#anyway the woman was designed with barely anything in mind currently.. just an idea of a personality | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dantent · 3 months ago

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Chapter 7 - Shimmered Slime Attacks (Silco x OC)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

"Ugh, I hate working on this!" Jinx rolled over on the floor, leaving the crayons next to her.

Ren turned away from the desk, looking down at the girl. She was previously doodling away on a piece of paper while the mechanic was putting together pieces for Sevika's arm. Jinx was against the idea of doing anything for the woman but after some convincing - or rather promising the girl free sweets -, she let Ren build it in her room. However, she did refuse to help. Mostly she just watched the mechanic work or did something on her own.

"I know Jinx, but I promised I will be done with this." they sighed.

"Last time ya weren't even sure about the design!" she groaned.

"Yes, but your dad informed me that he had heard about a metal light enough to make the arm work." Ren explained. "Still told me to finish the more complex parts before I get that metal, though."

"So which design did ya choose anyway?" the girl sit up, curiously eyeing the mechanic.

Ren handed her the blueprint. "Sevika chose the one with the sword."

She practically tore the paper out of their hand. First she looked over the drawing, then turned to Ren with furrowed brows. "Sevika. Chose the one. With the sword."

"Yeah, I know right?" they laughed.

"I didn't know that ogre could be fun." the girl scoffed.

"Jinx!" Ren warned her. "Be nice!"

She just rolled her eyes in return, before lying down again. Jinx took the crayons in her hand, returning to her drawing. It looked oddly like the mechanic and the girl standing right next to each other. Some other doodles like a monkey and a shark were also above the two. Ren chuckled silently as they looked at the drawing.

"It's not okay for me to call Sevika an ogre but it's okay for ya to call a guy "cocksucker", huh?" she mumbled.

"Okay, first of all," Ren crossed their arms, "don't say that word. Second of all, he called us dirty whores. It was only right of me to call him that and throw a punch. He deserved it."

"Can't argue with that." Jinx shrugged.

"Do you know what happened to him after that, by any chance?" the mechanic turned back to work on the arm. "I mean I can only imagine what Sevika did once the fucke-... the man was kicked out."

Jinx just shrugged, clearly not interested in the fate of the aggressor. At the lack of interest, Ren continued their work in silence. Soon they heard Jinx shuffling with some papers, then starting to scribble frantically. The mechanic payed no mind to the background noises as they have grown used to it by now.

Having spent these last few weeks working at Jinx's workshop, they slowly settled in the reality that this is their life now. Even with the possible danger on their life, it wasn't so bad working for Silco. They had a stable job, someone to keep them company and the Eye barely acknowledged them at all; and even if he did, Silco was surprisingly pleasant to talk with. Overall, Ren seemed content with their life. A little too content perhaps. If their brother were to find out about them, not even this job would save the mechanic.

But it was worthless thinking about this now when everything seemed to be going good for them. So instead, Ren turned their attention back to the matter at hand - Sevika's arm. Ren was already done with most of the smaller pieces that would go into the arm, meaning they soon could turn their attention back to Jinx. For now though, they were working on the part that let the sword slid out from her palm. Making a sword out of this metal would've been useless, so they just hoped that the material Silco found would be light enough for this part.

Soon the mechanic was done with it as well and could focus on their little protégé. She was currently working on her own project. Jinx had told them once that she never used blueprints before; she usually just improvised while building. Ren then taught her how to make an efficient blueprint that she could later use for her projects. This made it easier for her to understand what parts fit together and she could let her imagination run wild while drawing.

"What are you making?" they questioned while sitting down on the floor.

"Hmmm, just some recorder." she shrugged. "I'm thinking of using it as a lure, you know? Like when pops is out and they need a distraction or something... I don't know."

"Mhm, sounds good." they smiled. "Lemme take a look."

She slid the paper over to them. Ren looked it over, paying close attention to the details. The girl was undeniably getting good at drawing her plans. All of it was colorful and rather childish but once you knew what to look for it was easy to find. So Ren rewarded her with some praises before quieting down to watch her work. Overtime she proceeded to build faster and more efficiently. Ren was obviously proud of her for the improvement in such a short time.

"Well, in the meantime I should go report to your dad." Ren began getting up.

"Nah, don't bother." she shrugged. "He's on a meeting."

"Oh." the mechanic sat back down.

"Yeah, some booooring stuff with the other Chem-barons or whatever." Jinx rolled her eyes.

The blood ran cold in Ren's body. "Do the Chem-barons come here often?"

"Nah." she laughed as if the mechanic said the funniest thing ever. "They never come down here. Good, because their ugly faces make me wanna vomit."

Ren chuckled at that. "Where do they go then?"

"I dunno, some fancy building at the top." the girl shrugged. "Pops always told me to stay back and not like I wanna go there."

"Yeah, that's fair." the mechanic agreed. "I rather wouldn't meet the Chem-barons either."

"Ya get it."

That afternoon Ren brought all the necessary parts home. The inside of their apartment was filled with Jinx's unfinished projects, making them almost glow from the green light coming from the window. All the neon colors practically shining in their apartment made Ren squint. Whereas they were used to Jinx's hyper colored room, the mechanic wasn't used to the same hues in their apartment. Thankfully all the time spent in the girl's room made them a bit more resistant to it.

Once they carefully tip-toed to their couch - hoping not to step on any of the projects -, Ren dropped down with a big sigh, tossing the parts on the floor. Their entire body was screaming for rest since for the past few day they have only been building pieces and working out; besides sleeping and eating, of course. Ever since Silco told them the news, Ren became too excited to work with a new metal to be able to focus on much else. The only thing that kept them somewhat away from the project was working out but even that just made them more tired. In turn, they could feel their body slowly giving up.

That didn't mean the mechanic could stop, though. So after an hour of lying on the couch, they got up and did their usual workout routine before eating some dinner. Ren usually didn't eat much, not that most of the Undercity did. People in Zaun were used to having smaller portions of food as that's what life had given them. And the mechanic was no stranger to that either. Part of them missed all the luxuries of Piltover; like warm soup and freshly baked bread. They even sighed sometimes when thinking about it. Of course, they couldn't afford such things here. Not even with their rather well paying job.

Ren ended up fixing some broken parts before heading to bed. Tonight was another night filled with nightmares that woke the mechanic up about every two hours. Once they couldn't fall asleep anymore, they got up and took a quick bath. Since the warm water lasted for about five minutes, Ren had to wash their hair with freezing cold water. When the mechanic got out of the shower, they quickly wrapped a towel around themselves before rushing back to the living room. Then they grabbed the curtains and shut them so they could dry themselves and get dressed.

While they waited for their hair to dry, Ren treated themselves to a breakfast. Ever since their hair had grown, it took more time to dry it but thankfully waking up early gave them just enough. Once it did, it was already time to leave their apartment and go to the Drop. The walk there was usual, the mechanic didn't even notice the presence of shimmer anymore. It was just yet another thing they got used to while living here. The journey to the bar wasn't long and soon Ren found themselves just in front of it. They greeted the guards before walking in.

On the inside the usual sight welcomed them - everyone busy with their own business. Some of the workers gave a nod of acknowledgment before returning to their tasks. Ren walked besides them, greeting those they were more familiar with and sat down in a corner, tossing their bag on the table.

