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so-long-soldier-writes · 1 year

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The Case of the Missing Shirts

elijah mikaelson x reader

summary: elijah's baffled about how many of his shirts that have gone missing... kol hints that you might be behind the harmless theft.

tags: fluff, wolf!reader, pregnancy, nesting

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hayley erasure; reader is in her place

A confused Elijah shakes his head one more time before going downstairs and into the kitchen. He greets his sister with a “good morning,” and receives one back, before the girl eyes him suspiciously.

“You wore that shirt yesterday, did you not?”

“How could you tell, Bex? They’re all the same,” Kol interrupts before he can respond.

“There’s a little wrinkle there, and I know how much you hate wrinkles.”

Elijah sighs, “actually, I did. It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find so many of my shirts. My others are in the wash at the moment, leaving me with this one.”

“Missing shirts? How odd.”

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea where they might be.”

Kol’s face changes to a smirk. “Might have something to do with the little wolf upstairs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’m not saying she stole them, but you might want to check with her.”

“Are you insinuating Y/N is stealing my clothes? Why would you accuse her of something like that?”

“I’m not accusing her of anything, brother, I’m just saying, she might know where they are.”

In fact, Kol knows exactly where all his missing shirts are. You have taken them. He saw it for himself when he went to check on you the other night. He had entered the room before you had time to hide them, and he chuckled at the sight, but promised not to tell Elijah. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hint at his knowledge of where they are.

Elijah sighs, annoyed at the situation, and now at his brother. “I don’t like you talking about her like that.”

“I’m not saying anything bad! Sorry I said anything. Your shirts can stay missing for all I care.” With that, Kol leaves the room.

As he passes the threshold, another brother enters. “What’s his problem?” Nik gestures to the brooding sibling on his way back upstairs.

“Nothing of concern, Niklaus, we just had a scuffle.”

“What kind of scuffle?”

“Have you seen where any of Elijah’s shirts have gone, Nik? He can’t seem to find them,” Rebekah interrupts the conversation.

“This scuffle is about shirts? Are we serious?”

“Well Kol thinks Y/N knows where they are, but-”

“-I have no idea why he would think that,” Elijah finishes.

“Again,” Klaus pinches his nose in disbelief, “the argument is over shirts? I have more important business to handle.” And with that, he storms out to the balcony.

Rebekah and Elijah look at each other.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask her, ‘Lijah.”

“Alright,” he says finally, “I’ll ask.”

Thirty minutes later, he ventures up to your room and knocks on your door.

“Y/N?”

His voice makes you panic, and you begin to stuff your belongings under your pillows and blankets. “One minute!” Once your bed is more or less neat, you call out for him to enter.

Elijah opens the door slowly and surveys the room. “Hello, lovely, I was just wondering if you knew where any of my shirts have gone? It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find them.”

You shift uncomfortably. “N-no, I haven’t seen them.”

Your strange behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by the thousand year old vampire. He narrows his eyes at you. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

You nod your head quickly, not trusting your words.

“Darling? If you know, I won’t be upset.”

You try to lie again, but your breath gets caught in your throat. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I have them; they’re all here.” One-by-one, you pull the missing garments out from under your blankets. “I’m sorry I took them! I liked the way they smell, because they smell like you, and it makes me feel safe.”

His face immediately softens, “oh, don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just wanted to know.”

“I know you’re running low, you can have them back.” You ignore his words, shoving the pile into his arms. A pouty expression takes over your face, making him regret confronting you about it.

“How about this… let me wash these, because I do happen to be low on clean ones, but every time I wear one, you can have it for a couple of days, okay?”

At this, your eyes light up. “Really?”

“Would that make you happy?”

You nod quickly, but not before biting your lip in embarrassment and looking down at the floor.

He catches on quickly. “There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, love. I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, but I do understand your reason for this. I’m glad my scent makes you feel safe.”

You want to tell him it’s more than that. You want to tell him he makes you feel safe, and that having his scent so close reminds you of that. You want to tell him that you cuddle it when you sleep, because if you can’t have him, having his scent is the next best thing. Most of all, you want to tell him just how badly you want him.

But you can’t. Because the baby growing inside you isn’t his. It’s his brother’s.

Deep down, you think Elijah already knows this. You know he cares for you, he’s proven it to you many times. He has kept you safe ever since you came into the family’s lives; he’s fought for you, killed for you.

The only thing standing in the way of him taking things further with you is that the baby isn’t his. You can’t be his.

So, the two of you tiptoe around his brother. In love but not allowed to express it, and instead, showing your affection for one another through little things. Everyone in the house can see right through you, though. Nik ignores it, while the younger two tease.

But the further you get in your pregnancy, the more needy you become. Your body craves and heart aches for him. Not able to ignore your desires any longer, you caved just a little bit and stole a shirt. One became two, two became three, then three somehow became half his closet. You were finally able to sleep comfortably with his scent filling your nose; his shirts enveloping your body in your bed.

“In fact,” Elijah continues, “keep these two for now. I’ll wash the rest. At the end of the day, I’ll give you this one, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And please, love, come down and eat something. You need to keep up your strength.”

“But I just want to sleep, ‘Lijah.”

“I know, but your baby needs something, too. Just a snack. For me?”

“Okay.”

“There’s my good little girl,” he praises, kissing your forehead gently. He then hands you back two of his shirts, and you leap back in your bed before he can see the blush on your cheeks. “Eat something soon. I’ll be back to check on you.”

◇◇◇◇

At the end of the day, Elijah knocks on your door again to fulfill his promise. It’s nearing nine o’clock, so you’re groggy when you answer him.

“Come in,” you say, rubbing your eyes. You wake up quickly, though, when you remember the agreement you made.

Elijah enters, holding his worn dress shirt. “As promised, little wolf.”

You smile up at him before taking it, silently asking permission.

“Go ahead.”

His heart warms as he watches you. You take the shirt and immediately hurry back to your bed. Not caring that he can see, you begin to rearrange the nest you’ve made on your bed so that the newest addition to your pile can be closest to your body. For five minutes, you organize everything how you want it, changing the order several times after it doesn’t feel good enough the first. By the time you finally lay down, tonight’s promised shirt hugs alongside your body perfectly. You run the fabric against your cheek, taking in the scent, before letting out a content sigh.

Elijah comes over to the edge of your bed, and you roll over on your back to look up at him.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“Of course,” he kisses your nose. Before he leaves, he takes one more glance at your relaxed form. “Sleep well, my little wolf.”

#elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson x reader #tvd fanfiction #the originals fanfiction

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cataztrophi · 10 months

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TAZ November Celebration 14: Vampire AU

This @taznovembercelebration story was brought to you by my firm belief that Angus McDonald should be able to roast every adult in the TAZ universe at least once. My card for this one was "vampire AU," so I had some fun playing around in a deeply unserious vampire space.

Kravitz first noticed the boy watching his apartment in late autumn. He always showed up a little before sundown, so Kravitz wasn’t sure if he had just started this behavior or if he was just noticing it now that the sun set before he left for his shift at the bar. He was a strange little guy, always clean and well-dressed, with big round glasses that he was constantly pushing up his nose. He kept a journal with him that he was always scribbling in, though Kravitz couldn’t guess what he was writing.

His first clue to the boy’s intentions came in early December. He had just closed and locked the door to his apartment, giving the boy an awkward little nod as usual, when he saw an older woman striding purposefully towards him.

“Angus McDonald!” she exclaimed, strained worry in her voice. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

Kravitz took this as his cue to be on his way. As he turned the corner he heard Angus hush the woman frantically.

“I’m investigating the vampires!” he hissed, probably a little louder than he intended. Kravitz laughed to himself on his way down the stairs. It was nice to know his gothic flair was being appreciated. It had been a while since someone had accused him of vampirism, though. Clearly the kid had a big imagination.

The next time he saw Angus, he decided to introduce himself, and maybe lay some of his fears to rest.

“Hey,” he began, “you’re Angus, right? I’m Kravitz.”

Angus eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then stuck out his hand. Kravitz took it, a little surprised by his grave professionalism as Angus shook his hand with a carefully-calculated amount of eye contact.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Listen, Angus, I just wanted to let you know, while I might enjoy borrowing some vampire aesthetics, I’m not actually-”

“I’m ten years old, sir,” Angus said, with barely-concealed irritation. “I know what goths are.”

“I- oh.” Kravitz did not spend enough time with kids to know how to handle this.

“And you’re not the one I was talking about, sir. It’s them.” Angus inclined his head towards the apartment next to Kravitz’s with a wary expression on his face.

Kravitz frowned. “Them? Well, I haven’t seen them around much since they moved in, but it seems a little extreme to jump to conclusions like that.”

Angus shook his head. “But I’m not jumping to conclusions, sir. This is the result of months of careful reconnaissance. Let me review the evidence.” He flipped open his notebook. “First, they never come out during the day. I’ve tracked this very carefully since August and they have never left their apartment before sundown. They even moved in at night.”

Kravitz thought about it. That was unusual, and certainly explained why he didn’t hear them moving in. But still, vampires?

“Lots of people have jobs they go to overnight,” Kravitz offered. “Like me, for instance. Maybe they have jobs like that.”

Angus gave him a pitying look as though Kravitz had just tried to explain that two plus two equals six. “That may be true, but even people who work a night shift come out during the day sometimes. It’s unavoidable since our society is set up with the assumption that people are diurnal. People who mostly come out at night may be common enough, but people who only come out at night have a reason to avoid the day.”

“Okay, you may be right there, but vampires? It still seems like a bit of a leap.”

“I have more evidence, sir!”

“Of course you do.”

Angus flipped to another page in his notebook and scanned it for a moment. “When they moved in, they had two large boxes with them that were just over six feet long. By my estimation, these boxes were exactly the right dimensions for a pair of coffins or caskets. I also examined the floor outside their apartment that night and found traces of dark, sandy soil, which doesn’t match the soil in the complex. It’s my belief that this was grave dirt that fell from their coffins during the move. Furthermore, if you look up at their windows from the courtyard, it appears that they’ve covered them in black plastic or a similar light-blocking material.”

In the midst of this head-spinning rundown, Kravitz found the time to wonder how often Angus looked through apartment windows from the courtyard, and reminded himself to close the curtains during his next impromptu lip-syncing session.

“I have other tests I’d like to run,” Angus continued, “but they would require more direct contact with the subjects, and I’m understandably a bit wary.”

Kravitz stared down at him. “That’s certainly…something…. But what would you do even if you did find out they were vampires? Try to stake them?” He might have to warn his neighbors to be on the lookout for a kid running around with a wooden stake and a crucifix, although he figured Angus wasn’t likely to follow through on such a plan.

Angus shook his head emphatically. “No, sir! As far as I can tell, they don’t seem to be a danger to the community, and I think vampires, if they do exist, have just as much of a right to live as anybody.”

“So why bother investigating at all?”

“To get to the truth!” He said this like it was entirely obvious. “Besides, if vampires exist, think about the implications! We might be surrounded by all sorts of fantastical beings and phenomena that we just don’t know how to look for yet! Wouldn’t you like to know if that was the case?”

Kravitz had to hand it to him, the kid was convincing. “You know, Angus, I suppose I would. Tell you what. I’ll keep an eye out, and let you know if I see anything strange. Just try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

