Of us,” he said. Your eyebrows scrunched in surprise. “What do you mean?” He let out a huff of air and squeezed your hips a little tighter. “You and I, we were really good. I got so used to being with you. Everything about you made me happy. And I got scared. I tried feeling that way before and it broke me. I had to put some space between us.” “So you let some bimbo eat our anniversary cannolis?” He laughed a little, dropping his head and shaking it. “Yeah. I know. I’m a shit.” “Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’ loudly. “I tried to talk to you. Tried to apologize. I texted, came over a few times. It was clear you weren’t interested in hearing what I had to say. So tonight I decided to step it up.” You felt tears burn at your eyes. You wanted to stay strong and blinked them away. “I did something incredibly stupid,” you said. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I fell in love with you. Even though everyone told me and everything inside me knew I shouldn’t, I did. All of those times being with you,” you said, your eyes glistening with tears. “All of those kisses, all of those touches, they meant something to me. More than just hooking up. I let myself believe they meant something to you too,” you said. “They did,” he said softly in that deep, sexy voice. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your chin and gently touching his lips to yours. You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling. You pressed your hands to his chest. He deepened the kiss and you instinctively let your hands slide up and encircle his neck, burying your fingers in the hair there, pulling it a little between your fingers. A soft moan escaped him as he pressed his body closer to yours. He dropped his hand to your hips again, pulling you so close you could feel him through his jeans. Sirens sounded in your brain. You were letting yourself fall down this hole again. You knew how hard it had been to climb out. You gently pulled out of the kiss, licking your lips and rubbing the tip of your nose on his. “I can’t,” you said, a tear escaping your eye. He pressed his forehead to yours, pulling his hand behind your head and caressing your soft hair. “Y/N.” There was no sound like that of your name on his lips. It was like music. You felt yourself shiver as you fought with everything you had not to melt into him. “I want more than you do. It’s too hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just how it is. This – hurts,” you said, a soft sob escaping. “I want it too.” You felt a sad smile cross your lips. “Not like I do Colin. I want all of you. Everything. I don’t want to share. I don’t want you to touch anyone else.” You gently ran your hands up his chest. “I don’t want you to kiss anyone else,” you said as you pressed your lips to his. “I don’t want you to find that special place on anyone else,” you said, pressing your lips to that place on his neck that drove him wild. He growled deep in his throat, encircling your waist with his arms. “Y/N,” he breathed. “It’s ok,” you said sadly. “I was lucky to have you while I did. Most people don’t get to feel what I felt with you.” You ran the backs of two fingers down his cheek, letting yourself dive into those eyes. Every inch of you felt warm. “What if –“ he started, then hesitated. “What if we start again. And I don’t fuck up this time.” You let out a low laugh. “You’d just be setting us up for failure. It’s ok Colin. I don’t –“ His fingers circled your wrists and he covered your lips with his. “It’s not ok. I hurt you.” He kissed you again, this time a little deeper. “It took me seeing you with someone else to really get it. I’ve missed you so much. But seeing you tonight – I just ache. Please tell me we can try again.” He smothered your mouth with his, sucking gently on your bottom lip. “Please Y/N.” You tried taking a breath but it caught in your throat, your heart beating wildly. You’d be a fool to do this again, put yourself out there for more. How did that saying go, insanity was doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result? “Colin –“ “I love you.” You blinked at him, certain you’d just imagined it. “What?” He smiled, that smile that could light up the entire city. He gently pushed a piece of hair behind your ear and let his fingers linger on your earlobe. “I,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “Love,” he said, pressing his lips to the apple of your cheek. “You,” he said, locking onto your eyes with his, then gently kissing your lips. “I love us.” You leaned into him, burying your face into the side of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m afraid.” He pulled you to him, stroking your hair, a hand at your lower back. “I know baby,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.” You let yourself melt into him more. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go. “What if – what if you get scared again? What if I’m not what you really want? What if you wake up one morning and look at me and realize I’m a mistake?” You felt his chest rumble with a little laugh. “Trust me baby, you’re my favorite mistake.” He pulled back and kissed you, and you let yourself melt into the love of your life.

#chrisevans #colinshea #whatsyournumber

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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years ago

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Chapter 45

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The rain finally let up for a moment as Talltail and Jake sat side by side near the town's edge, shaking the water from their soaked pelts.

“I’m proud of you, Talltail,” Jake said. “For helping him. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

Talltail leaned into Jake and they sat there in silence for a while. Once he was already soaked, the water bothered him less. Free of the scorched aftermath of the fire and the thick tree cover at last, Talltail paused to revel in the feeling of the fresh breeze in his whiskers. He swore if he tasted the air deeply enough it carried a faint scent of moor heather on it.