Today was another one of those days when Jinx was at her training and couldn't join Ren in building machines. Not that the mechanic was not used to it by now. Even on days when she was at the Drop, the need for Ren's services have declined over the two months they have spent as the girl's mentor. Jinx was developing her skills way faster than possibly anyone; she was practically a genius. So the girl often went out on her own and created things separately from Ren.

As Ren was working on fixing up a gun, someone sat down at the other side of the table. Looking up, they saw that it was none other than Sevika. The mechanic smiled at the woman who only gave them a grunt.

"What're you smiling at?" she side eyed Ren.

"Nothing." they chuckled. "So how comes you sit here?"

"Can I not?" Sevika snorted. "So sorry little mechanic, didn't mean to interrupt your precious work with my presence."

"You shall be forgiven." the mechanic gave their best to impersonate a snob piltie.

Sevika's lips twitched into a smile before disappearing. The woman turned away, lighting her cigarette. Ren learned relatively early on that Sevika preferred rolling her own but often couldn't because she was busy. Now however, she was smoking a cigarette that was rolled by her. The mechanic licked their lips in a desperate attempt to not start smoking with her. Ren had to do some work before they could go on a smoking break.

The mechanic knew better than to start a conversation with Sevika, so they both sat in silence while Ren worked. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. Ren was sure she was experiencing pain from her robotic arm and that's what had her more tired than usual. The wincing from time to time also convinced the mechanic that she was probably in pain. Sadly there was nothing they could do at the moment, at least not until Silco provided them with the needed materials. Ren understood that it was no easy job, of course. Getting anything imported to Zaun was a pain in the ass in itself; let alone a special metal the mechanic has never worked with.

Just as Ren finished with the gun, Sevika's voice broke them away from the machine. "How busy are you today?"

"Not really." they shrugged. "One of the lights is flickering in the bathroom so I will check that out but as far as I know, there's nothing else i could be working on."

"Good." she nodded. "We are going out."

"Where?" their eyebrows furrowed.

"Silco wants to grab that metal." Sevika explained. "It finally arrived but needs some strong hands to bring it here."

"I fail to see why this would require me?" Ren crossed their arms. "I'm sure one of his thugs can do that."

"Yes, but unfortunately for me, they aren't experts." she sighed. "So quit whining."

"Right, experts." the mechanic nodded. "The experts of metals."

"Isn't that the whole point of your job?" she leaned closer, trapping Ren in their seat. "To craft away with your metals, little mechanic?"

Ren raised an eyebrow. One day Sevika intimidated them but after spending two months here, they hardly even flinched when she got too close. Her glare still sent shivers down their spine but they weren't scared of the woman. Rather they just knew better than to make her too angry. After all, Ren didn't have a death wish.

"I fix things, I build things... but an expert of metals? Now, I have never been called that." they wondered out loud. "It is a bit inaccurate, though. You see, I don't-"

"Not interested." she leaned back, turning her attention to the rest of the bar.

The mechanic shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Ren decided to smoke a cigarette alongside Sevika. Usually it wasn't allowed to smoke inside the bar until it opened to the public. Even then, workers were required to smoke outside as to keep up the professional look. This rule didn't make any sense to the mechanic but they figured if Sevika is allowed to smoke inside, so were they. So they took out a cigarette and lit it with a match.

Sevika sent them some questioning looks before returning her attention to the rest of the staff. The woman wasn't the only one who had sent judgmental stares at Ren for lighting their cigarettes with marches but it wasn't something they were going to give up willingly. Once the cigarette was lit, they huffed a cloud of smoke. Ren leaned back, closing their eyes to enjoy the few minutes of peace they were offered. It was unusual to have such a slow day as this, but Ren wasn't going to complain about it.

They were about halfway through their cigarette when Sevika stubbed out hers. It wasn't done quite yet but Ren didn't question her. They rather just continued smoking away. That is until a voice interrupted them.

"Don't smoke in my bar." a deep voice called out.

Ren almost chocked on their cigarette as they immediately slammed it down to stub it. The smoke was still coming out of their mouth as they coughed. "Yes, sir."

Silco looked at them with disapproval while Sevika tried to hide her smile. Ren finally understood why she put her cigarette out - she heard that Silco was coming. It unsettled Ren that they didn't hear him walk down the stairs.

"I believe the rules are clear?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. I apologize." they cleared their throat, trying not to cough again.

"Good. I don't give second chances." he turned away.

This was the second time Ren saw Silco outside his office; the first being when they met. He was standing elegant as ever with his big coat hanging down his shoulders. The colors matched his usual attire yet gave his silhouette a nice form. It was no lie that Silco knew how to dress. And with how he towered over them, Ren couldn't help but stare. Silco, of course, noticed and turned back to them.

"Well?" he questioned them.

Ren only noticed just then that Sevika has already stood up. No doubt both of them were waiting for the mechanic, so they followed suit and stood up. "Right, my metal expert duties."

Silco raised an eyebrow at that, looking as unamused as ever, whereas Sevika stifled a laugh. The man raised his head at her but decided to let it go and walk towards the exit. Sevika followed close behind, not letting the Eye out of sight. Ren understood why she was paranoid as no doubt many people were out for Silco at this very moment.

Onve they were outside, Sevika naturally joined his left side. Ren joined his right, trying to keep up with the pace of those two giants. Both of them were walking so fast the short mechanic practically had to jog to not get left behind. And they had to do that with utmost grace as to not bring shame on Silco. They could see the twitch of the man's lips as they yet again had to speed up to stay with the two. He was no doubt enjoying this, but Ren kept their opinion to themselves as it would get them in great trouble; especially outside where anyone could hear them.

They walked for what felt like eternity. Soon they left Silco's territory and entered a new one. Ren made sure to be on their guard even more, hoping a certain part of their past wouldn't like to catch up to them today. As if by magic Silco slightly turned his head towards them. The mechanic returned his stare, raising an eyebrow at him. He eyed them for a couple more seconds before returning his attention back to the road. Ren wondered if he felt their uneasiness but that couldn't have been possible.

Another eternity went by, straying further and further away from The Last Drop. The mechanic wasn't exactly happy about the distance, especially because they weren't quite familiar with the sights here. One of the many rules of Zaun was to always have an escape plan and Ren wasn't sure how they would escape from here if the chance arrived. This, of course, wasn't ideal. But Ren had placed their trust in Silco and Sevika, and they could only hope it wasn't a foul choice.

Ren could only describe the area as dark and dull. Most colors weren't exactly found in Zaun but this level of dullness was unusual even for the Undercity. What also unsettled them was the absolute lack of noises. Not a single living being walking by or just making any noise to signal it's existence. The mechanic wasn't the only one who seemed to notice the lack of life, as Silco and Sevika shared a look.

"Investigate." was the only thing Silco said before the woman disappeared behind a corner.

It was just the two of them left now. Ren stepped even closer to Silco than before. Now with Sevika gone the Eye was the only person they could rely on if something happened. Silco also seemed to pay closer attention to Ren now, but whether that was because he didn't trust them or not, the mechanic couldn't tell.

Despite their suspicions, they continued on their way. Soon Ren caught sight of the sign signaling the shop they were heading to. It was quite possibly the only light source around the area, making it glow in neon green. From the outside it looked quite cozy and safe but something felt wrong about it. Ren couldn't shake this feeling off that they were being watched, yet when their eyes scanned the area they didn't see anyone else.

The two stopped before the store, looking inside through the glass. It appeared to be dark in there and the shop owner was nowhere to be seen. Ren turned to Silco with a raised eyebrow.