Angus extended a hand again and Kravitz shook it, bemused. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some cross-referencing to do.” He turned and started back towards his own apartment, leaving Kravitz feeling like he was somehow Angus’s sidekick now.

~~~~~

Saturdays were some of the worst nights at the bar, and this one was no different. It was nearly four a.m. before Kravitz dragged himself back to his apartment building, and he couldn’t face the stairs to the fourth floor. Instead he waited for the elevator and slumped against the railing when it arrived. The doors were just sliding shut when he heard someone shout to hold the elevator. He lunged for them, just managing to get his hand between them before they closed completely.

The doors slid open, revealing one of the most beautiful people Kravitz had ever seen. He had long blond hair tied back in a thick braid and eyes sparkling with mischief and ringed with glittery silver eyeliner. He was wearing an incredibly fluffy-looking knitted sweater and holographic platform boots, plus at least three separate statement necklaces. His earrings were made of bubblegum pink plastic and shaped like deer skulls.

“Thanks, my man,” he said as he stepped into the elevator. “Cha’boy was not going to do those stairs tonight.” He grinned, revealing a gap between his front teeth, and Kravitz felt his face heat up instantly.

“No problem,” Kravitz managed to get out, having already turned off the part of his brain responsible for socializing when he left the bar. “What floor?”

“Fourth. Oh! You too, huh?”

Kravitz nodded. He didn’t think he’d seen the man before, but that was hardly surprising considering the hours he kept with work. He’d certainly like to see more of him, if at all possible.

“Fellow night owl?” he asked, hoping he could somehow turn the conversation in the direction of their respective activities, and then activities they could do together, and then a date and time they could plan for those activities.

The man smiled again, softer this time. “You could say that. I’m Taako.” He extended a hand heavily adorned with costume rings.

Kravitz took it with an answering smile. He was surprised to find that Taako’s hand was even colder than his own.

“You’re freezing,” he noted. “Are you alright?”

Taako wrinkled his nose. “Poor circulation. Maybe you could help with that, handsome.” He winked, and Kravitz felt his knees turn to jello.

“They say exercise can help,” he said, still feeling out the space a little.

“Ooh, I’d love to get your heart racing.” He looked Kravitz over, clearly taking his time, and it suddenly felt incredibly warm in the elevator.

“I think you already did,” Kravitz said, truthfully. Nothing wrong with his circulation, that was sure.

Taako laughed, sounding genuinely delighted, and Kravitz’s heart leapt. “I’m sure we could think of some other things that would work, too.”

The elevator dinged before Kravitz could reply, and they both stepped out onto the fourth floor.

“This one's mine,” Kravitz said ruefully, gesturing towards his door.

“What a coincidence. Looks like you’re right next door.” Taako took out a key ring that was more novelty keychains than actual keys and unlocked the door to Angus’s suspected vampire nest.

Kravitz couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn't imagine anyone who looked less like a vampire than this sunny, freckled blond, even if he was almost supernaturally pretty.

“Well, now that we've met I can report your vampire status back to my superiors,” he quipped, realizing the moment he said it that Taako didn't have any of the context needed to make that not sound insane. A moment after that, he realized that, in the absence of proper context, Taako had apparently assumed that he was saying something awful. Taako’s inviting smile disappeared so quickly it seemed like he'd flipped a switch, and his eyes grew dark and flat. Before Kravitz could explain, or apologize, or really think, Taako’s hand closed around his shirt collar and he was being pulled into Taako’s darkened apartment.

Unable to clearly reconstruct the sequence of events that led to this moment, Kravitz found himself pinned against the back of the door, with Taako pressing one hand over his mouth and the other on the center of his chest. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was enough pressure behind it to indicate that it could hurt, if Taako felt like it. Kravitz was having a lot of mixed and quite frankly contradictory feelings about this turn of events.

“Listen.” Taako's voice was quiet and carefully measured. “I'm not going to hurt you.” Kravitz found this hard to believe. It would be just his luck if his hot new neighbor turned out to be a serial killer or something. “I know you're not just going to stake us, cause then you wouldn't have said anything. So tell me who you're working for, and what you know, and then we can talk about a deal.”

Taako’s eyes looked strangely reflective in the dim candlelight of his apartment, almost like a cat's eyes. And was Kravitz seeing things, or did his teeth look longer and sharper than before?

No fucking way. If Angus had been right Kravitz was going to throw himself into the sea.

“I'm going to uncover your mouth, okay?” Kravitz nodded, as much as he could with Taako’s hand pressed against his face. In other circumstances he would have been enjoying this. Honestly, part of him was enjoying this, which probably said something about his self-preservation instincts, or how long he'd been single, or both.

Taako pulled his hand back, leaving the one on his chest. “Who do you work for, and what do you know?”

Kravitz swallowed. His mouth was uncomfortably dry now. “I work for The Astral, it's a cocktail bar downtown. And I know… well, apparently a lot less than I thought I did. Speaking of which, I'd actually like to go back to something real quick?”

He began to put his hands up, but as soon as his muscles shifted Taako pushed against his chest a little harder in warning. “Are you telling me you are actually a vampire? And you think I'm… what? Some sort of vampire hunter?”

Taako’s eyes went wide. Then his shoulders slumped and he let go of Kravitz. “Son of a bitch. You didn't know shit, did you?”

Kravitz shrugged apologetically. “If it helps, I see how you would have gotten that impression.”

“Fuck!”

“Taako?” Another voice came from around the corner and a woman in a long red bathrobe who looked startlingly like Taako appeared. “Is everything-” She broke off when she saw Kravitz. “Who's this?”

“Kravitz,” he introduced himself, at the same time Taako said “Nobody.”

The woman crossed her arms. “Getting some contradictory messages here, gang.”

“I live next door,” Kravitz offered. Now that it didn’t seem like he was in immediate danger, he was taking comfort from the fact that everyone else seemed just as clueless about how to deal with this situation as he was. “I think we had kind of a misunderstanding, and well….”

The woman turned to Taako. “Does he know?”

Taako winced. “You know, Lup, funny story about that….”

Lup rolled her eyes. “You told him, didn't you?”

“I thought he already knew!”

“Taako, I swear, if we have to move again-”

“I'm not going to tell anyone, if it helps,” Kravitz said.

She rounded on him. “You’re not going to tell anyone that you’ve just discovered bloodthirsty monsters living in your apartment complex?”

Kravitz raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re making some unfair assumptions about me. I haven’t seen any evidence that you’ve been hurting people, and if you were just mindless killers I have a feeling I wouldn’t be talking right now.” Gods, he hoped he was right.

Taako and Lup exchanged a thoughtful glance. Finally Lup shrugged. “You deal with this, Koko. I’m gonna go take a bath.” She headed back towards the hallway before freezing suddenly. “In water, and maybe a bath bomb. Whoever invented the whole “bathing in blood” thing did not know how coagulation works.”

She walked off, leaving Taako and Kravitz staring at each other.

“Can I… ask you a question?” Kravitz asked hesitantly.

Taako shrugged and sat down on the arm of the faded, floral-patterned sofa behind him. “Ask away, my man.”

“Where do you get the blood?”

He laughed. “Volunteer system, baby!”

Kravitz stared at him. “Really.”

“Scout’s honor!”

“And that fits the demand? I mean, there’s enough people who’d let a vam-” He stopped himself. “Okay, yeah, saying it out loud it makes sense.”

“Welcome to 2023, my dude. Everybody’s horny for vampires.”

Kravitz was in no position to dispute this.

Taako perched, birdlike, on the arm of the sofa, that mischievous light back in his eyes. “Okay, Taako’s turn to ask a question.”

“Go ahead.”

Taako squinted at him, contemplating. “What do you get out of it? Not telling anyone, I mean.”

Kravitz’s heart skipped a beat. “Dinner?” he said, before he could talk himself out of it. There were some things you just had to do for the sake of your depressed teenage baby goth self.

Taako smirked at him and climbed down from the couch, walking towards him with a sort of feline grace that had him mesmerized. “Oh, I’d love to have you for dinner, handsome.”

He blinked. Was that a threat or a come-on? Should he be more concerned about this?

To be clear,” he added hurriedly, “this isn’t some sort of blackmail thing, where I go find Dr. Van Helsing if you won’t go out with me.” Taako laughed, and Kravitz couldn’t help but smile as well. He already loved the sound. “I’d just… I’d like to get to know you a little better. It doesn’t have to be dinner, either, if that’s an issue….”

“I don’t know, I was really looking forward to sucking you dry.” His smile was knife-sharp, and probably just as deadly, as he continued towards him.

Okay, that one had to be a come-on, right? Surely. Right? Whichever it was, Kravitz was beginning to wish he was still pinned against the wall, just to give his legs some much-needed support.

“I-”

Before he could ask for clarification Taako grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, rough and eager, pressing him against the back of the door.

“When’s your next night off?” Taako asked when he pulled back, a little breathless. Wait, did vampires breathe? Shit. Focus up, Kravitz. He would have to ask about it later, though.

“Wednesday.” His voice was low and unsteady.

“Pick me up here at 7? You can take me dancing.”

Kravitz nodded, and a moment later he was back in the hallway. Still a little dazed, it took him longer than usual to unlock his door. One question kept circling back around in his mind, in the space between the drastic reshaping of his worldview and the agitated excitement for his upcoming date. What was he going to tell Angus?

#taz november celebration #taz balance #taako #lup #taz kravitz #taakitz #angus mcdonald #troph writes

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unreadpoppy · 11 months

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song as old as rhyme - chapter 10

{Beauty and the Beast AU - Raphael x OC (Elize)}

chapter 9

Read on AO3

Taglist: @littlemoondarling @desenhosdebolso @shyminnie07

A/N: I'm back babeeeeey. Also, this might be a bit OOC but idc about that anymore (edit: divider by @inklore)

Raphael was slipping in and out of consciousness. From time to time, he’d listen to hushed voices and a warm hand would touch his forehead, then he’d feel salves being placed in his chest. Sometimes he’d hear a feminine voice humming a song,but when he finally woke up, he was met with Haarlep’s face.

He only had a vague memory of what had happened. He remembered the dinner. He was in the middle of an important negotiation when the girl had burst through the door, accusing the elf of poisoning.

After that, Raphael only had flashes of what happened. He could remember the feeling of his throat closing. Someone had held his head and made him drink the worst thing he ever drank. He remembered Haarlep taking him to his room. According to the incubus, he had been asleep for three days, and afterwards, they gave him a brief explanation of what had happened.

But Raphael did not have the full picture and so, he started questioning everyone.

Now, he had summoned Korilla to give her testimony.

“She asked me if I had served the wine, sir.” She replied. “She took a sniff of it and then ran away. When the others and I arrived, you were on the floor and she was retrieving some coal from the fireplace.”

Raphael put a hand on his face, analyzing her words. “And you just let her shove some coal down my throat?”

“What was I to do, master? She was the only one who knew what to do.” Korilla explained.

“And what if the coal had made things worse, huh? What if they were acting together, conspiring to bring me down?” He said in an accusatory tone.

Korilla raised an eyebrow. This was ridiculous.

“Master, I’ve been scrying on this girl for a long time. She would not have done such a thing.” The dwarf rationalized.

Every time Raphael suffered an attempt on his life, he would become suspicious of everyone, believing even those closest to him were ready to stab him in the back. This behavior had only gotten worse after what Tav and their party did to him, a few years back. “Besides, if anything, you should question her, and not the rest of us.” And with that, Korilla left, leaving the devil to his thoughts.

The next person he spoke to was Mol. She didn’t add much to the conversation except for one part.

The tiefling had been talking about what happened after Raphael coughed up the coal. “She would bark orders at us and barely let anyone near you.” Mol complained. “The only reason I obeyed was because she made sure you would be safe.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she wouldn’t let anyone near me?”

“Didn’t you see? She was the one who took care of you the whole time.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she told us to bring some plants and herbs, said they had healing properties. Maybe that’s why you healed up so fast.”

Raphael quickly told Mol to go back to her things, allowing him some privacy to think.

Truly, he was confused. How would this girl know all of these and why would she do all this work to make sure he lived? It did not make sense. Raphael sighed. He would have to ask her directly.

……..

A week had passed since the incident had happened and Elize had continued with her duties as normal. She had been able to get her glasses fixed thanks to Korilla and lately, she had started to play Lanceboard with Mol, with the tiefling girl winning almost every time.

In truth, she found it weird that things seemed to have moved on without a question to what had happened. ‘Maybe this type of thing is normal around here’ she thought.

It was during one of these occasions that Korilla approached them, turning to Elize and simply saying “The master wants to see you.”

Elize sighed. “I guess this is the end of our game for now.” She said. “Will we continue later, Mol?”

“Of course, so I can beat you again!” The girl replied and Elize chuckled at that. She got up and headed towards Raphael’s room.

She knocked on the door and waited until the master called her in. When she entered, he was sitting on a chair, face unreadable.

“Master.” Elize said, bowing her head. She stood a few feet away from him.

“I have spoken with every other member of this house, to understand the events that have occurred.” Raphael paused for a moment. “What I have yet to understand is why.”

Elize brows furrowed. “I don’t understand what you are saying.”

He got up from his chair and began explaining. “Tell me, Elize, how does a poor girl from the middle of nowhere know how to identify a poison and properly treat it?” Raphael asked. “How would she know that, hum? Because to me, it appears as if you knew beforehand what would happen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why wouldn’t you conspire against me? You had been given the opportunity to get rid of me and return to your mundane life and you took it.” Raphael, at this point, seemed to be talking more to himself than to the girl before him. “If I were in a similar situation, I would have done the same. What I don’t understand is why would you try to save me.”

“Sir, if I could please-”

He ignored her, slowly walking towards her. “If you were trying to kill me, why would you change your head afterwards? Was it to gain my trust, to get rid of your fellow conspirator and when the time came, betray me?!” Raphael shouted in her face.

Before he could continue this madness, Elize spoke up. “I knew the poison because my mother taught me!”

“What?” That seemed to get him out of whatever theory he had created.

Elize breathed deeply. “My mother, before she had me, was a druid. She was well versed in the treatment of poisons, especially those that came from deadly plants.” She began explaining. “When I was young, she taught me about them, how to identify and treat them.” Elize started to walk away from him. “Devil’s bane is a deadly plant, and it works particularly well against those of fiendish nature. Even tieflings could be seriously hurt by its consumption.”

She analyzed his face, his brows furrowed. Elize continued. “This plant is also unnoticeable to its very victims. My mother once told me a story of how an ancient wizard had put a spell on these plants, making sure that no devil or demon would be able to notice what it was until it was too late.”

“Is that why the wine seemed to have no taste or smell?” Raphael asked. He remembered mentioning that detail to his guest, who had brushed it off as being a quality of the drink. Now he knew his true intentions. He knew of this poison but he was unaware of that property.

Elize nodded. “Devil’s bane has a very particular smell. Because of my mother’s teachings, I was able to get there in time.”

Raphael nodded in understanding. Elize sighed relieved. “Still, however, that does not explain why you helped me.” He said.

“Why wouldn’t I save you?”

“Because, as I said before, if I died, you would be free. Wouldn’t it be much simpler to let me perish?”

Elize shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps not. You may technically be the reason why I’m in this predicament but I chose to be here, to make sure my father was safe. From how I see it, this deal of ours is the only reason he still has his life and I’d rather not put that in jeopardy.”

“But-” Before he could continue, Elize interrupted him.

“Look, sir, I do not know what else I can tell you. Sometimes we do things because it’s the right thing to do, regardless of the other person.” She said in a tired tone “I did not care that you’re the devil who separated me from the only family I have, all I cared was that you were in danger. Try to villainize my actions all you want, I am telling you right now that there were no interior reasons. I did what I had to do and I would do it again.” She paused. “Now, please, may I go back to my duties?”

He didn’t reply verbally, only waving his hand, signaling she could leave.

Moments after Elize left the room, Haarlep walked in.

“Mortals intrigue me sometimes.” Raphael said, barely acknowledging the incubus. “One moment, they are at each other's throats, killing for things as small as a loaf of bread. In the other, they would be willing to save a devil like myself.”

“Is this about the girl?” Haarlep asked.

He nodded. “I can understand why Korilla, Mol or even you would do that. You all are loyal and bound to me in some ways, but she…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Did she explain herself?”

“Indeed, and I find it hard to believe that it was all altruism.” Raphael once again sat on his chair, putting his hand over his mouth in thought. He didn’t even question why she would also do the work to bring him back to health, so that would have to come up later. Could someone really save him just because he was in danger? Could there truly be no other reason?

Both Korilla and Mol had contracts with him. If they saved him, it would be to keep their benefits, he doubted it would have been because of affection. Haarlep was bound to him, and they would have nowhere else to go should Raphael die. Elize, however, would benefit greatly from his death.

And yet…

“Regardless of her intentions, you should reward her.” The incubus spoke. “Show how great of a master you are.”

“Hum…and what do you suggest?”

“Well, she has been sleeping on the floor this whole time. Maybe…you could give her a room to sleep in.” Haarlep said, hoping to help his friend.

Raphael, in all honesty, was not aware of this fact. He had been away from the House of Hope for most days and with how much Elize would avoid him, he hadn’t noticed her sleeping anywhere.

“I will see that it’s done.” Raphael finally spoke. “Now, get on the bed.” He said to Haarlep.

#raphael x oc #raphael x elize #not tav oc #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #beauty and the beast AU #my writing #haarlep bg3 #haarlep #mol bg3 #korilla bg3

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aissa-snapped · 1 year

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The Heathen and The Christian final part

Summary: Ivar finally finds out what happened to his servant, and more exactly WHO did it. But when he finds out it`s his own brother, how will he react?

A/N I apologise deeply for the wait. I simply wasn``t in the mood for writing and I finally got some inspo to do so. I hope all are still interested in this. Anyway thx for the comments, those really made me wanna write more. I love you all.

@kens0world0of0imagine0nation there you go :))

Days have passed. Frigyth was still fearful of stepping out of her and Ivars chamber, but did it carefully whenever she had to. The king was struggling to squeeze any information out of her in order for him to punish the doer of his slaves traumatic experience.

The redhead however was still afraid of the consequences that might follow in case her master was to find out she had been meeting with his brother behind his back after specifically telling her not to do it, which by extension led to the unfortunate consequence.

