#LET ME BE CLEAR IT WAS SUPER UNNECESSARY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writella · 10 months ago

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Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead #negan smith

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purpleangiie · 4 months ago

Text

Kon: "I think your father is homophobic."

Tim: "Nah, he's just Superphobic."

Kon: "Well, he surely hates me."

Tim: "It's not just you. He's banned all Supers from Gotham."

Damian: "That’s not true. Father is very pleased when Clark is at the manor, and Jon is allowed here too."

Tim: "Yeah, but he's known Clark for years. He trusts him. And Jon... Well, he's not a threat yet."

Damian: "What do you mean Jon is not a threat yet, Drake? He might not be as powerful as them, but he has superpowers just like Conner and Clark."

Kon: "Sure he is, but you're both still very young."

Damian, offended: "I'm thirteen!"

Kon: "Too young to be walked in on while making out on the kitchen counter at 2 am... Wait, maybe that's why he hates me."

Tim: "It's surely on the list."

Damian: "Gross. I understand why father despises you."

Tim: "See? Too young."

Damian: "Conner, you're officially banned from the kitchen manor."

Kon: "Ah, that won't be a problem." *he glances at Tim, smirking.* "We can still make out in the cave, right?"

Tim:

Damian: *snickers*

Kon:

Kon: "He's behind me, isn't he?"

Bruce: "Conner."

Kon, under his breath: "Shit."

Bruce: "Let's make things clear. No one is gonna do anything inside the cave or within the perimeter of the manor. Especially you. And I'm certain I've already told you you're not welcomed in my city."

Tim: "Bruce, c'mon–"

Kon: "Well, I guess that was my clue. Time to go."

Tim, muttering: "Time to move out."

Kon, gesturing politely toward Bruce and then Damian: "Mr. Wayne. Dami."

Kon: *walks toward Tim, grabs his hips and kisses him passionately for an unnecessary long time as Bruce stares at them in utter silence*

Kon, pulling back: "See ya soon, boy wonder."

Kon: *flies away*

Bruce:

Tim:

Bruce: "You're grounded for a week."

Tim, as red as his costume and still panting, the smug smirk on his face quickly fading away: "wHAT?"

[Bruce walks away and four heads suddenly pop up from behind a column]

Dick: "Wow. That boy has guts."

Jason: "That was a full PG-14 kiss right there."

Cass: *holds up a sign that says 10/10*

Steph: "Seriously, the whole thing was magnificent!"

Damian: "It was horrendous. And impudent."

Tim, sighing: "God, I hate this family."

#Bruce doesn't really hate Kon #He's scared of him #And sure he's a Super so #Bruce is a little piece of shit sometimes but Kon is not easily intimidated #These Supers I swear!#He's already preparing contingency plans for Jon *just in case*#Just wait for Jon and Damian to grow up a bit...#(But in this case he's more scared of Damian)#incorrect batfamily quotes #dc incorrect quotes #my incorrect quotes #batfamily #dc comics #tim drake #conner kent #superboy #timkon #kontim

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mphoenix-7 · 3 months ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 13: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 4)

Summary: Soap takes you to a special place he’s found during your five days at the Cabin. You sit, eat, and talk about your pasts a little bit. Soap opens up more than you expect, and you share some stuff about your past too.

Word Count: 6,511

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, mentions of death, slightly descriptive mentions of death, car accident, trauma, sweet moments

A/N: Time for a little bonding between you and Soap. More to follow ☺️😉 Also, a Taglist has been added! Please comment on if you’d like to be added to it! Thanks for reading 🫶🏻

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 13

The place Soap had in mind for lunch turned out to be absolutely beautiful. A small clearing opened up before you, with a crystal-clear stream winding through it. In one spot, the water pooled gently, forming a small, serene pond. Reeds and wildflowers grew in abundance around the water’s edge, their vibrant colors adding a touch of whimsy to the scene. Only a few trees dotted the clearing, allowing plenty of sunlight to stream through, casting a warm and inviting glow over the area.

The second you walk to the spot, you have to stop to really take it all in. As cliche as it sounded, the spot really was breathing taking. It makes you sad to think that it’s been here the whole time, and you’re just now finding out about this spot on day five.

“Wow…” You breathe, Soap stopping a few steps ahead of you to wait for you to finish taking it all in. “It’s so pretty. How on earth did find this place?” You ask, eyes still trained on the scene ahead as you resume your walking.

“It was the first day we got here. After our big blow up at each other, I went exploring to cool off and just happened to stumble upon it by chance.” He answers. “Come on, the best spot to sit is over here.”

You let him take the lead again, noticing the path you were following looked like it had been walked on before. A lot of the tall grasses and other shrubs were in disarray or broken.

It wouldn’t surprise you if Soap had frequented this place throughout the five days you’ve been here. There were a lot of opportunities for him to get angry and want to storm off somewhere to cool down. This was quite the place to cool down too. You wouldn’t blame him for wanting to come here.

The path Soap was following lead right up the stream. Once you’re right next to him at the edge of the water, Soap glances over at you. “We can cross here. Just be careful cause these rocks can get a little slippery. Especially that speckled one.”

“What? Why are we crossing? Can’t we just stay on this side?” You question him, looking back to the gentle stream. Although it’s not particularly wide or deep, you’d need to take a couple of steps through the water to get across. You notice a few rocks scattered across the stream that could serve as stepping stones, but the prospect of crossing seemed unnecessary.

Soap shrugs a bit. “I mean we could, but there’s a clearing that’s just tall grass right by the water on the other side.” He points out the space he was talking about. “It’s a nice spot. Just trust me.”

You hum softly in thought, debating on if it’s worth the risk of falling in. It wasn’t like the stream would sweep you away or you’d drown—it’d just make for a cold, soggy walk back to the cabin. Even then, it was quite warm out today, so there was a good chance you wouldn’t even be that cold.

You go back and forth in your mind for a little longer before just giving in and agreeing. “Alright.” You sigh. “Better be super worth it, cause I’m risking falling in for it.”

Soap huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “States, if a big muscular guy like me can cross without falling in, I’m sure someone as slim and nimble as you can make it without a problem.

You gasp and dramatically slap a hand over your chest. “Wow, slim and nimble? I think that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.” You tease, making Soap roll his eyes.

“I’ve complimented you plenty of times.” He grumbles as he turns to face the stream. He begins to cross the stream, his step placement confident looking. You can tell that he’s done this a few times now. Either that or the rocks were that slippery.

“Saying shit like, ‘you didn’t suck as much today’ does not count.” You call after him, watching as he shifts his weight so that he’s standing on two rocks.

He looks back at you, his brows pinched slightly and an indignant look on his face. “That totally counts.” He insists.

“That’s a back handed compliment at best.” You argue back, folding your arms over your chest as you watch him.

He raises a brow at you, almost mockingly. “Still a compliment though. And besides, that’s how all of us compliment each other.”

You can’t deny that. The 141 boys did have a habit of tossing around quips more than actual praise. Gaz was the exception. He didn’t do it as often, but even he had his moments. Still, you’ve received genuine compliments from Price when it was just the two of you, and Gaz gave them to you quite a bit. Ghost hardly ever did, but that was just Ghost.

“I’ve gotten real compliments from the others before.” You counter, finally stepping forward to place your foot on the first rock.

“Even Ghost?” Soap retorts, holding out his hand to help you balance while you get your footing. You take it, wobbling a bit until you get your other foot placed. Once you have your balance, you let go of Soap’s hand.

“Ghost doesn’t count. You’d be lucky if he insulted you.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” Soap laughs a little bit, easily stepping across the remaining stones and getting to the other side without a problem. He didn’t even so much as wobble.

You follow after him, holding out your arms to the side a bit to help you balance. You managed to get across though without falling in. It wasn’t that difficult to cross; the rocks were flat enough and they really weren’t too wet. The second your feet hit the grass on the other side, Soap is giving you a slow clap.

“Good job. You crossed and didn’t fall in. Gold star. How’s that for a compliment?” He teases, getting an eye roll.

“Oh fuck off.” You groan, giving him a shove. Soap laughs as you push him away, his arms coming up to shield himself as he stumbles a little away from you. “Just go back to not complimenting me. I think it was better that way.”

“If you insist.” He laughs. “Just remember that you told me that the next time you start whining about how I never say anything nice.”

Soap starts to lead the way once more, walking you over to the spot he’d been so insistent on going to. True to his word, it’s right by the water, nestled on a tiny mound that offers a perfect view of the stream below. A small waterfall that feeds into the pond adds a soothing backdrop of sound. The tall grass around the area is flattened, clear evidence that Soap has visited this place at least once before.

When you get there, Soap steps into the center of where all the grass is flattened and begins to stomp a little more down more around the edges to make room for you to sit. Once he’s done, he steps over to one side and motions for you to get comfortable in the spot he’s just made.

“There we go. Have a seat.” He says, dropping the backpack from his shoulders and setting it down in the grass before sitting himself.

You sit down slowly, surprised by how soft the grass feels beneath you. Being so close to the water, it’s lush and cool, not dried out or prickly like you’d expected. You could honestly take a nap here.

“I still can’t get over how beautiful it is out here. So different from base and deployments.” You say once you’re settled in.

The military base you were currently stationed at, like most others, was dominated by neutral tones and dark green colors. It was a familiar sight—most bases you’d been to had a similar aesthetic. The ones in America were mostly concrete and equipment, with gray dominating the landscape. The base you're at now does have patches of grass, but they’re poorly maintained, with dirt paths worn into them from the constant foot traffic of soldiers.

Then of course when it came to your deployments, half the time you went to places where it was mostly desert. If you did go to a place with a lot of natural greenery, then it was normally so war torn, with uprooted trees, tank tracks, and pits that people dug or ones created by frags, that it wasn’t very enjoyable. The other scenario was you were in a beautiful place but couldn’t enjoy it because you were being shot at.

This was a rare treat. The sounds of nature, no war in sight, no needing to be on high alert for snipers. Just time to sit back and enjoy the beauty of the world you hardly got to see. Even if at first this unscheduled vacation seemed like a death sentence, you were learning to enjoy it. At the very least, you could take back snippets of moments like this.

“Yeah,” Soap hums softly from where he’s seated. “It reminds me a little of Scotland.”

You glance over at him, taking notice of the faint smile on his face as he looks around at the little grassy meadow. He was thinking about his motherland. His home. There’s a longing in his eyes that you’d have to be blind to miss.

“How so?” You venture, wanting to hear more about where he came from. You were sure that Soap, ever the proud Scotsman, would have no problem gushing about Scotland. And you were right. The second the question leaves your lips, he seems to light up.

“All this lush, rolling grass, the gentle breeze, the fresh air, and the sound of the stream—it reminds me of the Highlands and the woods by my childhood home. We lived right outside of town, and our house sat on a hill, giving us the best view of the open land. Behind us, there were miles and miles of woods, covered in moss, with a stream running through it. It was bigger than this one, but the feel of it… it’s the same.”

He pauses, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he continues. “I spent so much time out there when I was a wee laddie. From sunup to sundown, I was always outside. My friends and I would climb trees, play all sorts of game, build forts. In the stream, we would stack rocks to build dams and splash around when it was warm.”

You laugh softly, smiling at the thought of a young, rowdy John MacTavish playing in the woods. It was something you could easily picture. “No wonder you’re so knowledgeable about bears and stuff.”

Soap shrugs a little bit. “We don’t have bears in Scotland. The most dangerous animals out where I was were boars and red deer. I learned all that stuff about bears when I was deployed in Russia.”

“Well regardless, it sounds like you were quite the forest dweller as a child.”

Soap laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Aye, I was. I went to the woods for everything. My favorite spot was that stream though. I’d go out there by myself and sit by the water, letting it wash away whatever was on my mind. It was always my go to place when I was sad, angry, or just needing to clear my head. It always made me feel better.”

Soap pauses a moment, a little huff of a laugh leaving him as he recalls some story on his mind. “Like the time I first learned I’d no longer be an only child. When my mum and dad told me I was gonna have a little sister, I was so pissed. Took off right out the back door and spent hours out there.”

You laugh softly, but your eyebrows are raised in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

His files made no mention of his family, though you suppose they wouldn’t have anyway. Information like that was kept almost as secure as launch codes. Still, you always pictured Soap as an only child.

“Yeah, fucking three of them.” He huffs, which surprises you even further. “Eilidh (AY-lee), Rowan, and Kirsten.”

“Damn, MacTavish. I never would have pictured you growing up with three girls.” You smirk, and he returns it, amused himself.

“That’s exactly what Gaz said too.” Soap muses, leaning back a little now and stretching his legs out in front of him. A much more relaxed posture. “So what about you, Stateside? You have any siblings growing up?”

A smile tugs at your lips as the faces of your brother and sister flash through your mind. “An older brother and a younger sister. My brother was adopted from South Korea, and his name is Kim and my sister’s name is Rozlin.”

It was Soap’s turn to be surprised now. “Huh, I always pictured you as the youngest, not a middle child.”

“And why is that?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t say cause we said we’d be nice to each other.” He’s dodging the question, but he still answered your question without answering it.

“That’s such an older brother thing to say.”

Soap chuckles softly at your response, and the conversation pauses for a moment. There’s a few beats of silence, Soap seeming to be lost in his thoughts. He gazes back to you shortly though, changing the topic.

“You miss America and being home with them? It’s gotta hard being in a completely different country than the rest of your family.”

You hum softly, a slight frown on your face. It has been a while since you’ve seen your siblings— about a year now. You were sadly used to not seeing much of them anymore now though. Being in the military for a few years now, you didn’t get to be home often with them. You only really saw them on holidays or through FaceTime calls. The last time you’d seen them was through such a call before you’d transferred overseas. The last time in person had been for a sadder event you didn’t want to currently think about.

“Yeah…” You trail off, trying to find a way to explain your feelings to Soap’s question.

Soap frowns as you trail off, his expression going from light and playful to a touch more serious. “You don’t miss home?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head. “I do. I mean, America is my home, and I will always love my siblings. But this life changes you. I can never go back to being a civilian, and it’s like the life I had in America before the military is one I will never have again.”

Soap hums softly, his brows slightly furrowed as he listens. “I get it. A bit of a love-hate relationship.”

“Exactly.” You sigh, a slightly sad smile on your face. “It’s hard to get us all together anyway. Kim also joined the forces, I’m in special-ops now, and last I knew, Rozlin is thinking of joining too.”

“Wow, quite the military family.” Soap chuckles. “Your parents must be proud.”

There it was. The moment those words leave Soap’s lips, a sharp pang of loss hits you, squeezing your heart. You smile sadly at the thought of your parents, trying to push the emotions down. “They were.” You nod, trying to keep it short, but Soap’s curiosity was piqued.

“Were?” He asks slowly, making you sign. Gently, you start to pick at the blades of grass around you, trying to get the words out.

“My… My parents died like a year ago. I guess closer to a year and a half now.” You bite the inside of your cheek, continuing to pick at the grass, but also watching out of the corner of your eye as Soap sits up more.

“Oh God… States, I’m so sorry to hear that.” He says, frowning at you.

“It’s fine. Really. I mean, I’ve have time to process it.” You try to give him a smile to let him know you really were alright, but your eyes still held the sadness of losing someone you love.

The news of their death had been a complete shock to you. Your Sergeant at the time had called you into his office in the middle of a drill one morning to break the news to you. It didn’t sink in right away. You’d denied their death the entire flight back to your hometown. It was only when you entered the funeral hall, and your sister came running to you, her body trembling with sobs as she buried her face in your shoulder, that the weight of the loss finally hit you.

That was the last time you’d been under the same roof with both of your siblings. It was the last time you’d been to your childhood hometown. The last time you’d stepped foot in your childhood home.

“Can I asked what happened?” Soap asks softly, breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Car accident. Drunk driver. Going too fast and hit them head on.” You pick at a few more blades of grass, trying your hardest to fight back tears. God how much you still resented that other driver. The one who got to live.

Soap sighs, looking down and not saying anything for a moment as he takes in what you’ve just told him. “That’s horrible.” He finally says after a moment. “I… I know what’s it like. My uh… my mum also died in a car accident when I was young.” He says slowly, and you instantly look over at him.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that.” You say gently, resting a hand on his knee. You can feel your heart breaking for him. “How did… what happened?” You ask gently, not wanting to dig too much if it was a hard topic for him.

“Don’t really know.” Soap says, looking down at your hand on his knee. “She went out for something in the next town over and never came back. The next morning, they found her car had swerved off road and smashed into a tree. She wasn’t speeding, she didn’t do drugs, wasn’t drinking. Probably alive after she hit the tree and bled out…”

He clears his throat, his eyes instantly becoming glossy. Growling a little, he sniffs and wipes at one of his eyes. “Still not over it.” He chuckles, trying to hide his hurt. “That day changed everything for me. My mum was the kindest and most incredible woman...”

He trails off again, his voice wavering near the end. He was clearly struggling. You give his knee a reassuring squeeze, but he doesn’t look back at you. He keeps his focus trained on the ground.

“Could you tell me about her?” You ask softly. A small smile flickers on Soap’s face, just barely noticeable. He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then nods slowly. You can see him steady himself before he starts to speak.

“She was the most loving, understanding person you could ever meet,” Soap begins, his voice softening. “It’s hard to put into words who she was, but everything about her just… beautiful.” His eyes grow distant as he speaks, gaze drifting toward the stream once more. He’s caught up in some kind of memory, one you don’t wish to interrupt.

A moment later, he shifts his gaze back to you. “You remember that story I told you earlier? About how I ran into the woods when I found out I was getting a sister?”

You nod.

“Well, it was my mum who came and found me afterwards. She always knew exactly what to do to make me feel better. I remember she brought me some shorties, which were my absolute favorite. They still are, I love those things.” Soap chuckles softly before continuing with his story.

“We didn’t talk right away. She just sat with me, and we listened to the water together. Just the two of us. It’s funny, I don’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember we talked until the sun went down. And when we got home, she tucked in and told me, ‘John, no matter what, you’ll always be my boy. You’ll always have a place in this family, and no one can take that from you.’ She told me that having a sister wouldn’t change that, and that being a big brother meant having someone who’d look up to me, someone I could protect.”