"Should we wait for Sevika?" they looked around once more. Strange, they thought - Sevika disappeared into the darkness and hadn't come back since.

"Might I remind you that we appear to be standing targets?" Silco nodded towards a far off building.

Ren followed his line of sight, seeing an abandoned factory with one window open that just so happened to stare back at the two. It was an ideal place for a sniper.

"Right." they agreed. "In we go."

Ren opened the door and stepped inside first. They scanned the room, looking and listening for anything suspicious. But it was dead silent inside. They nodded at Silco who also walked in, looking around. Ren noticed that a great deal of metals were lying on the counter with a paper over them. After some hesitation, they stepped closer to read it. 'For Master Silco' it said. Ren took a step back, looking at the Eye questioningly. He also walked closer, inspecting the note.

"Have you already payed for it?" the mechanic decided to ask.

"Yes." he stayed unmoving.

"Then maybe he left it out because he was busy with something else?" Ren tried coming up with an answer for this strange morning.

Silco raised an eyebrow at that but decided not to question them. "Is the metal to your liking?"

Ren turned back to the goods to inspect them. They lifted one piece and a gasp almost left their mouth at that moment. It was lighter than any metal of this caliber they have worked with so far, yet it wasn't thinner. The mechanic tried bending it but it didn't budge, meaning it was perfect for it's purpose. Just as they were about to turn back, from the corner of their eye they noticed a red puddle behind the counter. It seemed to be leaking from behind the closed door, possibly leading to the back of the shop.

The mechanic called out to Silco, pointing at the liquid. He walked closer to look at it but froze as soon as he saw it. Ren placed the metal down before going around the counter. No one was hiding behind it but the oddly red liquid didn't make them any calmer either. They knew exactly what the liquid was but deep inside they hoped it was just a misunderstanding. After some hesitation, they stepped closer, careful not to walk into the puddle. With a quick move, they opened the door.

What was behind it terrified them. An old man, covered in blood sat on the ground, his eyes open and staring into nothingness. There was a knife in his hand, but it was clean. Ren's breathing quickened as they turned back to Silco. Their eyes were wide open and the man immediately knew something was wrong, so he walked behind the counter to see it for himself. When he got far enough, he stopped in his tracks. Silco grabbed Ren's robotic arm and dragged them towards the exit.

"We have to go." was the only thing he said.

The mechanic tore their arm away from his and rushed to grab the pieces of metal from the counter. Silco just rolled his eyes before stepping outside. Ren could barely keep up with him as he traveled from shadow to shadow. He was insanely fast, and sneaky. If they didn't pay attention, he could've easily disappeared without them noticing. Or perhaps he wanted to be seen by Ren and only them.

Sevika was nowhere to be found yet and it worried Ren. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she went missing just now when they found a dead body. With the metals in their hands, the mechanic wasn't exactly the least noticeable target around the area and that dangered both their and Silco's life. If anything happened to the man, Ren wasn't sure they could do much to help without Sevika. But there wasn't time to find her, they needed to get out now.

As they walked in the foggy darkness, Ren was watching the shadows beside them. Just as they passed through another turn, they saw someone walking towards them at the other side of the street. Calmness washed over Ren's face, thinking it was Sevika at first. But then they noticed the lack of poncho over her left arm and dread ran over them again. Silco took a right turn, the mechanic following close behind. His pace quickened but both of them saw another person walking just towards them again.

They turned right, then left, then right again. Ren was already so lost, and panicking as they saw even more people cornering them. But then as if by magic, the mechanic saw the end of the area. It was a little opening, abandoned just like everything else here. It was so close, but as they got there, multiple men stepped out of the shadows, circling around Ren and Silco. All of them were taller than Silco and with muscles as big as Ren's head. The mechanic turned around, only to see the previous three man joining the others.

Ren counted ten henchmen that cornered them, but right in front of Silco there was an eleventh one. He dressed nicer than the others, richer even. The man was also shorter by at least a head, making him about as tall as Silco. His dirty blonde hair was messily brushed to one side of his head, leaving the shaved part on the other. With his hands clasped behind his back, Ren was reminded of how Silco had carried himself, only this man did it with far less grace.

"Such a pity getting killed in a dark alley like this." he spoke in a high pitched voice, one that almost annoyed the mechanic. It was the kind of voice that gets stuck in your head whether you want it or not. "Too bad no one will miss you."

Silco only eyed the man. He didn't regard him with any of his words. Perhaps he thought the man didn't deserve it, or maybe he was trying to find a way out of this.

"And who might you be?" the man turned to Ren.

"Sorry, my parents taught me not to talk to strangers." they shrugged with a cold stare.

The man chuckled. "Come now, we don't need to be strangers. There is no need for more blood to be shed."

"What do you suggest then?" Ren decided to press further. Maybe if they kept him talking, Silco would have enough time to come up with a plan.

"This old man's time is over and mine has come." he laughed. "Please call me Zack, you will recognize that name starting from today."

"Zack, huh?" they raised an eyebrow, taking a quick glance at Silco.

His face was as neutral as ever, almost as if he was bored by the conversation. Looking back at Zack they noticed how his jaw clenched at the lack of reaction.

"Anyhow, I'm a graceful man," he started, "if you you join me right at this moment, I will give you a chance to stand by my side in New Zaun."

"That's a ridiculous name." Ren burst out laughing. "New Zaun? Do you expect people to call this city that?"

Zack's smile dropped. "Listen to me carefully. I give you one last chance to turn to the winning side. And to convince you of my graciousness, I offer you a job. Be honest now, how much does Silco pay you?"

Ren thought for a second. "40 an hour."

The man's jaw clenched again. It was clear he was getting tired of Ren's games. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." they were, in fact, lying. Ren didn't even get payed half of that. "If you don't believe me ask the Eye himself."

Zack's eyes flashed to Silco for a moment before he turned back to Ren. "I will give you 20 and you get to keep your sorry little life."

"Only 20? Hmmm, that hardly seems like a good deal to me." they wondered out loud before releasing a sigh. "But alright. You have overpowered us, after all. What could little ol' me do in this situation?"

Ren carefully placed down the metal pieces before walking over to Zack. They didn't look back at Silco, only stared at the man in front of them. He had a huge smile on his face, making his golden teeth appear. The mechanic was disgusted by him but this was the only way they could get Silco out of here alive. Rather the Eye survives so they won't get blamed for his death. Having angered a Chem-baron was alreadyenough for them.

"You see this is the difference between you and Silco." they rewarded him with the kindest smile they could muster up. "Silco didn't have to beg me to join him."

With that they threw a punch straight at his face. Zack fell backwards, his guards barely registering what had happened. With the element of surprise, Ren spun around and threw the second punch at one of the henchmen. Then chaos broke out. Ren got grabbed from behind, trapping their neck between someones arms as another guard punched them in the stomach. They yelped in pain before reaching up to their attacker's face and pushing his eyes inside. He screamed and released the mechanic almost immediately.

Then they kicked him in the nuts before grabbing his head and smashing it down on their knees. He fell to the ground but before they could do anything else, another pair of hands punched straight into their spine. Ren did their best to gain the upper hand but all of the guards were far more experienced in fighting than them. So after taking out about three of them, the fourth one finally pushed them to the ground. He held them there, hitting them and after a final punch, Ren's vision darkened.