Talltail took a breath. “I think…” his voice trembled. “...I must go home.”

It was almost surprising that he said the word home, that part of him still considered it home after all this time. It felt right, the word came so easily and brought a fresh wave of longing crashing into him.

“I thought you would say that,” Jake said. “You must be worried...”

“WindClan has survived many battles, and they will continue to no matter what. But…if there’s a chance I could be of any help…I have to try. I can’t stay away without knowing for sure that they are safe.”

Although, they may not accept him back. It was alright if they didn’t. He just needed to be there to face the danger with them. Warn them, if he could. That would be enough. He wouldn’t dare let himself hope too much for more, at least not yet.

***

Talltail had no idea what he was going to do when he got home. But he hadn’t been planning farther than one step ahead this whole time, and changing that was difficult.

Giving ShadowClan territory a wide berth meant it would take awhile to reach the moor again. The journey felt impossibly long as the next new moon night drew closer. Talltail had not seen the moor in so long, part of him couldn’t quite believe he’d lay eyes on it again, nor could he imagine what would happen when he did. Would it look the same? Would it feel hostile or welcoming? But whatever his fears were, he knew with an unwavering certainty that had eluded him for moons that this was the right direction for him to take.

Until then, they could do nothing but walk and stop occasionally to hunt, tempering their pace so as not to exacerbate any wounds not fully closed. And Talltail intended to make the most of every moment spent with Jake. He had warned his companion well enough that he didn’t know what his clan would do when they got there. WindClan may have been alright with outsiders at the best of times, but not when they were so high on guard. And Jake coming to them with a treacherous deserter…

“If your clanmates are anything like you’ve told me, I bet they’ll be happy to see you. Ratfang told you that herself, didn’t she?” Jake said. “You worry far too much.”

“She was talking about Briarpaw, he’s not aggressive towards any cat! And he has no control over what everyone else does. I….I left with hardly a word spoken.”

“Well, then now's the time to try and make up for it.”

Talltail paused. “I know you know this, but you don’t have to come into--”

“If you’re about to tell me I don’t have to come with you again, I’m going to box your ears. I’m not going anywhere until you know where you’re going, and I know for sure you’re ok.”

“But you’ve never walked this far before!”

“I’ve never fought a fox before either, or run through a fire, or faced down whole groups of angry cats trying to kill me." Jake tilted his head in thought. "Well, I’ve faced down some angry cats before, but not so many in such a short amount of time.”

“And those are reasons to keep going? I may just drag you into a den of badgers next.”

“Then I'll come out of the experience with a badger pelt to line my nest with. What’s one more dangerous thing? At least let me walk you there. If things go badly, then you’ll be glad to have me around.”

“I’m always glad to have you around regardless. But that doesn’t make it a wise decision,” Talltail purred.

Jake flipped his tail nonchalantly. “I’ve never been a cat that’s known for making wise decisions, and I refuse to start now.”

Talltail heard the teasing purr in Jake’s mew, but he was warmed by his words anyway. It would be another half-day of walking until Highstones was in sight and they could see the moorland. The sun should start setting below the horizon by the time they got where they needed to go.

Talltail’s heart nervously fluttered in his chest with each step closer. There was no way to know what nightfall would bring. He had hoped to gather his courage during the final stretch, but as the sky began to blaze with the colors of sunset and the stark black outlines of Highstones in the distance rose into view, Talltail's heart pounded so hard he thought he might faint.

He remembered for a moment the last time he’d come here, walking the steps of ancient warriors to be presented before StarClan. Now, despite his nerves, the path felt...right. He walked as if he knew the way as well as he knew his own paws the nearer to home he got. Such a change from how disorienting the trails had been on his travels thus far.

Talltail looked up to the stars glinting above him; Silverpelt watching him intently. Are you happy I’m here? Talltail thought nervously. The stars didn’t answer of course. They peaked out from behind the sparse stray clouds that hid them, and cluster by cluster, the warriors of StarClan blinked open their twinkling eyes in the sky.

Jake nudged him. “I haven’t been able to see the stars for days. Maybe they’re here to greet us.”

Perhaps Jake was partially joking, but Talltail wanted to think there was truth to it.

“I hope you’re right. It is a relief to see them again,” he admitted. “The night skies have been cloudy for so long I almost forgot they were still there.”