Ivar, sitting angrily in his throne, overlooked the great hall, giving him the opportunity to scan over anyone who was sitting in there. He could only guess who did it, since he had no clue whatsoever. Glaring at the mass of people in the hall, he tried observing their behavior. Any clues as to who might have been brave enough to come after his beloved slave right under his nose. Any abnormal behavior, that could hint towards the rapist.

As much as he tried, he simply failed. He could`ve easily held a trial and hang all accused men, but he wished for a grander finale. He wanted to torture them to insanity, not just kill them off.

Ivar allowed Frigyth to stay within their chambers, for her safety, hopefully waiting for her to open up to him and tell her.

Days passed, and then weeks, and Frigyth seemed to be overcoming the past trauma, or so she wanted to lead on. Ivar was still pestering her about the subject, giving up each time after the girl simply changed the subject.

Hvitserk was scared the first few days, assuming the stupid girl surely must have run straight to Ivar to tell him, but to his amazement, she never did. That gave him some hope, knowing he was safe from Ivar`s wrath, or, at least for a lingering moment.

Frigyth, though she tried masking her fears related to men whenever Ivar was being close to her, could only do so much. Ivar, of course noticed how she flinched each time he was inches away from her, or when someone would raise their voice. This observation led him to an idea: maybe he could notice her behavior around certain men, and surely, if the rapist was around her, her body would give her away and expose the monster.

'' HVITSERK. Come. I am in need of your help.'' He called upon his brother one morning, urging him to approach the throne.

Curiosity linked with a hint of hidden fear engulfed Hvitserk, but nevertheless, he joined his brother`s side, wondering what sort of crazy idea he has come up with now, and knowing him, there could be many.

''How may I help you?'' He crossed his arms, rubbing on his grown beard.

Ivar shook his head annoyed, and motioned with his fingers for him to get close to his face, indicating this was not a matter he wished to be overheard by the other townies.

When Hvitserk was barely a few inches away from Ivar, the youngest brother whispered in his ear: '' I want to find out who raped my girl, and then punish him with everything that Ive got.'' And with that, he pulled away from his ear and rested back again on the throne, smirking at his brothers almost terrified expression.

His heart was pumping blood all throughout his body as if preparing for a race, causing Hvitserk`s cheeks and ears to catch a violent red color.

A few moments passed, silence filling the air between the brothers, and then after a long debate that took place in Hvitserk`s mind, trying to conjure a non-suspicious response, he gulped lightly and furrowed his brows, maintaining eye contact with the intense pair of deep blue eyes of his leader.

'' And how are you going to do that?'' He questioned curiously.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head at his silly question.

'' Well you see… That…Hvitty… Is for me to know only.''

Hvitserk nodded his head, accidentally letting a look of fear cover his eyes, which didn`t go unnoticed by the hypervigilent and smart Ivar.

'' Ástin mín. Come on It`s alright. I just want you to come in contact with other people. You have been hiding in here as if some disease was spreading around town.'' Ivar gently dragged Frigyth out of their shared room, intending to find out the evil person once and for all. (My love)

His plan was coming into action, seeing as he had gathered most of the towns men inside the longhouse under the pretext that they were to feast that night.

Reluctantly, the spooked girl took a seat next to Ivar`s throne, where someone had previously placed a wooden chair for her to sit on under the order of Ivar.

With prey like eyes, the Anglo-Saxon girl scanned the full room, sensing an overwhelming feeling resting in her gut, at the sight of all those people. Crowded places were never her favorite thing. Ivar himself sat on the throne, with his right hand resting on the shaky knee of his servant.

The Ragnarsson was working on the plan, however now that he had gathered all these people here, with the girl as well, he only just realized he had never thought of the next step of the plan, and now he had to improvise.

Knowing that everyone was awaiting his orders to allow the feast to fully take place, he stood up, proud and tall above all men, with a horned cup in his left hand, giving an encouraging speech to the villagers, telling his future plans for raiding England, hyping up every viking and shield-maiden.

The feast was at its peak, the sight of drunken falling and stumbling men being everywhere. Ivar himself was feeling a bit tipsy, but he refrained himself from getting wasted remembering his intentions. '' Maybe now is the right time.'' thought Ivar, wondering if their intoxicated state would make men more vulnerable and honest.

Eyeing the room, he saw some familiar faces, including Hvitserk, gulping down cup after cup full of mead. Frigyth was constantly shifting in her seat, not only because of the hungry stares she would get from men, but also because she hadn`t moved from her seat in almost two hours, feeling her butt getting numb from all that sitting.

'' Are you alright my love?'' Asked a concerned Ivar, noticing the uncomfortable state she was in.

'' Ye- yes. I am. Just tired.'' She smiled tiredly at him, hoping he would let her go to sleep.

Cupping her chin with his right hand, he moved closer to her face, his breathing tickling her face. '' Just a bit longer and then we`ll go to sleep. I need you here with me.'' He explained softly. Nodding in understatement, she huffed slightly, and put on a fake smile.

Ivar didn`t know where to start, or how to approach the situation. There were so many people here, and there was also the chance that the culprit might not even be present.

But it seemed as if the God's were working in Ivar`s favor, since Hvitserk seemed to be more wasted than ever, and when he approached the two, he unknowingly was about to experience his downfall.

With his mind intoxicated, his vision blurry, he lost all his senses, unaware of his actions, which he would later on regret. He climbed the platform clumsily, on which the throne was placed, and drunkenly got closer to Frigyth. Ivar furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion and disapproval at his gesture, his hand on his dagger ready to take it out if needed, but what happened next shocked him beyond repair.

Hvitserk almost launched at the girl, who seemed to be going in for a kiss. Frigyth squirmed in her seat, and for the first time during the night she got up from it, rushing over to the other side of Ivar`s throne, instinctively seeking his protection.

The cripples heart fluttered at the gesture, feeling honored she was feeling safe around him, but quickly regained his thoughts, focusing on his brother instead. It was the more terrying face Frigyth had ever seen. Ivars eyebrows were creased to its limits, mouth tightly shut, and the eyes seemed to be the biggest give away for what he was feeling. Rage, pure rage was seeping from his normally deep blue eyes.

Ivar exhaled sharply, sort of like a bull ready to attack, and grabbed the frightened girl`s hand in reassurance. He kissed the top of her rather soft hand and ushered her to go back to their shared chamber.

By the time she left, the great hall was silent, everybody fearing Ivar`s next moves. Hvitserk seemed to be sobering up quicker than ever, slowly backing away from his dangerous brother, stepping backwards down the steps and into the crowd.

Ivar`s face showed a thousand different levels of anger, growing stronger and stronger by the second. It was obvious this much that nothing good would come of this.

Using his incredible force from his arms, he used the crutch to lift his body up, now fully towering over Hvitserk, and took slow, steady steps towards him, who was moving backwards as far away from the youngest brother as possible. '' You-you think I wouldn`t find out huh?'' He gave a dark chuckle, continuing his way towards him. '' That you can have MY servant as your whore? Hm? YOU REALLY THINK THAT?! '' Ivar was raising his voice with each word.

'' I am going to TORTUER YOU! FOR WHAT YOU`VE DONE TO HER!''

Hvitserk was at the end of the hall, right up against the doors, no escaping. There was no point in running. He had been caught. ''Ivar--''

'' DO NOT SPEAK. YOU BROTHER, HAVE CHOSEN YOUR FATE. THE MOMENT YOU DECIDED TO LAY A HAND ON HER. AND IN THE NAME OF THE GODS, I MUST PUNISH YOU.''

Ivar was making sure everyone understood the situation, him not wanting to personally explain the whole thing to the people. But by the looks of all, it seemed they all understood what had happened.

Hvitserk looked mortified, his life flashing before his eyes, knowing there was no escaping Ivar`s wrath.

Frigyth had been sent to their chamber, but that didn`t stop her from hearing everything that was said, or more like yelled, by Ivar. When he returned to their room, she was scared he would yell at her, but to her amazement, she was engulfed in a hug, and during the whole night, he had an arm wrapped around her torso, which made her feel physically and emotionally warm.

Hvitserk had been captured and thrown into a temporary prison, for Ivar wanted to make sure he would not escape the following morning`s events.

Ivar felt rape should be punished with the worst and most painful of all: The blood eagle. And so the next morning, Ivar showed up in the center of Kattegat, accompanied by his Escort guards and the other curious folk, and brought out Hvitserk for his torture.

Frigyth had tried talking Ivar out of doing it, suggesting he`d exile him, but he said nothing would bring him more pain than this. At the failed persuasion, the Saxon asked Ivar to let her stay inside, for she could not bare watch such barbaric acts.

Around noon, Ivar was one brother short, but half of his heart mended, knowing he did the right thing. Hvitserk`s body had been left hanging in the middle of the village, with blood still dripping on the muddy ground. It was a morbid scene to say the least, but as more than half of the townsfolk were used to going on raids, nothing unusual.

Frigyth was in her room, quietly crying. Why, she didn`t know. She felt bad. Because she met up with him. Because it happened and Ivar was forced to kill his brother. It was weird. Though she was the victim here, she felt guilty for his death. Maybe it was some sort of twisted game the God's were playing with her. Maybe that God that loved to play games, what was his name… Loki? Maybe he drilled his way into her head, making her think she should feel bad.

Ivar entered the chamber, with the purpose of checking up on her. When he saw her crouched down in a corner, he immediately went behind her, placing his hands over her shoulders, rubbing up and down. Kissing her temple, he put his head on her right shoulder, trying to be as close to her as possible.

'' Why are you crying love?'' He asked quietly. Sniffing, she slightly turned her head in his direction, taking a shaky breath in, preparing to talk. '' B-because… I dont know. You killed your brother...because of a servant. It was my fault. I shouldve never met up with him.''

'' You were the victim. He should`VE known better. He deserved it. You think he would have stopped?! He could have done it again, had he not been caught.''

''Yeah but… I don`t know… I am not used to people killing each other like this… and especially not because of me…'' She sighed sadly, another tear falling down her cheeks.

Ivar used his thumb to wipe it away, and then grabbed her chin softly, turning her face towards him fully now.

'' You… Are not at fault. You didnt know what could happen. I locked you in here. You maybe wanted to..have someone who would properly care for you. And then he betrayed your trust. I shouldve looked out for you more…'' He trailed off, looking into the distance, trying to blink away the tears that were making his eyes glossy.

Without hesitation, Frigyth turned her body, now both of them being almost chest to chest, and she climbed into his lap, hugging him.

It was such a new form of affection, Ivar had not experienced before. Startled for a few seconds, he just stood with his arms out, processing what was happening, but then he quickly wrapped them around her whole body, feeling her delicate figure, and enjoying the warmth that was radiating off of her.

A few minutes had passed, and she was the one to pull away. She kept her hands on his shoulders, whilst his were resting on her waist. Both staring deeply into eachother`s eyes, Frigyth realised this man was capable of loving, he just needed guidance.

'' Ivar, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone be by your side, not out of fear but rather because of support. ''

Ivar was truly touched by these words. He had never heard them before, and there was this fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, not the kind he`d get when he would murder someone, but rather something that made him melt, become soft and drop his angry facade.

The Viking got closer to her, their lips berely inches apart. '' Will you show me, love?' He whispered, glancing at her lips ever so often. Frigyth nodded slowly, right before Ivar gave her the most passionate kiss that made her feel like she was in heaven. The simple kiss turned into one with tongues interlocking, wrestling one another, and eventually they both pulled away, breathing heavily.

Frigyth blushed, feeling overwhelmed by the love she was feeling. Ivar however, allowed her a few deep breaths, before pulling her into him again and kissing her a second time.

It felt like hours before they pulled away again, and without hesitation, Ivar bravely asked the girl.

'' Will you be my woman, my equal partner, the one whom I share my success and failures with? Say yes and you will be more than a free woman. You will be the Queen of the most feared Viking.'' He asked, interlocking their fingers, squeezing her hands.

Frigyth laughed melodically, nodding her head vigorously, and engulfing her future husband into a strong gripped hug.

#ivar #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #fluff #first kiss #tw death #protective #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fic #ivar imagine

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slimthicksonnett · 2 years

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The Kit Switch (Mapi León)

Surprise, here's a self-indulgent Mapi fic that no one asked for! I wrote this in a singular sitting and did not edit it at all so hope it doesn't suck, enjoy!!!

Warnings: Implications of intimacy, offhand mention of blood

Rated: L for La Reina Carried this Fic

Word Count: 3,600

“Took you long enough!” You heard someone laugh from across the locker room. Looking up, you saw Mapi standing in the doorway looking adorably smug.

“Sorry chicas, had some business to attend to.” Mapi winked at her teammates and the room was filled with a mixture of wolf whistles and fake gagging. For your part, you simply rolled your eyes, fighting to hide the smile threatening to spread on your face.

“Some business!” Patri shouted as Mapi walked away, earning laughs from the whole team as the blonde woman flipped them off.

Mapi settled into her usual spot in front of her locker, setting her bag on the ground as she prepared to change. From where you were tying up your boots, you risked a look at your teammate from the corner of your eye. It was nice being back at Barça for many reasons but one of your favorites had to be that it meant Mapi was back in her number 4 jersey which meant she was back beside you. Catching your eye as she pulled her shirt over her head, the defender shot you one of her stupid award winning smiles.

“Hola, Y/NN!” She teased, watching as you let your eyes quickly take in her newly shirtless form. In her typical flirty behavior, the girl flexed her abs which only gained an eye roll from you. It was nothing you weren’t used to seeing.

“Hola, María! Those are some real nasty bruises you’ve got there…” You responded, fluttering your eyelashes innocently at her as she narrowed her eyes at the use of her first name. The bruises in question were littered around her torso, peeking out from her sports bra and above the waistband of her shorts. Just about anyone with eyes could tell you exactly what those bruises were from.

The comment was apparently loud enough for others to hear as Mariona and Alexia could be heard simultaneously choking as they tried not to laugh. Mapi at least had the decency to look embarrassed, rushing to pull on her jersey as she muttered a string of curses at you. Laughing, you turned your attention to fixing your braids.

After a while, the boisterous noises of the lockerroom settled down as Alexia stood to address the group. As much as you loved your best friend, you struggled to pay attention to her captain's speech today. While usually you’d hang on her every word, you weren’t particularly worried about today's game against Valencia which made caring about some “pump up” speech particularly hard.

One glance to your right showed Mapi was facing a similar situation, tracing absentmindedly over her tattoos and tapping her foot wildly.

“You know, when I said to show up after me, I didn’t mean to show up almost an hour late.” Mapi’s foot stopped tapping and she whipped her head to face you, eyes wide that you were mentioning this now of all times. Her eyes searched the faces around you to see if anyone had heard but all of your teammates seemed too engaged by Ale to be paying your whispered words any attention.

“Y/N!” The blonde hissed, making you giggle as you leaned back against your locker.

“Just saying, it was almost more suspicious that you were that late. And then to have all of those little bites on full display? Tsk tsk tsk..” ” You couldn’t keep the smirk off your face as Mapi began to blush, glaring harshly at you as you clicked your tongue in disapproval.

“Cierra la boca! I got distracted…” She groaned, shoving at you discreetly as you resisted the urge to laugh.

“Distracted, eh? Fell back asleep didn’t you?” It was a playful accusation but also a valid guess, it was more often than not that you’d have to drag Mapi out of bed to make sure she got to practice on time. Actually, it was exactly that reason that you’d had to suggest that Mapi arrive separately to the game today. For the last week or so, the two of you had consistently been arriving together and many of the girls were quick to jump to conclusions about the pair of you spending all your time together. Especially Mapis' roommates who were well aware that the blonde hadn’t been sleeping many nights in her own bed.

Now, it wasn’t that they were wrong in their assumptions. Oftentimes, Mapi and you found yourselves tangled up in your bed sheets or too caught up in conversation for her to get home in a timely manner so she just spent her time at your place. However, it didn’t mean that you wanted all the other women you spent the majority of your time with to have yet another thing to tease you about. And so, there was a certain degree of separation the two of you had to observe in order to keep everyone off your tails.

Thankfully, the team was too convinced that you were straight and that Mapi was too much of a player for there to actually be anything going on.

“Your bed is comfy.” She admitted, giving you a rather pathetic look that made you blush softly.

Before you could respond, a smack on the back of your head garnered your attention. Turning around quickly, you had some choice words ready to leave your mouth before you saw who had committed the little act of violence.

“Hands to yourself, Caro!” You huffed, smacking back at your national team teammate.

“Well if you two would pay attention I wouldn’t have to make you!” Caroline whined, trying to duck out of the way of your hand.

“Oh, I’ll show you attention!” You teased, lunging at your teammate and tackling her to the ground. Alexia, who had just finished her speech and was about to gather the girls to line up, let out a sigh as she watched the two of you tumble to the ground. Thanks to your Norwegian roots, you had known Caroline for a long time and had only gotten closer to her when she’d joined you at Barcelona in 2019. But as a result, it wasn’t an unusual sight to see the two of you tusseling or goofing off in the same way the Spain players did.

“Ay, dios mío. Someone get their girls!” Alexia groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose at your antics. You both heard your captain but, instead of separating yourselves like sane people, continued to wrestle as you attempted to get out from under the older girl's hold.

“Mi amor-” Someone started, clearly trying to listen to their captain.

“What!” You and Caro both snapped, turning from facing each other to look towards whoever had spoken.

Much to the team's amusement, it was Marta who stood facing the two of you looking unusually tough as she stepped forward in some attempt to get you two to stop.

“Oh? So you’re Marta’s amor now too, Y/NN?” Caro teased from above you, raising an eyebrow as she poked at you for responding to her girlfriend. The teasing only served to fuel you though as you glared up at her in embarrassment. Instead of stopping like Marta had wanted, you responded by flipping the two of you over so it was not you pinning down Caro.

“Min elskede!” A voice said sternly, stopping every single Norwegian player in their tracks. Your head shot up as you looked for Ingrid, the only other Norwegian speaking person on the team, but your teammate looked just as shocked as she held her hands up in innocence. Then it hit you and you could feel your entire face flush red in embarrassment.