Ren could only hear their ears ringing and saw the darkness around them. As time went on - they didn't know how much -, it cleared somewhat and they saw someone's legs. This person was walking away from them. But why was he, Ren didn't know. It felt like they were in a haze as they stared off to their left side. They saw a lanky man fight for his life with a dagger in his hand, four bodies lying on the ground beside him. But the odds were against him as three other, much muscular men cornered him.

For a moment Ren's brain didn't quite work, as they haven't even understood what they saw. Then the memories started to come back. Ren was on a mission to take the special metal back to the Drop. But where was the metal? Their eyes scanned the area, watching as the lanky man fought off yet another one of guards. By his side they spotted the metal pieces. As they stared at his direction, other memories started to come back. The people who accompanied them were Silco and Sevika. Of course, Silco. He was the man fighting for his life. As the information registered in their brain, the world started to come back to them, loud and faster than before. Silco was fighting for his life and about to lose.

Oh no.

Ren moved without thinking, jumping up from the ground and lunging at the closest henchman. They didn't realise how much force they had lunged with but Ren managed to push him to the ground. Without a second thought they started hitting his face with all their might. It was only after he wasn't moving anymore that Ren looked up. Their attention immediately turned to Silco, who was toppled over by his opponent. The guard was ready to strike him down but Ren lunged once again.

Thankfully the two didn't fall on Silco, but Ren could feel his body move away from them. Ren was almost pushed over, but got hold of the henchman just in time to grab a nearby pipe and smashed it to his face. He yelped before being met with another hit. That was enough for him to stop moving. Ren was panting as they slowly stood up, looking down at the bloody scene before them.

After a few seconds of registering what just happened, their head turned to Silco, who was still lying on the ground. With the dagger in his right hand, he was staring up at the mechanic. His eyes were wide open, his mouth moving slowly as he panted. Streaks of hair fell into his face as sweat flowed down his cheeks. The darkness made his orange eye pop up like a lighthouse at sea. The fog made him appear ethereal somehow.

Just as Ren tried to form a sentence, they heard some movement behind them. Slowly they turned around, holding their left side in pain. Zack stood up from the ground, his face bloodied by a broken nose, no doubt. Ren had just noticed that something purple was glowing in his pockets. He grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a shimmer vial.

"I will," he spat out some blood, "destroy you with the very thing that built your empire."

Before any of them could do anything, Zack drank the content of the vial. His body started twisting and turning in ways that Ren had never seen shimmer do before. This was clearly a variant of it that they had never experienced. Ren's eyes widened as the man's muscles grew and tore his clothes apart. His stare could only be described as completely animalistic. It was as if the shimmer had taken all his humanity.

Ren glanced down at Silco, still lying by their side. Then they turned to the man. Sadly there was no way out of this. Ren needed to go up against Zack to at least give Silco enough time to escape. It seemed a good end for their life - dying for the cause. A far better fate than dying by the hand of an angry Chem-baron seeking revenge, or by a failed mugging in the dark alleys. Perhaps it was meant to be like this, and Ren had accepted it like they always accepted their fate.

With a deep sigh, they stepped closer to Zack, raising their hands to fight. He charged at them without a word. No more insults or threats, just lunging at the enemy. Ren could only see a purple flash and a breeze that was closing in on them; and Zack's distorted face getting closer to them at inhuman speed. Those purple glowing eyes would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

But before he could get to them, another purple flash from the right lunged at him. Ren could barely register what happened as they stared at another person joining the fight. Then they recognized who's metal arm was currently punching Zack's head into the concrete. Sevika. She appeared to be equally as messed up as both Ren and Silco, which could only mean that she had also fought.

Ren turned around, offering Silco a helping hand. He took it and and soon he was standing. The Eye looked down at the mechanic with feigned composure. He put his dagger away before walking to Sevika. She had just finished with Zack, who looked absolutely unrecognizable by now. Her eyes also glowed purple yet she looked far less terrifying than Zack did.

"You are late." Silco hissed.

"I got held up by the rest." she answered.

"There were more?" Ren whispered. Their head hurt from all the loud noises. They just hoped they didn't accidentally get a concussion.

"Where do you think I was 'til now?" Sevika snorted. "Got yourself hit in the head or what?"

"Just a little." they sighed, moving their hand to their face.

Ren hissed in pain as they touched an open wound around their left brow. Pulling their hand back, they could see plenty amount of blood dripping down between their fingers. This would surely leave a scar.

"Take the items." Silco ordered the woman. "We shall worry about the bodies once we are safe."

Sevika nodded before grabbing the metal pieces. After that, she held onto Ren's shoulder for just a second. "Don't faint now, mechanic."

"What, you worried?" they smirked.

The woman let out a grunt. "It would be a pain in my ass to drag your limp body back. Now move."

Ren didn't even try to hide their smile as they followed Silco. The man looked back at the two with a raised brow but didn't interrupt. What happened just now had made all three of them tired, so there was little to none speaking during the walk. Not that Ren minded that of course, the loud streets of Zaun were already far too noisy for their liking. So they just silently followed the two giants back to The Last Drop.

Once at the bar, Silco gave orders for all his men - mostly to pick up the bodies left behind. Sevika was also sent out there again, once she had successfully dropped the goods in Silco's office. After she had left, only Silco and Ren remained in the office, possibly in the entire building. The man in question sighed as he removed his coat and hung it up. He walked over to his desk and poured himself a drink. Ren on the other hand wasn't quite sure what to do, so they just watched his movements.

After the Eye downed the entire cup, he slammed it down before turning back to the mechanic. For a few quiet moments they just regarded each other silently. Then he moved over to his drawers and pulled a med-kit out. Once he opened the box, he grabbed a bottle and a handkerchief. He walked over to Ren, towering over their form. Then he rolled up his sleeves, getting ready to work.

"Sit." he ordered.

It didn't take any more for Ren to follow. They immediately hopped down on the couch, eyes still focused on Silco. He opened the bottle and soaked the handkerchief in it's contains. Then he grabbed Ren's face, and leaned closer to them. He pressed his right knee to the couch, resting it between their legs.

"Don't move."

Ren didn't dare breathe in that moment. They only watched Silco as he carefully started wiping the blood off their face. A hiss escaped their mouth as the chemical got into their wound, leaving a burning sensation. Silco just tightened his grip, making sure Ren wouldn't move. He was so focused on cleaning their wound, he didn't even notice how Ren was staring at him; with lips open, admiring. Silco had never been so close to them before and they were appalled.

Once he finished cleaning the wound on their brow, he dumped the handkerchief into the bottle again and started working on their lower lip. Ren didn't even notice there was a wound there but they sure felt it when Silco pressed the cloth against their skin. Yet they didn't dare shut their eyes, no matter how much it hurt. This moment, being so close to the Eye of Zaun was too precious to close their eyes. Silco pressed his thumb on their lips, pulling it apart so he could excess the wound more. When he was done, he walked back to his desk, leaving a dumbfounded Ren behind.

But he soon came back with some thread and a needle in his hand. Ren tried to stop him but Silco was able to convince them to sit still. Then he began working his way through their skin with the needle. Ren grabbed the couch in pain and held onto it for dear life. Silco's unusually calm gaze had calmed them down somewhat but on the inside they were still praying that this will be over soon. And thankfully it was. The Eye worked quickly, his hands clearly having practiced it before. After a couple minutes, Silco was already back at his desk, carefully putting away the med-kit.

"You need rest. Go home." he said without turning to the mechanic.