Talltail hummed to himself as he stared into the quickly darkening expanse. The moor was finally, finally, in sight and it loomed ahead of them; a great hill silhouetted in shadow, the very top haloed by the last beams of setting sun in a dazzling warm gold the color of gorse blossoms, brighter than any forest fire. After being so sure he’d never lay eyes on it again, seeing it come into view felt like a dream that was too good to be real.

But it is real... I’m almost home.

He and Jake took their last rest. Talltail had trouble keeping his eyes off the hills. His whole body thrummed with nervous energy and his tail restlessly lashed. When stood up, Jake put his paws on his.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh...I don’t know, hunting?”

“We already ate. Stay with me for a while.” Jake’s voice was gentle and his eyes so sincere, and Talltail found himself slowly sinking back down. Jake rested his paws over his. “Just let yourself rest for a moment. We’ll probably need it.”

“I know, I just...Feel like there’s more I should do. To prepare or...something.”

“Prepare by resting. I swear, the moment you get a whiff of peace it’s like it scares you, and you always jump up and try to start running around again. We’re ok right now.”

“I suppose it’s a habit,” Talltail said sheepishly. Jake was teasing him, but Talltail knew he was right. He was unused to happiness, and to peace. It was so deeply ingrained inside of him to associate any moment of pleasure and contentment with guilt, with a sign that he must be selfishly indulging. He’d never truly allowed it. “I think relaxing is another thing I need to practice,” he admitted with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Great, I’ll help you practice!” Jake purred.

Talltail leaned his head against Jake’s flank, trying to calm his breathing, but he still couldn’t help thinking of all that could go wrong in the coming day. There was plenty to be worked up about. He wanted to, perhaps foolishly, hope he could find a way to prevent the battle to come. He remembered Ratfang’s words about their clan's history. Was a future of bitter rivalry and constant battle all they had to look forward to? When would it end? Fights were so ingrained into the life of a warrior he never thought there was really any way around it, and to hope otherwise felt dangerous. But he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t entered his head at some point that he longed for a future where he didn’t have to fear seeing his clan go through another fight. It was stronger than wanting to simply hurt ShadowClan back for Brackenwing, or for his father. He’d tried chasing vengeance. Of course, that was never going to work. It would have only led to more hurt. Maybe he could stop their clans from making the same mistake.

Perhaps it was a foolish dream to chase. A dangerous one. Clans that sought peace were sometimes viewed as weak instead. But maybe sparing bloodshed would be worth the risk, not having to lose more cats than was necessary. Remaining here on this hill, paralyzed by doubt or fear was the one thing he couldn’t do. He had to trust himself enough to act, to try something. Come what punishment may.

At least he wasn’t alone. Jake shifted beneath him, snoring quietly. Talltail stared fondly at the snoozing housecat's face and thought hard about how lucky he was to have stumbled upon such a wonderful cat. He noted the new knick in Jake's tufted ear, his ruffled brilliant ginger fur only partially groomed for all the walking they had to do, but the way the setting sun's light caught his pelt and turned it nearly red, Talltail had a brief thought that Jake may very well be the most beautiful cat he’d ever seen. What could he have possibly done to deserve him? How could he possibly be worthy?

No. He couldn’t keep obsessing over being worthy. In truth he didn’t know if he was, all he knew is he would do his best to make his loved ones happy either way. For the first time in ages, Talltail allowed himself a flicker of hope that maybe it really was possible to piece himself together into someone that he wanted to be.

Talltail nuzzled under Jake’s chin, getting an even louder purr in response. He had a brief vision of a future, of being allowed home, and bringing Jake with him. Such a brave, determined cat that took on foxes and patrols twice his size...Any clan should think of having him as an honor--at least, that’s what Talltail thought. And he would do everything he could to make sure Jake was taken care of, too. Whatever happened tomorrow, he could at least be sure of that.

Talltail lay there with his chin resting on Jake’s side for far longer than he intended, until the sun had disappeared fully and the stars grew brighter.

Jake cleared his throat. “Ok. We’re not stalling now, are we?”

“Um,” Talltail replied.

“I think if we wait any longer, you’ll only get more worked up. It’ll be alright.”

That was easy for Jake to say. Jake had no idea where they were going really. But he was still there and Talltail was again indescribably grateful for his presence. He wasn’t sure he’d even have the courage to set foot on the moor grass alone.

“Just a bit longer. Then I’ll be ready.” Then, before he thought better of it, he added “Jake, have I told you that I love you?”

Talltail felt himself blushing under his pelt as the words tumbled out unceremoniously. Should they have been more dramatic? More thought out? More...something?