His voice softens as he adds, “She taught me that love wasn’t something that got divided—it just grew. That stuck with me. Made me feel better about everything. Like I wasn’t losing anything but gaining something special.

Whenever I think about home, my home before my dad met Annette and remarried, or when I see something like this stream, I think of her. I’d give anything to sit and talk with her by the stream at home again. Just one more time.”

When he finishes, you’re left utterly speechless. His recollection about his mother is so touching, so sweet, and so heartfelt—nothing like the Soap you knew. You’ve never seen this side of him before, not even around the other members of the 141.

Your heart aches for him, the pain in his words is palpable, and you can see it in his eyes as he gazes longingly at the flowing water. You never imagined that you and Soap would share such a traumatic loss. In a strange way, it makes you feel closer to him. You’re touched that he would share something so personal with you. Something that made him vulnerable.

Without you even realizing it, a single tear slides down your cheek. You only notice it when Soap brushes it away. His touch pulls you back to the present, and you focus on his eyes, which hold tears of their own. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes expressing an understand.

His thumb lingers on your cheek for just a second longer, his touch gentle. When he finally pulls his hand back, the corners of his mouth twitch into a small, bittersweet smile. The silence between you feels heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like a shared space where words aren’t necessary.

You take a deep breath, looking back to the stream, able to image John and his mother sitting there. “Your mother sounds like she was a real treasure.” You feel like your words aren’t enough. There’s nothing you can say to tell Soap how saddened you are by hearing about the loss of this mother. How great she sounded.

It’s enough to bring a smile to Soap’s face though. The longing is still in his eyes, but you know it’s a look that will never fully go away. But there’s also something else there too—a glimmer of happiness. Pride that you think his mother is just an incredible as the way he’s described her.

“I’m sure your parents were just as loving and incredible as my mum was.” Soap says softly. “They raised one hell of daughter.”

His words hit you hard, much harder than you expected. You’re brought to tears once more, watching them quickly well up in your line of sight, and you need to bite your cheek to keep from breaking down. Soap’s words touched your heart. You can’t be more grateful for them, but are unable to express the true extent of their impact. All you can manage to a nod and choked out, “thank you…”

Soap’s smile is gentle, understanding. He reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You squeeze back just as tightly, silently supporting each other as you listen to the slow rush of water from the stream.

Soap holds your hand the entire time you look out to the water together. A pleasant silence falls between you, but Soap eventually breaks it, letting go of your hand as he does.

“We should eat, huh?” He chuckles, his tone a tough lighter now. You’re almost relieved though to move on to something else. There was only so much you could take talking about death.

“Yeah, yeah, we should.” You agree, watching as Soap turns to grab the backpack. He unzips and starts to rifle through its contents. “What’s on the menu for today?” You ask, trying to peak over into the bag to see what he’s grabbed.

“Today, we have a fine selection of…” He pulls out two MREs. “Homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken and homestyle vegetables in sauce with noodles and chicken.” He lists, pausing between pulling each one out and holding them up for you to see.

You make a face, wanting to gag at what was probably the most unappetizing MRE there is. To be fair, it wasn’t horrible. If you were in a pinch, starving out in the middle of nowhere, freezing while you huddled under a tent in the middle of a downpour, or had eaten the same thing for a week straight, it would taste incredible. But currently, not starving, dry, and having eaten nothing but bland foods for the past five days, it sounded horrible.

“We didn’t have anything else?” You ask, wondering why he’d grabbed what he most likely also thought was the most bland and boring MRE kit there was.

Soap gives you a small shrug. “We’ve gone through every other MRE except this one. We’ve got one beef ravioli and one jalapeño beef patty left, but those were the last of the decent ones. I thought we might want to save them for tomorrow, so we don’t have to eat this mush for the rest of our time here.” He explains, handing the unappealing, brown packaged meal over to you.

You scowl down at it. “I think I’d almost rather starve than eat this.” You admit, turning the package over and inspecting it in disdain.

“It’s better when you have hot sauce you can put on it.” Soap says, already tearing open his kit and dumping the contents out.

You reluctantly open yours, but not before giving him a look. “Hot sauce in what is essentially chicken noodle soup? That sounds disgusting.”

Soap shrugs. “It gives it something interesting besides just blandness.” He says matter-o-factly, pausing in tearing open his food to dig back through the backpack. He comes up with your canteens and hands you yours. You can heat up your food with it and make the broth.

“I’ll keep that it mind.” You really have no intention of trying the weird mixtures he’s suggesting though. Hopefully, though unrealistically, you’d never have to eat this MRE again.

Resigning yourself to the unappetizing lunch in front of you, you tear open the MRE with a resigned sigh, already dreading the bland taste you know is coming. As you work on opening the package and sorting all the different packets, you glance back at Soap. “So, when did you join the force?” you ask, genuinely interested in learning more about Soap’s past, but also eager for the distraction from the meal.

“I joined when I was eighteen. Tried to enlist before then by lying about my age, but they figured it out and rejected my application.” Soap says, which makes you giggle. It sounded like something he would do.

“Excited about joining I see.” You muse, watching as Soap carefully pours water into the heating pouch and slides the meal packet inside. He props it against the backpack to let it heat up.

“Yeah… something like that.” He mutters, his tone seeming to shift just the slightest bit. It was enough to make you pause, but he continues on. “But I got in at eighteen. I was selected for the 22nd Regiment.”

You nod a little bit, deciding to brush off his brief shift in tone for now. “So what did you do in the 22nd?” You ask, filling your own heating pouch to get your food warm. All you really knew about the 22nd Regiment was that it some British infantry group.

“I was a part of an elite squadron that specialized in stuff like covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, and hostage rescues.” He explains, watching as you filled the bag up and prep it. Once it’s ready, he motions for you to give it to him, and he sets it up against the backpack next to his. “I did eight years there and then when I was twenty-six, I was doing training in Hereford, and Price was the evaluator. He saw a lot of potential in me or something, pushed me in my training, and when selection came, I passed. Was in the SAS after that. Youngest candidate to ever pass selection.”

You knew that about him already. It’d been in his file. You remember reading his file on the plane ride over to their base and being so impressed. He hadn’t just scraped by either, he got the highest marks possible on each phase of the test.

“I remember reading that in your file on the flight over.” You smile. “Made it all the more intimidating to join the team. Had one guy who was youngest to join the SAS, one whose entire file was reacted due to the work he did, a highly decorated Sergeant, and a seasoned Captain.”

Soap laughs softly at that. “Yeah, still didn’t keep you away, though.” Soap teases, earning himself an eye roll and a gentle shove.

It makes him laugh even more, and it’s strange to hear him joke about something like that for once. Normally when he made comments about stuff like wanting you to leave or wishing you hadn’t joined, he meant it. This time he seemed like he was joking. There was no hidden edge to his words.

“I had to sign the contract before they let me read up about you guys.” You joke back, playing along. Though that was true, you really did have to sign a contract first. You weren’t allow much information about the team unless you agreed to go. The only thing they really informed you about was the basic role of the position you’d be taking.

“We got your file the second you signed up.” Soap says, checking on his food by touching the back of his hand to the bag. His food must have been warm enough cause he starts to take it out of the heating pack. “Didn’t even really know we were getting another person until Price dropped it all in front of us at a meeting. Had only a few days to get ready for you.”

That was new information to you. You figured the guys would have known they were getting someone new long before you signed on. At the same time though, it made sense. It was safer to keep information like that between only a few people, and with the enemies you knew your current Task Force has made over the years, it was probably good not to have word get out they were growing the team.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you notice Soap is handing you your meal bag. He mutters a, “here” and you take it from him.

“Oh, thanks.” You mumble back, touching the bag carefully to make sure it was warm enough. It felt decent enough to eat, so you pulled it out of the bag.

As you do that, Soap has already getting his open and is looking back to you. “So, where were you stationed before joining us? I know it was in your file somewhere, but I forgot.” Soap continues on in conversation, mixing his food a bit.

“The Green Berets.” You answer, pulling the rip-strip on the top of the food pouch. The smell of chicken hits you instantly, and the sight of the noodles is already unappealing. “Outside of basics and the platoon I was assigned to, I’ve been with them my whole career. Until now of course with transferring to a Task Force.”

Soap hums softly as he listens to you and takes his first bite of the chicken veggie noddle MRE. Watching him eat it makes you shutter, though he seemed unbothered.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Soap mutters through a mouthful of food, his words come out muffled as he chews. He doesn’t bother to finish chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “Did some training with them back in the day.”

You wrinkle your nose in distaste, watching as he continues to take another bite of the noodles. He hadn’t even finished his first bite before adding another one. You never really noticed the way he ate until now.

“You know, the chicken noodles are bad enough on their own. You really don’t need to make it worse by talking with your mouth full.” You frown.

Soap chuckles at you, though he at least swallows before speaking again. “At least I’m eating it. You haven’t even touched yours.” He points towards your untouched meal bag with his spoon.

You glance down at the bag of unappetizing noodles and sigh. “Can you blame me? This stuff is revolting.”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes as he takes another bite. “Come on, it’s not that bad. The faster you eat it, the sooner you’ll be done suffering.”

You can't argue with that logic. As much as you hate to admit it, Soap has a point. The faster you got the food down, the sooner it’d be over, and the less you would taste. It wasn’t like you weren’t capable of eating fast either. Back in bootcamp, you only had five minutes to eat sometimes. So you were more than capable of shoveling it down, you just preferred not to eat that way.

Sighing to yourself, shoulders sagging, you reluctantly scoop up a small bite and force it into your mouth. The taste isn’t terrible, just bland, but the texture is what gets you. A shudder runs through you as you chew, and you can’t help but gag slightly as the mushy noodles slide down your throat.

The whole time you struggle through the bite, Soap watches with wide eyes, his expression shifting between horror and concern. When you finally swallow and chase the taste with a swig of water, he shakes his head. “Steamin' Jesus, that was fucking painful to watch.” He mutters.

You shutter once more, the sensation of the food sliding down your throat lingering for a moment. “I’d rather eat a raw fish from the lake we bathe in than finish this.” You complain, scowling down at the still very full bag.

Soap lets out a small huff that resembles a laugh as he turns back to his soggy noodles. “We could probably go fishing and catch a few. Cook them over the fire instead of eating them raw like some deranged woodsperson.”

Your eyes widen, and you snap your head toward him so fast it nearly startles him. “Could we really do that?!” you ask, barely containing your excitement.

You have been eating MREs or bread for the past fives days for every meal. Cooking fish, real food, instead of eating the bland, processed, and sometimes unidentifiable sludge that somehow passes for a meal in those packets would be a welcome change.

Soap still looks a little shocked, blinking at you before nodding his head slowly. “Uh, yeah.. it’s really not that hard to go fishing.” He answers slowly, and his confirmation just makes you more excited.

“Why the hell haven’t we been fishing this entire time?! Can we go fishing? Please?”

“Well…” Soap hesitates. “I mean we’d have to take the time to make some spears, and then you need to descale them and take all the bones out, and-“

“We can do those things.” You argue, your voice hopeful.

“What are you gonna season the fish with? And what about this stuff?” He holds up his half-eaten MRE. “We just gonna waste it?”

You huff, sitting back slightly. “We can use salt, cause I know we have that back at the cabin. I saved some packets from a different MRE in case of emergency. And really? There is no way that you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you’d rather eat that disgusting shit instead of fresh fish. I know you’d have no problem with tossing that for real food.”

You both stare at each other, neither one of you moving or blinking. Soap is stubbornly holding his ground, but you know him well enough to know he hates what he’s eating too. He just toying with you.

When you raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, it breaks him. He lets out a huff, a smirk quickly forming on his face. “Yeah, alright. This is pretty fucking disgusting.” He agrees with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure my stomach was gonna reject it if I tried to take another bite.”

“Does this mean we’re gonna go fishing?” You ask, a grin quickly spreading across your face.

Soap looks at you, his expression softening in a way that sends a flutter through your chest. His lips curve into a relaxed smile, his shoulders loosening as the tension eases from his posture. His stunningly blue eyes, usually so guarded and intense, are soft and filled with a mix of warmth and something deeper—a tenderness that catches you off guard. Affection?

“Yeah, we can go fishing.” Soap laughs, his voice light with amusement, the gentle look in his eyes lingering.

Your excitement bubbles over, pushing aside any further analysis of his gaze. With a grin, you quickly seal up your MRE, stow your water bottle, and begin packing. “Oh God, it’s gonna taste so good. I can already smell it cooking.” You ramble on, earning a laugh from him as he starts to pack up as well.

After everything is packed away and the backpack is zipped, Soap stands and slings it onto his shoulder. By the time he’s fully upright, you’ve already taken off. He watches as you practically bound off towards the part of the stream where you crossed earlier. He watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, then shakes his head before hurrying to catch up.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

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1000plants · 2 days ago

Text

Holidays

Bucky Barnes x reader (GN)

Summary: Holiday drabble with one of my favorite super soldier boys <33333

Warnings- Alcohol/drinking/intoxication, Soft!Bucky (a warning bc oh god I love him hes a cutie patootie)

Word count- 1.8k

Author's Note- consider this a little gift, my little heathens. Hope you enjoy! All feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

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“Aaannnnd… is that your second or third drink of the day?” Bucky casually teases as he slides next to where you sat. His voice was low and quiet, a metaphorical bucket of cold water over your alcohol induced overheating brain.

You dryly laugh, lips pressed thin as you stare at the spiked lemonade in your hand. It had honestly lost its flavor at this point, but it was the only thing getting you through the day. You clear your throat as you turn in your seat to face Bucky, the two of you sitting at the bar that Tony insisted be fully stocked for the holiday season. Bucky was leaning his back against the edge of the counter, his right elbow propped up as it loosely held a beer.

He looked as calm as you wished you felt. How he did it you would never know. He seemed so carefree, unbothered, bored.

“Third.” You bluntly reply, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth. Your head was feeling a little fuzzy, but it was a more welcomed sensation than talking with the numerous people that had shown up today.

Before the upcoming Thanksgiving day celebration, Tony was throwing a “simple” party. Less intense than his normal ragers, but still requiring a lot of socializing. It was only about one p.m., but there were over forty people milling about the main floor of the tower. SHIELD agents, Tony's workers, the other Avengers, Fury and Hill… There were too many people, in your humble opinion.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed in acknowledgement, taking a healthy swig of his beer as he arched his eyebrows briefly, “same.”

He was doing a better job at involving himself in the festivities. You hated these things. Sure, Christmas was fun, and meeting up and reconnecting with friends was always nice… But Thanksgiving seemed tedious and unnecessary.

You couldn't help the snort that came from your nose nor the grin on your lips as you glanced from Bucky to the rest of the people in the room. They all added to the noise of the room, even the alcohol wasn't silencing them in your head.

“Really?” You ask incredulously, not bothering to hide the shock in your tone or on your face. Though, in honesty, it might've been the buzz that made it impossible to hide, “You could've fooled me. Didn't take you as a day drinker.”

Bucky chuckled, baring his teeth slightly as he sat down his mostly empty bottle, “I’m… not. Not normally,” he admits, sighing as he rubs his chin.

You were always drawn to how dazzling he looked. Was dazzling even the right word? Your brain seemed to shut down every time Bucky talked to you. He was softer than anyone could've prepared you for. Speaking quietly of novels he read, silently paying for someone else's coffee, watering the plants around the tower when their owners were away.

The man was silent, as always, but it was never malicious. And, God… that was a dazzling thing to be.

“I'm just sick of,” He gestured vaguely to the chattering people. Since now you were talking with Bucky, you had felt Steve's worried gaze leave you. His stare at your lonesome form had been suffocating.

It was no secret you didn't enjoy these gatherings. It was an odd limbo: loving the tiny parties and the massive ones… but hatting these mild ones. Always just a handful of people you don't know, and they are always too intimate for comfort.

It might've also been part of the reason Tony and Steve let you start drinking so early in the day…

“This. Yeah,” You finish his sentence for him, nodding a bit as you suck in a deep breath, “I was never one for the holidays.”

You shrug, turning in your barstool to face out towards the others a bit more. Though, you were still angled towards Bucky. Subconscious, you'd claim. Not purposeful.

“Mhm, couldn't have guessed,” Bucky gruffly replies, the smirk tugging on his lips was enough of a signal he felt similarly. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, chasing the lingering taste of his beer. You wished momentarily you hadn't drank so much, your reaction time of looking away before he noticed was slower.

“Not all holidays,” You quickly clarify, averting your gaze to firmly fixate on a SHIELD agent you had met once or twice. Shaun? You think his name might be Shaun… Swallowing tensely as you knew he caught you staring. It was just a moment, you ration, and nothing more.

You shrug, trying to seem as calm as he was, “I like Christmas, y'know? Snow an’ gifts an’ shit like that. Halloween is also a lot of fun… But Thanksgiving?”

The sigh that escaped your lips was more like a puff of air. Catching snippets of others' conversations.

Oh, yes, the data we gathered… Some random agent drones on to Bruce.

Now, Pepper - love the woman - needs to let me get ten more… Tony loudly chatted up Maria Hill

Steve and Natasha were a bit more hushed with their conversation, but you heard getting better… talking…

You roll your eyes, figuring they were talking about your lack of participation in the day's festivities. You glance to your left to catch Bucky's gaze. How long had he been looking at you? His face had softened. Everyone said he looked angry all the time, but you didn't see that. He looked tired at worst, and at best, hopeful.

You swallow thickly, he was just looking at you because you were talking, “It's too much interaction, too many people and the food sucks.”

Bucky dramatically let his jaw drop open, as if you just disavowed the Avengers or something. His eyes sparked, the deep blue color more prominent as they widened to the size of dinner plates.

“I'm sorry?! Did you say the food sucks?” Bucky asks with a scoff. He has a wide, boyish grin on his face. A grin that you'd never think he'd bear, but it also seemed completely natural.