Your mind wandered to this morning when you’d been leaving, or trying to leave, your apartment.

–---

“You have so much time! Just come back to bed for a little bit…” Mapi whined as she hugged you from behind, burying her head in your neck.

“I have to see the trainers, you know that. Plus I need to get a headstart on you if we want to try and avoid their teasing today.” You sighed, attempting to remove her arms from around your waist.

“Don’t leave me.” She whispered, her lips connecting to that spot just underneath your ear that she knew you liked so much.

“Min elskede…” You groaned, almost giving in to her touch. You could feel her smirk against your skin, it wasn’t usual that she could get you speaking in your native language as you’d become so adapted to some mix of Spanish and English after being with Barcelona for the past six years.

–---

Turning your head you locked eyes with Mapi who was standing with her hands on her hips, giving you a look that was some sort of mix between amusement and annoyance.

When you looked back down at Caro, the girl's eyes had gone wide and before she could open her mouth to translate the term, you silenced her with a look. Not wishing for any more embarrassment, you climbed off of your friend, offering her a hand up.

“Didn’t think Mapi would be the one to separate that!” Asisat whistled, earning chimes of agreement throughout the team.

“When’d you learn Norwegian?”

“More like WHERE did you learn Norwegian?”

“Ay, what did you even SAY?”

Multiple teammates called out, questioning the center back who just waved them off with a laugh.

“I got them separated and that’s all you need to know, I’ll take my thanks now!” She declared, holding her hands out expectantly only to be met with groans and jeers from the other girls.

Meanwhile, as everyone was being ushered to line up, you were in a heated staring contest with your Norwegian teammates.

“Min elskede?!?” Caroline whisper-yelled in your face, her eyes wide in disbelief. Ingrid was in a similar state, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at you waiting for an explanation to the term of endearment.

“Come on grasshoppers, get in the tunnel!” Marta yelled from the exit of the locker room, effectively saving you from her girlfriend.

“Oh no, got to go!” You yelped, slipping out of the locker room past Marta who flashed you a sympathetic look and you gave her a grateful smile.

As you jogged up to your spot being Mapi in the lineup, you flashed a smile to the camera person who caught all of the Norwegian players sliding out of the locker room late. You peeked up and saw the countdown, taking a steadying breath as you waited to walk out. Mapi, cheeky as ever, dared a glance over her shoulder and shot you a wink that made you contemplate throttling her right there on national television. Instead, you settled on whispering in her ear.

“You’ll pay for that later.” You purposefully hid your face just close enough to her ear that no camera could catch you, your voice low enough to go undetected. It clearly had its intended effect though as you watched the girl in front of you tense and straighten up slightly. Leaning back, a new smug smile on your face, you let yourself finally get into the game mindset.

“Gracias for your help back there.” Alexia smirked, clasping her hand on Mapis' shoulder as she walked to the front of the lineup. There was something devious sparkling in your captain's eyes as she looked Mapi over but you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Anything for you, La Reina.” Mapi laughed, winking at the older girl who just rolled her eyes in response as she walked away.

“She’s going to kill you one day.” You pointed out, earning a laugh both from your teammates and the Valencia girls beside you. Mapi just laughed in response, shrugging her shoulders.

“Maybe, but not today! We’ve got a game to win, min elskede.”

Once again, the urge to throttle this girl on live television returned. Especially when the comment garnered a kick in the heel from Caroline who stood behind you. You didn’t get a chance to comment on anything though because the lines started moving for you to get out onto the pitch.

—---

By the thirtieth minute of the match, you were itching for a goal. You had assisted Asisat and Alexia but between the teasing and the tustling you’d endured today, you were ready for your own shot.

And Alexia delivered. As Valencia's defense pushed up, Alexia danced around the top of the box, head on a swivel and catching you just as you’d made yourself clear of Guerrero. With a perfect cross delivered just ahead of you, you timed the run in and delivered. The ball skid across the ground, hopping just past Salóns outstretched hands and into the bottom right corner of the net.

Alexia was of course the first person to you, her arms wrapping around you as she screamed your name.

“Beautiful, beautiful!” She kissed the top of your head, gaining a laugh from you.

“All on you and that pass, Ale!” You grinned, grateful for the assist.

“Just trying to pay you back, número cuatro.” Alexia smirked, the mischievous sparkle back in her eyes as you looked at her in confusion. Sure you were number four for Norway but that wasn’t something Alexia would ever bring up this randomly, certainly not as a nickname.

“Also, you're lucky these refs are shit or else that wouldn’t have happened.” She added as you jogged back over to restart the game. Confused, you raised an eyebrow and she just looked you over once and gave you a pointed look.

“I mean, any other ref would’ve booked you both but I guess these four like a fashion statement!” Your captain laughed, patting you on the head before running back to midfield. Still confused, you looked down at yourself. You literally weren’t wearing anything different today? No no mismatching socks, no jewelry, no KT tape, just your jersey and-

Oh. Maybe, not just your jersey.

—---

While you loved having Mapi staying at your place so often, it sometimes made things difficult. You already weren’t the most organized of humans so adding doubles of everything you owned proved to be frustrating for you.

“Mapi! Have you seen my boots?” You yelled, shaking the bag that normally held your boots but now appeared to be empty. You had a pair at the facility you could use but it was a home kit day which meant you wanted to wear your red boots and not the navy ones.

“By the laundry! They’re with your warmups!” Mapi answered, shouting to be heard over the sound of the shower.

Sure enough, you found your boots sitting by the washer. Huffing in annoyance at Mapi’s spot on prediction, you snatched up your boots and warmups. Before you could leave the patio though, you caught sight of a folded pair of blue shorts. How did those get there? You were almost certain that you’d left all of your game day gear in the bedroom. Sighing at your own forgetfulness, you snatched up the clothing and added it to your bag.

Later, after you had gotten to the stadium and were getting game day ready with your teammates, Mapi was running around your apartment wildly. She swore she’d left her shorts on the patio! After getting blood on hers at the last home game, she’d brought her spares to your apartment to wash just in case the equipment staff weren’t able to save her primary pair. Already incredibly late and still slightly asleep from her nap, she was starting to get frustrated. Circling back to the bedroom, she did one last check. Thankfully it paid off, because laying haphazardly on the dresser were a pair of blue and red shorts. Exclaiming happily, Mapi stuffed the shorts in her bag before making her way to the front door.

–---

You turned around and looked across the field at your girlfriend, eyes wide as you took her in. Sure enough, on full display was a bright white number five. Your number five.

Distracted, you almost missed the ball coming back into play. Somehow, you got back into the game, painfully aware of the number four emblazoned on your shorts. When you assisted Mario on her goal, you could feel the cameras on you as you celebrated. Your mind wandered back to the earlier goals in the game, the way you and Mapi had both reached Alexia at the same time to congratulate her. With the two of you side by side the cameras certainly caught the shorts switch, there was no way they hadn’t. Groaning, you knew there was absolutely no living this one down.

The moment the halftime whistle blew, you grabbed Alexia by the wrist and sprinted towards the locker room. A quick glance over your shoulder showed you that Mapi was close behind you while everyone else was taking their sweet time. Once you were inside you shoved your best friend back harshly.

“When did you notice?!?” You shouted, anger radiating from your body. The mischievous glint was gone from Alexia’s eyes now, replaced with shock.

“Y/NN-” She started, her voice soft and cautious.

“Don’t Y/NN me! When did you notice?” You repeated the question, not taking your eyes off of her.

“Y/N.” This time it was Mapi who spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder that you barely resisted shaking off.

“The locker room, while you were fighting with Caro.” Alexia answered honestly, making you clench your jaw. You felt Mapi squeeze your shoulder, an attempt to ground you and remember who you were talking to before you opened your mouth and said something stupid. The woman in front of you was your best friend, but she was also your captain.

“And you didn’t say anything?” Your voice was tight with strain, trying desperately to smother your obvious annoyance.

“Maybe I would have, but you weren’t paying me attention anyways.” She challenged, a rather dismissive look on her face now that she’d overcome the initial shock. Even over your own anger though, you heard the hurt in her tone. Your brain was working at a million miles an hour but you quickly put two and two together. Alexia didn’t want to embarrass you just because she felt like it, she was hurt because her best friend didn’t listen to her. At the realization, you softened.

“Ale, I’m sorry I was so distracted during your pregame talk.” The apology was authentic, it hadn’t been intentional. Alexia smiled at you, nodding her head in acceptance.

“And I’m sorry for not telling you that you weren’t wearing your own shorts. Truce?” Alexia held a hand out to you and you didn’t hesitate to take it in your own.

“Truce.” You agreed, pulling her in for a hug. Behind you, you heard Mapi sigh in relief.

“Gracias, Ale.” Mapi smiled, nodding her head at Alexia.

“Ha! Please, I wasn’t apologizing to you. I was going to tell you in the tunnel but you decided to hit me with that ridiculous nickname!” Alexia admitted. Your jaw dropped slightly but you couldn’t help laughing as Mapi stared at her blankly.

“Are you serious right now?” Mapi questioned, looking less than thrilled.

“So serious, my beloved.” Now it was both of your turns to be shocked as Alexia practically purred out the last part of her sentence. You had expected the recognition from your Norwegian teammates but you were baffled that Alexia of all people was the one to translate the term of endearment.

“Oh, SHIT! THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID?!?!” Aitana shouted, which brought your attention to the fact that at some point your teammates had entered the locker room.

“Fuck me…” You groaned, facepalming as realization washed over all of your teammates.

“No thanks, sounds like that’s Mapi’s job!” Patri fired back as you silently wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“You do realize you basically just outed me, yes?” The question was directed at Alexia who just shrugged back at you, a smirk back on her lips.

“I don’t know, I think you did that for yourself. I mean, or should we assess Mapi’s bruises again? Matter of fact, I vote we check you for some of your own!” Alexia teased, reaching for the hem of your jersey as you smacked her hand and jumped away from her.

“Cut it outttttt!” You whined, moving to hide behind Mapi who looked like she could absolutely do nothing to defend you in this moment but hey the thought was nice.

“Fine fine, you’re safe for now! But go switch shorts, we’ve got a second half to play!”

As the team headed the rest of the way into the room to sit at their lockers or grab water, Mapi and you hung back.

“Well, I guess they know.” Mapi joked, untying her (your?) shorts and quickly taking them off to switch with you.

“Mhm, I guess they do.” You relented, handing over the shorts you’d accidentally stolen and sliding on your actual pair.

“Yeah, just wait until they realize we aren’t just fucking.” She said it loud enough that the team could hear her, intentionally raising her voice and staring into your eyes challengingly.

“Wait a SECOND!” Caroline shouted, jumping to her feet in realization that Mapi basically just admitted that you two were seriously together.

“I fucking hate you.” You groaned, leaning your head against her chest as you prepared yourself for the insistent questioning you knew was bound to come. Mapi just smiled, wrapping her arms around you and placing a kiss on your head.

“I love you too, min elskede.”

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

yeah so there's that. i felt like we were lacking in mapi content so i gave myself three hours to write something without a prompt and this is what you get. anyhow!

#this is what happens when yall leave me unattended #mapi leon x reader #espwnt imagine #woso imagine #woso fic #wtf do i even tag this ?#mapi leon imagine #Mapi León imagine

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originalgenshinscenarios · 3 years

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I guess since inbox is empty I'll just write stuff for myself where I'll write for my 2 faves and random character/s :p

If you want something like this with different characters or feel like something needs a part two feel free to request it!

Lisa, Kaeya and Yoimiya reacting to their crush being heartbroken

Reader here is gender neutral

Tw: toxic relationship mentions, manipulation, cheating (mentioned in only Yoimiya and Kaeya scenarios)

Lisa

Now she felt quite guilty over her feelings for you- since you were taken- but she knows suspicious behavior when she sees it.

Your partner was quite... Odd. She knew something was up but anyone would accuse her of jealousy if she'd try anything.

And to be frank yes she was jealous, she just didn't wanted you to feel bad over it.

But it didn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't right, she never had alone conversation with them and was sweet since they didn't do anything wrong... Yet.

However she still had a very threatening aura around her. If a smile could kill hers definitely would.

"Oh? You're going to see (Partner's Name)? How sweet that things go so well for you two~ When do you think we could meet up? I'll prepare us some tea and you can tell me everything" was actually a bait so she can notice any red flags you don't notice.

"So they told you to change something about your appearance? Why I think you look stunning, but I suppose they don't have what it takes to notice a true cutie like you" she'd laugh off and say that she was joking while actually she took mental notes of the way they treat you.

It looked like your date kept trying to change something about you. They wanted you to act different, dress different, enjoy different things and many more.

She could see it exhausted you. So she told you that things are slowly going too far and you shouldn't stay with them.

Of course you didn't listen, you were blinded by love and she understood it. So instead she backed down, if you wanted to learn it the hard way unfortunately she had to let you.

After months of dating, your partner still wasn't satisfied with you, you begged and begged for them to not leave you. They called you pathetic and just like that they left.

It was sad but perhaps you need a proper slap from reality. Still it didn't change the fact that you felt worthless.

You tried everything for them and in the end it still wasn't enough. Maybe you didn't deserve love as a whole?

Lisa was there for you entire time. She was as sweet as ever ready to hear you out. If you needed emergency hugs, sweets, anything just ask her.

She didn't use this to confess her feelings either, it'd be selfish of her to use you in such vulnerable state.

But when you started ranting about not being able to find someone who loves you she just said "Look dear, as much as I respect you and your opinions you couldn't be more wrong. I love you, and if you say something like that again I'll kiss you to shut you up"

You didn't know what to say... It made things a bit awkward but you were flattered.

You said the line again, but in a more confident manner which was challenging her to stand by her word. And you know Lisa, she wasn't a liar~

(Bonus scene) Although the toxic relationship was behind you and you moved on Lisa can't say she never used her vision to cause your ex slight discomfort. She never really hurt them but she did inconvenience them.

Kaeya

He was pretty surprised to find out you were dating someone. It was a shame really since he enjoyed the casual flirting... Yup he was definitely casual with you and he didn't 100% mean a thing.

He mostly found out about your relationship becouse the person in question approached him and warned him.

"Y/N is my everything, and if you take them away from me I'll make sure you'll need a second eyepatch"

And while Kaeya respects their wishes, he knows a liar when he sees one (after all he owns a mirror).

The cockyness and fake desperation mixed with lack of sincerity for the first part of the sentence as well as body language made things clear for him.

He of course still backed down and didn't try to win you over even though it was tempting to make you cheat on them. He could just imagine the look on their face when they see how to treat you properly.

It was a guilty pleasure of his to just throw in a line that was on thin ice of flirting next to your partner.

But he slowly realized that it was his grave mistake.

They took this anger out on you. They yelled at you and made you believe it was your fault for things not working out so well between you two.

They threw a lot of empty threats, you weren't aware of the fact that they were empty of course.

They told you one time that Kaeya tried to ruin your life, while in the next few minutes they were saying that everything was your fault alone.

After enough tension they realized it wasn't so fun using you anymore. While they had you wrapped around their finger it was more convenient to find someone else at this point. If they won't be able to they'll just come back to you since you clearly will take them back anytime.

And even worse was that they had a perfect excuse to break up with you- accusing you of cheating.

You tried your best to prove your innocence but they 'didn't believe you'. Of course they knew you were innocent they knew what you were doing all day but it's better to blame you than just admitting to not wanting you.

This break up not only broke you but also your friendship with Kaeya. If he wasn't so... So Kaeya around your date things wouldn't end like this.

That's what you believe at first. So you avoided the man like a plague. You had to resort to trying your best to mend your heart alone.

You had other friends besides Kaeya but you shoot them down whenever they tried to help you.

He found it ironic that he in the end he was the one who made things rough for you. He wanted to help you but he ended up destroying everything, just as always...

But this time he didn't wanted things to end this way. He even considered talking to your ex but they found another plaything by the time he wanted to fix what he destroyed.

So he talked to you directly- well not exactly directly but he was in front of your door you refused to open "I know I'm the last person you want to speak to... And what I'm going to say is not going to change that probably" he laughed at himself that he even has hope that you'll stop hating him after such awful conversation starter.

"You know... All I did was because I was... Jealous. I know I had no right to be, you were dating them and not me... I'm not sure where I'm going with this but you need to know that (Ex Name) was a piece of garbage. Whenever I heard them talk to their friends, they treated you like you were a trophy not their lover, so I couldn't stand the idea of having someone like this... Be with someone I love" he was right of course but having that sentence right next to admitting he was jealous was a poor planning on his part.

Perhaps it turned out to be like that becouse he was nervous. But you had no reason to believe him and he knew that.

So after telling you everything he thanked you for listening if you even did and left.

Now it was up to you to decide whether you forgive him or even just believe him while you also have the option to ignore him completely.

Yoimiya

She was really supportive of you even though it hurt her. But hey seeing you smile sometimes have to be enough, even when she isn't the reason behind your smile.

She was more sad than jealous. But when she talked to your partner she got a little bit suspicious.

And you know Yoimiya- she's great at reading people. While on the surface they seemed ideal, she realized that all they did was make it impossible to ever say no to them.

They took you out on far too expensive dates, never let you return any favors and having excuses to rejecting your gifts. It was all just so when they really want something from you they can say "I do everything for you and you do nothing for me"

Not only that she also found out they were cheating on you. This was unacceptable and she tried to warn you right away.

"Y/N what I'm going to say is really important so please listen to me: your partner is cheating on you. I saw them on the festival with someone else and it didn't look like two friends hanging out"