But Jake’s eyes smiled at him, and apparently, they were enough.

“No, but I appreciate it. And I love you as well.”

“I suppose you must if you’ve put up with this much.” Talltail purred.

Tomorrow could be anything. The path ahead was dense with fog. The clouds were drifting back, swallowing up the claw-scratch moon.

There were a number of things that could go wrong, but tonight at least, they were here. Looking at the stars, listening to the other's gentle purr, and feeling the crisp clean scent of the breeze from the moor; a moment Talltail was determined to immortalize in his mind. No matter what happened, he would always be grateful for tonight.

chapter list / previous / next

#FRU45 #chapter 45

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sonoftatooine · 4 years ago

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Whumpay 2021

DAY 14: SLAMMED INTO A WALL

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine

Warnings: Physical assault

Summary: When Palpatine reveals himself as a Sith, Anakin makes a different call. It doesn’t go well.

***

Anakin felt the back of his head connect sharply with the Chancellor's ornate carved wall as he was slammed backwards from the strike he had been about to deliver and pinned beneath the crushing force of Darth Sidious' will like a butterfly trapped on display in a collector's glass case. He saw stars, his still lit lightsaber slipping from his hand and drawing a burning score across the blood red carpet below him as it fell to the ground. Groaning in pain, he tried to fight against the agonising, unrelenting Force grip that held him in place, but Sidious' power was absolute, indomitable. It was as if he were throwing his own power against an impenetrable wall, like the spews of lava falling harmlessly against the shields of a facility on Mustafar, and no matter how he struggled, he could not escape.

Sidious. Palpatine. The kindly Chancellor Palpatine who had always had time to spare to listen to him ever since he was a young child, no matter how trivial his conversation must have seemed to a man who was in charge of the entire galaxy. Palpatine who kept his secrets. Palpatine who had goaded him into killing Dooku, who had revealed himself to be the Sith Lord at the heart of the war that he had lost so many good men in, that had both built him up and whittled him down to half of what he was. Palpatine who had lied to him, had used him for as long as he could remember, along with so many others who he had pretended friendship with. The Jedi. Padmé. He snarled like a cornered anooba as the man approached him, wishing that he did not have the same face, the same gentle smile that he had worn before he had revealed the truth. He wished that he would snarl and rage back, show his true colours. Not look upon him with such unaffected disappointment, even after Anakin had tried to attack him, even while he held him prisoner against a carved stone wall that had probably cost more than Anakin himself had when his value had still been counted in wuipipi.

“You poor, deluded fool.” Despite his words, Palpatine's tone held more pity than anger. “To think that you could strike me down. As if I would ever allow it.”

A twinge in the Force and Anakin's lightsaber was flying into the man's outstretched hand. The old Sith held it up, examining it from all angles before turning off the blade with a smirk. Anakin fought down the urge to shudder. He remembered Obi-Wan's constantly repeated maxim. This weapon is your life. His life in the hands of a Sith. Oh Force—

“I have to admit, this was not the eventuality I expected,” Palpatine said conversationally, as if he were merely remarking on how cloudy Coruscant was this time of year. “Accounted for, yes, but I did not actually expect to have to use any of my contingency plans. Well done, Anakin—you've surprised me.”

“Do I get a prize?” Anakin gritted out.

He let out a yelp, more from shock than pain, as Palpatine drew back and struck him sharply across the cheek with the hilt of his own lightsaber. He felt his skin split, a trickle of blood trailing down from the cut left on his cheekbone.

“I had expected you to run to the Jedi Council,” Palpatine continued, calm and calculated as ever, seemingly unaffected by the sudden violent act. “They would come to enact their little coup and you, wracked with fear for your dear little wife, would rush to stop them and, in the process, seal your fate. But perhaps you don't care as much about Padmé as I thought you did. No matter. There are other ways to get you to turn, and as for the Council, they shall come of their own volition anyway.”

Padmé. Oh, Padmé. He had forgotten about the knowledge Palpatine claimed to possess in his rage. All he had been able to think about underneath the haze of fury was all the pain and the suffering that this man had caused. Of Ahsoka, forced to grow too soon, and nearly condemned to death for a crime she did not commit, framed by a former friend, beaten down by the war that he had orchestrated. Obi-Wan who looked more worn and tired and sad with each day that passed. Rex who had been bred for and lost so many brothers to a sham war as if they were nothing but pieces in a galaxy-wide game of dejarik. And worst of all, Padmé. Padmé who had worked tirelessly towards a pointless goal, trying to bring peace to the galaxy when all the former mentor she had once relied on as Queen—who had used her as a girl to gain power for himself—wanted was violence. Padmé who had spent most of her pregnancy stressed and alone whilst he was trapped fighting in the Outer Rim. Padmé whom the Sith Lord Sidious had tried to have killed under the guise of Count Dooku and the Separatists. Would she die now, not because she had become the target of a Sith Lord, but because her husband had acted with his usual recklessness and tried to strike before he had thought through the consequences of his actions? Or worse, would his actions give Sidious a reason to target her yet again? Had he, in his impulsive rage, doomed his dreams to come true?