"No." Ren shook their head. "We just got the metals I can still-"

"You are disoriented." Silco finally turned around. "I hardly think it is a good idea to handle sharp tools at this time."

"Pff, this but a scratch." they waved their hand dismissively. "I can work just fine."

Silco didn't say anything to that, instead he turned back to his desk. "Do as you want as long as you can ensure that the quality of your work won't decline."

"Yes, sir." they saluted. "Oh, and a quick question. Do you mind if I work at your office again?"

"Is my hospitality not good enough for you as it is?" he sighed. "As I said, do as you want."

Ren took that as a definitive yes, so they ran downstairs to bring their equipment back. Once they had everything at hand, they sat down on the floor to work at the arm. They didn't have the blueprint with them but it was fine, since they had spent so much time staring at it, they practically memorized it all. Of course, they couldn't finish all of it at Silco's office, since most of their tools required for this type of work were left at home, but some parts of it could be made even here.

Some time went by and Ren just worked on the arm. What didn't leave them to rest was that annoying feeling on the back of their neck, as if someone was watching them. Once they looked up, they realised why they had felt that. Silco was standing in front of his desk, hips resting on the edge. His sleeves were still rolled up, and he held a glass of whiskey in his right hand. As he was staring down at the mechanic, his hair fell into his face again, making his usually organized composure rather messy. Yet his eyes never left Ren.

The mechanic wasn't quite sure why the Eye was watching them, so they returned to their work. Only the staring didn't stop. Everytime Ren looked up, they only saw the mismatched eyes intently watching their every move. His expression was unreadable of course, as it always was. But he didn't look particularly angry, at least not more than he usually was. Ren was about to ask why he was staring at them but Silco beat them to it.

"Did you consider?" he questioned, tone as serious as it could be.

Ren blinked for a moment, unsure what he was referring to. "What?"

"Did you consider joining him?" he repeated.

"No." Ren shook their head.

So this was why Silco had stared at them. He must have been wondering about Ren's actions earlier. It made sense to them now, since he had been quite shocked after the fight. Ren still remembered his widened eyes staring up at them as they offered him a hand. It was truly a sight to behold.

"Not even with your life on the line?" Silco pressed further.

"No." they answered again. "I thought that if this was the place I died, at least my death would be worth it. Dying for the cause is quite noble, in my opinion."

"You were ready to just sacrifice yourself?" he raised a brow. "Some would call that reckless, foolish even."

Ren shrugged. "I'm not stupid, I know that shimmered idiot would've killed me. My only goal was to give you enough time to get away from him."

"Why?"

It seemed their previous answers were not good enough for Silco.

"Don't you remember your 'promise'?" they stood up. "I will not let you bite the dust before I see this city rise from the ashes. Besides, I feel safe around here. Why would I give that up?"

For a moment he just stared at them. His eyes moved between Ren's before he opened his mouth. "I appreciate it."

"Good." they crossed their arms. "You should say that more. I work my ass off for you, ya'know?"

"Don't be greedy." he rose from the desk, downing his drink. "Greed is a prime way to lead yourself to failure."

"If I was greedy I would've accepted that slime's offer." they smirked. "20 an hour doesn't sound so bad..."

"You won't get a raise." he sighed.

"Dammit, I was almost there." Ren exclaimed dramatically.

"Far from it." Silco sat down in his chair.

The mechanic laughed before returning to their work. Sadly there wasn't much left to do, only a few smaller bits. After that they had to go home and continue with their full equipment. But until then they remained in the comfortable silence between the two. The rhythmic scratches of Silco's pen were rather therapeutic to Ren; it was easy to focus like this. But soon the time came when Ren didn't have anything left to do, so they rose from the floor after they managed to put everything away in their bag. Silco's eyes flashed to them, raising a brow.

"I need the tools from my apartment to keep working." they explained. "So if it's the safe for you, I will be going now."

"Mhm." he nodded.

Ren sent him a smile before turning around and walking to the door. Just as they were about to touch the handle, Silco's voice rang again.

"And Ren, you are welcome to work in my office whenever Jinx isn't available." he said without looking up from his papers. "See you tomorrow."

Ren smiled to themselves. "See ya!"

Then they left his office and with that, they left the Drop too.

#silco #arcane #silco x oc #silco x reader #silco fanfiction #silco fanfic #jinx #sevika #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #arcane jinx #arcane sevika #arcane oc #renco

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irrelevantwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Unspoken

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, public sex, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mild choking, mention of bodily fluids, shitty exes, petty Rio (yaaaass)

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: Part 6. Feelings were shared. Where does that leave you and Rio? A dinner with your ex? A car in a dark parking lot?

A/N: The last part is here! Though as I said yesterday I am definitely not calling this the end. I have lots of ideas for Rio and I’ve thought about adding to this in the future as inspiration hits. I’ve also thought about developing a Rio x OFC fic and/or something for Beth x Rio. I’ve had a lot of fun writing and exploring his character so I’m nowhere near close to done. And I also need to shoutout the ladies from the discord for this part. They suggested it and I ran with it (as I do). So big thank you to @woahitslucyylu, @whatupitshuff, and @fvckthisbxtchup! You inspired this. Be proud of yourselves. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 5 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

He sighed, turning off the engine and checking his phone one last time for messages. The restaurant lot was full, patrons shuffling in and out of the newest establishment in downtown Detroit. It was in a historic building that had obviously recently been renovated, though efforts had been made to keep its old world charm. The restaurant was a place he’d yet to visit and this impromptu pop-up offered the perfect opportunity for him to do so.

Rio exited his vehicle into the cool air of the night. It wasn’t frigid, but it was enough for those outside to don a jacket. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the entrance, noting the stylish fashions of most of the restaurant's occupants. He didn’t worry about the supposed dress code. Wearing black often gave him an air of sophistication, even with the tattoo splashed across his throat. It was a duality he’d mastered over the years. The tattoo kept him grounded to his roots. His nature. His business. The wardrobe kept him aligned with the civilian world. People would often eye his throat warily, suspicion clear in their gaze. But one look at the clean lines of his pressed shirt and somehow they’d come to the conclusion that he’d made a mistake as a young kid. Got involved in the wrong crowd. Hadn’t gotten around to getting the hideous atrocity on his neck removed. They believed what they wanted to believe.

Cowards.

He smiled at the passing elderly couple as he held the door open for them, their smiles making their eyes crinkle at the edges. They probably thought he worked there. He stepped through the threshold, taking in the dim lighting and soothing melody of jazz that filtered through the space. His eyes scanned the open area with practiced diligence until he found what he was looking for amongst the black booths that ran the length of the right wall. They were high and designed for privacy, but he could spot your face anywhere.

The hostess greeted him and he politely gestured to the booth you sat at, easing by the podium as she took a moment to trail her eyes along his body. He smirked at the blatant attempt at flirtation, not bothering to return the sentiment. Instead, he weaved through the aisles of tables as he made his way towards you.

Your brow was tensed, your lips pursed. The discomfort showed on your features, all the way down to your stiffened shoulders. He watched as you took a sip from your wine, nodding along to whatever the person across from you had said. When he came into view, your eyes widened, almost comically so. He grinned, finding your shock amusing. It was the exact reaction he was going for.

“Hey mama, sorry I’m late.” He announced as he made it to the table. He ignored the couple sitting with you and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, feeling you sway into it despite your obvious surprise.