You wanted to believe Yoimiya but love is nothing without trust so you asked her if she was sure of what she saw.

You did find it suspicious that they didn't wanted to go out with you today and told you to not go near festival today. But they also explained it was because they were busy with work and they wanted to have full festival experience with you.

No matter how many times she tried to reason with you, you refused.

It was so annoying that she couldn't say anything to convince you to just listen to her. She hates being so helpless.

And she didn't wanted to drop it but when you told her to just leave you alone she knew there was no convincing you.

She couldn't sleep thinking of things she should do to make the heartbreak less... Well... Breaking?

She focused on her work for now but she had a very hard time trying. You always were on her mind but never in this way.

Few days later she saw you crying and there was no words for how much it broke her heart to see you like this.

She hugged you right away asking what happened and you admitted that she was right and you were a fool for not believing her.

"It's okay Y/N, no need to insult yourself like that! Everyone makes mistakes and everyone sometimes trusts the wrong person"

She thought what to do for a while and said "I know! How about I set off some fireworks for you and get you some good food after that? Or maybe we should do it in reverse order..."

You refused to go out to eat, after all that was what (Ex Name) always did with you and to that she said "Silly, I meant that I'll cook for you! You can join me if you want too. Cooking with someone is fun... Oh I know! Maybe stay for the night with me too and we'll talk all night if you want, or I can provide you with any emergency hugs whenever you'll need them"

So from heartbreaking afternoon you had an amazing evening and night with Yoimiya.

She did everything she could to distract you from your ex and she never shamed you when you couldn't help but recall. It was really sweet and considerate of her...

Oh also she didn't know she'd ever have to do anything like that but your ex was officially banned from her service. She didn't care about being petty, what she cared about is at least a little karma.

~Mod Lisa

#lisa minci #Lisa genshin #Lisa gi #Gi lisa #Lisa genshin impact #Lisa x reader #kaeya alberich #Kaeya genshin #Kaeya gi #Gi kaeya #Kaeya genshin impact #Kaeya x reader #yoimiya naganohara #Yoimiya genshin #Yoimiya gi #Gi Yoimiya #Yoimiya genshin impact #Yoimiya x Reader

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 55

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,953

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Testing Boundaries

When you arrived at the kitchen a few hours later for dinner prep, you were surprised to find Ben conspicuously absent. At first you worried that he was afraid to show his face after being caught with Simon last night, but the staff member named Andrew informed you that he had temporarily stepped out when one of Negan’s men came in and said he needed Ben’s assistance with something. When Andrew verified the man’s identity as “the big smiley one with the mustache”, you had a feeling you knew just what kind of “assistance” had been needed. You weren’t even upset about it, because truth be told, Ben deserved some breaks from the kitchen. And you had a feeling that Simon possessed just enough carefree attitude and allure to make sure Ben got them.

With the rest of the staff busy at their various tasks, and without Ben there as a distraction, you quickly became consumed with thoughts of your earlier conversation with Maria. She had made it seem as though Amber had been subdued, at least temporarily, and the rest of the wives weren’t in an uproar over the lack of attention from Negan, but the fact that a conversation about you had occurred at all put you a bit on edge. It was now obvious to the wives that you were the reason for Negan’s change in behavior, and you wondered how long it would take for that to leak to the rest of the community. And when that happened, people were sure to wonder and speculate, right? Hell, you had a bunch of questions still, and you were the one personally involved in the situation!

By the time the first round of food was exiting the kitchen and being served to hungry patrons, your brain was starting to ache from how much that padlocked box of unanswered questions was jumping around, screaming to be opened and explored. You knew it couldn’t be ignored for much longer, but were terrified of what you might find if you let it loose. You already knew you were developing an emotional attachment to Negan, but if you opened that padlock and really took a look at the items inside, you might realize just how strong the emotions waiting to be uncovered really were. Hell, you had almost stupidly blurted some of what you were feeling out in the woods yesterday, and had barely caught yourself in time.

Besides, the scariest part of opening that box wasn’t just looking at your own emotions and asking the tough questions, it was then also having to see what his responses would be.

Well the unknown is almost worse, so it’s time to suck it up and have a serious conversation with him about where all of this is going. Ask him about if he’s keeping his wives, admit you know he hasn’t been sleeping with them, and see what he says. Worst case scenario he laughs in your face, sends you away, and never speaks to you again. Easy peasy.

Just as you were about to work up to a full internal panic attack at the thought of discussing it with him, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and Ben appeared. To anyone else he’d probably look the same as usual, but as he headed in your direction you could see a slight flush to his cheeks and a couple pieces of hair that were suspiciously more disheveled than usual.

“I’m so sorry for missing prep,” he said by way of greeting, looking a bit tense, as if unsure how you’d treat him after the previous evening.

“Don’t apologize for things if you don’t actually regret them,” you teased with a smirk and playful shake of your head, voice low enough so that only he could hear.

He choked on a laugh, shoulders visibly relaxing when he realized that nothing had changed between the two of you, and there was zero need for formality or awkwardness.

Nudging you with his shoulder, he said, “Thanks.” It was one simple word, but the slightly shaky and whispered tone let you know how much emotion was behind it.

A surge of protectiveness surged in you. If it hadn’t been apparent before how willing you were to Ricardo death-stab anyone who tried to make fun of or harm Ben, it definitely was now. He was one of the sweetest humans you had ever met, and Simon better treat him right or else he’d be dealing with you and your pointy sidekick.

“So, uh, what kind of ‘assistance’ did he need your help with?” You tried for cool and casual, but couldn’t totally hide a teasing grin.

“Oh, nothing much. He just needed a bit of a hand with something, if you know what I mean.”

At the look of surprise on your face, he started laughing loud enough to draw a few curious gazes from the others. “Besides that, he was letting me know he wouldn’t be around for a day or two.”

Brows furrowing, you asked, “Is Negan sending him back to an outpost?”

“No, he’s joining the supply run tomorrow.”

At this, you jolted with a different kind of surprise. “They’re going on a run tomorrow?”

“Yea, but I think it was a spur of the moment decision. He didn’t give me any details, but I got the sense that it hadn’t been planned in advance.”

You nodded, “That makes sense.” If Negan had planned this run before today, he’d have most likely told you...right?

“I’m sure he’d have told you if he knew,” Ben said, as if he were reading your thoughts.

“Yea, you’re probably right,” you said, deciding to make that the one thing you didn’t need to overanalyze to death. Instead, you felt a pang in knowing that he wouldn’t be here for a couple of days. You had really been enjoying all this one-on-one time with him, even though it was unrealistic to expect it to last forever.

You wanted to ask Ben more questions about Simon, but didn’t want to risk any other staff overhearing. Vowing to sit him down outside the kitchen and get all the details in the near future, you refocused on serving dinner. Both brain and body were kept busy for the next few hours with making sure everyone got a serving of food, including the staff and yourself, and then helping with the clean-up.

It wasn’t until you were back upstairs, lounging in your own bed, that you returned to the dilemma of what to do next. Originally, you had planned to start a conversation with Negan about the wife situation, but now you didn’t think the timing was right. If he was going on a run tomorrow then he needed a clear head and to focus on staying safe, not be preoccupied with your concerns and questions. Especially since you didn’t know if asking about the wives would lead to an argument, and you definitely didn’t want to be on bad terms when he left.

Seeing him tonight and trying to act like your brain hadn’t been a whirlwind of confusing thoughts all day sounded exhausting as hell. But not seeing him and then something potentially happening to him on the run…

You had stood from the bed and headed towards the door before the thought could even finish itself. Nope, there was no way you weren’t gonna go see him, even if it was just for a little bit before returning to your own room for the night. Your watch said it was almost 8:30, so you had a little time before he’d probably be winding down for the night, since chances were good they’d leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

No community members paid you much attention when you headed to the stairwell, but when you got to the top and entered the hall leading to Negan’s room, your stomach dropped at the sight of a small group of Saviors walking down the hall in your direction.

You guessed that they were the group going on the run tomorrow, and had just come from a meeting in one of the unoccupied rooms on this floor. While you were unsure whether to turn around and hightail it back downstairs, your subconscious kept marching forward, no fucks to give that you could be accused of trespassing on a level where community members weren’t supposed to wander.

When they got closer, you saw a couple of the Saviors give furrowed looks, and one even opened his mouth as if to reprimand you.

“Hey, you can’t just be-“

He was interrupted when another man clapped a large hand on his shoulder, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. Relief flooded through you at the sight of Simon.

“Now now, Ryan. Don’t you know that this little lady here gets a free pass? Negan’s orders, so don't forget.”

Face instantly becoming less hostile, the man gave a nod of understanding and a quick, “Apologies, Miss,” as they passed. Simon gave a signature wink and grin, and you forced a smile in return, brain still preoccupied with his words.

Had Negan really told them that you were to be allowed up here? If so, did that mean he didn’t care if they knew you and him were...whatever you were? Your subconscious was now skipping with glee rather than marching, and your brain gave an exasperated sigh and glared at you while tossing yet another question into the padlocked box.

Arriving at Negan’s door, you gave a soft knock and then opened it at his muffled, “Come in.” He was sitting at his desk with those nerdy, yet also sexy as hell, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he shuffled through a stack of papers.

He looked up, and your heart rate accelerated when he smiled in welcome and said, “Hey, doll.”

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, smiling back.

He pulled off the glasses (lord, why was that move so damn attractive?!) before rubbing at his tired eyes. Pushing the chair back a bit, he gave you a slow once over before clapping a hand to his knee expectantly.

Unlike when he had last made the gesture, the evening you ate lasagna together, this time you didn’t hesitate. Rounding the desk, you settled onto his warm lap and tilted your head back with a satisfied hum when he placed a possessive kiss on your lips.

Glancing at the papers strewn across the polished wooden surface, you saw that they were full of lists and numbers, most likely of supplies. He nuzzled at the side of your neck, the friction from his beard causing a little shudder to go down your spine. Your brain rattled the padlocked box in annoyance, narrowly avoiding the tomato thrown at it by your subconscious.

The reminder helped you refocus on how you had earlier decided not to have sex with him tonight. Not with all the questions and uncertainty floating around your head, and especially not when he needed to be well-rested and undistracted, in preparation for the run. But then the self-doubt creeped in and whispered, What if he decides to go find comfort elsewhere, if you won’t give it to him? He’s already had you and the chase is over, so what makes you think he’ll stay if you backtrack into more platonic interactions?

Your brain picked up the tomato and chucked it at the self-doubt, while the subconscious screamed in excitement at the prospect of a food fight. You tried to ignore all of them and refocus on Negan. Besides, while a risky move, you couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be when denied sex, something you bet he never had worried about with his wives.

“I heard you’re going on a run tomorrow,” you stated, trying not to let all of the conflicting emotions racing through you bleed into your tone.

Giving a sigh, he lifted his mouth from your neck, and you instantly wanted to take back your words at the loss. “Yea, gonna leave at 5 in the fucking morning to make a surprise trip to fucking Hilltop and see what’s up with that motherfucker, Gregory.”

Hearing the irritation in his voice, you asked “Has he been giving you problems?”

“You could fucking say that. Didn’t fully meet his quota the last two times, so this is his third time’s the fucking charm chance to make up for it.”

Worry shot through you at this, remembering in the past when Negan had said Simon got a weird feeling about Gregory. You weren’t sure if the man was conniving or just plain dumb to be fucking with Negan’s supply rules like this, but it put you on edge.

“Well, just be careful,” you couldn’t help but say, looking up into his handsome-as-hell face.

He chuckled and bent down to kiss you again, murmuring, “Don’t fucking worry, doll. Nothing could keep me from coming back now.”

You wanted so badly to give in, to respond to the kiss in full and let it escalate. His words warmed your chest at the thought of being his main reason for returning safely. You wanted to be his main everything, the way he was quickly becoming yours. You were falling for this man, but were scared to completely let go until a serious discussion was had...after he returned from the run.

With one last lingering peck, you pulled back and reluctantly stood off his lap. “Well, it’s getting late so I should probably get back to my room.”

“What?” he asked, voice instantly stern and brows lowered in confusion.

“You need sleep before the run, and I’ll just be a distraction. I could set an alarm and come see you off in the morning, if you want.”

The hope that he’d be placated by what you thought was a logical argument was quickly dashed when he replied, “I think fucking not.”

“Negan, you need-”

He abruptly stood, and before you could even process what he was about to do, you were hoisted up and over his shoulder, head hanging down his back and ass in the air as he strode across the office and into his dark bedroom.

“What the hell!” you shrieked, lightly smacking his back with the palm of your hand.

Kicking the bedroom door shut behind him, he took a few steps into the room before putting you down. The room was only lit by a few stray moonbeams, but you swore there was mirth dancing in the shadows of his amber gaze, which only made you more flustered.

“I cannot believe you just did that!” you exclaimed, readjusting the bottom of your shirt where it had ridden up.

“Well, maybe now you’ll fucking learn not to try and tell me what I need, doll.”

“Everyone needs sleep,” you fired back with a glare. You were just miffed enough at being manhandled to act petulant, even if the move had also been kinda hot, in a primitive sort of way.

“What I need, is for you to get in the fucking bed,” he growled.

A wave of heat poured over you at the words, and your brain stopped working in full sentences due to the amount of blood flow that had rapidly traveled south.

“But...sleep,” you tried one more time, frantically trying remind your body of the ‘no sex tonight’ rule.

Giving a ‘holy mother of god woman why are you like this’ level of sigh, he said, “Yes, doll, I’ll fucking sleep. But I can still do that with you here. So get in. The. Fucking. Bed.”

Realizing resistance was futile, you threw your hands in the air and muttered ‘fine’ before stripping off your shoes and jeans, and crawling between the covers. You pointedly left on your underwear and shirt, a nonverbal reminder that sleep was on the menu, and no more...no matter how much your body was screaming that it hated you for denying it.

In unspoken agreement, Negan stripped down to just his boxer briefs, rather than his usual bed attire of naked, and crawled under the covers. Pulling you into his body, back to his chest, his head rested a few inches behind yours. He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, and biting your lip was all that held back a whimper.

“You better fully wake me up in the morning, so I can say goodbye,” you mumbled, the decadently soft mattress and pillow quickly putting you into a drowsy haze.

The hand he had rested lightly on your hip gave an affectionate squeeze, and he whispered, “I will. Now stop talking, doll. I need sleep, remember.”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his tone, you snuggled back tighter against him, and sighed in contentment. “Good night.”

His voice lost all teasing and became lower and softer when he replied, “Night, doll.”

Smiling, your muscles relaxed into the mattress. It wasn’t until you were cocooned back in this glorious bed with him that it became apparent just how exhausted you were. The mental gymnastics your brain had gone through today had thoroughly worn you out. However, a part of that persistent self-doubt had now broken off and shriveled up to dust when it saw that Negan was perfectly willing to have you in his bed like this, with no sexual expectations. If you could stay awake long enough to fully think it through, you’d be shocked as hell that he hadn’t pushed. The fact that he hadn’t even brought up sex, that he still wanted you here with him, even just to do this…

Your last coherent thought was maybe he’s falling for you too, and then sleep took over.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#ash writes #negan #irresistible danger #negan fanfiction #negan fanfics #negan slow burn #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfics #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #the walking dead negan #slow burn #fanfic

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astarryon · 3 years

Text

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart.

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp.

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself.

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #tfatws #catws #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #series #angst #hurt #comfort #1940s bucky

123 notes · View notes

speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Summary: After one night of truth, it became difficult to hide the emotions behind this illicit affair.

Warnings: implied age gap, angsty, actress!reader,(poorly written) smut but in flashbacks LOL

Word Count: ~ 3k

sorry this was lowkey ass. i wrote this in the hospital.

Buy me a Ko-Fi - donations are appreciated but not necessary

Laughter and chatter were almost as loud as whatever top 40 pop song was blaring throughout the speakers. You used to enjoy these get togethers, but this time was different. You dreaded it.

If it had been your choice, you would’ve immediately packed up and flew back to your hometown, but the heavy storm brewing in the skies cancelled all flights out of the city. You were stuck with your co-stars – the makeshift Marvel family that welcomed you with open arms. Though you loved them dearly, six months had been a long time. You longed for a break and you deserved it all the same. But truthfully, you craved the escape more.

You were among the youngest members of the cast – at the prime partying age, according to Mackie at least. Everyone found your eagerness to leave and sudden standoffish behavior completely uncharacteristic, but you always dismissed the accusation.

No one needed to know the truth.

You stared blankly at the wall, a glass of water in your hand as you fought to ignore the eyes that burned through the back of your skull. Looking up would be a mistake, but you were always good at making those.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulders. His muscles defined due to his preparation for the movie. You gasped when his teeth nipped at the delicate skin of your neck, legs locking around his waist as if to pull him closer.

His thrusts were slow and deep as you moaned. The sound echoed throughout the hotel room, making him tsk. A soft chuckle escaped him before his lips ghosted over yours. “Can’t let anyone hear, baby,” he whispered, and you whimpered in response. His voice was deep and husky – a consequence of the early morning. He groaned when he felt you clench around him. “You gonna cum?”

You nodded, too breathless to muster a coherent response. His thrusts became sharper, faster as he tried to push you over the edge. He unhooked your legs from his weight and pushed them over his shoulders before one hand wrapped around your neck, applying pressure slightly.