“Fear not, Anakin.” Palpatine's lips twisted into a cruel smile, as if he had known exactly what it was he was thinking. Through his haze of panic, Anakin thought he could see a hint of yellow seeping into his eyes. “I will ensure that your wife and child are...taken care of.”

Dread pooled ice-cold in Anakin's stomach at the glint in the man's eye. Oh, Force, he meant— No, no—

“I'll kill you!,” he snarled. He pushed against the man's Force grip with all his might, reaching out in the Force for anyone who would listen, trying to warn them, call for help. “I'll kriffing kill you before I let you touch them. I'll—”

He was cut violently off as the Force wrapped around his throat in an iron grip. He sputtered, gasping for air.

“We both know you cannot stop me,” Sidious said. His voice, instead of the soft-spoken, cultured tones he usually associated with the Chancellor, came out as a dry, vile croak. “Had you submitted to me, I might have considered sparing your little family, but as it is...perhaps the loss of your...attachments will better demonstrate to you the value of the Dark Side.”

“Kriff...you!,” Anakin managed to gasp out around the pressure on his throat. Black spots were appearing in his vision, but he fought past them. Padmé was in danger. Padmé and the baby. He couldn't— He wouldn't— “The Jedi... The...the Jedi will...stop you...”

Sidious laughed, an awful cackle that set Anakin's teeth on edge. His grip tightened.

“No, they shan't.” Anakin's vision filled with darkness. “Sleep, Anakin. You will find the galaxy much changed once you wake.”

#star wars #star wars prequels #star wars: revenge of the sith #revenge of the sith #star wars fic #fic #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #anakin & palpatine #canon divergence #whumpay #whumpay2021 #mine #my fic #sfw

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organabanana · 3 years ago

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(if i can) light the world up || supercorp [2/?]

Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit (future chapters)

Warnings: None

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers, Kelly Olsen, Andrea Rojas

Summary: Lena Luthor sees the world in black and white. Like everyone else, she’ll see colors for the first time when she meets her soulmate. And though she’s not exactly convinced this system makes scientific sense, she’s (mostly) made peace with it. When a fateful meeting with Supergirl makes her world burst into color, Lena is sure the amount of nonsense in her life has reached critical mass. But in just her first morning in National City, Lena manages to also be associated with a spacecraft explosion, and attract the journalistic attention of one Clark Kent and his sidekick, CatCo Magazine’s Kara Danvers. And the worst part is, meeting Supergirl may have given Lena’s world color, but she’s sure it’s Kara Danvers brightening it up.

Chapter 2 Summary: After an eventful first day with Lena Luthor in National City, Kara is ready to relax and watch a movie with Alex. Unfortunately, Alex's idea of relaxation includes conversations about Kara's (catastrophic) love life. Later, Supergirl stops by National City's newest resident's balcony for a quick check-in. That's what heroines do, right?

It’s that ‘all the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate AU’, with Supercorp.

[ao3 link] [chapter 1]

What a day.

Not that any day is particularly boring when you’re Supergirl, mind you, but even for someone with Kara’s admittedly raised bar for excitement, this has been a day.

There’s been a visit from Clark, explosions, a Luthor suddenly living in National City, a taste of being a reporter, saving said Luthor from being run over by a car and crashing in a chopper… and that’s not even getting into the personal side of things, which has been teetering on the edge of catastrophic for a while now even if Kara is fully committed to ignoring it.

Or, she has been committed to ignoring it. The look on Alex’s face when Kara finally makes it home just in time for movie night lets her know there’s a talk in her immediate future.

That knowledge is enough to make her groan as soon as she walks in the door, making a beeline for her freezer and the ice-cream within.

“Way ahead of you,” Alex says from the couch, holding up the half-eaten tub of cookie dough ice-cream for Kara to see.

“Alex!” Kara groans once again as she grabs a spoon and shuts the drawer closed with slightly more force than she’d normally use. “You promised you’d wait for me!”