Bucky finally maneuvered to sit on the stool next to you, turning his body so he was fully facing you. You couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up at his slightly childish antics. The laugh caused a small burp to also threaten to make an entrance. You stifle it as you push your spiked drink a bit further away from you. Getting drunk on Bucky Barnes was a hundred times more powerful than whatever drink Tony could concoct for you.

“Thanksgiving quite literally has the best food!” He chirps. His eyes narrowed playfully as he crossed his arms over his chest, he was obviously not letting you get away with your crime of an opinion.

“Ugh, no it doesn't. It's all so specific, I can't get behind any of it!” You bemoan, allowing your body to turn towards him as well. Though you don't let your eyes linger on him for too long. The blush on your cheeks may be excusable by alcohol for a while, but not forever.

“Turkey,” He puffs out his chest, “quite literally a classic!” Bucky starts strongly. Quirking up an eyebrow.

“I prefer ham, turkey is dry and not interesting. I'd rather have chicken, honestly.” You reply with a chuckle. If someone told you Bucky was being paid off by Big Turkey to promote Thanksgiving, you'd fully believe it. This man looked ready to go to hell and back to defend the holiday.

“Potatoes?” He quickly counters, leaning forward slightly.

“I can eat those whenever I'd like.” You retort just as swiftly. Though you both may be a little buzzed (you more than him), you could still hold your own when it came to quick comebacks.

“Pies?!” Bucky studies you like a colorful bird at the zoo. His hands resting on his knees as he inspects your face and words.

You laugh again, a grin now firmly planted in your face at how jokingly offended he is, “These store bought things have nothing over what I could make from scratch.” you boldly say, straightening your back and sitting taller.

You partially expected him to deny or refute your baking skills, but he only pushes forward,

“What about cranberry sauce?” He asked with more skepticism, knowing he already went through the big three and you had already pushed them all away.

You shoot him a flashy grin, whether you actually liked cranberry sauce or not… “Mh, well, you've got me there.”

A beat of stunned silence.

You swore Bucky went through all of the stages of grief in that moment.

“WHAT?!” He cried out, voice cracking slightly. He was loud enough that a few wandering eyes had been alerted to the two of you.

You couldn't help yourself from bursting into a fit of laughter. It was a laugh that made your face hurt, you didn't care that others were looking, all you cared about was the man sitting across from you.

Bucky's shock very quickly matched your laughter. He was laughing so hard that he doubled over. Clutching his stomach as he wheezed. You both must've looked ridiculous, going from the two quiet people at the bar to now the loudest two laughs.

Bucky came up for air after a moment, quiet giggles still making his chest shake as he wiped away a small tear.

The pride in your chest swelled, you wanted nothing more than to make him laugh like this all the time. To see him smiling forever.

It took a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. Every time you made eye contact, one of you would burst into another small fit of laughter.

After you had recovered, you both fell into a comfortable silence. You were grateful he lingered, that he stayed even when the conversation seemed to have ended. He never made you feel left out, even if his inclusion was the two of you being outcasts together. He stayed by your side, a silent yet constant person in your corner.

“Well, my favorite holiday isn't Thanksgiving, either.” Bucky finally says, finishing off his beer as he stands up from his seat. He murmured something about needing to piss.

“What is it then?” You grab your own, partially forgotten, drink. The ice had melted slightly, but you didn't care.

“Christmas.” Bucky simply stated, taking a step away from the bar. You want to prod more, but you doubt he really has a sappy attachment to the holiday. Who wouldn't like free gifts and all the decorations?

“Mostly the mistletoe, though,” He adds, turning to look at you for just a moment as he winks.

You don't even have time to process what he just said, or even implied before he walked away. But, goddamn were you glad he did…

Because once Steve's eyes were on you again, you were blushing bright red and staring at your cup, smiling like a dope.

Maybe… maybe Thanksgiving wasn't such a bad holiday after all.

#bucky barnes #bucky x male reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barns imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x male reader #drabble #oneshot #fuck i love bucky #avengers #marvel

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cappulcino · 3 months ago

Note

hi!! saw your requests were open!! I dont have anything super specific in mind but an enemies to lovers plot with a lucifer x angel reader would be very cool!

Sure! I was originally going to write the whole thing and post it as a one-shot here, but I got overexcited with this idea and couldn't resist turning this into multiple short chapters and already giving you the first one (idk, let me know if you'd rather have the whole thing when it's done).

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 1)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3 (you do need to be logged in, though)

Words: 2,185

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: None in this chapter (let me know if you think I should add some)

In the beginning, this assembly had seemed no different from the other monotonous celestial meetings the Divine Council liked to conduct. The session was strictly organised and full of unnecessary details, as per usual, golden light shone through the large windows, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the Silver City –routine, in short.

But now the Archangel Michael was calling your name, and you weren't so sure this would be your typical angelic meeting any more. Nobody ever called your name, it wasn't among those that mattered. Why was he calling your name?

Straightening your slouched back and wings, you answered with uncertainty. "Y-Yes?"

Michael offered a fake smile before returning to his bureaucratic demeanour, his hands joined only by the fingertips on the table.

"As you know, the Cup of Eternal Grace has been missing for quite some time now."

"The… Cup of Eternal Grace. Missing. Yes."

You had forgotten about that –your mind had surely deemed that to be another 'unnecessary detail' from one of the previous assemblies. But it was coming back to you now. The chalice, made of celestial metals and inlaid with precious stones had the power to bestow divine grace upon those who drank from it, offering visions, blessings, and, for humans, even limited immortality. And indeed, the artefact had been lost for a while.

Michael's eyes narrowed at your hesitation, but he continued.

"One of our emissaries on Earth had found a lead on the Cup tracing back to some… obscure cult. Unfortunately, by the time he got there, the humans had traded with a demon –they do like to do this for a reason that escapes me. We now have cause to believe the Cup is in Hell."

"I see," you said slowly after a short silence. You weren't sure why this had anything to do with you.

"Its presence in Hell could easily disrupt order or worse, be used to bargain with divine entities. It cannot stay there. We need someone to retrieve it," Michael replied as if annoyed to have to spell out the evidence for you.

Ah, now you understood.

"Me?"

"Yes. You."

That Heaven could have so foolishly lost an object that had the potential to tip the balance of the entire universe when in the wrong hands was already astonishing to you. But to entrust you with the task of going to Hell, assuredly face its ruler, and retrieve the Cup? That was hardly believable, and for an angel like you, who had to Believe, that said something. Why didn't Michael go himself?

"I… don't understand. I'm merely a Dominion, and the Morningstar is Your sibling, Your Grace."

"Yes, so that's your job."

That was Gabriel talking down to you as if you had just uttered the most unintelligent thing in front of the whole congregation.

"Besides, we're not going to waste our time when others have been designated for that kind of risky stuff. That would be…" He let out an inelegant snort-laugh.

"What Gabriel means," Uriel intervened in their usual soft-spoken voice, "is that angels among the higher ranks have other matters to attend to, but we cannot ask this of anyone with lesser powers. And well, it is your function to execute divine orders." Uriel paused, scrutinizing your expression. "Would we be making a mistake by putting our faith in you?"

You gulped.

"N-No."

"Good."

Plans had been made, and you were now approaching the gates of Hell. Protocol required that you banged a sort of gong by the entrance, and a dead mortal fused into the wall handed you a mallet. You had read somewhere once that the Damned made Hell what it was. At the time, you hadn't understood that meant this realm was literally made of the Damned. You winced and then, forcing the politeness out of your angelic mouth with a small "Thank you", you grabbed the tool.

The gong's echo made the other souls trapped around the gates scream and then, accompanying heavy steps, a deep voice growled.

"There's one at the door. At the gate of damnation. Is it thief, thug or–"

Squatterbloat, the gatekeeper suddenly froze in his speech when his gaze landed upon you. An angel, in Hell. Quite the unusual sight.

"Whore?"

"Peace be upon you, demon."

As you uttered them, you realised how ironic your words sounded. Squatterbloat chuckled.

"We don't accept holy brochures."

His sense of humour compensated for his dreadful looks, and you managed to stop your wings from shuddering.

"That is not why I'm here."

"Then state that business of yours."

"I seek an audience with your sovereign."

"Do you now, little cloud-hopper? I fear the Devil doesn't have time for your affairs."

You approached the gate, your wings spreading in a foolish attempt to appear menacing, your tone still polite but steely.

"I am an envoy of Heaven, and the matter is urgent. Even you cannot go against God's will, demon. Take me to your master."

Squatterbloat's eyes remained fixated on yours for an instant, and then, his keys jangled.

"Mmh. Right this way… If you dare."

"Oh, what a joyous day," Lucifer purred with a faint smile before relaxing on their throne with a sigh. "Can you feel it, Mazikeen? The innocence? So pure."

"Shall I ask for more guards to stand by Your side?"

"That will not be necessary. That little angel is no threat to Us."

You were certain the ruler of Hell had sensed your arrival –how could they not?– and your suspicions were immediately confirmed when you entered the room. Sitting regally on their throne, the Lightbringer did not even bat an eye as they eyed you and the heavenly glow that surrounded your body. If anything, they seemed… amused.

You had heard many stories about them –though most of those tales still spoke of a Samael– but you had never seen them. Imagery was forbidden in Heaven, of the Devil more than anyone else, and you had never been down to Earth to look at the various depictions humans had made of them either. Therefore, you took a moment to marvel at their appearance, so foreign and yet so familiar, and as your gaze roamed over their leathery wings, you wondered if that was what became of angels' wings after the Fall.

In fact, you wondered about so many things at once that you almost forgot your manners. But Mazikeen's insistent look quickly pulled you out of your reverie.

"Uh, yes. Apologies. Peace be upon You, Lucifer Morningstar," you greeted with a slight bow of your head. "And upon you, Mazikeen of the Lillim." It sounded even sillier than when you had said it to Squatterbloat.

Lucifer let out a small chuckle then and exchanged looks with Mazikeen. Then, as they turned to face you again, they smiled.

"It is unusual for Our Father to send His subjects down here. Almost an event, We might say. To what do We owe the pleasure?"

Lucifer's words dripped from their mouth like honey, and you weren't sure whether you found it more captivating or terrifying.

"Well?"

You shook your head and straightened your back some more to give yourself a semblance of presence, and undertook to explain why Michael had sent you here.

"Our dear brother has never liked getting his pristine hands dirty," Lucifer remarked once you were done.

They stood up, took a few slow steps in your direction with a thoughtful expression, and then stopped a mere yard away from you. The way they towered over you and the power they radiated felt overwhelming, and a shiver ran through the feathers of your wings.

"It is not a task fit for his rank," you said. And for a brief moment, you almost convinced yourself of what Gabriel had told you earlier today. Almost.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow as if seeing right through you and perfectly understanding the lack of conviction in your own words. A doubtful angel. Oh, this day could not get any better.

"Tell Us," they said, now pacing through their throne room. "What do We gain from helping you?"

The question startled you. What did the Devil gain from obeying God for once? Not another divine punishment, that's what.

"Excuse me?"

"We said, what do We gain from helping you with your task? We sure hope you did not come all the way to Our domain expecting a pretty smile to be sufficient to convince Us."

That… serpent. You clenched your jaw, resisting a sudden urge to speak from your heart while Lucifer kept on smirking devilishly.

Taking a deep breath, you chose to show yourself open to discussion instead.

"What is it You wish for, Lightbringer?"

Lucifer pretended to think about it, gazing into the vastness of their realm, and then spoke firmly.

"A single visit to the Silver City."

Your heart stopped.

"And open the gates for You to terrorise us or attack the Creator? Absolutely not."

"Then forget about the chalice."

"The Morningstar may believe angels are foolish, naive creatures, but I assure You I'm not that stupid."

Your defiance intrigued Lucifer, who gauged you for a second.

"No…" they eventually said. "Indeed. Which is why We are fairly certain you will know how to convince the Divine Council. Tell them We have no intentions of wreaking havoc in their home if that is what they are so worried about."

"Then why?" you asked somewhat harshly.

"You would not understand."

"Your Majesty, I–"

"There will be no need for further discussion, little angel. Either you manage to get Us what We want and We will do everything in Our power to help you, or the Cup of Eternal Grace remains in Hell. In which case, do not even bother coming back."

"They said what?"

"The Morningstar wishes to be able to visit the Silver City, Your Grace. Just once."

You were now standing in the bright room where the heavenly meeting that had got you sent to Hell had been held a few hours ago, alone in front of the five members of the Divine Council. You felt small, but not as small as you had felt in front of the ruler of Hell.

"Yes, we heard that part," Azrael replied rather angrily.

Somehow, their tone managed to make you feel as if you had already failed your mission, and it took a lot of self-persuasion to stand your ground. You were only repeating what you had been told, after all.

"They, uh…" You cleared your throat and tried again. "They said they had no intentions of attacking Heaven, and I think their words were genuine."

"Hello, this is Satan we're talking about," Gabriel said, exaggerating their diction as if you were mentally impaired.

"My sibling does not lie, Gabriel," Michael reminded him. The other Archangel sighed. "If you will excuse us, the Council needs to consider Lucifer's offer."

Taking the hint, you bowed and promptly left the room to find refuge in the closest chapel. Once there, you dropped to your knees for the Almighty and clasped your trembling hands so tight your knuckles turned white.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned…"

You started repenting because you couldn't help but feel as if it would be your fault if Heaven ended up needing to make a deal with the Devil. You should have resisted and told Lucifer that they deserved their banishment from the Silver City and that never would they be welcome here again. You should have fought them if needed, though you would have been doomed –you would have died a martyr, and maybe for once your name would have mattered in Heaven. But you hadn't.

Deep down, you also prayed for the Council to give up on the Cup of Eternal Grace. Hell was a terrible place, and Lucifer a dangerous monster, your sworn enemy. You didn't want to go back to Hell. Not for a stupid goblet.

But as soon as you came out of the chapel, Gabriel was standing in front of you, his hands behind his back. As God's messenger, you knew he was here to pass on the Divine Council's decision.

"So. We have deliberated and we want you to carry on with the mission. You will go down to Hell every day, do whatever you need to do, and come back up every evening to report before compline until you find the Cup. Okay?"

You opened your mouth to answer but only managed a weak, strangled sound. Gabriel didn't give you enough time to speak anyway.

"Great!" he exclaimed as he slapped your shoulder. Then he pointed at the chapel. "Is this free?" Again, you tried to answer, but he was already gone.

Feeling an irrational anger rising inside, you decided you needed a break, some time alone spent in silence, not even in prayer. Angels, like other immortal beings, didn't need to sleep, but you wanted to forget about the world for a while. So you flew back to the Dominions' quarters to lay on your soft bed.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the first day.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman netflix #lucifer morningstar #lucifer the sandman #gwendoline christie #cappulcino writes

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 7 months ago

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Hi!! I think you'll do an amazing job with Tangerine, so if you don't mind: 1) Tangerine x Reader (female or whatever), he gets patched up after a bad mission, and a first kiss happens! 2) Tangerine x F!Plus Size reader, reader is super anxious about her appearance and he aggressively shows her how sexy he thinks she is?

Thank you!!!

oh i adore 1! i don't think i've ever written a first kiss tho, so- i'm venturing into the unknown with this!

also, i know jackshit about medicine. i had to google what the hell gauze means after wikihow told me that you can use it to clean a wound

also here's my masterlist for anyone interested, and feel free to request here

"Stay still", you scold, grabbing his chin harder and dragging him back to face you. That he keeps moving doesn't help in the fucking slightest as you try to wipe at the cut on his face. It's a good thing he hadn't been hurt all that badly, but it's still so unusual. And it's even more unusual that you're the one to patch him up. Actually, it's not just unusual - it's a first.

"This is fuckin' unnecessary", Tangerine grunts, his knuckles turning white as he digs his nails into his palms. "I'm fine."

You huff and try to brush the piece of gauze you're holding over his skin, but he jerks away from you so suddenly that you drop it right onto the floor.

"It's very much necessary", you sigh, digging your fingertips into his chin to keep him steady as you lean down to fish it off the ground. He's like a fucking snake, trying to wind out of your grip and you don't know why. He can't be this worried you'll hurt him - it's not that bad and he's used to pain. Also, he's steady like a rock the rest of the time. There's something wrong. "A cut like this can get infected and leave a scar."

You put the gauze down on the table next to you (you can't use it anymore now it's kissed the fucking floor) and draw your hands away from him to soak a new one before you turn back.

"It'll sting a bit, so stay still", you repeat forcefully as you press it to his skin. He flinches away before you can even grab for his chin again.

"Fuck, love", he rasps, his hand jerking up and his fingers digging through the belt loops of your jeans. You draw in a sharp breath. For whatever reason, your heart misses a beat. That's... new.

"Tan", you breathe, choked up and throaty. He lets go of you again just as quickly as he reached for you in the first place.

A grunt rolls off his tongue, and that pulls you back to reality. With more ferocity than you'd thought, you blink until the haze clears and grab the gauze more firmly.

"Tangerine, I'm sure you've been through way worse", you chide, your voice back to normal again. As forcefully as you can, you grip his chin and maneuver him to face you. "So stay still."

He tries to talk, but you keep him right where he is and it only comes out as a mumbled mess while you press the gauze against his skin - still careful, just not softly.

"Stay still", you repeat. By now it just feels like you're a broken record, re- re- restarting over and over again. By god, Lemon is right, Tangerine is a fucking Gordon. He never listens.

For whatever divine reason, this time, he actually does stay still. Still and quiet. He doesn't even hiss as you brush the gauze down his skin, and when it's soaked with blood, you even risk letting go of him to drench a new one.

"See", you mutter, your eyes focused on the cut you press the new gauze against, trying to work quickly without hurting him. Your free hand steadies against his shoulder. "You can do so well."

It's not weird as you say it. It's weird a heartbeat later, when your brain comprehends just what you've said. Eugh. You can hardly stop from cringing at yourself.

This is not the dynamic you and Tangerine have. This is not you at all. You don't think you've ever told anyone above the age of five 'they're doing so well'. And you most definitely don't tell Tangerine that.

But a muscle in his jaw feathers as you do, and your eyes flicker up to his for just a second - which turns out to be the exact wrong thing to do, because he's already watching you, and there's something inexplicably heavy about his gaze that has you freezing.