“Uh...h-hi.” You choked out, shifting over so that he could slip in next to you.

He shed his jacket as he sat down, pulling you close once he’d gotten comfortable. You let him maneuver you, still trying to understand why he was there. He could see the slight panic in your eyes, as if he were here for business purposes, crashing a dinner as a strategic move. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

His eyes finally met Paul’s, your ex, and then slid over to his fiancé’s at his left. They both looked just as stunned as you, except for the displeasure that radiated from Paul’s gaze and onto him. His fiancé, Erica, he thought her name was, looked intrigued; curious about his arrival.

“Sup, man…” Rio greeted, extending his hand for Paul to take. He let it hang in the air for a moment, eyes trying to remain unflinching against his. After only a second, the man broke eye contact. He reluctantly took Rio’s hand and shook it, his palm sweaty and warm.

“Who is this?” Erica questioned after she realized no one was going to introduce him.

“Oh, um...sorry. This is Rio.” You replied shakily, looking at him as if trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

He noticed your nervousness and rested his left hand on your bare knee, gently squeezing in silent reassurance. He felt you relax immediately, your body uncoiling beside his and once again seeking out his touch.

“Nice to meet you.” Rio smoothly directed to Erica, taking her offered hand. She smiled back in return, her lips painted a vivid pink. It was a harsh shade and one that made her look like she’d been playing dress-up. He knew from the comments you’d made to him that Erica was not the woman you’d caught Paul with during your marriage. It’d been someone different. Someone from his firm. But you’d quickly pieced together that there had been many throughout the years. All slightly younger and the exact opposite to you in appearance.

Rio let his eyes covertly take in the woman across from him. She wasn’t unattractive. But she also wasn’t someone he’d ever think about leaving you for.

“You’ve met Paul. And this is Erica.” You stated, hand gesturing to the uncomfortable-looking couple across the table.

Rio nodded in their direction, Paul’s stare still unmoving. He sat straight and rigidly, the arm that sat around Erica’s shoulders now taut and awkward looking. He found satisfaction in that. He let his own arm rest comfortably across your shoulders, his fingers dancing along your upper arm in soothing patterns. He felt you shiver in response.

“We didn’t know you were coming.” Erica said with a smile, giggling for whatever reason.

“Oh yeah, last minute change of plans.” He propped his chin into his hand and met your eyes, seeing the relief in them.

You’d told him about the dinner three nights ago when he’d been at your house. He was in your bed, lounging against the headboard after he’d fucked you on the stairs. And then once again on the dining table. You were checking your phone, mumbling curses to yourself when he’d asked you what was wrong. You’d complained about your ex and how he was now suggesting a dinner alone with you and his fiancé to “talk some things over”. The whole thing seemed innocuous enough to him, but you’d insisted Paul had an ulterior motive, which according to you, never meant anything good. You’d been worried ever since. Anxious about having dinner alone with them and dreading the reason he wanted to meet.

Rio had funneled the information out, not giving it much thought because your ex was none of his business. But something had struck him the night before when you’d called. He’d been going over some of his books, mind completely focused on numbers, when his phone rang. You were in the bathtub, voice tinged with ease and alcohol. Just wanted to hear your voice, you’d said. And for some unknown reason, that sliver of vulnerability made his chest feel tight. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

The newest development in your situation was slow-going. After that night in his car and the semi-proclamation of feelings, you’d both taken cues from the other, waiting for someone to speak up and declare...something. None of that had happened though. What had happened was amazing sex on the regular and sporadic outings to dine. He preferred not to call them dates because they really hadn’t been. They were usually moments right after a round of rigorous sex when neither of you had eaten. It was usually a decision agreed upon mutually and without fanfare. Just two people who were hungry and accompanying the other. The barest of human needs. Just like the sex. It was satiation.

But even he knew that there was an underlying current of unsaid words. Which is why your tipsy admission had startled him. For so long you’d both denied what was so obvious. It was practically a subconscious act now. And he realized, as long as he let you dictate the speed, you’d come to him. As long as he didn’t push or ask for more, you’d show up. And you had. So now, so was he.

“Something to drink?” The waiter asked, interrupting the tense moment.

“Vodka on the rocks, please.” Rio replied, the waiter nodding and disappearing into the fray.

“So, Rio…” Paul finally spoke up, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. It seemed he’d found his voice. “I take it you don’t actually deal with home plumbing.” He said the sentence snidely and with a poignant glance in your direction. “So what is it that you do?” He finished, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

He could feel you tense up beside him.

“I own a couple of businesses.”

“What kind of businesses?” Paul retorted, an eyebrow raised in doubt.

“The kind that do business.”

A moment of silence stretched out as Paul took in the nonanswer. Rio could see the wheels working in his head, see him weighing the pros and cons of arguing with him on the matter. The man opened his mouth, more than likely to continue to probe, but Erica beat him to the punch.

“How’d you guys meet?” She implored with an excited gleam, clearly hoping for a magical meet-cute moment that had never happened.

“Bar bathroom.” Rio said with a smug smile, enjoying the sputtered cough you expelled.

“He means outside of a bar bathroom. We sorta ran into each other.” You hastily lied, biting into your lip when his arm shifted off your shoulders and under the table, landing on your knee once again. He let his palm glide over the swatch of skin afforded to him by your dress, feeling your thighs clench together the higher he got.

“That’s adorable.” Eric chimed in, a genuine smile plastered on her pink lips. The same couldn’t be said for Paul, who looked as if he’d tasted something bitter.

Rio snickered because nothing about what either of you had been doing in the time since you’d met was adorable. It was the exact opposite. And he thrived off of it.

He turned his attention on you, hovering close to your ear, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh as he ignored the other diners at the table. “You good, mama?” He rasped, knowing what the action did to you.

Your eyes weren’t on him. They were shifting anxiously between Paul and Erica, concerned with the proximity of his lips and hand. Of course, they couldn’t see his arm disappearing beneath your dress, but they did notice the intimacy of the moment. Erica’s eyes looked on in admiration while Paul’s darted to anywhere but the two of you.

“Yeah.” You breathlessly replied, your own hand coming to rest on his. You squeezed and then set your gaze on his, reassuring him.

“You sure?”

His eyes flicked to your mouth, the flesh wet from both your lipstick and your tongue. He licked his own as he got lost in thoughts of tasting you.

You nodded, your eyes following the movements of his tongue, seemingly just as entranced as he was.

The moment was shattered with the waiter bringing Rio’s drink and taking food orders. It was for the better. He couldn’t very well fuck you on the table, though he’d save that fantasy for nights when he couldn’t have you.

Everyone kept the conversion polite and vague, choosing to stay away from certain topics. It was rigid and uncomfortable for everyone involved, unsurprisingly so. The subject transitioned to the kids, upcoming events and appointments being the main points. The food arrived and Rio busied himself with eating an exquisite dinner. The food was delicious and he had a fleeting thought about investing into something like this. He owned the bar and had arrangements with other small businesses, but he’d been hesitant to enter the restaurant realm. It was tricky. There were always new places offering something no other eatery could. He’d have to get with the owner, Joel Pinet. Rio knew him from around the neighborhood. His own bar was only a couple of blocks away and he’d met Joel on more than one occasion, the man a regular in his establishment.

“What’d you mean you won’t be here this summer?”

Your question brought him back to the moment, the irritation in your voice making him alert. His dark eyes settled on Paul as he twirled his fork in his pasta. The action annoyed Rio.