Alex rolls her eyes and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, quit your whining,” she says, thoroughly unmoved by the pitiful pout on Kara’s face, “how was your day?”

With a spoonful of delicious ice-cream already in her mouth, Kara shrugs from her spot next to Alex. She knows her sister knows most of the stuff that happened, and she’s sure Alex can imagine it wasn’t exactly the best day ever.

“Did Clark find anything interesting in Lena Luthor’s flash drive?”

“Still looking into it,” Kara says, frowning slightly, “I hope he’ll find something. To convince him, if nothing else.”

“Convince him of…?”

“Lena having nothing to do with the explosion. Or anything else, really.”

“Trust Supergirl to give even a Luthor the benefit of the doubt.” Alex nudges Kara’s shoulder with her own and shoots her an affectionate smile, but Kara, against all odds, doesn’t smile along.

“She’s not a Luthor. I mean—“ Kara shakes her head slightly, eyes closed as if that would help put her thoughts in order, “she is technically a Luthor, I guess, but she’s not just any Luthor. She’s different.”

“And you know this because you’ve spoken to her, what, twice?” Alex’s amused smile remains in place as she takes advantage of Kara’s distraction to get some ice-cream onto her spoon.

“I know because I know, okay?”

The silence stretches for just a few seconds, but it feels much longer than that. Kara knows her tone may have been unnecessarily sharp. It’s just— can’t she just pull the superpowered alien card and call it a day? Can’t she just say she knows Lena Luthor is good simply because she knows, and that’s it? You don’t see Alex doubting her instincts when it comes to fighting murderous aliens on the daily, so why does she need to write a complete dissertation with cited sources to be believed when she says Lena Luthor is not who they all think she is?

Can’t she just… know?

It’s only when she looks into Alex’s eyes and sees confusion — and maybe curiosity, which is a dangerous emotion in the hands of Alex Danvers — that Kara realizes she may be bristling a little too much over something that’s probably not that big a deal.

(Lena being given a fair shot at proving herself to be as good as Kara can feel she is seems a big deal to her, but she’s willing to concede it may not be top priority in the grand scheme of things.)

“Can we just watch a movie?” Kara uses her spoon to block Alex’s from reaching a frozen cookie dough nugget that’s calling her name. “Or at least talk about something else?”

“Sure!” Something in Alex’s light, (overly) enthusiastic tone tells Kara whatever topic her sister will choose next will be even worse than the one before. In fact, Kara knows exactly what Alex is going to bring up, simply because she’s been bringing it up in every conversation outside the DEO for at least two weeks. But not even that knowledge prepares her for the moment when Alex actually says it out loud. “How was your date with James?”

Kara groans. She pouts pitifully. And then she shakes her head. “Nope. Not that topic. Movie time!” And she immediately reaches for the remote, just so Alex will know how serious she is. She’s not talking about her date with James. She’s not talking about any dates. She’s not talking about James at all. And Alex will simply have to live with tha—

“Oh, come on!” Alex holds her spoon in her mouth just so she can free one hand to poke Kara’s side. “It couldn’t have been that bad. It’s James! You love James.”

And Kara wants to ignore her. Her thumb hovers over the ‘play’ button on her remote, and she considers just pressing it and pretending she’s so focused on the movie she can’t hear Alex at all. She’s sure Alex would drop the subject, eventually, at least for tonight. But for some reason, she gives in and sighs.

“It wasn’t bad. It just…” Kara shrugs, leaning back against the couch and turning her head to look at Alex, “it just wasn’t.”

“What do you mean, it just wasn’t?” Alex’s eyes round in realization just a split second later. “You did not cancel the date.”

Kara doesn’t nod. She doesn’t shake her head or shrug, either. She just stays there. Doing nothing. Doing nothing seems like a good approach when it comes to her personal life these days.

“Did you reschedule?”

The nice thing about talking to Alex is she knows Kara well enough to know the answer just by looking into her eyes.

Alex sighs. “It’s the color thing, isn’t it? You got hung up on the color thing again.”

Calling it ‘the color thing’ may make it sound small and inconsequential, but Kara knows it’s anything but. How can being someone’s soulmate not matter? How can not being their soulmate not matter, either? It doesn’t make any sense.

“He doesn’t have his colors, Alex,” Kara says, and she could’ve tried to sound a little happier, but her voice comes out just as small and sad as she feels, “I asked.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? Sure, people will go on and on about how sometimes your soulmate is platonic, and how people fall in love with other people every day while both still see the world in black and white, and how there’s no rule that says you can only ever fall in love with your soulmate. But she just— she can’t shake the feeling that she’ll always be on the outside of it all, watching everyone else bump into someone and see their world explode into colors while she tries to imagine what that even feels like.