Just completely freezing up.

"Tan-", you start - but you can barely get through half his name before he's surging forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips against yours.

Fuck.

Your mind blanks entirely. You truly don't feel like you exist for a moment.

He's kissing you. Tangerine is kissing you. His lips are on yours, his moustache tickles your skin, his hands flatten against your waist and his arms tighten around you.

And then he pulls away again. Just as quickly as he'd leaned in.

"Sorry, love, I-"

You don't know what overcomes you, but something knocks you forward like a tidal wave, right back into his arms, your lips slotting over his once more. The gauze you'd been holding onto for dear life drops, down to the floor or down to his lap, you don't know and can't be bothered to check either, as your hands fly against his chest, fingers cramping into the collar of his shirt and pulling him against you hard.

This time, he pulls back only to grin at you.

"If I'd known that's all it takes for you to kiss me, I would've let someone scratch me up weeks ago, darling."

#tangerine x reader #bullet train #bullet train tangerine #x reader #bullet train x reader #tangerine #tangerine bullet train

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siconetribal · 3 months ago

Text

Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.”

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline.

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel.

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still.

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.> This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.>

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

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lunarriviera · 4 months ago

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the huo daofu round-up post i have been threatening for a really long time now

Thinking about this man, I was just admitting to chat "honestly cannot believe how much life energy i have invested in such a minor character" but the truth of the matter is, I was mildly obsessed with Huo Daofu from Reboot alone; his odd unresolved backstory in Sha Hai just cemented my mental formation. Because let's be real, in a world of overly earnest tomb raiders, this man is a goddamn catty delight. The dainty bitterness! The barely concealed eye-rolling! So many impeccable That Bitch vibes. And his unimpressed snark is honestly such a refreshing antidote to Wu Xie's whole everyone-loves-him Marty Sue thing that even when you discover Huo Daofu secretly ALSO loves him, you don't mind, because by that point Dr. Youtiao is a savage queen who can do no wrong.

And He Longlong clearly made this guy up. In the novels he's just sort of a vaguely beardy guy who drives a truck, that's literally all I remember him ever doing. But someone cast this man, and they gave him some rubber bands and pizza coupons and chewed gum of a script to work with, and he promptly decided: I will make him extremely gay. And staggeringly bitchy. AND IT WORKS. He devours every frame he's in, he steals every scene. It's a performance worthy of Alan Rickman and yes I will die upon this hill.

We all know the bitchy-ex-boyfriend scenes in Reboot—"oh my god I literally can't wait for you to perish from lungs" and then Huo Daofu spends like every moment trying to keep Wu Xie alive, sheltering him uselessly from the rain with his hand, rubbing his back when he coughs, looking (when no one's watching but the camera) like he's maybe going to stop breathing himself, when Wu Xie does.

Apparently Huo Daofu's name sounds very silly in Chinese which I think is appropriate for someone who apparently (?) grew up in Germany (?) and went to the University of Heidelberg (?) (honestly don't waste time trying to figure out DMBJ canon, NPSS has thoughtfully ensured that will only be exhausting and futile). Spurious medical qualifications aside, he's super handy in fanfic, too, when you need a sketchy doctor, as all tomb-raiding mob families invariably do.

[someone once pointed out to me that this combination of degree topics basically translates into "how to dispose of bodies"]

I could also hold forth on him and Yang Hao—like, Su Wan alone makes it REAL clear that Huo Daofu's interest in the kid isn't just avuncular or entrepreneurial:

"Are you working for him, or are you working for him?" And Su Wan should be protective, because Yang Hao is honestly kind of an idiot, and probably doesn't realize he's being assiduously groomed not just as a mob boss but as a potential boy toy. (NB by the way that there are 44 fics in the Huo Daofu/Yang Hao tag, and disappointingly, not a single one of them is in English. Western fandom needs Jesus.)

But the thing is, Huo Daofu SAVES his ass in Gutongjing. Everyone forgets that. There's easily half a dozen times where he grabs Yang Hao's shoulder and hauls him back from danger. And Huo Daofu is the one Jiumen member smart enough to get out ahead of disaster, and to take Yang Hao with him. Here he is looking fabulous in a completely unnecessary but dramatic scarf.

And, at the end, he lets Yang Hao go. Because he's secretly decent.

Sure, he has some vaguely sketchy take-over-the-Huos plans, plans that clearly go awry at some point no matter how dramatically and villainously he makes tea. Sure, he exudes a scurrilous sort of evil. But he's COMPELLING and that's all I care about. Look at his pretty little face here, sourly plotting things, in a windowpane-checked suit which should be ridiculous but just winds up looking snazzy as fuck compared to the rest of the Jiumen. This is a man who understands the value of a pocket square. Thank you so much, He Longlong, we didn't deserve you putting your entire snatch into this very minor performance but some of us are extremely grateful.

So here are seven ficrecs, with a podfic and a meta from AO3. Please let me know if I should add anything (Tumblr meta?)—this post WILL be updated, because I have too much time on my hands and care unreasonably about the mean-spirited little bastard.

‡

Remember how this used to be (3569 words) by achray Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu/Wu Xie (DMBJ Series) Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Background Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie being a gremlin, Canon-typical references to illness Summary:

“That wasn’t a no,” Wu Xie said, his smile widening. “I thought you still wanted me.”

Notes: How is this both hot and sad? I don't know, that's the magic of fanfiction. This was the first Wu Xie/Huo Daofu fic I ever read and frankly the genre needs more entries, but this is a good one.

‡

the rime dictionary of Wu Xie (7433 words) by scherzanda Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi/Ye Piaopiao, Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling Characters: Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling, Ye Piaopiao, Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Xiao Mei, Wu Erbai, Li Jiale (DMBJ Series) Additional Tags: Piaopiao lives, Post-Canon, Canon Flashbacks, canonical illness, fun with the common cold, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Handwaved SI Recovery, Canon-typical Ershu Infodump, Quasi-History-Compliant, Yuletide Treat Summary:

This is why (even now) Wu Xie shouldn’t be let out alone—one trip out to the provinces, and he comes home with a bad cold and an unsolved mystery.

Notes: this is one of my very favorite Huo Daofu writers and here's why—read this little excerpt. The angst. The PAIN. Wu Xie absolutely broke this man's heart at some point and honestly Huo Daofu is really only himself if he's suffering, love that for him:

“Easy,” he said, when Wu Xie couldn’t seem to stop coughing. “Here—” and reached for the rest of the tea, except that it wasn’t on the table any longer.

Zhang Qiling was holding the mug; he had somehow gone around to the other side of the bed, moving in that flowing now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t way that never seemed quite human, to sit down cross-legged on the bed by Wu Xie so that their shoulders touched. Huo Daofu snatched his hand away from Wu Xie’s back as if an electrical current might flow through the double contact.

“Wu Xie,” Zhang Qiling said, and then something else so quiet it was inaudible, holding the tea so Wu Xie could drink.

Looking at the open tenderness on that remote, beautiful face, utterly focused on Wu Xie, made Huo Daofu feel as if his flesh was trying to part ways with his bones. It was a pain his medical texts didn’t have a word for, deeper and more primitive than jealousy or resentment.

Wu Xie, getting his breath back, looked sideways at him with one of those sudden grins. “Sorry, Xiao Huo. You’re still out of luck when it comes to watching me die. Maybe next time.”

Huo Daofu’s voice would not quite leave his throat. Instead, Xiao Mei said crossly “Tianzhen-shu, that’s dumb.” Most of her attention was still on her phone screen. “Why would Dr. Huo want to watch you die.”

Wu Xie looked at him, still smiling.

“It’s a long story,” said Huo Daofu, “and it doesn’t matter now.”

‡

even through hesitation (10407 words) by naiwong_bao Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV), 沙海 | Tomb of the Sea (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu & Huo Xiuxiu, Hei Xia Zi/Huo Xiuxiu/Xie Yuchen Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Huo Xiuxiu, Yang Hao (DMBJ Series), Hei Xia Zi (DMBJ Series), Xie Yuchen, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi Additional Tags: Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Character Study, Alternate Universe - Fantasy Series: Part 3 of this is where we live Summary:

He’s a boy so Huo Daofu knows from the beginning that there are no expectations for him, he can do as he likes. So he plays, he cries, he does what children do.

Then his parents die.

No one wants him, no one has time for him, so his family sends him to Germany for school. It’ll be a good opportunity, his family says. He can do whatever he wants, be free of the family business, they’ll take care of him over there. He doesn’t want to go, he doesn't know who they are, but he doesn’t get a say.

So he goes to Germany where the language is strange, the food is strange, the people are strange, and he wants to go home so badly that his teeth ache.

Huo Daofu builds a life for himself, but at the first sign of trouble, years and years and years later, he rents out his apartment to an acquaintance, and flies home.

But.

The language is strange, he doesn’t know the slang, the food is strange, the people are strange.

His family is cold and he still doesn’t get a say. --- Huo Daofu between the end of Tomb of the Sea and when he reappears in Reboot. AKA Huo Daofu learns to care a little.

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The Mark of a Man (2279 words) by JhanaMay Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 沙海 | Tomb of the Sea (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu & Yang Hao (DMBJ Series) Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Yang Hao (DMBJ Series) Additional Tags: Loneliness, Found Family even when it makes you want to scream, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Huo Daofu is a mediocre role model Series: Part 8 of The Art of Conversation, Part 7 of The Art of Conversation Side Stories Summary:

When Huo Daofu inducted Yang Hao into the Huo family business, he wasn't expecting to become the boy's de facto babysitter.

Notes: a poignant little vignette in which Huo Daofu has a heart.

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[META] Huo Daofu's Youtiao Stand (739 words) by Thimblerig Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei, 沙海 | Tomb of the Sea (TV), 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu & Huo Xiuxiu, Huo Daofu & Wu Xie (DMBJ Series) Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series) Additional Tags: Meta, Worldbuilding, Huo Daofu's Delicious Fried Snacks Series: Part 2 of DMBJ Meta Summary:

Huo Daofu is a supporting character in Sand Sea. Ambitious, wily, hungry, he’s far from one of the main villains of the story but he’s not nice, either. By the end of Sand Sea Huo Daofu has exploited the chaos caused by the ill-founded expedition to Gutongjing to take over various of the Huo Family operations.

When he appears in Reboot: Sound of Providence, he is a purveyor of delicious fried bread snacks. He’s clearly not hurting for money, so why…?

Notes: this is one of my favorite little HDF explorations, theorizing that Huo Xiuxiu busted him down a rank, and I think that's beautiful.

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starting in darkness, like a pure line of light (10167 words) by scherzanda Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu/Bai Haotian, Bai Haotian & Wu Xie, Liu Sang & Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Bai Haotian & Liu Sang Characters: Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Bai Haotian, Liu Sang (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling Additional Tags: background pingxie, background Iron Triangle, past Wu Xie/Huo Daofu, Post-Canon, hurt/sarcasm, Fade to Black, Dialogue Heavy, meta-adjacent, Self-Indulgent Use of Chinese, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary:

Some emotional loose ends are never going to be tied up, but at least they can be recognized and shared. Or, a selection of the worst best only ways to comfort one another in the aftermath.

Notes: absolutely nothing makes me, a Huo Daofu stan, happier than scherzanda's fics featuring him. You would think this is an odd pairing, but it's really not—the two people who love Wu Xie most and are left behind by him? They have so much in common. Also, this fic has a podfic!

[PODFIC] starting in darkness, like a pure line of light, by scherzanda (701 words) by Thimblerig Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huo Daofu/Bai Haotian, Bai Haotian & Wu Xie, Liu Sang & Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Bai Haotian & Liu Sang Characters: Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Huò Dàofū, Bai Haotian, Liu Sang (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling Additional Tags: background pingxie, background Iron Triangle, past Wu Xie/Huo Daofu, Post-Canon, hurt/sarcasm, Fade to Black, Dialogue Heavy, Meta Adjacent, Self-Indulgent Use of Chinese, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Podfic, podficcer not a native chinese-speaker but is doing her best, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours

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do the work, love the work (1616 words) by scherzanda Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi, Zhang Qiling, Liu Sang (DMBJ Series), Bai Haotian, Wu Erbai Additional Tags: Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, Character Study, Post-Canon, Yuletide Treat Summary:

It doesn't always look that way, but Huo Daofu is doing his best.

Notes: once again I just have to excerpt, so you'll GET IT:

The train had nearly reached Hangzhou by the time Wu Xie spoke to him beyond the commonplace. He was still sitting in the corridor, staring dreamily at the growing suburbs, while Zhang Qiling gave Wang Pangzi a hand in the cabin. He looked up as Huo Daofu came back from the hot water dispenser. “Xiao Huo, xinkule. Sorry you never got that chance to watch me die, eh?”

Huo Daofu closed his eyes and looked away from Wu Xie’s smile, unshadowed now with death, brilliant and painful. “I’m sorry too,” he said, eyes still closed, and did not say any of the things he was sorry for.

‡

not only the sugar, but the days (3000 words) by A Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV), 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bai Haotian/Huo Daofu Characters: Huo Daofu (DMBJ Series), Bai Haotian Additional Tags: Mentions of Death, Healing, Getting Together, Youtiao as a Metaphor, Also Actual Youtiao Summary:

His gaze meets Bai Haotian's, who's trying so hard to keep it together, and he knows that Wu Xie will break her heart when he dies, and it won't even be his fault. He never fucking means to.

Notes: another recent entry in the HDF/Bai Haotian post-canon and I love it unreasonably. They both love Wu Xie SO MUCH and it's just taking them OUT. Their subsequent connection is natural and it's funny as hell, the author loves them both and it shows:

"Are you really sure?" Bai Haotian says softly, and Huo Daofu looks up.

"What?"

"About the week."

"At best," he says, then winces. Fuck it. "It'll be three days," he says, loud enough to carry through the bedroom door, "if he keeps pulling these stunts!" There's a muffled noise and some very clear profanity from Pangzi, which Huo Daofu ignores. "See if I care!" he adds, but it's just not the same without Wu Xie there to grin at him, unrepentant.

He can feel Bai Haotian's hand covering his own, just loosely, where it's half curled into a fist against his thigh. He turns his head. The look she gives him is so full of unquestioning kindness, of understanding, he almost has to close his eyes against it.

"I'm sure," he says quietly, not really looking at her. "But he's proven me wrong before."

He can see her nod as she takes that in, and then they just sit there in silence, her hand over his, not moving.

‡

In conclusion, just because I can, from some of my favorite posts:

[ohyka]

[jeong-guwon]

[januaryisnotanartist]

Please also do not fail to check out the magnificent Dr Mal Practice post, as well as "it's not his fucking birthday" and "I'll fucking do it but christ alive." These users truly understand the essence of Huo Daofu.

PS also don't sleep on Huo Daofu and Liu Sang having a fabulous bitch-off in Hua Mei, a Sha Hai side story ft. haunted Wushanju. Another side story, Ran Gu, also has a swooning Kan Jian. Quality entertainment!

#huo daofu #he longlong #sha hai #the lost tomb reboot #tltr #dmbj #long post #hua mei #ran gu #reunion: the sound of the providence #tomb of the sea #sand sea

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jedimasterbailey · 7 months ago

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Tales of the Empire Thoughts (Mostly About Barriss)

I know I’m a little late to the party in terms of laying out my thoughts on Tales of the Empire but honestly I needed a few days to process and digest what happened (not to mention being on vacation delayed that process as well). Obviously as a Barriss stan/fanfic writer/blogger y’all know that those episodes were the upmost priority for me and I will be rewatching those episodes on repeat like no other since it’s been far too long since Barriss has had her time to shine.

The majority of this post will be centered around those specific episodes because I’m just gonna just go ahead and say that the Morgan Elsbeth episodes were boring and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the character. Also the bullshit reasoning as to why Morgan doesn’t obviously look Dathomiran is so dumb in that my brain will malfunction if I think about it too much. If the “magic going away” thing was true then how do you explain Merrin and Ventress who still have power and retain their clear Dathomiran appearance? Either way, there is no way Darth Felonious could explain his “logic” to me there because it is all too clear that Morgan was never meant to be Dathomiran in the first place. She was just a bad lady with a spear and that’s that. Love the actress, but the character is just lame. Furthermore, it is so clear that the hat man knows absolutely nothing about Thrawn and I’m not even a Thrawn stan but why even if the guy involved if he just says a few words and leaves? Now before y’all come for me, yes I’m aware these episodes are shorts and the time is precious but to me they could have dedicated more time into explaining to me why Morgan is so loyal to Thrawn. Her reasoning for wanting to join the Empire is empty too in that the Separatists that annihilated her race is now the Empire so…to me that’s not enough reasoning for Morgan to be so dedicated. The only parts that had me engaged were the Grevious bits which were both beautiful and frightening at the same time.

Now onto the meat which is the Barriss arc which has me both elated and frustrated at the same time. Let’s begin with the stuff I absolutely love.

1.) Barriss proving herself to not be committed to the Dark Side/Empire is a huge win for me and other Barriss super fans who have been preaching this for over a decade. We knew from the moment the trailer came out that Barriss was just going to do what it took to survive and even though she was forced into doing things she really did not want to do, she stayed true to herself and escaped before it was too late. The light in her never left nor did it ever leave her and I just know that Luminara would have been so proud of her. Barriss constantly questioning the Grand Inquisitor and the Fourth Sister had me smiling because that is just Barriss. She will always question things that seem off and will defend her beliefs and values no matter what the danger to herself may be. The line of reclaiming her position of a Jedi is my absolute favorite line and gave me all the feels I get whenever Luke tells Palpatine that he is a Jedi like his father. On a final note, I loved that she showed genuine concern/fear for what was happening to the Jedi when Order 66 was happening and demanded an answer.

2.) Barriss being a healer and a protector. It is so satisfying to see it canon on screen that Barriss remains to be a healer after years of being obsessed with the Legends Medstar lore. I absolutely loved that Barriss took off her mask to the terrified boy in the village and protected him against the Fourth Sister’s unnecessary wrath only to save the non-binary (yay representation!) Jedi from death later that day. It all just makes me so happy to get that validation that Barriss has always had a big heart which makes her stand out from other Jedi in my opinion.