The loss of blood to your brain paired with the new angle for deeper thrusts had you writhing beneath him, eyes rolling back. His lips found your again, capturing your moans. “Cum for me, baby,” he said into the kiss.

You threw your head back deeper into the bed as you felt the knot in your stomach snap.

“Chris! Chris!”

You took a long sip of water as you tried to shake the memory from your head. You suddenly felt hot – uncomfortable, even.

It had been a routine for you. Encounters that dated back over a year. It had started on a set of another movie, one that was apart from the Marvel franchise. You were new to the industry – the film had been your debut role that launched your career. It had been Chris that put in a good word for you with Marvel’s higher ups, landing you on the roster for an upcoming movie.

Though, now, you wondered if it had been a ploy to keep you in his circle.

You pulled at your shirt, shifting on the couch as you tried to listen to whatever crazy story Anthony babbled on about.

“No champagne?” Lizzie asked you, offering you the bottle. You smiled and politely declined. She eyed you and your water warily as she poured herself some.

“No, (Y/N)’s a beer girl!” Tom piped up, raising his bottle to you as if beckoning you to take a sip. Again, you declined.

“What’s got you suddenly sobering up?” Anthony chuckled. You shrugged. “Oh, c’mon,” he dramatically scoffed. “None of us have a call time at 6 a.m. You’re allowed to get drunk tonight, (Y/N).”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m just not up for it. I guess.” What you meant to say was I don’t want to get drunk and sleep with Chris again.

Your shoulders suddenly tensed when the couch dipped and a familiar aroma swarmed you.

“Chris! Chris!” You chanted his name as you came around him.

His thrusts were relentless as he rode you through your high, desperate to reach his. “Feel so good, baby,” he huskily said. “So tight, so wet.” He pulled his hand from your throat, the blood suddenly rushing back to you, and moved it to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He groaned into you as your pussy quivered around him, shaking your head. “No,” you weakly whimpered. “I can’t – I can’t – “

“Yeah, you can,” he encouraged, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours. His deep blue eyes stared deeply into yours and all you could feel in that moment was just him. “One more, baby… Gimme one more.” Your fingers combed through his hair as you nodded. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

Your breath hitched as your anxiety quickly rose, but you hid it behind a tight smile. Perhaps you were a better actress that you gave yourself credit for because everyone seemed to buy that grin.

“Hey,” your jaw clenched when you heard his voice. It was hushed as if he were afraid someone would catch him talking to you.

Throughout the last month of filming – after your falling out – it had been easy to avoid him. Most of your screen time was shared with Elizabeth or Tom – the three of you being hailed by fans as the “new generation” for Marvel. Even before you abruptly cut him off, you barely saw him on set. Your time together was only limited to midnight rendezvous, closed doors, and twisted sheets.

You let out a shaky breath. “Hi.” You said, keeping your eyes on the rip of your glass, refusing to meet his.

Chris stared at the side of your face. He noticed your clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. The way you avoided looking at him broke his heart into a million pieces. He bit his lip before tearing his eyes away from you, focusing on the pieces of lint that gathered on the material of his pants.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he picked at them. It was a telltale sign that he was anxious – or bored. Although you prided yourself with the idea that you knew him better than most people did, you still could never tell with him. He was a collection of empty promises, half true lies, and mixed signals.

You should’ve gotten up. Maybe you could’ve excused yourself from your little circle and insert yourself into a conversation with Robert and Scarlet. Would it have been suspicious if you did? Perhaps you could’ve just called it a night, say your goodbyes, and rush off to your hotel – back to the very room where he broke your heart.

“Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

It was as if your body was attuned to his words and demands. Because just like that, you were a wreck beneath him, gushing and milking him for all he’s worth. He grunted as his thrusts became sloppier until he pushed in as deep as he could and that familiar warmth spread through you.

He was breathing heavily as were you. He pressed a kiss to your temple before gently pulling out. You winced at the sudden emptiness, feeling his cum drip from your hot core. “You did so good,” he praised as he slumped beside you on the bed. Two thick arms wrapping around your spent body, pulling you into him. He left a trail of kisses all over your skin. “Always such a good girl.”

In your hazy, post multiple orgasms mind, you said three words that changed everything.

“I love you.”

But you couldn’t move. You were frozen on that couch, fighting off the tears and the somber memories.

In your blossoming career, your repertoire consisted of two major movies – your debut movie and the Marvel one that wrapped this very day. Both of which had you starring alongside Chris.

You two became insanely close to one another. He could read you like an open book as you did him though sometimes, he threw you off.

“We just get each other,” is what he would say when prompted to speak out about your chemistry. “We’re like two long lost best friends.” Many attributed the closeness to a kinship of sorts – some even saying that you were like the Tom Holland to his Robert Downey Jr; some speculated a relationship. Little did anyone know that this “kinship” brewed from something else entirely.

He knew everything there is to know about you. Your ticks, your pet peeves, the way you tasted and squirmed. He knew from the way your were trembling and the way you gripped your glass that you were fighting the urge to cry.

And he hated knowing he was the reason for your tears.

“I love you.” The words that escaped your lips was barely above a whisper. If Chris had let out a deep breath the very moment you said it, he might’ve even missed it.

But he didn’t.

He heard all three words.

“What?” He unwrapped his arms around you, startled by the confession. You flushed in realization.

“I – I didn’t – “

“You love me?” He scoffed. Your faint smile immediately fell as you shuffled in the bed to stare at him. His eyes were wide in bewilderment – disbelief, even. “You … You can’t love me.”

“Just forget about it, okay?” You begged, not wanting to ruin a good thing. Despite your feelings, you didn’t want them to push him away. You were willing to swallow your pride and love for him if it meant that he wouldn’t shut you out.

Chris shook his head at you, frantically jumping out of the bed. You watched vulnerably with tears brimming in your eyes as he quickly got dressed. “Chris – “

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he pulled on his sweatpants. “Y-you… you can’t love me.”

“Okay, then I won’t!” You urged. “I didn’t mean it.”

He stood at the side of the bed, staring at you, seeing through the lies. He watched your guard fall as you watched his walls go up. He shook his head as he reached for his shirt.

“Chris – no, please,” you begged, pulling the covers to your chest as you tried to stop him from leaving. “I didn’t mea – “

“You meant it.” His tone was hard to decipher. You weren’t sure if he was angry with you or if he was confused. It was just flat. Before you could argue, he pulled his arm from your hands, hastily walking towards the door.

“Do you not want me to?” You asked him, freezing him in his place. His hand ghosted over the cold doorknob as his mind searched for a response. “Or do you not feel the same?” Your voice broke as did his heart.

He didn’t bother to spare you a second glance. “I don’t feel the same.” He said, curtly – emotionlessly – as he turned the knob and left you alone and in tears.

“(Y/N) – “he began but immediately cut himself off when he saw the single tear that rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand while he fought the urge to lean over and wipe it himself.

“Uh, I gotta go,” you said immediately after, quickly saying your farewells to your friends.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek as he and everyone else watched you abruptly leave, the door swinging closed behind you. Anthony had whistled, joking that someone was in a mood which Tom replied that you were probably just tired.

But Chris knew better.

-=+=-

It was late into the night when he heard the soft knocks. If he had been asleep, he wouldn’t have heard them. But just like you, his anxiety kept him up all hours of the night.

“Hey.” You shifted beneath his stare, keeping your eyes trained on your shoes.

“Hi.” He greeted in disbelief.

You stood in the hotel hall in awkward silence, trying to find the right words to say. Breathe. You reminded yourself. Just breathe. You found the courage, swallowing your pride, to lift your chin up and meet his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

It was awkward – to say the least. You always found that his room was much roomier than yours. It felt as if your room was a studio apartment while his was half of a penthouse – complete with a dining table and a full kitchen.

You fumbled with the sleeves of your cardigan as he asked if you wanted anything to drink. You politely declined – you wanted a clear head and an empty bladder for this long-awaited conversation.

You found it strange that he sat down in the seat adjacent from yours. He could’ve sat in the seat across from you – it would’ve made this interaction a whole lot easier.

He stared at you curiously as he wondered why you were here. Your constant avoidance led him to believe that you wanted nothing to do with him – and he didn’t blame you. He didn’t exactly handle that situation very well. Maybe you were here to end if officially?

“I just have to know,” you sighed out, looking up at him as he angled his entire body towards you. You scratched the back of your neck before continuing to fumble with the fabric of your sleeve. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You sucked your teeth before your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. You took a deep breath. “Why don’t you love me?” His brows rose in consideration as he tried to come up with a logical answer.

Why didn’t he want you to love him?

Truthfully, Chris wanted you to. He gravitated towards you like the planets to the sun. You brought a warmth into his life – a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time… and it scared him.

He was no stranger to heartbreak – 39 years on this Earth. He’s had his fair share of it. And despite longing for a true, good love with a promising future, he was still so afraid of the possibility of getting his heart broken again. But he hated knowing that he broke yours.

He didn’t think he deserved you and only limited himself to the stolen kisses behind closed doors. It was his breakable heaven – and in the moment it got too real, he did the only thing he knew how to: leave.

But he couldn’t find the words. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, silently admiring your courageousness. For someone so young, he didn’t expect the cliché of showing up to his hotel – though he contemplated showing up to yours – and prompting this much needed conversation. But he knew your goal was very clear to you – it was either closure or a new beginning.

You rolled your eyes, exhausted. “Because… I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy or naïve, but the way – the way you are with me? It’s not casual. It’s not a one-time thing. And maybe I’m reading too deeply into it, but I – I …” You trailed off. I hoped it was more. I hoped it was real.

“I love you,” Chris muttered. Your eyes widened with shock at the brashness.

“Chris – “you shook your head. You were tired of this long cycle – this vicious game of tug of war that pulled at your heartstrings until they snapped.

“I’m serious.” He said, looking directly into your eyes. He saw the doubt, the sudden indecisiveness that washed over your features. He saw you try to reel back into yourself, subtly scooting away from him to create distance. He saw the walls build back up as his fell for the first time in forever. “I was afraid of what it meant when you said it…” He admitted as he reached over to hold your hands in his. “It just made everything so – so real for me and honestly, (Y/N)? It scared me so much.”

“But you just left me there – “

“And I regret that.” Chris interjected, shaking his head as he pulled your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I regret it so much. If I could turn back time and stay, I would. In the month of you icing me out, it just… I couldn’t live like that. The world never felt colder when you weren’t by my side. But I, truthfully, honestly do love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it to myself – to admit it to you… But I love you, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, doubting him. Was this another scheme of his? Was he just trying to get you back into his bed by feeding you more lies – by telling you what you wanted to hear?

“Please, believe me,” he begged. His voice had quaked, breaking ever so slightly. “I’m in love with you.”

“Chris – “he couldn’t register the tone. It was flat, not leaning towards angry, or heartfelt, or confused. Just flat.

But then he saw the tears roll down your cheeks and he instinctively cupped your cheeks to brush them away with his thumbs.

You were torn. Despite hearing the very words you wanted to hear a month ago, you weren’t sure how to feel. Of course, you still loved him. His was the very name that your heart called out for as you laid awake in the late nights.

You gasped when he suddenly leaned in, closing the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t hungry nor heated. It was passionate, loving. “Just let me love you,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours – and you melted into him.

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talldarkandroguesome · 2 years

Text

1st of Rain’s Hand, Fredas

My meeting with Zethith was in the prayer room in my home.

They greeted me warmly, for as warm as a Daedra ever is towards mortals, I suppose. And I greeted them as the friend they have come to be.

Zethith congratulated me on my work, told me that Farayn had been relaying everything happening in Selfora to them. I asked if I could hear news, for I had not yet been given the opportunity to return and witness how things had progressed.

They laughed and told me that of course they could tell me of how Baro was squirming like a shalk on its back. That he had returned home to find that the wards he had set up were down and flown into a rage, looking everywhere for what he needed to keep himself safe.

He had approached his servant, the one I slipped into the servant’s pocket was uncovered, and the servant and Baro got into an argument, where Baro accused him of stealing it and questioned who he was working for.

The servant had no explanation of how the warding stone ended up in his pocket and Baro grew more frustrated, tearing the place apart. To find another in the kitchen in a pot was even more reason to suspect his servant.

I had placed the stones with the servant in order to arouse the servant’s suspicion, not Baro’s, but it worked out even better than I had hoped.

The servant was fired, the poor mer, but also, the servant had a reason to look at the strange amulet and the rage of Baro’s and wonder what was going on. I know I would in his place.

Baro also found one of the forged letters in his office and immediately set for firewood.

Apparently that piqued the interest of the acolyte who brought the wood. She asked several questions. I can only imagine that she will have gossiped to other acolytes about the unusual behavior.

Baro was clearly beginning to be on edge after that. He even took a day away from the Temple and rode out to what I can only guess was the former location of the cult of Vile he was worried was possibly pursuing him.

It took three days before the suspicious activity began to cause people to whisper. And it only took one visit thereafter, from one of the other priests, to notice that something was off about the figure of Almalexia.

So there has been some questioning about their star priest and if they find anything else, it is likely to escalate to a full inquiry.

Zethith thinks it will be only a matter of days before things completely fall apart for Kena Baro.

I apologized to Zethith that I had not managed to completely get Baro discredited before the appointed time and asked for any advice that I might be able to do so sooner.

They laughed at me and said that they appreciated an ambitious mortal, but that the quality of my work was by far more important and that they still expected that I would continue and see this through to the end, regardless of how long it takes.

I agreed that I would, glad that they did not seem overly upset about my not yet having finished.

It does, however, mean that I am due to head back to Selfora once again. I can only hope that the Council will not force me to do too much for a few days. I need the time to be able to ensure that Baro’s fate is sealed.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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youreacowgirllikeme · 4 years

Text

Objection

Note: I’m a sucker for AUs, so here is a Lawyer!Chris fic nobody asked for, the plot (or whatever) is veery loosely inspired by this book I’m reading atm (The Hating Game) and by the the fact that Chris talking about lawyer stuff is incredibly hot to me

Warning: swearing (a lot), smut, Chris bashing (for the story line, pls don’t take this seriously, I adore this man to death), NSFW, slight exhibitionism

Plus another warning, I am not a lawyer or trained in any other legal profession, so if there are inaccuracies in the way I used certain terms I am sorry

„Objection, your honor, this is hearsay!” you shouted, shooting a furious glance over to the defense table, and to the absolute menace standing in front of it.

Chris Cuomo. The most obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouthed asshole you ever had the misfortune to meet in court. He was a senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, specialized on getting their wealthy clients out of everything from tax fraud to outright corruption.

This man stood for everything that, in your opinion, was wrong with the justice system and this country in general. Everything about him screamed elitist, boarding school, frat boy, preppy rich guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He flaunted his famous last name around whenever he had the chance and it got him right to the top of the business.

You, on the opposite, went to law school on a scholarship, worked your ass of and now practiced law working for the district attorney to prosecute and convict the very people Cuomo tried to kept out of jail to afford the ridiculous Upper East Side Penthouse he probably had. You tried to push the fact that he was one of the most brilliant lawyers you knew aside, because you just hated him. No respect, no admiration for his legal genius, he was the bane of your existence fair and square.

You clashed heads in court more than once, and by now he knew exactly how to rile you up, smug bastard. His current client was accused of tax and investment fraud of incredible extent, and there he was, trying to discredit your main witness in front of the jury with some ridiculous accusations about them having a personal vendetta against the defendant. You saw your case crumbling in front of you as the witness got tangled up in Cuomo’s relentless questioning, stumbling over their own words, their credibility shrinking with each minute.

He did what he did best, lulling in people with his charm and striking when they least expected it. And he always did it with his disgusting smile on his disgustingly handsome face. Yes, of course he had to be a hot, fit, well-built asshole, making your professional life miserable at every chance he got.

Sometimes, he even had the audacity to wink at you. In court. During a trial. You wanted to punch him in his perfect face more than anything else.

The judge disrupted your thoughts.

“Dismissed, Ms. Y/L/N, and mind your tone in my courtroom. And Mr. Cuomo, please keep your questions professional or this interrogation will be over.” The judge said, shooting the both of you a warning glance.

“No more questions anyway, your honor, I think the jury heard it all.” Cuomo said, and almost strutted back to the defense table. And with a look over to the jury, you knew he was probably right. They eyed your witness suspiciously, and you almost wanted to stomp down out of pure rage. The fucker just destroyed your chance for a swift conviction right in front of your eyes. You needed more time to gather new evidence, or this would be over.

“Your honor, the prosecution is asking the court for adjournment.” You said, trying your best to not let your frustration show.

“Granted, the trial will be continued tomorrow. Court is dismissed.”

You put the case files into your bag and practically stormed out of the court room, passing the defense table without as much as a sideward glance.

But he caught up with you in the parking deck of the building.

“You’re aware you can’t win this one, right, Y/L/N? It’s all circumstantial, even you should see that.” His smug voice suddenly said from behind you as you were just about to get into your car.

You whirled around, pulse hammering in your chest out of pure anger.