“Erica and I are going to Europe over the summer.”

“He promised to take me.” She chimed in, giddy and blissfully unaware of the anger mounting between the exes.

Your narrowed gaze bounced between the two, your irritation palpable. You were stiff as your spine straightened against the booth. “What about the kids? The summer is when they have time with you. They look forward to it.”

Paul raised his hand in a placating gesture and Rio noticed how your lips pinched together in response, as if physically restraining yourself from saying something. You were a better person than he was. The man across from him was barely that, and barely one that deserved your attention, much less the wasted love of a ruined marriage.

“I’ll make it up to them. But we’ve had this trip planned for months.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“Because I knew how you’d react.”

“Yeah, because the summer is your time, Paul.”

Paul sighed, as if frustrated with your reasonable argument. “So we’ll switch. You’ve had to have my help with alternating weekends when stuff comes up.”

“For work. Not a trip to fucking Europe.” You seethed, voice low but spewing with venom.

Rio only looked on, silently admiring your ability to not beat the guy’s ass. He deserved it. He was a piece of shit husband and an even bigger piece of shit father.

“The kids will be fine. We’ll be gone for a few weeks and then they can come stay with us for the remainder of the summer.” He brushed off your concerns, seeing no real issue with forgoing time with his children to peruse foreign streets.

Rio scoffed at the boldness. The action didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say?” Paul directed at him, his chest posturing in a show of male dominance.

Rio laughed lowly, amused by the man’s antics. How you’d ever ended up with someone like that was a mystery to him. After seeing your determination, your fire, Rio had been enthralled. He’d recognized something raw inside of you. Something that matched him. Outwardly, you appeared to be opposites. Strangers from two different worlds. But inside you were more alike than either of you really understood. There was something waiting to be uncaged within you. Waiting for a reason to be unleashed. He was going to get you there. Because you deserved to see your potential, even if the bitch of a man across from you didn’t.

“Nah man...you clearly got the situation under control.” Rio taunted, the sarcasm dripping from his words. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, two sets of eyes watching the bird at his throat move. It was his own alpha display. His own performance of just who king dick was. And it wasn’t your ex.

When it was clear that Paul wasn’t going to rise to the occasion, Rio drained the last of his drink and turned to face you. He lowered his lips to your ear and spoke so only you could hear.

“You ready to go, darlin’?”

“Yeah.” You said with a sharp nod of your head, chin held high in reproach towards the man opposite you.

Rio stood, grabbing his jacket and helping you slide out of your seat. His eyes never wavered from Paul’s as he did. You smoothed out your dress, clutching your purse and not bothering to acknowledge the couple at all. He dug into his pocket for his wallet and made a show of grabbing a few crisp hundred dollar bills. He pulled out two and threw them on the table.

“Dinner’s on me. Keep the change, yeah?” He offered with a smirk, letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. He led you away, keeping his touch secured to you as you stepped into the night.

You released a sigh immediately and then inhaled, eyes closing as if centering yourself. He watched you closely, wondering if he’d see tears in your eyes when you opened them. Instead, he saw amusement. A laugh erupted from your throat, your chest shaking as the volume grew with each passing second. He only watched, entertained by the sound. For the first time that evening, he let his eyes trail along your body. Your dress was black and velvet, hitting just below the knee. There was a small slit up the side, exposing the smooth flesh of your thigh. A tie was cinched around your waist, accentuating your figure, while short sleeves helped stave off the chill in the air. The entirety of you was elegant...captivating, and far too striking to be meeting up with your ex-husband for dinner.

Your laughter died down when you noticed his gaze. You stepped towards him, holding your purse in front of you so that your cleavage pulled his focus. He licked his lips and waited as you crowded his space, your perfume swirling into a fog around him. He studied your face, noting the tiny details he often overlooked. You were beautiful, a fact that never went unnoticed by him, but sometimes he forgot just how much. And he wondered if you’d always been this attractive or if it was just the blinding haze of attraction that made him think so. Either way, he didn’t really care. It didn’t change how much he ached to fuck you.

“How’d you know where I’d be?”

“I got my ways.” He offered, taking in the way your lashes fluttered at him. It was a familiar tell. One he’d come to associate with you flat on your back and gazing up at him, usually with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, sobering for a second so that he could read the honesty across your features. There was that vulnerability again. And his chest tightened just as it had the previous night.

“No problem.”

You took a step back and waited as he began to follow you to your car. You’d parked along the side of the building and he noted how full the lot still was. You halted once you noticed his SUV next to your car, stopping at the bumper and turning to face him.

“Your car?” You asked, nodding in the direction of the black G Wagon.

He wordlessly nodded, once again using the moment to appreciate the way your dress hugged your frame. He appraised your black heels and the deep red polish that adorned your toes, remembering that last time he’d seen you they’d been a light pink. He waited and watched as you walked to the passenger side of his car, fitting yourself in the space between the two vehicles.

“How tinted are your windows?” You asked, the innocence in your words making him suspicious. “Like no one can see in kind of tinted?”

You stared at him as you waited for his reply, biting your bottom lip in a way that could only be described as seductive.

“Yeah, why?”

You grinned, pleased with his answer. His face remained expressionless as you looked around the lot, the area void of other people. You slowly reached under your dress, careful not to expose yourself. Your hands disappeared under the skirt and then reappeared a second later, a scrap of dark green lace trailing down your legs. Your gaze stayed on him as you stepped out of the underwear and dangled them on your fingers, a proud grin making its way onto your lips. You flung the panties in his direction and he caught them against his chest.

“Open the door.” You softly demanded, gesturing to the rear passenger seat.

Rio let your words hang in the air, taking satisfaction in seeing you begin to squirm. There was doubt in your eyes, like perhaps he’d turn you down. You hadn’t caught on to the fact that he could do no such thing.

He took mercy on you, figuring you’d had enough unease for the night and found the key in his jacket pocket, hitting the button. The lights of the car flashed as the vehicle unlocked itself. You sent him a playful smile as you got in without another word, the door closing behind you with a resounding echo. He chuckled and shook his head, biting his lip as he pocketed your panties and walked to the other side of the vehicle. He got in, sliding in next to you and discarding his jacket along the way. He seated himself in the middle and you immediately straddled his lap. His hands found their way under your dress, skimming the soft planes of your thighs.

“So that’s what it takes, huh?” He whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch that ran along the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Me being a dick to your ex. That’s what it takes.” He supplied, hands gliding further under your dress until they began massaging your ass. You moaned at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as you ground down onto his crotch.

“Takes a little more than that.” You insisted, your hips rocking against his in a sensual rhythm.

“Let me see.” He gruffly commanded, chin angling to the hem of your dress that was bunched around your thighs.

You stilled your hips and did as he requested, lifting the fabric and exposing your bare slit to his hungry eyes. He could see the evidence of your arousal, even in the dark. Your pussy glistened in the muted light of the night, swollen and needy for him like aloe to a scathing burn. He reached forward and ran his index finger along your opening, making you jump at the contact. He instantly became drenched in you, the clear stickiness coating his finger. Your hips searched for a firmer hand, wordlessly begging him to slip past your lips.

“You seem plenty wet for me already, ma.” He taunted, letting his finger press against your clit. You gasped and bit your lip, nails digging into the tops of his shoulders.

��Rio...please,” You pleaded, chasing his touch every time it disappeared from your body.