3.) Barriss sporting that lesbian pixie cut with the adorable laugh/smile lines and being a healer in the mountains helping Force sensitive and the sick/injured just makes my day. It warms my heart to see Barriss be at peace and doing so much good after so much pain and trauma from her past. Though I do miss her hood and would like to see a head covering on her again. Also doing the math, Barriss should be in her thirties during the third episodes so why did they age her up so much? I’ve heard the theory of the Force healing taking her life force but damn Luminara was in her late thirties during the Clone Wars and she had like nothing 😅 One other note that makes me smile is that Barriss is referred to as a “wise mother” and that’s just everything. Also she looks and acts like just like Luminara they truly could be mother and daughter it’s so sweet 💚💙

4.) Barriss defeating an Inquisitor without a weapon of her own and catching a blade with the Force is so fucking badass, I could re-watch that sequence on repeat forever.

5.)The vague Ahsoka mention had my Barrissoka heart exploding. I demand an animated Barrissoka show immediately.

Now here are the bits that have me frustrated and I demand that Darth Felonious fixes them later.

1.) The lack of closure between Barriss and Ahsoka/Luminara. Barriss hurt a lot of people from her actions but at the very least it would be nice to see her repair the damage she inflicted on the people closest to her. We never saw anything in regards to Luminara’s reaction to the bombing and knowing what gruesome fate awaits her in Rebels, I was so hoping the two would meet again, make amends before Luminara inevitably sacrificed herself as a final act of love and forgiveness for her Padawan. As for Ahsoka…if the two are able to work together in the future, could we at least see how exactly that came to be? I’m personally growing tired of major developments happening off-screen and we as an audience are just expected to roll with it. Again I’m aware these are shorts, but why do they have to be shorts? Why can’t we just delete the boring Morgan episodes and get like a movie or limited series on this exact journey?

2.) The return of yet another ambiguous ending for Barriss. I am a firm believer that Barriss is alive granted that people seem to get stabbed all the time in Star Wars and they get to live so why not Barriss? I understand what they’re doing with Barriss getting through to the Fourth Sister to show us that Barriss has come full circle in her journey from dark to light, however since I’m forced to believe that Barriss had some sort of relationship with this random Inquisitor pre-Empire instead of someone who did have a significant relationship to her, it falls flat for me and it enrages me that if Barriss were to die from this….well I just don’t have words for that. So now I’m wondering if I’m going to have to wait another 10 years to get answers. Thank the Force for fanfic and fanart to get me through.

3.) Does Barriss even know what the Empire did her Master? Because… I feel that’s another huge story thats being missed here. Ahsoka was able to get some closure with Anakin, why can’t Barriss have the same with Luminara?

4.) Never getting anything in terms of what pushed Barriss to bomb the Jedi temple in the first place. That’s my biggest beef with the original Clone Wars series since we see no development as to how Barriss goes from a kind gifted Padawan healer to mastermind of a terror plot. That could a book or show on its own.

5.) Star Wars continuing to miss what a satisfying redemption arc is. Not only do we need to understand what got a character to do the crime(s) but we need to see the growth that comes from it. That’s what makes the Obi-Wan Kenobi show so good to me is that I now know how Obi-Wan grew from RotS to where we meet him in ANH. I would love to see the same for Barriss, because you just know she’s been on very spiritual/emotional journey to get to where she was at the end of the show.

6.) Why was Vader even in this? Given the history Barriss and Anakin share, it is incredible that nothing happened between them post ROTS. And this is like fresh Vader still full of grief and anger by what’s happened so I doubt seeing Barriss even as an Inquisitor initiate would be anymore soothing. I just don’t understand…what a waste. Something more epic and cathartic could have come out of that interaction.

Well I’m done ranting for now, I’m curious to know what your guy’s thoughts are. Otherwise my brain is buzzing with fanfic story ideas and I’ll be getting back on the writing horse as I re-Watch the Barriss episodes into oblivion.

#star wars meta #tales of the empire meta #tales of the empire #tales of the empire spoilers #barriss offee #luminara unduli #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #star wars

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molinaesque · 6 months ago

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Cooper Howard and Lucy MacLean's rare and wonderful dynamic (and how it's ultimately alright if they don't become "endgame" or whatever)

First off... I'm saying this as a HUGE ghoulcy shipper btw. I don't wanna hear about some bullshit about how "you just don't like the ship" or something dumb like that (have you SEEN the state of my blog??). I ADORE this ship. These are also ultimately my own thoughts. Do not be affronted if this somehow doesn't apply to your hcs. At the end of the day, this is fiction, nothing more.

Something I have to note on about the wonderful dynamic between Cooper and Lucy. Even if ghoulcy stays platonic, I'm fine with it because this is the closest dynamic to Jack/Liz from 30 Rock that l've seen, and if anyone's seen that show, you KNOW what I'm talking about. Let me explain.

Jack/Liz were two v complex characters that had so much chemistry but the way their "relationship" worked was so unique in that they were never romantic but they're WAY more than just colleagues/ friends, etc. There was literally an article titled like "why you'll never see this kind of relationship in television again" and ghoulcy has the potential to be that again which is still GREAT! It even goes on to talk about how they're COMPLETE AND POLAR OPPOSITES but the dynamic still works and how they feed off of each other in the only way no other characters can. The "dynamic" is THEIRS and theirs only. Seem familiar?

From what we're getting not just in the Fallout show but from interviews with the actors and creatives involved, we're already getting that special dynamic. However, I must stress that many of the comments and those interviews (imo) are sometimes taken TOO literally. The existing text and subtext of the ship is already abundant and ripe so I feel like not EVERYTHING has to be referred to the ship and the ship only. I know it's mostly funsies but I legit wonder if some of this is taken too seriously to the point of misconstruing an actor's words and getting tunnel vision JUST for the sake of the ship and ship only, in turn cheapening what is already there. Kinda like what I've seen with people having to vilify Barb further with unnecessary inferences to scenes that give her more layers (like questioning her genuine love for Janey and Cooper. She can be loving AND a villain y'all. Both things don't have to be mutually exclusive) EVEN THOUGH SHE IS CLEARLY VILIFIED BY THE SHOW BY THE REVEAL SO WHY MAKE UP STUFF? To "punish" her more?? Apologies but this kinda reads as "I need to prop up my ship further so I MUST degrade the other ship" even though it's again... SUPER UNNECESSARY (I must stress I've seen this on ALL sides of shipping/character stanning. Both sides suck when you engage in this behaviour). Have fun and faith in the strength of your ships (ESPECIALLY if they're not "canon" adjacent)!

Anyway, as I was saying...

Going back to 30 Rock, there's literally a scene in the show where they get married due to shenanigans, they get in a big fight the whole episode and in the end sit down and have the most revealing discussion with a councilor about why they're so much more complex than typical relationship. And another scene where they sleep in the same bed together and addressed why they never hooked up with each other and why that's okay. By the way, I was also a HUGE shipper of these two... But I was fine with how they ended up with because the story of their special relationship that makes them uniquely THEM was clear and concise. This did not stop me from reading fics where they make kissy faces. It is possible to do both and I think some ppl tend to forget this.

I'm not saying this for the antis (don't like what you don't like, but if you harass shippers then you can suck eggs and leave. This applies to shippers to non shippers too btw. Be. Nice.), I'm saying all this because I want shippers to not "despair" if the ship that they've become so invested in doesn't come to fruition (and not go overboard into thinking that writers should listen to whatever audiences want all the time, we've been down this road SO many times, it's terrible. Do we REALLY need to talk about how The Rise of Skywalker turned out the way it did due to unnecessary pressure from the loudest antis/asshats in fandom? I think not). Maybe this is also more towards the younger audience members as a cautionary tale because we old ass millenials have seen and been through this but didn't have the immediacy of social media at our finger tips, so it was kinda easier to not be as reactionary. I don't like playing the "you youngins don't know what it was like" card, but at some points it is just a statement of reality. Some of you are/were LITERALLY too young to have experienced this.

Ultimately, what I'm saying is even if ghoulcy doesn't become "romantic", I'm fine with it as long as they stay within the "something more/beyond definition" dynamic which is ALWAYS refreshing to see. Give us more "what are we"! Give us more "it's complicated"! Give us more "we can't be summarized in neat little boxes"!

As long as they don't end up in the pit of "one dimensional interpretation of the Found Family trope which is somehow only just Familial and in this instance Father-Daughter". Please, I BEG. Nothing wrong for people to like this dynamic, but to immediately categorize this into that box is just... Tiresome. You can make the same arguments about "shipping two living beings together on screen all the time" too for sure... But again it leads to my point of if we're going the platonic route how about we NOT just shove it in the same boring dynamic of Father-Daughter that if you want, can find in multitudes of other forms of existing fictional media.

Tldr; have fun but always remember this is all fictional media in the end where we play with dolls in a sandbox. Just remember to BE. NORMAL. and not forget this and start shitting in it and flinging poo at each other. That goes with relationships with creators of said media too. Do NOT become parasocial and expect everything to be catered to you. The creators want to tell a story THEY came up with in the first place.

LET THEM.

#fallout #Fallout tv #Fallout prime #ghoulcy #Cooper howard #Lucy maclean #This is mainly about fallout but honestly can be about many things #Apologies for the incoherency... I'm typing all this in a dark moving car and with little to no editing lmao #text #fallout thoughts

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poisonedprose · 2 years ago

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Can I get something SUPER angsty where chishiya always acts like he hates the reader, but the reader is just really energetic and loves making new friends. And chishiya gets so annoyed (cause he's getting feelings) that's he uses the reader to get the cards, you can come up with the ending with semi-happy ending or happy ending

₊˚✧ don't take it personal

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader angst

warnings: violence??, implies that chishiya likes the reader

masterlist

Loud music and screams from occupants of the beach could be heard throughout the beach, even in your secluded room. The sun was just beginning to set and you were preparing yourself for whatever Chishiya had in store for you.

━━━━

A quiet knock grabbed your attention as you put on a jacket, ready for the game that you had to attend. "It's open!" You called out and the mysterious knocker let themself in. "Chishiya!" You exclaimed when you saw him. "Y/N," His voice was even more monotone than it normally was. "I need you to do me a favor." You practically cringed hearing the words come out of his mouth.

"Chishiya needing a favor? I must be dreaming." You laughed but he still stared at you with a dead expression. "I'm serious, I need your help to steal the cards." You were in shock. "Steal the cards? Chishiya, what the hell are you thinking?!" Your heart was racing just thinking about it. "Tomorrow, when Aguni gives his speech, meet me by Hatter's office." He said as he left, closing the door behind him.

━━━━

Aguni was giving his speech. It was now or never. Your feet trudged against the floor. They carried you just outside of Hatter's office. Chishiya was already there, along with Kuina, Usagi, and Arisu.

"Y/N, quickly, when you go into Hatter's office, look for a safe. Once you've found it, I'll give you the code." He ushered you into the room quickly. "You know the code?" You were confused, surely Aguni hadn't told Chishiya. He said nothing, instead choosing to leave you in this foreign room all by yourself.

You quickly began looking for the safe, and to your surprise, you found it quite easily. "Chishiya, I found it." You whispered into the walkie-talkie, that you only just realized he gave you. "8022" You quickly punched in the numbers.

Your heart dropped when it didn't open. Was Chishiya wrong about the code? You didn't have much time to think about it before you were pulled to your feet and your hands were secured behind your back.

It all happened so quickly. You were on the ground, with blurred vision, someone was screaming. That's when it clicked. He set you up. You should have known. He'd always make it clear how much he despised you. Even going as far as telling you if it came down to it, he would use you as a human shield in the games if he had to. How could you be so foolish?

None of that mattered now as you felt the blood come up your throat. The taste of metallic filling your mouth. "Alright, Niragi, that's enough," Chishiya spoke in monotony. "I should kill this bitch for trying to steal the cards." Niragi spat out. "I'll take care of it." Your heart dropped as you heard Chishia say that.

Your limpish body was dragged out of the militant's sight. Only stopping once Chishiya was sure no one was following. He leaned you against a wall and sat you up, crouching down to your level.

"Get away from me!" You threw weak punches at him. "Hey, hey, calm down. I don't know why you're mad at me, you're the idiot who found the wrong safe." He took off his white jacket before wiping some of the blood off your face with the sleeve. "No, you gave me the wrong code." You spat blood at him. "That was unnecessary." He used the same jacket to get the blood off his face.

"You know, what's unnecessary? Using me for part of your dumb plan, when all I ever was, was nice to you! And don't even get me started on how you almost got me killed and now are trying to play the hero." You scoffed but continue to let him clean your face.

"Actually, I thought you were smart enough to know the safe wouldn't be out in the open." He laughed, probably at your naivety. "You're an asshole." "Yet, you still want to be friends with me." You rolled your eyes. "No, I do not. I am done with you." You pushed him off you. "That's a shame because I really like you." He smiled and got up before walking away.

"Do you actually mean that? Wait, you can't just leave me here! Come back! Chishiya!!" You whined as he looked at you and laughed. And of course, he came back, how could he leave someone so pretty to bleed out in the hallway?

#! ♠ ₊˚✧ aib .#i hate this so bad #alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya angst

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thecapricunt1616 · 9 months ago

Text

The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 12

♡ Chapter Inspo: Lyrics; Enjoy The Silence (Depeche Mode) - Words like violence, break the silence, come crashing in- into my little world. Painful to me, pierce right through me, can't you understand? All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, Is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm…

♡ Summary: Winnie x Carmy have deep talks, Carmy ends up running away & having a panic attack, Syd being the pookie pie she is brings Winnie to therapy, they share big news & Syd is anxious (but, what's new there?)

♡ W/C: 9,600

♡ Posted Date: 03/08/2024

♡ A/N: Hey everyone! No smut in this chapter, but lots of angst!! We finally get to see Syd bc I was talkin to a Tumblr OOMF & I just HAD to put in some Syd this week, & she slipped right in there perfectly! We will be back with some super sweet fluff next week, I need to keep you on your toes - this is about Carmen the most anxious person on earth after all hahahha

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smoking, Swearing, Angst, Talk of suicide, Panic attacks, Bad coping skills *not edited :)*

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

After a shower that surprisingly didn’t end in another round, and a heavy make out when he came out of the bathroom to see me clad in nothing but his white shirt and a pair of panties, we had gotten comfortable in bed again, my fairy lights back on.

We were laid facing eachother, fingers intertwined, sharing sweet pillow talk about what we did earlier in the night. It felt so good to talk to him like this, and truth be told I felt so lucky that he was being so open about how he felt about it all.

“Y’know when-“ I giggled “when I was like- I couldn’t say anything other then yes?” I asked and he snorted a laugh, squeezing my hand softly.

“Yes why?” He gently rubs my hip with his free hand, pushing my shirt up so his palm was flat against my skin.

“Cause- well I couldn’t even wrap my head around it, I just knew that you were doing exactly what I wanted, but more so you were saying what I wanted. Like- Bear. I am so amazed with you and your ability to like- learn so fast. You’re like actually the best lay I’ve ever ever had. For real, honest to god.” I said, gently rubbing my thumb over his now very warm and pink cheek.

He swallowed thickly, thinking for a moment, eyes fluttering shut under my gentle touch. “Can I tell y’somethin, baby?” he asked quietly. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on his, my hand trailing up his face and fingers getting lost in his damp curls.

“Anything, Carmy.” I whispered, gently nuzzling our noses sweetly “I want you to tell me everything baby” I whispered and he leaned forward, kissing me gently. When he pulled his lips away, his forehead still on mine. My eyes flutter open to meet his blue ones. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I-I’ve never felt like this..and I’m really fuckin’ scared” he bit his lip, squeezing my hip gently. I cupped his jaw, planting a lingering gentle kiss on his forehead before resting my own against him again.

“Do you remember, last week, when you told me you wanted me to show you how it feels?” I whisper and I could have sworn he stopped breathing for a moment.

“N-no- no…how…it’s too soon” he pulls away a bit and I let him do so, squeezing his hand affirmingly.

“How fast do you hate someone?” I asked after he sat silent for a moment, and the look behind his eyes was clear that he was far off somewhere else, so I had to say something to get him back.

“What?” He asks, attention back to me. “Why does that matter?” He begins untangling our fingers and I rest my other hand over his to stop him.

“Because. There is such a thin line between love and hate, Carm. I can tell you hate with a deep, guttural, soul-splitting passion. When you hate something, you hate it…and when you love something” I said and he gently curled his fingers around mine again, rubbing his thumb in strokes along the back of my hand.

“How are you like that” he whispers, pulling me to his chest and nuzzling his face in my neck, his lips pressed to my skin and warm puffs of breath tickling the fleshy spot between my shoulder and my neck.

I smiled, my hand absentmindedly coming up and lacing my fingers through his curls, scratching his scalp gently in the places I’d come to know he liked. “Like what, Bear?” I whisper, just as soft. It felt like we were the only people in the world. Sleep wasn’t needed in our little haven, I felt like I couldn’t miss a single moment of him.

“That.” He breathes into my skin, peppering sweet, warm kisses along my skin. “You always fuckin’…just…calm me down. It’s so fuckin’ terrifying” he mutters, a small smile comes to my lips and I kiss his temple sweetly.

“You calm me down too, but you also make my heart race so much even when I think about you, I worry for myself sometimes…like I’m havin’ a heart attack. Like my heart literally skips. And I didn’t understand what people meant until I met you” I said with a small giggle and he snorts a laugh into my skin.

“I can’t think about you when I’m not with you- well…that’s a lie…I can’t think about how I feel about you when I’m not with you” he said softly, his thumb gently rubbing over the scar on my hip.

“Why?” I asked quietly, gently dragging my fingers through his hair in slow, backwards strokes.

“Cus’ I’ll give myself a fuckin panic episode or whatever it’s called if I think about it for too long.” He mumbled into my neck and I swallowed thickly.

“Cause…you like me, right?” I asked and he lets out a chuckle.