“Kara,” Alex says, voice calm and a little lower than usual, reminding Kara of Eliza and her many talks while both her daughters went through their teenage years, “listen to me. We don’t know how it works with you.”

Kara sighs. Her glasses keep her x-ray vision and her heat vision in check, but that’s not all they do. Kara has always seen color — there’s no such thing as getting color vision when you meet your soulmate in Krypton — but most young people don’t, so Jeremiah made sure her glasses would make her see in black and white so she wouldn’t accidentally let it slip that she could see every color around.

“You can’t keep sabotaging every potential relationship because they don’t see color when you meet, Kara.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ll know when it happens to you.”

“If it happens to me.”

Kara takes off her glasses with a sigh. She suddenly sees every color in the world, but there’s nothing special about it. It doesn’t feel magic. It doesn’t feel like it means anything. It’s just how it’s always been, because she’s not human. She’s kryptonian.

And what if her soulmate was, too?

There’s a very real possibility that’s the case, but she knows letting her thoughts go down that path never ends well, so she reaches for Alex’s hand instead.

“We’re gonna be fine. Right?”

Alex pokes at the melting ice-cream and looks at it for a couple of seconds before she smiles. It’s not a real smile, but Kara won’t bring that up. She appreciates the effort anyway.

“Yeah,” Alex says, finally looking into Kara’s eyes, ”yeah, of course we’ll be fine.”

Kara nods and offers a smile that’s as small as Alex’s, but Alex doesn’t bring it up, either. She appreciates the effort anyway.

“You’ll meet a great guy,” Alex continues, almost like she’s hoping if she keeps talking about it they’ll both eventually believe it, “and I’ll meet a great guy, and we’ll have happy, colorful lives with our great guys.”

And just because she does appreciate the effort, and because she knows Alex needs it, too, Kara decides to go along with it.

“Happy, colorful lives as neighbors,” she points at Alex with her spoon, “don’t forget that part of the deal.”

“Right! No, of course,” Alex grins, and this time it comes off a little more real than before, “that’s the most important part, the shared cul-de-sac.”

“Exactly.”

There’s another silence then, heavy with things neither of them wants to discuss.

“Hey, Kara?”

Kara turns her head to look at her sister.

“You’ll know.” Alex says, eyes locked with Kara’s to force her to listen and not just hear. “When it happens, colors or no colors. You’ll know.”

And Kara could argue. She could ask how Alex can be so sure of it. She could have the conversation they’ve had a hundred times before, about how Clark found Lois and he’s from Krypton, too. About how Clark can be Superman and have a life, too. But she’s not Clark. She’s not Clark Kent or Superman. She’s just… what did Lena Luthor say earlier today? She’s just a woman trying to make a name for herself.

So instead of arguing, she smiles and holds out her hand for Alex to take. “Promise?”

Alex gives her hand a small squeeze. “Promise.”

Kara doesn’t need to patrol the city at night. This isn’t Gotham, this is National City, and it’s not like it’s crawling with criminals and alien menaces for her to fight. But the night sky is calm and quiet, and Kara loves flying through the cooler air and watching the lights behind windows go out as people go to sleep. She likes to think they feel safe because she’s around. It makes her feel… needed. Like maybe that’s her purpose, and the reason she doesn’t get a soulmate to turn her world Technicolor at first sight. Maybe she’s simply meant to experience this other kind of love instead.

She almost doesn’t see her. Kara is watching a mother leave her baby’s room after turning on a dinosaur-themed nightlight when she spots her out of the corner of her eye. Lena Luthor, alone in her balcony way up on the top floor of her building. She’s looking out into the city, but Kara has a feeling she’s not really seeing it at all. Lena looks deep in thought, which Kara figures is only fair after two near-death experiences in one day.

And though she could simply keep flying… well. Lena looks like she could use a friendly chat, right? And Supergirl is nothing if not friendly. This is absolutely part of her job description as National City’s resident super heroine. Lena is clearly a citizen in need.

Kara is just doing her job.

“Hey,” she says as soon as she touches down on the balcony, but her bright smile does nothing to stop the look of pure horror on Lena’s face.

Oops.

“Goodness, Supergirl!” Kara can hear Lena’s heart beating wildly in her chest, and Lena presses a hand over it like she’s trying to physically slow it down. “What the hell!?”

“Sorry,” Kara offers along with a sheepish smile, “I keep startling you.”