“This is unprofessional even by your standards, Cuomo, I’m not discussing this case with you in a parking lot. Now why don’t you get into this environmental nightmare you call a car and leave me the hell alone.” You hissed, pointing over to where his obnoxiously big SUV was standing.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/L/N, just because you can’t handle yourself in court.” He said, smirk still firmly in place. His hands were playing with the car keys, and you were mesmerized for a second by how large his hands were. They looked like shovels.

“Whatever you’re plotting in that weird little brain of yours, stop staring at me.” Cuomo said, actually sounding a bit unsettled. You snapped out of it and went right back into anger mode.

“Staring at you? God, you’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you, you condescending prick? Not everything revolves around you and your spoiled ass, Cuomo.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, girl?” he snapped, raising his voice now. You clearly got to him, and seeing a crack in his arrogant façade gave you a satisfying sense of triumph. You couldn’t stop now, even if his angry face was screaming danger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, are you used to people worshipping the ground you walk on because you had the dumb luck to be born with the Cuomo name? Fun fact, nobody cares, you’re still an asshole, just with a fancy suit.” You really threw all caution away, and one look at Cuomo told you that you’ve definitely gone too far.

Because he was livid. There was a vein on his temple that was literally pulsating, his hands were balled to fists at his side and his blue eyes were so full of fury that you were scared to look directly at him.

He took two giant steps in your direction, backing you up against your car. You were caught, Cuomo’s giant frame in front of you with no way to escape his wrath.

You looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes directly. He looked at you like he was about to kill you. You tried to recall your fury from some seconds ago, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his huge arms had you trapped on both sides of your head were making it impossible for you to focus. Damn him for being so attractive. You wanted to fight him, but you also wanted to press yourself against his body and feel what was underneath that suit.

“You presumptuous little…” he spat, stopping himself before saying something truly insulting. He took a deep breath, and looked at you again. And then he saw it.

The way you were biting your lip, the way your pupils were dilated.

And he smiled, a cruel smirk that send shivers down your spine. He brought his face even closer to yours and dropped his voice.

“You know, I got really good at reading people, comes with the job, I guess. But you are making it so easy for me, Y/L/N, look at you?” His mouth was at your ear now, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

You could barely think straight anymore, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it just came out as an embarrassing, needy whimper.

He chuckled darkly, and goosebumps broke out all over your body. Why did this man, that you hated more than almost anyone else, reduce to a state of arousal you had never experienced before just by whispering in your ear? Your panties were already soaked, and he didn’t even touch you. With your last few functioning brain cells, you cursed your needy, weak body, before you tiled your head to the side, baring your neck to Chris mouth.

He breathed over your skin, teasing you without actually touching. You felt like you were going insane.

“Please.” You whispered.

“What? Use your words, darling.”

“Kiss my neck, touch me, anything, just do it, asshole.” You hissed, glad you were able to form a coherent sentence.

“So impolite.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before starting to suck lightly. You moaned softly and pressed your pelvis into his. You could feel his hardness through his slacks, his unaffected behavior was clearly an act, he was just as aroused as you were.

One of his hands went down to squeeze your ass hard, bringing another surge of wetness to your panties.

Seeing him getting into this gave you some of your courage back, and you started to grind against him, making him growl against your neck.

“Is that everything you got, Cuomo.” You asked, trying to rile him up a bit. You really enjoyed the way he was manhandling you, as much as it pained you to admit it. But his hands were wandering under your skirt now, so you might as well just go with it.

Your provocative behavior clearly had the desired effect on him, because he grabbed your waist in a bruising grip, spun you around and pinned you against your car, his erection pressing against your ass. He yanked up your skirt and tore off your panties, leaving your lower body completely bare.

By now, you were glad that you picked the parking spot on the top floor, because your two cars were the only ones left and no one would come up here at this hour to catch you, about to be railed against your vehicle by Chris Cuomo.

“My, my, Y/L/N, this really turns you on, doesn’t it?” You could hear his breathy voice from behind you, and then felt a thick finger slowly being pressed into your aching pussy, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you already are so wet for me.” Chris growled.

“Are you going to fuck me soon, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You asked, teasingly.

He swore under his breath and gave your ass a sharp slap, making you welp.

You heard the sound of his zipper, and the rustle of foil.

“You really brought a condom to court, Cuomo? Wow, you are even more shameless than I imagined.”

“Shut up.” He growled, and you did, because he lined up his cock and slowly started pressing into you. He was big, and you had to bury your face into your arm to muffle the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth at the feeling of being stretched like this. He bottomed out with a low moan, and immediately started a fast, hard pace, pushing you against your car with every move of his hips.

You turned your head around to look at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The friction was delicious, and he was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans became louder and louder, and he pressed one of his large hands over your mouth.

“Be quiet, you don’t want someone to catch little Miss Righteous being screwed in the parking lot by big, bad Cuomo, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear between husky breaths, and you could only cry out against his palm as he was speeding up his thrusts. The idea of someone catching you here was as arousing as it was terrifying.

Suddenly, Chris other hand sneaked around you to press on your clit, hard, and you screamed into his hand as your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, your walls gripping his cock like a vice while he was still fucking you through your climax.

“That’s it, darling, come for me. Fuck.” He groaned, before suddenly going tense as he reached his peak as well, cock buried deep inside you.

You slumped against your car with a huff, and the brief glimpse you caught of your reflection in the window made you question what you just did even more. Not only did you have (amazing, mind-blowing) sex with the opposing lawyer, he also absolutely wrecked you, you looked like you just had the roughest night ever with your hair undone, your makeup smudged and your panties in shreds on the floor of the parking lot. You hastily pulled down your skit again and tried to fix your hair as much as possible to get a minimum of decorum back.

Chris was just disposing the condom into a nearby bin, already looking calm and composed again. You hated him for that, and for the broad, self-satisfied grin that was all over his face again. And still, your heart gave a little flip as he approached you.

“That was fun.” He smirked, “We should definitely do that again. But not today, I’m busy. See you in court.”

He started to make his way to his car, and there was definitely a spring in his step.

“In your dreams, Cuomo.” You mumbled after him but couldn’t suppress a smile. That was, until you looked into the side mirror of your car to check your makeup and saw the giant, purple bruise on the side of your neck.

“Cuomo!” you screamed. “Come back here right now, you imbecile, you gave me a fucking hickey!”

“Better wear a scarf then tomorrow!” he called, entering his car. “And don’t make plans for after the trial, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate my victory. And I mean that.”

And with that, he drove off. And as much as you hated yourself to admit it, you were really looking forward to having dinner with this idiot. After you destroyed him in court, of course.

#chris cuomo #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo x reader #smut #cnn #cnn anchors #fanfiction #chris cuomo fic

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marvel-holland-love · 4 years

Text

Never enough

Type:

angst / fluff

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warning: Eating disorder, self hate, body dysmorphia

Summary: You’ve been dealing with an eating disorder for some time now but haven’t told anyone until Tom starts to notice something in your behavior that leads him to worry and so he keeps an eye on you and sees something that exposes your secret.

Word count: 2,362

A/N: Hi everyone, hope you enjoy this imagine, as I said in the warnings, this imagine includes detailed eating disorder talk, this is my first imagine so I hope you like it, i also speak spanish so sorry if there is something wrong with my grammar. I’m already writing another imagine which Ill post soon, at the bottom is my masterlist and there I’ll have the imagines I make. Hope you enjoy and have a great day!

y/n: your name

y/n/n: your nickname

y/l/s: your last name

If you have an eating disorder and need help, you can find it here https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-help-support

You and Tom have been together for about 1 year and 5 months, you love each other dearly and tell each other everything, but there is one secret you decide its best to stay secret, which is that you've dealt with an eating disorder since you were 17 years old, and now you were 22 years old. You found ways to hide it from him, to hide the meal skipping, the purging, the excessive exercise, everything that came with your disorder.

Tom had noticed since the beginning that you had a bit of a small frame, but he thought you had a fast metabolism or that that was the way you were, but he never thought you had an eating disorder until he started to notice somethings on your behaviour that started to worry him.

- Today -

3rd person POV:

You were coming through the door of the Holland household after your 2 hour run, it was 9:00 a.m at the moment. You were walking through the door when a sudden hit of dizziness struck you and you stumbled a little while you started to get your vision blurred with black spots. Harry was walking by to go to the kitchen when you came in and he noticed your pale face and stumbling, so he went over to you to check on you. That's when you felt someone grab your arm and say something to you, that you couldn't quite put together. You turned around to look at the person and noticed through blurred images that it was Harry, that's when you spoke.

y/n POV:

“Harry?” you said still feeling like you were going to faint, “y/n/n, what happened, are you okay?” he said with a worried tone. You didn't know quite what to say, you could barely make out the words that came out of his mouth, but you understood it enough to give him somewhat of an answer, “Yeah, im fine,” you said not even convincing yourself on that answer “I guess I just got a little dizzy, didn’t drink water before going on my run, better go do that” you said knowing how unconvincing that answer was, but still going to the kitchen in order to avoid the conversation you didn’t want to have. I heard him say something to me, but I didn’t quite catch it so I just ignored it and kept walking.

Harry’s POV:

I watched y/n/n come in the door, but she was really pale and I noticed that she started to tumble. When I got near her, I asked what was wrong, but I guess she didn't hear me because she didn't answer, so I got near her and held her up so she wouldn’t fall and that's when she spoke; “Harry?” she said, but I could sense something wrong in her tone so I asked her again what happened and she just answered that she didn’t drink water before her run which didn’t convince me at all, because I’ve known her long enough to know when something in her tone hints that something is wrong. After I saw her start to walk towards the kitchen, I decided to ask her if she had eaten anything before her run but before I could finish my sentence she was already out of my reach. So I decided to tell Tom, there was something I really didn’t like about this so I knew the one person who could get to her should know.

3rd person POV:

Y/n was in the kitchen drinking water when Tom came in, already on board of what had happened, so he wanted to have some proof that his theory wasn’t true, because he already had an idea of what might be going on.

y/n POV:

I saw Tom come in the kitchen, but he had an expression on his face that gave me a reason to believe Harry may have told him what had happened. I tried to put on the best face I could with a somewhat believable smile, so he wouldn't come with conclusions, even though he had already formed conclusions since he started to notice your weird behavior. “Hey darling, how was your run?” He asked, but he wanted to see if you would deny what had happened previously, “It was great,” you said which caused him to give you a questionable look “I just forgot to drink water so I got a little dizzy when I came into the house, but now i'm perfectly fine” you said hoping to change the course this conversation was turning, “Oh, and did you eat before you when on your run?” he asked already knowing your answer, “No, I wasn't hungry” you said with a more defensive tone. “Oh great, then we can have breakfast together, because after that run, you bet you are eating something babe ” you wanted to say you weren't hungry or make any excuse to not eat because, how could you eat, after all the effort the run took do to your lack of energy, just to throw it all over the border, just like that for some stupid calories you didn't want to have in your body, but you knew he was already worried and suspicious of you, so rejecting his offer would just bring more attention to the topic, so you agreed “Sure! What do you want?” you said hoping to sound convincing, but failing miserably.

Toms POV:

When I came in the kitchen, I looked at y/n/n and actually took notice of the weight she had lost and her pale face. I realized that what I'd been pushing to the bottom of my mind, might actually be a problem. I had started to notice how y/n/n skipped meals but she always gave a convincing excuse, so I convinced myself to not look through it, I also notice how when we had a meal together, she would cut her food in tiny pieces and play around with it, and only eat a portion of it, also that when she was “done” she would drink a lot of water and go to the bathroom immediately. And her intense workouts as well, after what Harry told me, I started to put the pieces together and realized that what I feared might be the situation here, no matter how much I want it to be a piece of my imagination, I fear that y/n might have and eating disorder, but I won’t make any serious accusations until I’m 100% sure. That's why after a little bit of talking with her, I managed to make her get breakfast with me, “Sure! What do you want?” she told me in what I guess was a miserable try of sounding excited, “Ummm, we should make pancakes! Yeah, pancakes will be.” I said trying to lighten the tension that was in the room “Su-sure” she answered but the stutter on her voice, I could tell she was nervous about something. “I'm gonna go tell the others we are making pancakes for breakfast” I said before leaving to tell the others.

3rd persons POV:

After a while of cooking, you and Tom placed the pancakes on the table and called everyone to eat.

Everyone was sitting down and eating but you couldn't get the voice in your mind to shut up and at least let you enjoy one meal with your boyfriend and his family. That's when you noticed Tom and Harry were looking at you at times with worry in their eyes, so you started to eat to get any suspicion away from you, but it was too late for that.

y/n POV:

Every time you took a bite of your food your mind was going crazy and your intrusive thoughts were kicking your ass.

Why are you eating You are SO fat how can you be eating You don't deserve food If you get fat, Tom is gonna leave you If you get fat, no one is going to love you Correction, no one loves you You are a piece of crap You look like a fucking whale, WHY ARE YOU EATING?!?!!

You don’t know how much time passed but Nikkie and Dom had already gotten up from the table and you could feel tears welling up my eyes and one or two down my cheeks I quickly cleaned them from my cheeks in hopes no one saw them but Tom noticed them just that he decided to not say anything until we were alone. So after finishing my pancakes to not bring up suspicion I decided it was time to go to the bathroom and get rid of my guilt. Before going I drank water and excused myself “Be right back” but what I wasn’t expecting was for Tom to start making questions, “Where are you going y/n/n” “Oh, I’m going to the bathroom” “Why do you always go to the bathroom after eating?” I started to get really nervous and think, why was he asking so many questions, I knew I needed to get out of here ASAP, “Dunno, guess you just gotta go when you gotta go.”

After telling him that, I sprinted as fast as I could to the bathroom, but I was in such a rush that I forgot to lock the door. I got on my knees in front of the toilet and stuck my fingers in my throat until I started to feel everything coming out. My mind was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Tom walk in the hallway or get into the bathroom, but the next thing I felt was a pair of arms embracing me in a hug and stroking my hair in a comforting way.

Toms POV:

After y/n/n got up from the table I had a gut feeling I had to follow her, I don't know what it was, I don’t know if it was the way she said it or the look on her eyes, but I knew something was going on. After maybe 2 minutes, I got up and followed her to the bathroom but when I got to the hallway I heard it. I started to hear muffled sobs and gagging and I instantly knew what was going on. I got to the door to open and noticed it was unlocked, which surprised me because I thought it would be locked. When I got in, I froze, seeing y/n/n so vulnerable and in this situation, it just made me want to hold her near me and never let her go and tell her how much I love her and how beautiful she is, also to tell her that everything is alright and that I’ll never leave her, I just wanted to hold her and stay like that forever.

I ran to her and kneeled next to her and held her in my arms, by the shock in her face, I could guess she didn’t hear me come in so I started to struck her hair to try and comfort her and the instant I did that, she started to sob.

y/n POV:

I started to sob into Toms arms and couldn't help but think that he was going to hate me or leave me so I started to apologize, “I-I-I-m so so-sorry T-T-Tom, I didn’t mean for it to get to this,” “Im s-s-sorry”

After that I left a muffled cry out since now my face was facing his chest. He said something but in between my cries I didn't understand it.

How could you forget the lock of the door!

You are so stupid, his gonna leave you

You are so disgusting

He probably thinks you are a waste of time or a lost cause

How could you expose yourself like this

I HATE YOU

I couldn’t stop the voices in my head. I just wanted to turn them off, I just wanted to scream. This only made me cry harder into Tom and he continued comforting me without saying a word until I calmed down a little, when I was able to slow my cries I decided to speak, “Tommy, please help me, turn the voices off, j-j-just please h-h-he-help me please”

Toms POV:

After y/n/n cried in my chest for some time while I tried to comfort her, she said something that broke my heart, “I-I-I-m so so-sorry T-T-Tom, I didn’t mean for it to get to this,” “Im s-s-sorry” she sounded in so much pain and I just wanted to take it all and make her stop feeling it, I couldn't see her like that, it broke my heart, so I responded “It’s okay baby, everything will be alright, i promise princess” I don’t think she heard me cause she didn’t say anything after, but at this point I started to feel the tears well up in my eyes so I just hugged her and let her cry as long as she needed in my chest.

After a while, she spoke again and what she said made me shed some tears because I just wanted to make it better, but i didn't know how, but I knew I would do everything I could to make it better, “Tommy, please help me, turn the voices off, j-j-just please h-h-he-help me please” to that I responded feeling a lump in my throat, trying to make the words that came out of my mouth as steady as I could, but not achieving it completely, “Everything is going to be alright baby, I promise, I'm not gonna let you alone, I’ll be with you through every step of the way, I promise everything will be alright princess”

After that pulled her into my lap and held her until she fell asleep from the crying, while I was holding her, I noticed how small and innocent she looked and i realized that I loved her so much that I would do everything to get her back to health and happiness, and I would turn off the voices that kept tormenting her mind, she was my baby and I wouldn't give up on her nor let her go.

MASTERLIST