“Sooooo far past like, but sure. I don’t even know what to call it, but I more then like you. But- I…I also hate feeling like this..cus’…cus’ I feel- I feel like I’m gonna fuck everything up. Like…what if I’m so focused on us that I fuck up the restaurant? Or- or what if I lose my touch. Or fuckin’ I dunno. Somethin’ in me just like-“ he sighs. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette.” He sits up, back facing me, leaving me cold on my side and I pout.

“Alone?” I ask quietly, wanting to reach out for him.

“No- no baby come w’me cmon. Put on some pants though yeah? It’s freezin’ “ he said, grabbing his sweatpants and putting them on as well as his usual plaid brown jacket.

I got up, opening my dresser and pulling out some pink fuzzy hello kitty pajama bottoms, tugging them on before putting on my fuzzy pink bear socks along with my Ugg slippers and grabbing my well loved Winnie the Pooh zip up, putting it over his tshirt and putting up the hood. “We can go on the balcony” I said softly, going over and unlocking the door.

He slipped his sneakers on, following me out and sitting down on one of the chairs. “C’mere” he pats his lap and I come over, gently sitting and wrapping my arms around him once he got his cigarettes out and grabbing his lighter from his pocket. Once he popped it between his lips, I lit it for him, gently playing with the curls at the base of his neck and watching as he took a drag.

“I just feel…like- and I-i know what you’ll say- cause you’ve told me already like a hundred times- but…I feel like, I’m finally sacrificing a little of myself for myself and…I feel like I don’t deserve to? Like…I-i-im betraying myself? and-“ I cup his cheek, stopping his rambling.

“Why is it betrayal, baby? What about letting yourself feel for once is a betrayal?” I asked and he took another long drag, mulling the question over.

“Cause’ that part of me that tells me it’s betrayal T’myself t’be happy is the same part of myself that says people always leave and it’s always right. And it tells me…like- like- everyone is gonna be so mad at me when I fuck up with you and then lose you and I also have been like- not on top of my shit with the restaurant. So like I’m- I’m fuckin over Nat, and Richie, and Marcus, and Tina, and Syd. I’m fuckin’ em, Win. For me to be happy. Leavin’ em with all this bull that I’m used to handling so I can run off and play boyfriend until you fuckin’ realize that-“

“Hey, hey, hey” I said softly, cutting his spiral before it could get too deep. “Let’s unpack this baby, so you…you feel like, if you were to fall in love- not even with me. Let’s take me out of this equation. So you think that if you were to have a lover, like a real, intimate, partnership, like- building your life with someone. And that because as a human you have to have a work-life balance, that if your life cuts in to your work, just like your work is expected to cut in to your life once in a while- you believe that everyone in your life, Your big sister, your closest friends, and Syd? Syd. The girl who every person in her life she just wants them to be happy? Like it actually brings her to tears. She fuckin sat with me and Sadie for eleven hours on a FaceTime call, helping us get our Taylor tickets when she didn’t even want to go. And she cried with us when we finally got them. Syd loves you, Carm. As a friend. And knowing Syd, how she loves her friends? Its pure. So if you can’t believe any of the other people you mentioned would be anything short of happy if you were to have an actual life outside of work, it would be Syd. Also- you” I poke his cheek, thankfully earning a tiny upturn of his lips with the action.

“You, sir” I continue “are a control freak. Yes, it’s hot a lot of the time. But then the other 10-15% of the time…all it does is fuck everything up Carmy. When you try to fuckin’ control every situation with an iron fist something is bound to go wrong. Syd is so smart. She was smart before you got her, and she’s even smarter because you’re teaching her, Carm. You said it yourself- she’s your right hand. Is Syd not your right hand, lovey?” I asked him softly, gently massaging his tense shoulders.

Blew a trail of smoke away from me, being sure not to let any get directly in my face, before clearing his throat. “Ye’. She is” he muttered, slightly relaxing under my touch.

“S’what does that mean, baby? D’you trust yourself? Do you trust that you’ve taught Syd, and Richie, and Fak, and Natalie, and Tina how you want your restaurant to be run? What if somethin’ happened to you tomorrow god forbid- d’you think The Bear would crash and burn?” I asked and he shook his head lightly in response, pushing his cigarette out in the ash tray.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “No- no…that’s actually..” he sighs, looking ahead at the cityscape. “I think about that- like…a lot…well- more before I met you I guess…but- t’day” he swallowed thickly and I kept my gaze locked on his side profile.

“T’day I thought about it again…and y’re right. If I was removed…everything would probably run smoother. Because like you said. I’m an efficient son of a bitch because of how tightly I control shit, but sometimes I do too much and- a lot I think like…what if I’m holding The Bear back.” He muttered and I gently stroked his cheek with my thumb, both of us going quiet. I gnawed on the inside of my lip nervously, contemplating how he’d react- but knowing how he feels about himself…I had to allow him to see his situation from the outside.

“D’you wanna know something I’ve been thinkin’ about…but…I didn’t wanna tell you cus’ I’ve been scared it’ll get you worked up for the wrong reasons?” I ask just above a whisper and his gaze finally meets mine again.

“Tell me” he said, “I promise- I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you, honey” he said leaning in and kissing my cheekbone lightly.

I took a deep, regulating breath. “When Sugar drove me home…I dunno I just had this- I was…I was just curious. And I asked her, I was like oh- who started to call him Bear, and- she told me that it was Mikey…” I watch his jaw tighten slightly and I swallow thickly, finding the confidence to continue. “And she- she told me…that um..you- you went to New York. Because you and Mikey kinda…grew apart. But that when you were young you both- you…The Bear was gonna be yours together.” I manage to get out and he closes his eyes taking a deep shakey breath.

“What does this have to do with what I said, Winnie.” He said evenly, but his breath trembling.

“I…I think-“ I play with my zipper nervously. “I think Mikey felt the same way… I think- he…he felt like you’d be better off because of the way he did things a-“ my voice breaks, tears coming to my eyes. “and he saw you Carmen…he saw you. Sugar told me she- she said…she said he was so proud, but he- he wouldn’t say it. And- and I think…I think he-he was scared. I think-“ he cuts me off.

“S’what? Y’think he fuckin’ killed himself because he thought I was better than him?! When he wouldn’t even fuckin’ let me work at Mom and Dad’s piece a’ shit - before I fuckin’ went off to prove myself to him.” He said, voice sharper than I’d ever heard him speak towards me before, but still cracking towards the end.

“Carmy…” I whispered, my throat feeling tight at the sudden energy shift.

“I think he always saw the greatness in you, but like you he didn’t think he deserved to be apart of the success he knew someone he loved was destined for. He saw you. Carmy. He fucking loved you so fucking much. The way-“ I took a trembling breath, tears staining my cheeks. “The way he loved you was pure Carmen. You said you- you haven’t felt it but it’s just- it’s been around you this entire time baby. Sugar told me how you two were, she gushed over the trouble you’d get into together and how he’d always walk you to school. Just how fucking kind he was and all the ways you take after him.” I wiped away the tears that were pooling in his eyes.

“I-“ he choked on a sob. “I have to go on a walk- p-please. Alone.” He took in a shaking breath, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, tears pooling down his cheeks. “I h-have to think” he sniffled.

I wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “Just be safe ok?” I whispered, kissing his temple gently before getting up off his lap.

He nodded, grabbing his cigarettes and going back in to put a shirt on. I sat down in the chair, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my cheek on my knee, looking out at the city scape, my mind reeling with thoughts. The main one that kept bouncing from corner to corner or my mind like a god damn dvd video logo.

You sunk too deep, too soon. He’s not coming back.

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱.🧸

I pulled the door behind me slightly harder than I meant to, the slam echoing throughout the hallway. I dug my cigarettes out of my pocket, the second I got into the stairwell lighting it with shaking hands.

Really, Bear. If you ever feel it's getting too much - call, okay?

Sugars words bounced around my head as I pounded down the stairs, feeling like I couldn't breathe. Sure. The thick hot smoke I was inhaling didnt help the matter, but- fuck - the only thing that could allow me to speak fuckin normally in this state, was if I had a cigarette to pull on.

I shove open the door so hard that it slams against the brick, causing an elderly woman and her white fluffy dog to jump. “Ooh!” she exclaims, putting her hand over her heart at the sudden noise.

“S’rry Ma’am” I muttered, pulling my hood over my head as I walked by, looking at my feet as I fished my phone out while I took a drag of my now lit cigarette. With my free hand, I popped the cigarette out of my mouth and let out a shaky exhale as I unlocked my phone with shaking fingers.

Where the fuck am I going right now?

I click the phone icon, clicking Sugars number and putting the phone to my ear as I listen to the ring and my heavy footsteps, inhaling another heavy drag. Surprisingly, it was only 2 rings before she answered.

“God damn it Bear, y’re lucky I shut my ringer off before Livy woke up- Whats goin’ on?” she whisper-shouts into the phone. I stopped, leaning against the chainlink fence cutting off the empty lot a block down from Winnies apartment. I wanted to crumple and sob at the sound of her voice.

“N-Nat?” I stutter in to the phone, my voice shaky, feeling just like I sounded as a fuckin’ kid, knocking at her door after Mom yelled at me for knocking her drink over.

“Carmy-” she said, voice much softer then before and I heard her front door click open, car keys jingling. “Bear, where are you - let me help you, Bear, please, tell me- where are you?” she pleads.

I took a deep shuddering breath, crouching down against the fence with my head in my hands, the only thing stopping my hand from shaking being pressing the phone to my ear.

“Y’remember - d’you-” I took the phone away from my ear, slapping my palm against my forehead roughly in frustration. I cant fuckin’ speak right now. Fuck. And it feels like I’m gonna throw up.

“Bear” I heard her say through the phone as I frustratedly rubbed my hand over my face, pushing tears away angrily to try and ground myself.

How the fuck did Winnie make me feel like this? What the fuck? Why am I not mad at her for making me feel like this?

“Nat- Nat…Nat” I try catching my breath, “Nat, Im fuckin’ im cashin’ in- w-when you told me t’call you if im- if… “ I look up briefly, rubbing my hand over my mouth to soothe back a sob, my eyes meeting the ‘For Rent’ sign of the empty lot I was kneeled infront of pathetically.

“Uh-I’m-I’m a-at- tw-” I pull the phone away and cough, my lungs burning. The mix of crying uncontrollably, thick mucus, and cigarettes, proving once again to be deadly- if not at least extremely irritating to my throat when I’m like this.

“Twenty-five north Wells, near Winnies” I breathe out, slumping down into a heap on the sidewalk, curling into myself.

If someone I know walks by, I’m actually going to end it, fucking tonight.

“Stay, stay right there, I’m coming Bear” I heard her car door slam shut, before the engine roared to life.

“Thanks” I mumble in to the phone and hung up, dropping my phone in my chest pocket and hugging my knees.

I look like a fuckin child, pathetic and rediculous.

But my swirling, self deprecating thoughts didn’t stop me from shaking with silent sobs as I mulled over the words Winnie said minutes earlier, sticking to my brain like velcro.

‘ He always saw the greatness in you, but like you he didn’t think he deserved to be apart of the success he knew someone he loved was destined for. He saw you, Carmy. ‘

I shook my head at the thought, wiping the never ending stream of tears from my raw cheeks. “Fuckin, get it together quit bein a pussy” I muttered to myself, sniffling and standing up, shaking my hand by my side roughly, hearing the joint crack with each flick as I paced back and forth quickly, uncontrollably gasping breaths taking over my lungs in place of sobs as I swallowed everything back.

I refused to be sniveling like a little bitch when I got in Nat’s car. I’m not fuckin’ 7 anymore. I clear my throat, looking up at the sky as I pace, trying to find anything to pop in my mind other then the racing thoughts of Mikey, and the overwhelming guilt that I somehow killed him by leaving.

I was so lost in attempting to chill the fuck out - that I didn’t even hear Natalie’s SUV pull up. What pulled me out of my head was the sound of her car door slamming.

“Bear- fuckin’ Jesus Carmen, thank god Y’re alright buddy, you scared me fuckin’ shitless” she comes up to me, hugging me tightly and nestling her face in my chest. “I love you, i love you, I love you Carmen. I don’t tell you enough, but I love you, ok? So so fucking much. Y’re still my little bud. Y’know that, right? Y’re gonna be my little buddy forever” She mutters.

And with that, I cracked once again. “Nat” I whisper, before completely breaking down in her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. She hugs me tighter, rubbing circles into my back soothingly.

“Oh, Bear…” she whispered sadly into my hair, “tell me, tell me Carm.” She said and I tried to catch my breath.

“I- fuck- holy fuck. I- I needa sit…please. D-do you have water?” I cough hard into my arm. Fuckin cigarettes only fuck me up this bad when I’m like this.

“Carm, fuckin’ breathe - holy shit. Yes, c’mon” she tugs my sleeve and I got on the passanger side, immediately grabbing her large purple cup that of course was just like Winnie’s-

Since the universe is determined to cackle at my demise at every beck and turn.

-but I got past it due to my mouth that was so dry it felt glued, and chug down about half of the cup by the short time she’d sat in the driver seat and set the cup back down with a sigh.

“Glad to see you found the water” she said, turning the engine over so we wouldn’t freeze. “So. Cmon. Let’s go. code hiccup..this must be serious” she said, bringing a small, barely there smile to my lips.

Code hiccup was what she called her mandatory chats with me as a kid, when I’d get so fuckin’ worked up that I’d be hiccuping as I cried since I could barely breathe. And during these, she told me ‘as an older sister she has authority to make me tell her what’s bothering me.’ - she’d only ever called one of these when I was at the very wits end of my breaking point, so I never fought her on it.

I look at her “Mikey- Winnie- she -hic- she…what the fuck did you say t’her, Nat?” Ok, so I guess I still get so worked up I fuckin’ hiccup.

“Carm, what? Thats why you’re all fuckin’ upset?! Cause I told her a few childhood stories, and told her about how much he missed you when you were away? How close you both were? You knew that already. I told you that! I tried calling, Bear. You fuckin iced me out the same way he did t’you” she shook her head.

“No- n-no she -hic- she…she said” I took a shaking breath, swallowing back the lump in my throat that was threatening to make a reappearance. “Why would she ever say I -hic- take after him? W- -hic- we both know that Mikey-“ I shook my head, looking out the window. “Was better at fuckin everything. He was normal.” I said quietly.

“Carm, you are so much like him- you take after him in so many ways. The good and the bad.Other then the….the end for him, you were the same. We practically raised you, Carm, if anyone knows you its me, and it was Mike. How you’re so selfless in forgoing your own pleasures for the sake of others, your passion, Carm, your passion for your family, your passion for cooking? He missed you…but- I could tell he wanted you to just…do your own thing” she said, holding her cup in her lap and twirling the straw anxiously.

“He knew Nat, he knew how much it h-hic-hurt me, when he fuckin…” I shook my head, closing my eyes tightly as tears pricked at the corners.

“Bear I need you to hear me when I say this and not take it the wrong way…” she whispered and I looked at her, swallowing thickly.

“A few months after you left…we were talking, and- he…he told me that…” she shakes her head, looking at her lap. “He told me that unless he kicked you out hard enough, you’d be too…soft to make it, like- that… that you wouldn’t be angry enough to get where you needed to go, to pull yourself up. He said that…that in the kitchen industry..you cant be so openly in love with cooking like you were…that to succeed you had to be serious about it, that it wasn’t about love, its about perfection. So he- he did that because he thought that he was helping you- but..but loving and being soft isn’t a bad thing Bear, and I wanted to fuckin wallop him over the back of the head for ever even thinking like that, but he told me…where you were going- where you were destined to go…you’d never had made it if he- if…he held your hand like he always did.” her eyes finally met mine once more.

I was just sitting there, dumbfounded, hiccups escaping my lips every so often a stears silently streamed down my cheeks. “Why does everyone except you and Winnie work like that, Natty?” I whispered after a long moment of silence.

“Like what, Carm?” she brushes some stray tears away from my cheek. “That in order to offer help, they need to hurt me first”

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

I didn’t sleep at all that night, I didn’t even realize it was 6am until I got an alarm on my phone, alerting that Taylor would be hitting the stage in a few minutes.

She always helps me forget things for a little while. I’m so glad she’s starting her leg in Singapore, today.

I grabbed it off the charger hitting the stop button, and rubbing my tired eyes. “ ‘Lexa - g’morning” I said ‘Good morning’ it replied, my LED lights flicking on to a warm pinky orange.

I sat up in bed, finding my remote and switching Criminal Minds out for the morning news, before grabbing my phone and opening up the live stream of her concert. Amidst everything, i’d forgotten about Swiftball completely- not even caring much. I had went numb a few hours ago, when it would have been a reasonable walk. No, Carm went home. He had to have, the only thing left here of his was his backpack, that was laying flat on the floor since everything he’d brought to wear for the night was on his person, and his pair of Levi’s, as well as one of his white shirts.

I got up, stretching my back and listening as the lead up speech to Cruel Summer started.

“Oh! Nǐ hǎo!” she said adorably before beginning to sing, causing me to giggle.

“Adorable” I mutter to myself, turning around and picking up Persephone from her spot on Carm’s-

On the other side of my bed.

And held her like a baby. “G’mornin stinky” I said and kissed her head. She looked up at me and licked my nose, causing me to scrunch it up and smile. “Tank you for kisses smoochy, where were you last night mmm? Hidin’?” I put her back down on the bed gently and stroke her tail before grabbing my phone and heading to the bathroom.

I connected to my speaker, listening to Lover play, and rolling my eyes to myself as I start the shower and began to undress.

This therapy session is gonna be brutal. I feel it.

Nonetheless, out of habit I hummed along. I washed my body while listening to The Archer, Deep conditioned my hair, dancing around in the shower a bit to Fearless, it really was one of my favorite songs of hers. Probably because it was one of those songs Chris and I danced to a billion times together in my room with my little hello kitty CD player my mom had gotten me as my christmas present at a garage sale one year.

I shaved my legs to You Belong With Me, and exfoliated to Love Story, smiling as I replayed all the memories of Chris turning the volume all the way up, and sitting criss-cross on my floor, his hand over the top of the CD player, feeling the hum of the lyrics and the bass while I jumped wildly on my bed and sung my heart out like I was preforming my own personal concert. We’d listened to this album so much, and I’d signed him the lyrics so much, that by the bumping of the bass and vibration of the lyrics- he knew by memory what song was playing after a while.