To be fair, it’s not like she’s sneaking up on Lena for fun. Last-second rescues are surprising by definition, you know? So the first two times she startled Lena half to death it was absolutely not her fault. This one is… well. Let’s call it debatable.

“It’s fine.” Lena sounds a little annoyed and a little relieved and a little something else. She keeps looking at Kara in a way that makes her a bit nervous — like Lena will be the one person to see Kara Danvers plain as day even while dressed in Supergirl’s suit. But if Lena knows, she certainly doesn’t say so, and Kara is not about to ask. “I’m fine. I guess being stealthy around Luthors is a useful skill for Kryptonians, huh?”

There’s something in the way Lena says it. Maybe it’s the almost self-deprecating smirk. Maybe it’s the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest like she’s putting up a physical barrier between them. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes. Whatever it is, Kara doesn’t want to brush it off as a meaningless joke.

“You’re not—“ she shakes her head, because Lena is a Luthor, “it’s not like that. I don’t think of you like that.”

Lena doesn’t so much look at Kara as she studies her. Green eyes narrow just so, and Kara finds herself looking away just in case Lena can read minds. Her mind, in particular.

“And what do you think about me, Supergirl?”

Is she— is it just Kara, or is it a particularly warm night out? She shifts her weight slightly from one foot to the other and licks her lips. She thinks Lena’s eyes may just be the only shade of green she’s ever liked, but that’s neither here nor there. Lots of people have nice eyes. What was the question again?

“I don’t know,” she finally says, because that feels safer than any other option. What does she think about Lena Luthor? What should Supergirl think, since she’s not supposed to be Kara Danvers and she’s not supposed to have been there in that office, looking into Lena’s eyes and seeing only goodness in them? “I just know,” she says for the second time tonight, “I just know you’re not like that.”

Maybe if Kara was just Kara Danvers from Midvale, she’d have missed it. But she’s Kara Zor-El from Krypton, and she catches the split-second softness in Lena’s eyes. The slightest change in the now stable rhythm of her heart.

“Like a Luthor?” Lena says, and there’s that smirk again. Like she thinks she’s saying what Kara’s thinking.

But she’s not.

“Do you always make it this hard for people to say nice things about you?” Kara asks, and she’s suddenly very grateful for her color vision letting her see the faintest shade of pink on Lena’s face.

It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it has a heaviness to it. It feels like it matters, somehow.

“Thank you,” Lena finally says, letting her arms drop to her sides, “for saving me. Twice.”

“My pleasure.”

Lena is looking at her again, like that. Head tilted slightly to the left, adding some weight to the already dense silence between them. It’s— it’s a lot.

“Anyway—“ Kara starts, taking one step back and getting ready to simply fly away.

“What did you want?” Lena’s voice isn’t harsh, but it’s as blunt as the question she’s asking.

“What?”

“Well,” Lena says one hand motioning at the space between them, “you’re in my balcony. I wasn’t in mortal peril. There must be some other reason for you to be here.”

“Oh! Right,” Kara smiles, feeling her cheeks warm up in a way that makes her want to ask whether Lena can see the color of her flushed skin, “right. I just wanted to check in. Today’s been…” Kara’s voice trails off as she struggles to come up with a word to appropriately describe a day like this.

“Yes. Yes, it has,” Lena offers with a knowing smile. Like she doesn’t have the words either, but it’s not for a lack of familiarity with assassination attempts, near-death experiences, explosions, and family issues. “Is it always like this in National City? I may need to rethink my move.”

Kara lets out a quiet chuckle as she considers Lena’s question. She’d be lying if she said potentially catastrophic events were rare around her city. She’d also be lying if she said today feels like any other day. Something’s different. Kara can’t put her finger on it, exactly. Nothing’s changed — not really — but nothing’s felt the same ever since she prevented Lena from being run over in the street.

“I guess this is just… the new National City, right? The one with Lena Luthor in it.”

Lena nods, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “A change for the better, I hope.”

Kara could say something. She could reassure Lena. She could say she knows it’ll be good, just like she knows — she just does — that Lena is good. But then Lena may ask her how she knows, and she’s not sure ‘I feel it in my Kryptonian bones’ would be the kind of answer she’d accept. So instead, Kara winks, her smile more playful than anything else as she takes off and flies up into the cool night air. And though she’s already several blocks away, Lena’s voice — quiet like she’s talking to herself — reaches her as clearly as if she’d been standing right there on the balcony next to her.

“Goodnight, Supergirl.”

#supercorp #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fanfiction #supergirl fic #fic

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