#tom holland #harry holland #sad #fluff #comfort #boyfriend tom holland #sweet tom holland #mental illness #menatl health #get help #you are worthy #love you #eating disorder #tom holland and eating disorder

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d-xs · 4 years

Text

PROMPT:

Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Catherine Todd

Warning: implied/referenced child abuse.

Jason Todd makes no attempt to eat his burger or even take a sip from his soda, despite the loud rumbling of his stomach. He clutches the bag tightly, bringing it closer to his chest when he sees Bruce staring, like he's afraid Bruce would take offense and demand his food back.

Bruce Wayne does not understand him. His threadbare clothes do nothing to hide the skin stretched over bones. He can see the outline of the boy's ribs through his red hoodie. He is clearly very hungry and going by the way he can't seem to take his eyes off the bag of fast food or even how he keeps taking lungs full of the aroma wafting from it, like if he breathes deep enough, he will be filled. He would bet his entire fortune that this kid has not had a good meal in weeks, or even months. Even one as unhealthy as greasy fast food.

The child is clearly starving. Yet, he has not made any attempt to help himself.

Bruce does not have any experience with poverty or homelessness. Even at the lowest point of his life, he had access to basic human needs. Still, he knows enough about human behavior to know that Jason's behavior right now is not the norm. When he gives a clearly starving person food, they usually devour it immediately.

There are only a few reasons why he would not want to eat the food he had enthusiastically accepted from Bruce. Either he plans to use the food as payment for his safety, in which case, Bruce needs to start looking into gangs exploiting kids, or he has someone, most likely a younger sibling in his care. Considering the fact that Bruce had caught him trying to jack off the fourth tire of the batmobile, after successfully getting away with the other three, Bruce is not sure what is most likely to be the case.

"You going to turn me in now?" Jason asks him, once Bruce's burger is out of sight.

"I promised you I wouldn't," Bruce tells him as earnestly as he can manage.

It doesn't convince the child at all.

"Yeah, right," he scoffs. "That's what you all say."

"Don't you think it would be counter-productive to have you arrested for trying to survive? I'm trying to make Gotham safe for kids like you, Jason. Not put you in jail. I might take you somewhere safe, so you don't have to keep living on the streets, but--"

"I'm not on the streets," Jason cuts in defensively. The fear and worry in his expression is clear now. "I live with my mom and we're fine. If you're not going to arrest me, then I'll be on my way."

A mom. Bruce can't decide if it's a euphemism for Boss. He has seen some awful things since becoming Batman. He also knows some parents take advantage of their kids and force them into crimes as a way to 'earn their keep'.

Jason is most likely taking the food to this person, if he's not eating it, and Batman needs to separate them if the child is being exploited.

The child doesn't wait for Bruce's response before he starts his trek back to the Narrows.

Making a snap decision, Bruce calls out to him.

"Common, I'll drop you off wherever you want," he says, knowing Jason would never let Batman drop him off at home. The child is too suspicious, and rightfully so.

Jason stops in his tracks, but he makes no attempt to accept Bruce's offer.

"It will be morning before you make it all the way across town," Bruce points out. "That's <i>if</i> you don't get attacked for the food."

With that, Jason agrees to let Bruce give him a ride.

Even though he was quiet for the first couple of minutes, Bruce could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. Jason has a very expressive face that tells Bruce he is gearing up to say something, as he takes in the interior of the batmobile.

Jason doesn't take as long as Bruce thought he would.

"You're probably rich, huh?" Jason observes.

Oh God, Bruce hopes this kid is not about to proposition him.

"Not really." Bruce's answer is terse to discourage further probing.

"So it's true what they say?" Jason continues, either missing Bruce's reluctance to continue with this conversation or ignoring it. "That you're fucking Bruce Wayne for money?"

If Batman didn't have such a tight rein on his microexpressions, he would have choked. "That's not language suitable for a child."

Jason turns in his seat so that Bruce doesn't miss the elaborate eye-roll.

"I guess you've had to pay informants, huh?" Jason asks. "You know, like in the stories, where a dude is rewarded for giving the cops valuable information for solving a crime. You do that?"

"Sometimes." Bruce is invested in where Jason is going with his questioning. "Why? Do you have information to sell?"

"Depends on your going rate," the boy sasses.

"And how much do you want?" Bruce asks.

"I read in the papers that the FBI pay up to a hundred grand," Jason shrugs. "Shouldn't be too much for you to match, seeing as you have a rich boyfriend."

"One hundred thousand dollars?" The only reason Bruce doesn't laugh is because he doesn't want Jason to think he's being made fun of.

That, and the possibility that Jason may be trying to get free from his abuser, by having Batman go after them.

"You really think your information is worth that much?" Bruce asks.

"You tell me, Batman." Jason shrugs again. "It was worth enough to cause a war between Penguin and Scarecrow. Enough to make my dad disappear, not that that's a bad thing."

Bruce doesn't think he's supposed to hear the last part, as Jason mutters it under his breath. But the cowl picks up the words clearly.

A criminal and/or abusive mother and mob affiliated but now absentee father. Bruce is debating calling Social Services.

He's also aware of the war between Penguin and Scarecrow. A few months ago, there were rumors of a collaboration between the two factions to take over Gotham, before accusations of betrayal.

If it wasn't for the lives being lost, Bruce would be grateful for their misunderstanding.

Still, a hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for someone like Jason, and is most likely to draw the wrong attention.

"I'll give you five thousand," Bruce tells him.

"Out of a hundred? Are you really that cheap?" Jason snorts. "You roll around in a ride like this and can't even pay for information? Okay, I'll do you a favor and take seventy."

"Ten," Bruce counters.

"All you rich assholes like taking advantage of poor people," Jason grumbles angrily. When Bruce doesn't budge, he relents. "Fifty."

"Fifteen."

"Fifty," Jason repeats firmly.

"Alright, twenty five thousand dollars and that's my final offer."

"Deal!" Jason agrees immediately.

Bruce watches him spit on his palm before extending it to Bruce for a handshake.

"Come on," he urges when Bruce makes no attempt to shake his hand. "We gotta shake on it to seal the deal."

In the face of that logical argument, Bruce spits in his own hand before clasping it to Jason's in a handshake.

If Jason believes he has information that can help, then twenty five thousand dollars is not too much to pay someone who clearly needs it. The cash in the batmobile isn't up to the amount, but it should be enough to buy the time he would need to get the rest from the manor.

"Alright." He follows Jason's directions on where to park. "What's this information?"

"Wait here," Jason instructs him, undoing the seat belt. "I'll bring it to you."

Bruce gives Jason a minute head-start before he takes to the rooftops, to trail the young boy.

After a few twists and turns, he comes to a stop in front of a dilapidated building. A woman rushes out and pulls Jason into a hug.

"I've been looking all over for you!" she scolds. "Where were you? Chris said some man took you. Is that true?"

She is rail thin, her threadbare clothes hanging off her body, but she sounds genuinely distressed as she checks him for injuries.

"I'm fine, Mom," Jason says in comfort before shoving the food at her. "Look, I got us food and I found a way to get away from the men looking for dad."

The woman -- Jason's mom -- shoves the food back at him, before pulling him into an apartment with the door barely hanging on a hinge.

It's hard not to notice the woman's limp, or the way Jason supports some of her weight as they go.

Bruce takes a second to process everything.

Judging by the environment and what he's seen and heard, Jason isn't being abused, but he's in even more danger.

Whether he plans to pay off his father's debt with the money or not, Bruce knows he has to get mother and son away from this place before they end up as victims of mob violence. Whether Jason really does have information to sell or not.

With that, Bruce hops down to the street from his perch on the roof.

Despite how mindful he is of the door, the moment his fist to connects with the door, it falls off the hinge holding it in place, exposing Jason and his mother having either a very late dinner or a very early breakfast in their one bedroom apartment.

They both jump at the sight of him, and once realization dawns on them, their reactions are wildly different.

Jason's mom cowers with fear, shrinking into herself while attempting to wrap herself around her son, but Jason won't have it. He is livid.

"What the fuck, Batman!" the child hisses angrily. "I told you to wait for me."

"Jason, stop," his mother pleads, pulling Jason behind her.

The boy is unmoved. His mother's frailness is no match for his strength.

"You broke our door! Why the fuck would you do that?"

Despite his obvious anger, they're both careful not to raise their voices. Bruce imagines that getting a visit from Batman isn't a good thing in this neighborhood.

"Calm down," Bruce growls.

Both mother and son freeze where they stand.

"We didn't do nothing wrong, Batman," the lady tells him in a trembling voice. "If you're looking for my husband, we don't know where he is."

"I'm here for Jason," Bruce tells her, registering her distress just before he turns to Jason. "You were taking too long," he lies. "I wanted to make sure you were fine."

This seems to placate the boy a bit, but not his mother, who demands to know what the hell is going on.

Bruce watches silently as Jason explains his plans to his mother.

Apparently, his plan is to sell the information his father stole from Scarecrow to Batman, in exchange for money that will get them out of Crime Alley.

His mom doesn't look thrilled, but she lets Jason climb into the ceiling to retrieve what her husband had hidden there.

"You won't arrest him when you have what you want, will you?" she asks with a fierce look.

Bruce can't help but admire that about her. Not a lot of people have that look about them when Batman is staring them down.

Must be where Jason gets his spunk.

"Jason is a good boy," she continues. "He did a bad thing, but it was for a good reason. His heart is in the right place, I swear."

"Mrs Todd--" Bruce starts, but she interrupts him.

"Catherine."

"Catherine," he repeats. "I don't plan to arrest your son," he continues as calmly as Batman's voice will let him. "We made a deal and I intend to uphold my end."

"So you're just going to hand Jason twenty-five grand?" Catherine asks suspiciously. "Just like that?"

"Yes," he tells her simply. "But I don't have twenty-five thousand dollars in cash right now. I can give you a thousand tonight, and a safe place for the night. Seeing as I broke your door. Tomorrow, you will get the rest of the money and I will call someone to fix your door."

As he talks, he pulls out the bills from his utility belt and hands it to her.

Of course, he has no plans of letting them return here. But if he has learned anything from being Batman, it's that, sometimes, all some people have left is their pride.

Poor people hate being treated as charity.

Siccing Alfred on her would be more productive. All he has to do is make sure they meet. Dick would probably appreciate having someone young in the manor, too.

"And you swear Jason will be safe?" Catherine stresses, eyes flickering between the money and Bruce's face.

"I swear," he vows solemnly. That much, he can promise.

A few minutes later, Jason returns from the ceiling, an envelope clutched in his hand.

"Jason," Catherine calls softly, pulling him into her arms before he can give Bruce the envelope. "Baby, there's something I have to tell you about…"

#cara writes #ojtserversunday #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #catherine todd #Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne #Jason Todd & Catherine Todd #Catherine is a trying mom #She loves her son #Catherine Todd lives

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rpbetter · 3 years

Note

So I’ve been watching this stuff with Raven and everyone else involved, and now I see that you and some others are apparently accusing the mods of that vent blog of being involved? All because they’re seemingly choosing to stay out of it? News flash: I’ve been following that blog for years and them deleting some submissions is nothing new. The more asks they post about this, the more drama it brings to their blog and then it spreads to their followers. No one is obliged to be part of someone else’s fights or fix their problems.

You’re demanding that a third party get involved in drama that has nothing to do with them and side with you. From where I’m standing, it seems like they can’t win. If they say something that isn’t what you guys wanna hear then they’re accused of taking sides. If they don’t say anything, then they’re accused of taking sides or even BEING Raven. Is there anything that they could do in this situation that wouldn’t result in them getting utterly ripped to shreds by one side or the other? Given the behavior I’ve witnessed from both sides of this drama I’m not exactly surprised they’d want to steer clear.

Newflash, I've also been following that blog for years! I stopped so much as looking at it because I couldn't tolerate seeing the shit show constantly going on with drama mod this one is disturbingly reflective of to myself and others. Totally an alright position to take.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way...

When you're a mod, no, you honestly cannot do anything right sometimes, that's part of why it's an undertaking that isn't for everyone, but since you asked:

Like I've said, and have two more drafts sitting around with exactly this sort of thing in them, there are absolutely things they could have done that would have been the responsible choice. You do realize that they did, maybe still do, there have been changes, have in their rules that the blog was absolutely not to be used as a callout source, and this action would result in being blocked? Since you've been there for years as well?

That included, specifically stated in those rules, taking this off of the blog into one's own space to do so. And again, it would result in blocking.

Fine, don't interact with it anymore, but apply your rules. It's a questionable but personal choice to pick what topics you're going to allow to keep going regardless of the on-blog drama they cause within the parameters of the rules you've set forth, choosing to not act in your position as the moderator is different.

The choice was made to renege on those rules in this case. An actual, unabashedly obvious, in the fucking URL, callout blog was allowed to reblog posts, engage with the comments, in its capacity as a callout blog. Do you see how that was wildly inappropriate not to address as a mod?

Raven outted themselves, took it off-blog in a reblog, to continuing an already present callout situation and start further shit. Do you see how that was wildly inappropriate not to address as a mod?

Even if those rules did not exist, it should have been blocked the second that mod saw them. You cannot run a place like that blog in any other way than keeping it the safest feeling environment possible, otherwise, you end up with this situation. The situation in which your blog has just been used as a callout resource, is the epicenter of excessive bullshit that has negatively impacted the RPC and will continue to for some time, and is no longer being engaged with out of fear, distrust, and anger.

It's not unreasonable that this is a really poor look to choose to allow this drama to continue without taking any action at all, excepting selectively delete submissions regarding it. You get how that could make people feel a little more suspicious when they've been given cause to feel that way anyway? I mean, the blog turned out to be the open source for callouts and harassment it has claimed to be non-supportive and intolerant of. A state that is necessary to maintain on a blog that runs entirely on people getting things out of their systems - that is always going to incite a desire for callouts and bullying. This isn't the first time, it's just the first time it turned into this. It's critical that this not be allowed to happen.

It did happen, and we yet again, got a piss poor response from someone in a position of responsibility. One that included super cool, super weird threats, too!

Listen, I am big on people appreciating others who give their additional time to providing and/or maintaining extra things for this community. That does not mean that every choice they make is great, forgivable, without suspicion. Respect mods because they're giving their time =/= everything every mod does is without reproach =/= extreme, unreasonable expectations.

If I cleaned your room or apartment for free for you out of the goodness of my heart or because I'm just really into cleaning or both, would that make you totally cool with the fact that I knocked over a lit candle and burned half your shit up? I was giving you something of benefit at no cost, but you'd have every right to be kind of pissed off at me for that. It doesn't make anyone some kind of infallible saint, people absolutely can take issue with them, and not handling it properly at any point outside of what they don't want to deal with is a valid issue to take.

We're all aware that the blog does not publish all submissions, in fact, that's been a problem in the past when people felt like there was some significant bias going on. It's an inherent risk of this kind of moderating. After all, no one but the mod(s) is going to see what is in that inbox, we have to believe that they're following their own rules and acting honestly, impartially. When the actions taken by the mod do not exactly sell this, no shit, people are going to have problems.

Again, what do/did I want them to do?

Follow. Their. Rules. Be transparent. Not give people reason for this kind of suspicion and additionally bent feelings. Accept the reality, like a lot of people interacting with every blog but mine seem to have difficulty with as well, that they've accepted a position of responsibility and need to act in accordance with what they've accepted.

Know what I didn't accept the responsibility of? Modding this blog as a confessions/vent blog. I'm not running on the idea that there is 0 bias - it's an advice blog, it runs on my observation, experience, and yep, opinion. I still try to be as transparent and honest as humanly possible while maintaining my rules. That's the responsibility I accepted when I created this blog. The responsibility, that no one forced them into, when creating and/or maintaining a vent blog is far more serious.

Getting "involved in drama" is literally your fucking position as a moderator of a vent blog. You're not a random, third-party witness. It's your blog. The drama happened because of your blog, it's your business, you're involved. Just like stepping in to moderate comments. But this kind of take on it does explain the copious volumes of attitude with negative stores of responsibility of that other mod, so I guess, thanks for that.

So, yeah, go ahead and refuse to post anything relating to it, but maybe accept some culpability in the failure to act instead of doubling down on it in justification? Maybe state, in a non-creepy way, that nothing further on the topic will be posted, the callout blog and Raven should have been blocked in accordance with the rules, you're sorry that did not happen, you'll be more aware of what is going on next time and hope that everyone gives you that opportunity?

What is it that you think people are expecting? No one I know of thinks that the vent blog should have gone 'round individually trying to get people to behave, just adhere to their responsibility on their own damn blog. If you can't handle that, you're not a very good moderator. And just as you're complaining to and at me, it's the position you've placed yourself in, people are going to tell you about it, they are going to have issues with what you're doing/not doing. This isn't your RP blog, it isn't your personal blog. There are different responsibilities and expectations.

For the record? I don't think that mod is Raven. I just said I wouldn't be shocked at this point, that I can see where people could get that, and that I felt it was possible there is a connection, as in, they know each other, given the extreme toleration that was had. Genuinely not interested in openly saying what I do think as regards who they are because that? That'd be irresponsible of me. When I can just...not. And not interact with that blog because it already sketched me the hell out on that basis alone.

#hold someone other than Vespertine accountable 2k21 ffs.

#answered #anonymous #drama cw #I know you were mentioned but yes I *do* have the one other ask pertaining to this topic specifically #and an older ask pertaining to it and some other things in drafts. There's just a lot of careful wording on both #that needs to be done for obvious reasons. I'm not ignoring either of you and appreciate your comments ;)

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