By the time Look What You Made Me Do was playing, I was cutting the water off from my long luxurious shower. I was convinced I’d scrubbed every touch of him off my body, out of guilt more then anything. I swoop in his life, give him these new experiences, make him feel loved, and then clawed open his deepest wound that had barely clotted yet.

He doesn’t deserve to heal on my timing because it would make our relationship easier on me. This is about us together, and the conversation we had was out of my own selfishness.

I’m torn away from my swirling thoughts from the opening lines of Enchanted, rolling my eyes in annoyance, “Oh give me a fuckin’ break.” I mutter to the universe. I finished drying myself off, trying to ignore the lyrics as I slathered my lotion on.

And now I’m pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door..

“No! No its a stupid song and I am not dramatic and this song isn’t even about anything like what happened shut UP brain” I rambled to myself, spraying on my Honey Bee body mist that had golden glitter in it, going out to my bedroom and opening my dresser.

I focused on getting dressed, putting on a black T-shirt bra and panties and heading over to my closet. I pulled out one of my favorite pairs of overalls with Pooh embroidered on them, as well as a striped tan,blue, and red turtleneck sweater i’d thrifted. I slipped on the sweater, untucking my damp hair and adjusting the collar before putting on the overalls and buckling them up.

I went back over to my dresser, pulling out some plain black ankle socks and slipping them on before grabbing my phone and heading into the bathroom. I quickly blew out my hair so my bangs wouldn’t curl up wildly, and brushed my teeth before heading out to the kitchen with Persephone on my heels as I hum along with We are Never Ever Getting Back Together

This is the energy I need to take on for his sake.

I sighed to myself as I took out one of my iced coffee glasses, stuffing it with ice before putting it under the coffee machine & brewing a strong latte.

I had nothing to make for breakfast, and did not feel like going to the store- so I just decided to skip it and grab some McDonald’s on my way home from therapy later. I wandered off to my craft room, looking over various projects I’d started and contemplating what I wanted to throw myself into today.

Something…intricate.

I knew just the thing. I opened up the closet, pulling out the bodice mannequin that was dressed in my half done replica of Taylor’s Midnight Rain bodysuit. I had scoured google for days finding the perfect colors of beads, finding the best threads that wouldn’t snap, the best sequins. I saved up for 3 months, after my last Taylor concert- because Sadie and I agreed that we’d be watching for more Tickets to her Miami show, because it was so good when we went we had to do it again.

I hum along to The Last Great American Dynasty as I prepared my sewing needle, getting all my beads and sequins laid out. I counted out my first group of 13 beads, sewing them in a neat row one by one, having to push up my glasses on my nose every so often.

I only broke my trance when she started singing the first surprise song of the evening sparks fly. I gasped, standing up and watching closely, dancing around and singing along, squealing excitedly when she mixed in Gold Rush as well.

“Oh my god those are perfect songs together!!!” I jump happily, singing along excitedly when she got to the chorus.

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild just keep on keepin’ your eyes on me it’s just wrong enough to make it feel right!! And lead me up the staircase won’t you whisper soft and slow!! I’m captivated by you baby like a firework sho-“

“Winnie?” I hear and a shriek escapes my lips in surprise. I whip around to see Carm standing in the doorway.

“Bastard” I slap my hand over my heart, attempting to catch my breath. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that! Jesus I almost had a heart attack!” I said, and there was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

“I did knock, sorry I guess it wasn’t loud enough.” He said. His eyes were bloodshot, nose red and raw from being rubbed. His curls were a mess of broken waves from running his hands through them so much.

“I thought…” I turn the volume on my phone down. “I- I thought you…went home.” I said, biting the inside of my lip nervously.

“What? No..no. I’m sorry, I- I had to think…I uh- I saw Sugar, we talked. She just dropped me off cause she has to get her kid ready for school. But I feel…better, kinda.” He releases a shaky breath.

I nod, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry, I’m really, sorry, Carmen. I- I shouldn’t have said any of that t’you..it doesn’t matter how I feel about Mikey and- and how I feel about how you feel about him…it was never my place to reopen that wound. And…I-“ my voice cracks, vision going blurry with tears.

“I think I’ll only hurt you if we keep this up.” I shake my head, looking at my feet and nervously playing with my fingers.

“No- well, maybe- maybe yeah…-“ he hesitated and swallowed thickly.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hot tears running down my cheeks.

Selfish. Manipulative. Horrible. You ruin everything you touch. Why are you crying- he should be the one crying. You hurt him - you selfish greedy bitch!

I shake my head as the voices roar in my ears.

“I mean- it was a lot all at once…baby, and it was really late, and- and we had just been so close like that for the first time in bed, and that was my first time being so close to someone in bed in general. And - I…I think I was too emotionally fucked out for that and that’s why I ran. But I want you. I want this” He said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

I look up at him, sniffling. “Y-you don’t hate me now?” I whisper, my voice shakey.

“Honey” he said softly, stepping towards me and opening his arms. I felt pulled like a magnet, dropping my phone on my chair and curling my arms around him, nuzzling my face in his chest and inhaling the scent of cigarettes, sandalwood, cedar, the smallest touch of jasmine, but best of all the light tinge of him.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Bear” I whisper over and over again into his shirt. He rubs my back in long soothing strokes.

“ it’s okay baby, I’m just…I feel alot when I with you- let’s go slow with talks like that yeah?” He mumbled in to my hair and I nod slightly against his chest.

“Thank you” I said softly and look up at him, resting my chin on his sternum.

“F’what baby?” He brushed my bangs from my eyes.

“Not leaving me.” I whisper and he bent his neck downwards, resting his forehead on mine and looking into my eyes.

“It’s a me thing - not a you thing- but…I’m really confused why I didn’t. I mean…that’s my MO usually, especially with girls. But…I dunno…I wanna keep trying this time, y’re different.” He squeezes my hips gently.

I wrap my arms around his neck loosely, “kiss me?” I ask softly and he obliges. I hum satisfied at the feeling of his lips once more, swiping my tongue across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth on contact, his tongue finding mine. I tasted a tinge of iron, and he pulled away lightly when my tongue ran over his bottom lip, feeling the raw flesh. He’s been biting the fuck out of his lips.

Our noses sweetly rub together in the tender kiss, my fingers twirling a soft blonde tuft of hair between them. He pulled away after a moment, and I looked up at him. “can we sleep baby, please” his eyes fluttered back shut, it sounded like a plea more then anything.

“Let’s go t’sleep, Bear” I intertwined our fingers, tugging him gently to the bedroom.

I’m woken by my Apple Watch buzzing on my wrist. I groan softly, looking at it ‘therapy 1 hr.!!’ The alarm read. I hit stop, carefully untangling Carmen and I, first slowly deranging our fingers, then carefully untwisting our legs, and finally ever so gently picking up his arm and rolling out of bed slowly so as to not wake him. Poor thing has only been sleeping 6 hours and he was surely up for more than 24.

I slipped his white tshirt off, dropping it on the bed and I went over to my desk, putting on my outfit that I’d taken off to nap. Then, I sat at my vanity, popping in my AirPods and listening to my metal playlist as I did some light simple makeup, brushing my long hair into a high ponytail, leaving my fringe out. My music goes soft, Siri reading out a notification.

Text from Syd the Chef kid 👩🏾‍🍳🫶: place is slow cause the rain, espresso date b4 therapy??

I smiled to myself, grabbing my phone and quickly texting back.

Plsss!! 🥹🫶 imu goddess. Need Syd time!!!

I got up, going and brushing my teeth before feeding Persephone her early dinner so she didn’t wake Carm asking for it if he slept through my appointment. I grabbed a piece of my Hello Kitty stationary and a pen, quickly writing.

Went to therapy. Be back by 4:30, please lock the door if you leave (didn’t wanna wake you, you look so sweet + handsome when you’re sleeping ♡ ) x♡x♡ - Winnie♡ :)

I quietly entered the bedroom, leaving the note on my pillow and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead, being sure to tuck his arm into the blanket so he wouldn’t get cold and brushed his hair back before grabbing my tote and shutting the bedroom door behind me.

I check my phone to see a new text from Syd about 5 minutes ago

Be there in 10!

I grabbed her heels that id been long meaning to give back to her, quietly shutting the front door behind me and I went downstairs. By the time I was bouncing down the steps her blue optima was pulling up. I practically skipped over, it had been ages it felt since we last got to hang out. Syd brought me to therapy 3 times a week, she refused to take gas money, and told me that she didn’t want me dealing with surge pricing or risking the train.

I pop open the passenger door “you’re children” I present her heels dramatically. She laughs, taking them from my hand and tossing them in the back.

“Thank you. You only held them ransom for how many months?” She asks as I shut my door, buckling in. I laughed.

“Mmm don’t ask you know me and time” I said, putting my tote at my feet. “I fuckin missed you bitch!!! When are those James award nominations coming out?” I ask and she looks nervous.

“Last night” she said and I gasp

“SYDNEY!!! Oh my god! No- don’t tell me you haven’t looked!! You’ve been working so hard!” I tap her arm excitedly.

“I literally couldn’t bring myself to look at them that’s why I wanted to get coffee” she said putting the car in drive and turning down the main road to get on the highway.

“Dude! With all the attention The Bear has gotten since you opened last year, and like - what is it- four of the five most popular dishes are all yours!!! Bitch- Carmen should be scared! You are coming for his neck!” I laughed and she shakes her head, smiling wide.

“I know..I know..but still like..” she sighs a bit “what if it’s like it was last year…what if- like…what if they just see our success as his success..he totally deserved all the awards last year, but- that to me is all the more reason for the voting panel to hand it to him. And he’s been on like 2 podcast interviews…and he has like a whole fandom online.” She said and I grab her hand that was moving as she spoke, squeezing gently.

“Syd..Carmen isn’t a new chef- he’s already won that last year, sure he can take outstanding chef, if he’s nominated. But…” I swallow thickly. “I- I know Carm is amazing but like- cmon…Syd. You’ve been…the star of that restaurant now, the whole time you’ve been open. Carm is the handsome face that’s been media trained, yes we both know he’s a crazy genius chef mastermind- but - so are you! You’re younger then he is, and I have no doubt you’re nominated for something this year. Yeah, Carmy is getting the bear out there on social media by bein all sexy and stuff in interviews- but you are the one that’s being interviewed like weekly by those blogs and magazines” I said and her smile returns.

“You’re right, you’re totally right. Totally. Carmen can’t be nominated for emerging chef again, he already won it.” She squeezed my hand gently.

“Speaking of Carmen.” She eyes me through the rear view mirror. “Spill.” She said and I bit my lip, looking out the window as I played with my fingers nervously. “Okay. What happened.” She demands, turning the radio lower.

“I’m a idiot is what happened” I said embarrassed and pick at balls of lint on the inside of my sleeve.

“Okay and this is becauseeee…” she drawls, waiting for me to continue.

“Because I thought it’d be a good idea to try and help him realize that the reason things went the way they did with Mikey per his sister was because it sounded like Mikey was ashamed of his own skill set because of how talented Carmy was from so young, and he instead of being honest about it- took more of a tough- er- really icey love approach, and just - froze him out. Like threw him in the middle of the ocean to drown without his help for the first time and left him there. Because he thought it would make him tough. But it really just fuckin wounded him emotionally and Mikey had alot of guilt about that and - “ she interrupts my rambling.

“Dude-“ she chuckles in shock. “Dude….you said that?!” She looks at me for a short second before looking back at the road.

“Well- n-yeah? Something similar I guess in the moment when he’s looking at me with his sad blue puppy eyes I had a hard fuckin’ time getting anything coherent out. So he flipped his shit and had a panic attack and ran off to go see sugar I guess and then came back at like 7 am and told me he still wants to be with me then knocked out and was sleeping still when I left.” I said and she raised her eyebrows, thinking for a moment.

“Hmm..well- I’m surprised he came back. He said that? Those words? Tell me exactly what he said when he came back.” She said and I roll my eyes.

“Why are you the Carmy whisperer or something?” I huff lightly “he said like- ‘It was a lot at once baby it was late and we just fucked like that for the first time and I’ve never been so close to someone while I fucked them and I was too emotionally drained and that’s why I ran but I want you I want this’ “ I paraphrase from memory as best I could.

“Holy shit what did you do to him?!” She teases with a giggle causing me to start laughing too.

“What? What the hell do you mean!!” I tap her arm playfully.

“I’ve never heard Carmen say he wants something emotionally unless it had to do with the restaurant. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything. So…hm…maybe- maybe this is good for him” she said the end to herself more than anything.

I raised my eyebrows “should I be offended you thought I’d be bad for him?!” I cross my arms and she laughs.

“You? No. God no. I say that because I knew you were good for him- but I thought he was gonna run himself ragged dodging his own feelings while simultaneously doing everything he can to make you fall for him and keep you interested just like he did to me. But hey- I’m happy genuinely, Pooh that you’re getting out there again. But…fair warning- when he starts acting like an asshole- and he has periods where he’s fully a fucking asshole, I swear it’s like a fuckin’ man period- know that you are gonna be the one we’re calling to get a leash on him cause the only time he acts okay about everything going on is after he sees you.” She said and I felt my cheeks heat.

Did I really affect his attitude that much?! “Spray ‘em with a spray bottle, it works on Sephy, he’s very cat-like so I assume it’ll work on him.” I said, and we both laughed.

“Oh my god you never skipped school?!” I asked Syd as we walked up the sidewalk to the coffee shop.

“My dad would have killed me probably. What did you even do?” She asked and I laugh at all the memories.

“Oh my god so, in high school- we uh…don’t talk anymore but - my best friend her name was Jane and she had a car first, so we in sophomore year during lunch would go eat out in her car and then…usually I would convince her to skip with me, cause I’m such a devil”

She snorts a laugh “Fits” she opens the door to the coffee shop for me.

“Why thank you, but anyway we would like usually drive around and blast music. Or we’d go to my house since my mom was never home and watch movies. And then Chris would get home and we’d fight about him giving me his notes since we were always in the same classes, and he’d tell me I was a fucking cheater - his favorite word.” I laugh a bit, getting in line with her.

“It sounds like Chris and I would’ve been friends, that’s a cute story though. I always wished I had a sibling.” She said as she looked over the menu.

“No singletons always say that, but you’d hate a sibling. Think Sadie how she’s all up in your shit, but from the day you were born” I giggle and she shook her head with a smile.

“Yeah but I dunno. Sugar is super sweet, I wish I had a sister, but I guess Sadie’s close enough” she shrugged, stepping up with me in line.

“What are you getting?” I asked, looking over the iced options.

“Vietnamese iced coffee. They do it perfect here. I’ve been telling Carm it would do well on the dessert menu if we had one but, who am I to tell him what to add “ she mutters to herself, annoyance slightly lacing her voice and I nudge her with my hip.

“Hey,” I nudge her with my hip, causing her to look at me. “He’s a man. He may be a genius chef, but he’s still, a man- make him think it’s his idea, Syd. Do your Sydney chef kid magic “ I did sparkle fingers for added effect, finally earning her dimples back. “Make the best fuckin Vietnamese iced coffee, and have someone else try it. Make him feel left out. And they’ll obviously be like ‘oh my god Syd, this is amazing’ and then, he’s gonna feel stupid if he doesn’t add it.” I said and she rolls her eyes amusedly.

“I think you’re the Carmen whisperer. Well, you’ll be certified if that works” she said with a smile as we step up to the counter.

“Hey there, can I have a name for the order?” The barista asked.

“Winnie!” I replied before Syd could try to weasel her way into paying - again.

“Ha! Fitting name, love the overalls. What can I get for you?” the barista chirped with a smile.

“May we please have 2 large Vietnamese iced coffees, oh- and…” my eyes settled on the pastry case in front of us, a brown wicker basket on top filled with cookies in the shape of little bears.

I grabbed one, handing it to her. “This.” I said and she nodded, putting in the order in her till.

I double clicked my power button and quickly waved my phone over the till before Syd could think to and she nudged me with her shoulder causing me to smile. “Woops” I teased, taking the bag from the barista containing the little cookie for Carm.

“You ladies can wait there at the end of the bar there we’ll call out your order, have a good one” she said.

I nodded “thank you!” I said as we made our way down to the end of the counter to wait.

“The second I saw those cookies I knew your mushy ass was getting one” she teased, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest with a smug smirk.

“Oh like you didn’t know I’m a hopeless romantic” I smiled.

It wasn’t long until we got our coffees and sat at a comfy corner table. “I’ve never had this before- what is the white is it milk?” I asked and she nods, stirring hers with her straw.

“It’s sweetened condensed milk. It sounds like it would be sickly sweet but the coffee is so strong it balances perfect. I was thinking…” she leans in so no one would hear. “If we did it, I’ll do like lavender in the milk, of course we’d make our own condensed milk, so I’d steep lavender in it before. Wouldn’t that be fire?!” She asked and I nod with a big smile.

“You are so fuckin smart, Syd. That sounds amazing you’ll have all the witchy bitches me included coming by just to get that I bet” I stirred mine up and took a sip, nodding. “Totally something you guys would sell” I said and she smiled. I grabbed my phone, opening up the camera. “Smileee!” I said she gave me a silly smile and a thumbs up, coffee foam covering her top lip.

“Perfect” I giggled, sending it to Sadie with the caption ‘Our fave chef kid’

I put my phone down and look at her “Okay! You’re not denying me the pleasure of celebrating you any longer- take out your phone and let’s see if you’re nominated!!!” I urge and she bites her lip nervously, grabbing her phone, unlocking it, and setting it on the table.

“If I got nominated I’ll have an email…you do it- I can’t look. I can’t” she pushes her phone towards me and I eagerly grab it, opening up her email and refreshing it. I smiled wide when I saw the words, clicking open the email and clearing my throat before reading

‘Dear Chef de Cuisine; Sydney Adamu,

We hope this email finds you well.

The James Beard Foundation 2024 Awards Committee would like to extend their congratulations on such a fine year of culinary accomplishments. Your passion to the culinary arts, and dedication to our personal mission at TJBF to celebrate, support, and elevate the standards behind America’s food culture- doesn’t go unrecognized.

This is why you have been nominated for the for the following awards;

Outstanding Chef ‘

I jump up, wrapping my arms around her with a wide smile, tears pricking behind my eyes. “Syd!!! You did it. You did it. I knew you would” I squeeze her tight.

“Holy fuck” she grabs the phone, and I watch as she rereads the words over and over “holy fuck.” She whispers, jaw dropped.

“I told you bitch!! Look at herrr okay!! Syd the chef kid! Everyone better watch out! You skipped right past emerging chef and went straight for the big one! Oh my god I can’t wait for you to tell Sadie!! Oh my god we need to celebrate!!” I pat her arm excitedly.

“Wait-“ she said, scrolling further I quickly read the rest of the email, my heart sinking slightly when I saw the paragraph she was now stuck on.

‘You have been nominated among 4 other extraordinary, and talented Chefs in the industry;

Berzatto, Carmen (Executive Chef)

Cantina, Jose (Executive Chef)

Donner, Phillip (Executive Chef)

Nixon, Jessica (Executive Chef) ‘

“So- they just fuckin’ nominated me against people that are all my senior? Are they joking” she laughs dryly. “And then to pit me against Carmen? What is wrong with them, Winnie?” She locked her phone, putting it back in her jacket pocket. “I just- I’d rather they had given me a fair chance. This just feels like they’re telling me straight up they won’t pick me.”

“Syd - don’t get down on yourself, what if they put you in there because you’re the only Chef-de-fancypants that deserved it, hmm?” I said with a small smile and she snorts at the silly name.

“That’d be a long shot…but thanks” she said, squeezing my hand gently. “C'mon- we have to get you to therapy and I need to get back. I should be working on recipes” she said and my frown returns.

In this way, her and Carm were exactly the same. Whenever she was upset with herself she threw herself into her work instead of feeling.

“Alright…” I said softly and got up, putting the brown paper bag containing Carm’s cookie in my tote carefully so it wouldn’t be crushed, standing up.

The walk back to the car was silent, I could tell she was beating herself up and I hated it.

“Y’know…it’s crazy you even got nominated so young, Syd. Everyone else on that list is at least 3 years older than you are…so like- they see you as deserving already, but it doesn’t even matter what they think, or what Carmen thinks, or what I think. You’re deserving because you know how much you put into your work.” I told her once we were driving again.

She nodded, “thank you…really it means a lot. I know I’m deserving, I just wish sometimes other people would see it.” She said, and my heart ached. We listened to SZA the whole way, I decided it was better not to push her on the issue. I’d long since realized Syd was the kind of person who had to stew in her anger or hurt for a while, alone- so she was comfortable explaining it to someone else since she knew it like the back of her hand. It was alot how she did her work, she would never show anyone any new recipe she was working on - even Carm - unless she felt it was already deserving of a spot on the menu, because she knew the dish so well, and any possible thing that could make it better- and only approaches someone for final tweaks.

When we stopped at the Doctors office I lean over and give her a hug. “It’s all gonna be ok, Kid. I love you, i’ll see you friday” I said softly into her shoulder and she rests her head on mine, hugging me close.

“Thanks…Love y’too. It will be…” she said softly into my shoulder and I pulled away.

“And I expect you’ll send me that new article to check out when they send it to you yeah? You looked so gorgeous in the pictures they took. Really, I cant wait to see the whole thing” I said and she nodded with a small smile.

“Course Pooh, C’mon-” she taps the clock that read 1:54 “Gonna be late” she said and I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Yes Mommy” I teased, pushing the door open. “Later kid!” I said as I swung it shut and head in to the building.

Time to rip open some unhealed wounds! Oh what a joy.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#carmen berzatto #the bear fic #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto smut #camy berzatto x oc

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saurongorthaur9 · 2 months ago

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ROP S2E7 Spoilers

So...the stupid kiss did indeed happen, and as promised yesterday, I need to vent and get it out of my system. It was every bit as stupid and unnecessary as I feared it would be; somehow, I was hoping if that was what happened, that somehow it wouldn't be as bad as it sounded? But yeah...it was. This is probably going to be a pretty long post, as I've been thinking a lot about what bothers me so much about it as a concept and I have a lot of Thoughts.

A disclaimer to begin with: yeah, part of me is disappointed that it wasn't the kiss I hoped it would be, but I knew from the start that a Sauron kiss would be very, very unlikely. If it had happened, it would have been less about a ship for me, and more about the validation for me of getting an onscreen Sauron kiss in a huge, professional production as I've written about in other posts. I would have loved a Sauron kiss, but that's not what is really bothering me on more than a surface level. So with that disclaimer aside...

I think I can break what bothers me down into two basic categories.

The first is more straightforward: it was SO unnecessary. Yes, there needed to be some way for Galadriel to get free, but there are so many ways it could have been set up without a weird, incredibly uncomfortable kiss that came out of absolute nowhere being necessary. He could have gently stroked her hair and slipped it behind her ear or into her hair itself (I used to have very long hair, and a pin like that would definitely get stuck if you tucked it in.) If they wanted to go the humorous, cliché route, they could have had him sneak it to her in a pie (that's a joke, I'm also glad they didn't do that, but my point is, they had options).

They could have set up the scene with a different tone and gone the Frodo-and-Sam-as-orcs route and had them fake a fight. I actually would have loved this. It could have been a culmination of the resentment and tension that's been building between the two of them all season to let off some steam at each other. It could have been one of those "we're fake fighting, but we're also real fighting at the same time" sort of scenes (which are delicious when pulled off right) where we could have gotten some real interesting character development and relationship development between the two of them before the orcs pulled them apart (but not before Elrond slipped the pin into her hand or tunic while pretending to push her or something).

The kiss however did nothing. Per my last two paragraphs, it being a kiss wasn't necessary for the plot. It didn't do anything to reveal anything about Elrond and Galadriel's relationship or develop it in any way. It didn't develop either Elrond or Galadriel's character in any way. It was purely and utterly for shock value.

And that's the first big thing: I really hate things used for shock value. It's a personal pet peeve of mine. And to make it clear, there's a different between using something for shock value and doing something shocking. Mirdania's death was pretty shocking, but it served the purposes of both showing how utterly ruthless Sauron is and solidified the elven soldiers' doubt in Celebrimbor's sanity. But using something for mere cheap shock value is so disappointing of the show. The writing had been SO good, everything had been so deliberate and intentional, that it made the sudden breach of that even more jarring and unpleasant.

And it makes me super worried for the future of the show. This show isn't Game of Thrones; it doesn't need shock value. But now they've set the precedent that adding pure shock value is okay for this show. It makes me afraid what else down the road will be thrown in the audience faces just to illicit an unpleasant reaction.

The second major thing that is bugging me about that scene is a little more insidious and subtle. I've seen people saying "it wasn't romantic", but the thing is, whether or not it was intended, romantic tension has now been introduced to Elrond and Galadriel's dynamic. Let me explain.

That scene was a pretty clear example of the Forced Proximity Trope. For anyone who doesn't know what that means, it's the trope of forcing two characters into a circumstance where they share space or physical intimacy that they wouldn't otherwise share. The most infamous version of it is the There Was Only One Bed trope. And the thing is, it's an incredibly romantic-coded trope. It's almost always used between two characters who have suppressed feelings for one another as a way to force them to confront said suppressed feelings. Even if it's used in a not explicitly romantic way, it still sends a subconscious message of romantic tension because that is what that trope is almost exclusively used for.

So yes, there is now romantic tension between Elrond and Galadriel, and I have a feeling they don't plan on doing anything about it.

At this point, I'd almost feel better if they went all the way and went ahead with the subconscious romantic tension. Like, putting Elrond and Galadriel in a romantic relationship wouldn't be my thing personally, but at least it would provide a sense that the writers had a purpose for the scene and for creating that tension. Dropping that and then not going anywhere else with it, and letting that tension fester for the rest of the series without acknowledging it or doing anything about it would be so disappointing and insulting to the audience.

But again, I'll be very surprised if they ever bring it up again.

And I'm sure the writers knew what they were doing. The only two options are that they were oblivious to the connotations of using that trope or that they knew full well, and used it anyway. And I suspect it's the latter. As good as the overall writing for this season has been, I just can't imagine the writers aren't aware of what they were doing in using that trope. I mean, they've deliberately used a number of romantic-coded tropes to build up the Galadriel/Sauron tension. They aren't oblivious, which means they used the Forced Proximity Trope deliberately and fully aware of it's implications.

It just really seriously damaged my faith in the writing of the show, just when I'd been building it up after some big disappointments from Season 1. Again, they've set a precedent, and I'm really worried this isn't the last time they'll pull something ridiculous like this.

Maybe somehow they'll turn it around. Maybe they'll have Galadriel and Elrond bring it up again and deal with the tension, maybe they do plan to have a romantic subplot between the two of them, or maybe they have something planned down the road that will put that moment in a light that shows it as something other than shock value. But I'm currently pretty pessimistic about that happening.

And it's extra disappointing, because the rest of that episode was absolutely amazing. That one bad moment stands out like a wine stain on a white dress because the rest of the episode was so good.

Anyway, that's my rant. I just had to vent and get my thoughts out of my head where they've been swirling. If anyone is feeling the same way and wants to vent with me, my inbox and messages are open.

#rop #rings of power #rop s2 #rings of power season 2 #rop spoilers #rings of power spoilers #galadriel #rop galadriel #elrond #rop elrond #vent post

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somber-sapphic · 1 year ago

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AheM 🌸 Im a secret lover for hugs so I’ll gladly accept and reciprocate :) and yep sorry I just fuLLy fully read the whole post :’) that definitely goes out to them and you and whoever gets unnecessary stupid hate. Heheh well if you don’t mind I’ll ask for something under this and it’s more than okay if you took like months just take ur time🤭 naw I’m sorry you didn’t have a great day, that’s really shit, but I’m super happy you feel better and hopefully today and tomorrow is a better day! And remember I’ve got two shoulders in case and anytime🫡💪 how’d you know? I’m like always dehydrated, dehydration is scared of me ahaha. But hey most if the time it’s always the people giving advice aren’t following it… so you better be drinking plenty of water too!! And as for the request, would it be possible to ask for a WandaNat with like pregnant reader or reader already recovering from a bad injury with prompts like ‘Ill timed’ and ‘ it’s nothing’🫣 if not that’s okay but ily thank you thank you your amazing eat drink SLEEP, take care of yourself please :)) <3

Are You Staying

⧽ Notes: Hi! So, I don't write anything for pregnant anyone, but here's a sick and hurt reader for you!

⧽Summary: Reader is injured badly after a mission, leaving them with an infection.

⧽Word Count: 1665

〔 Masterlists 〕

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were so, so tired of laying in bed, but your girlfriends wouldn’t let you get up. Apparently, when you ignore an injury for so long that the infection turns into sepsis you are no longer allowed to make decisions for yourself. Who knew?

Well, there you were, laying in bed, struggling to focus on the book that you were holding in slightly trembling hands. The large gash along your side was beginning to throb again, indicating that you needed another dose of pain medicine, but it made you groggy and you didn't like it.

You were already feeling sort of fuzzy, your mind blurring in and out. Your head ached and you were starting to wonder if this was more than just the damn lingering infection. Bruce had finally taken you off the IV antibiotics but you were warned that it was vital for you to take the oral ones on a strict schedule to ensure that you didn’t get worse again.

You rubbed your throat gently and cleared it, trying to get rid of the tickle that had taken up residence there in the past hour or so. It was when the first sneeze came that you finally connected the dots.

The pain in your sinuses, the slightly runny nose that had required you to wipe it every few minutes, the inability to get warm, the overwhelming feeling of fatigue. It wasn't the infection. You had a cold. You had a damn cold. Of all things, you had gotten yourself sick. Your girlfriends were going to kill you.

Deciding that it was probably best to keep them out of the loop, you put the book aside and curled up under the blankets in a last-ditch effort to sleep the bug off. Maybe if you’d noticed earlier you would’ve had time to get ahead of it, but for now, you would at least sleep. Putting off rest had probably not helped the situation. Fuck. This was going to be a very long few days.

When you woke you were incredibly disoriented. The pain in your side was so bad you felt like you wanted to throw up and for some reason, you couldn’t move. This was wrong, this was not okay.

You managed to sit up with a lot of effort but your head was spinning, the room tilting around you in a way that made you wonder if you should call your girlfriends. They probably wouldn’t mind, they weren’t doing anything important, they just had a lot of busy work to do. You were also supposed to be doing busy work if you felt up to it, but there was absolutely no way you could read, much less hold a pen.

A harsh fit of coughing wracked your body, your lungs burning in agony as your side screamed at you that you needed to stop, that you needed to sit still and never move again, but you couldn’t stop coughing.

You doubled over despite the protest of your body and hacked until you finally managed to cough up a glob of something green and absolutely disgusting. You leaned over the side of the bed and spit into the trashcan with an agonized groan.

No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get a full breath of air into your lungs. Everything hurt, everything was miserable, and the world was definitely ending. Tears rolled down your cheeks which you were sure were flushed with fever and you were regretting not taking the pain medication earlier. Now you were in too much pain to get up and find the pills.

You managed to roll over and grabbed your phone, gasping aloud as you pleaded with the world that your stitches stayed intact. You really didn’t want to stain your bed with any unnecessary blood, the girls would probably be upset, they loved this comforter.

With pain blurring in your vision you managed to click on the icon for Wanda’s name and hit speaker, absolutely no way that you would be able to hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hi sweet girl, what’s up? Are you alright?” The woman’s voice lilted over the phone, immediately calming you down. She had a way about her, her mere presence, whether in person or over the phone, always served to make you feel safer.

“I-I need…Wanda…Wanda it hurts…” You said through quiet sobs, your words punctuated by a particularly harsh sneeze that made you cry out.

“Okay, okay love, give us five minutes. I’m going to stay on the phone with you. Are you bleeding? Can you check for me?” She asked, you could hear that she was running, another set of footsteps behind her.

“No.” You whimpered, desperate for them to be back. You wanted them to fix it, you wanted them to make everything stop hurting, you wanted them to magically cure your sickness, which Wanda may actually be able to do.

“Alright baby, just stay still. Wanda and I will be there soon. Keep breathing.” That was Natasha, her voice rushed as footsteps pounded in the background. You coughed and let out a sob, curling into a ball as your eyes and nose streaming. Part of you wished that the pain would just take over so that you could pass out and stop feeling it.

You had almost slipped into that unconsciousness when the door slammed open and you felt gentle hands on your cheeks, one of the girls pleading with you to open your eyes. You obeyed, but mostly because of the harsher tone that you were sure came from Natasha.

You stared at their blurry figures, wondering how much of this was the fever and how much was the injury.

“Hey baby girl, there you are. Here, just want you to take this, okay? Swallow for me.” Wanda slipped a pill into your mouth and Natasha followed it with a cool bottle pressed to your lips. You took a little sip, but the cold water grated against your throat in an incredibly uncomfortable way. Every molecule in your body was ordering you to just stop. Your body was done.

“Oh Y/n, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” The witch cooed, wiping away tears as quickly as they could.

“I-it’s nothin’, s’nothin. J’st hurts.” You breathed, already feeling the effects of the strong cocktail that was whatever Bruce had prescribed for you.

“Do you think the infection’s back? We’ve been making sure that they take the antibiotic, should we call Banner?” Natasha asked, speaking to you as if you weren’t in the room, literally sitting right there. Of course, you were so out of it that you may as well have been in space, floating away from reality.

“Y/n, love, Nat’s going to check your side,” Wanda said, well aware that you weren’t listening even in the slightest as the drug kicked into your system. She could feel the heat radiating off of your skin and was absolutely panicking, but doing a good job of keeping it under control.

Natasha very carefully lifted up your shirt and peeled back the bandage to reveal a thankfully clean, not bleeding cut with all of the stitches still intact. She let out a sigh of relief and kissed your stomach right next to the injury.

You sneezed pitifully into the pillow and whined, looking up at Wanda with big, sad eyes. She grabbed a tissue and wiped your nose tenderly, her whole body relaxing as she took in the situation.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Natasha shifted and frowned at the two of you, sitting right by your head. You shifted into her lap and nodded, muffling a fit of chesty coughs into her leg. The assassin rubbed your back while the brunette by your feet hummed her disapproval.

“Okay, Y/n/n, let’s check your temperature and we’ll get you some medicine.” The thermometer was still there since they had been monitoring your temperature for infection reasons, but now you had a fever for a whole new reason! Your body was trying to kill you for something new!

“Open.” You glanced over at Wanda and pouted slightly, nuzzling closer to your other girlfriend, the one who wasn’t going to make you do something that you didn’t want to. You didn’t hurt anymore and you weren’t about to stay awake until the pain came back.

“Just listen to her,” Natasha ordered, poking you in the face to get you to open your mouth. Your first instinct was to bite her, but she was too quick for that. The witch placed the thermometer under your tongue and you let it stay there, not in the mood to fight either one of the women.

The redhead you were sitting on stroked your hair as you waited for the stick to beep, unknowingly lulling you closer to sleep.

“102.4, that’s not great. Y/n, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Wanda murmured, scooching up on the bed so that she was laying beside you, still wearing relatively comfortable clothes. You rolled over and pressed your head into her chest, mumbling some excuse that no one could make out under your breath.

“Okay babe, take some more Tylenol and you can sleep.” You lifted your head and opened your mouth, not caring enough to take it yourself. If they wanted you to be medicated, they would be medicating you. Natasha rolled her eyes while Wanda chuckled and she helped you swallow the pills before laying you back down.

“You stayin’?” You slurred tiredly, cuddling up against the Sokovian.

“Of course, we’re staying, dummy. Apparently, you can’t be trusted by yourself.” The redhead grumbled, laying down on your other side. She pulled the blankets up over the three of you and kissed your shoulder blade. Wanda kissed your forehead and you sniffled, snuggling deep into the blankets. You could deal with the cold later, for now, you just wanted to be held.

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