His dick twitched at the sound of his name falling from your parted lips. It was something you’d only recently started doing, using his name in bed. He was addicted to the sound of it. You always said it with desperation and longing, usually while clinging to him in trembling pleasure.

“What do you need?”

You gripped his wrist and directed his finger into your waiting walls in response. He was overcome with heat and slick immediately. You both released moans that signaled just what it did to you to be so intimately joined.

“That what you need, baby?” He added another finger while his thumb continued to massage your clit. He could feel you clench around him, nipping at your chin as your moans turned to whimpers.

“More.”

“Let me see all of you.” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the neckline of your dress.

You dutifully obeyed, pulling your arms out of the garment and slipping it down to rest around your waist. The same shade of green that had adorned your lower half also encased your breasts, the lace affording him glimpses of your hardened nipples. He curled his fingers inside of you in reciprocation, reaching up to mouth at your neck. Your hands held him to you, running along his scalp and sending bolts of electricity straight to his dick. He shifted his hips in search of friction, feeling the warmth from between your thighs calling to him.

“Feel good?”

“Yes…” You breathed, unclasping your bra and hurriedly pulling the lace away. He followed your lead and trailed wet kisses across your flesh, his tongue reaching out to taste you. You pushed your chest into him in return.

“You can take more, right mama?” He urged, not bothering to wait for your answer. He added another finger, his movements speeding up as he reached that sweet spot deep within.

“Fuck, fuck…” You cursed, riding his fingers while he sucked at your nipple.

He worked your body like a fine-tuned car, hitting each switch with expert precision. He could read your face, gauge the tension in your limbs the further he brought you to the edge. His guilty pleasure was watching you cum, watching you uninhibited and practically blessing his very existence. He knew if he flicked his wrist more to the left and pressed down on your clit at the same time that you’d call out his name. He knew if he bit down on your breast he’d be rewarded with your pussy fluttering around him. He knew if he told you how good you looked, how good you felt, you’d cum...and hard.

“You look so good like this. Like you belong to me.” He praised. You gasped, throwing your head back, and he knew you were close. “Who gets you like this? Who makes you feel this good?”

“You do.”

“That’s right. No one else.” He affirmed, thrusting his fingers as rapidly as he could at that angle. The muscles in your thighs twitched as you came, tightening around his fingers in a way that made him long for it to be his dick instead. He let you ride out the ecstasy, your body rocking into the stiffness pressed along his zipper. Your head was thrown back, your mouth agape as a litany of cries and moans filtered through the air. He could make out the rasp of his name amongst the sounds. He could feel the surge of moisture as it slid down his hand. You were enraptured; a victim to his touch.

He waited until your body had stilled, the aftershocks having long passed, before he slipped from your clutches. He caught your hooded gaze and slowly took his slickened fingers into his mouth, your essence exploding onto his tongue. He savored you, taking in the way your chest expanded with each breath. Your fingers curled into his shirt and dragged along his chest, your hips dropping down to grind into him. He barely had enough time to remove his fingers before you were pulling his lips to yours. Your tongue coaxed his into your mouth and he could taste the remnants of the wine you’d drank. The alcohol mixed with you, creating an erotic elixir, one that had him intoxicated. He hissed against your lips, bucking his hips when you unzipped his pants and licked your palm in a show of lustful desire.

“I need you. Inside.” You panted between kisses, situating your pussy over him as you stroked his throbbing flesh.

Rio slid his hand up between your breasts and grasped your neck, feeling your pulse jump. He tilted your chin towards him and ensured your eyes were nowhere else but on him.

“Put me in. Go slow.” He squeezed his fingers around your throat as you moved, angling the head of his cock along your folds. You released a shaky breath as you eased him into you, gaze not wavering. He rested against the seat as he took in the view, licking his lips. He tsked and maneuvered your chin back in position when your eyes began to close, the fullness of him stretching you tight.

“Keep going, mama. All of it.”

You held his forearm, the one still attached to your neck, as you bottomed out, your ass finally meeting his thighs. Your pussy sucked him, walls gripping him with an unforgiving strength. You both remained still, relishing the myriad of sensations that assaulted your restless bodies.

“Touch yourself.”

You worked your hands over his arm, cupping your breasts at his request. Your movements mirrored his, matching the force and pressure of how he usually touched you. He was transfixed by you. Utterly lost in the way your body begged for him and still wanted more. He respected your greediness. Could understand the need for more once a craving had been satisfied. It was the business he was in. He was an expert on the matter. And he’d deliver for you.

His left hand dug into the flesh of your ass in a show of impatience. You caught on and started to move, leaning down to nibble at his throat. Your pace was languid, almost lazy as you swiveled your hips. Each down thrust had you rubbing your clit along his pelvic bone, triggering your pussy to spasm.

“Rio...”

There was a warning in your tone. He could hear it clearly as you bounced on his cock, the plea almost drowned out by the slapping of bodies.

“Shit, already?” He asked, somewhat surprised at the rate at which your body was responding to him. He let both of his hands fall to your ass, directing you forward so that he could thrust. You whimpered into his ear as his hips pushed up and into you, hitting deep. You clamped down around him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

“Right there. Don’t stop.” You gasped, face buried into his neck as he slapped your ass. The hit made you convulse. So he did it again.

The closing in of your walls made him double his efforts. He secured his arm around your waist and held you steady. He kept your pussy at his desired angle as he fucked you, hearing that hitch in your breath that let him know you were on the cusp of orgasm.

“M’gonna cum.” You slurred, primal lust making the words run together. His dick swelled inside of you, his balls tightening with every desperate breath you expelled. He could feel that familiar tingle at the base of his spine start to expand, signaling to him what was coming next. He worked his hand between your bodies, gathering moisture and ravaging your clit. You jerked in surprise, yelping when his touch didn’t retreat or ease up.

“Too much.”

“Nah, you take it, ma. You take it and you cum for me.” Rio provoked, forcing you to abide by his commands.

Seconds later you were doing as he said once again, cumming on his cock with a force that made him grit his teeth. Your body shuddered as barely intelligible words floated from your lips. You nuzzled further into him while he continued to chase his own release. He dug his fingers into your hips and thrust, the rapid speed making the car sway. He could already tell the windows were fogged up, the stench of sex permeating the air. You were boneless as you sat astride him, your soft moans of residual pleasure going straight to his dick, luring him off the edge.

“Fuck,” He growled, feeling the eletric shocks of climax start to claim him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of your neck, teeth biting down into the otherwise unblemished skin. He held you firm as he emptied his cum and filled you, rivulets already beginning to spill from your connected bodies. His chest moved with the rapid beats of his heart as the entire moment culminated into a drug-level euphoria.

Minutes ticked by as you both struggled to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Rio felt you ghost a kiss along his jaw; a low, satisfied laugh making him smirk.

“You think anyone heard us?” You asked, beginning to shift in his arms.

Beyond the fogged windows, the lot was still without people. But who knew who’d walked by in the meantime. The SUV wasn’t necessarily equipped to withhold sound, though it could cause a bullet to ricochet.

“Probably.” He let you sit up, eyes falling to your still naked chest. You both seemed to have an affinity for fucking in public spaces.

You eased forward to kiss him, the action much more intimate than it’d been moments ago. Your fingers trailed along his jaw and combed through his facial hair, a gesture he secretly loved. His own hands skimmed your back, eliciting shivers that radiated down your body.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” You whispered once you’d pulled away, eyes imploring him to understand what you meant.

He did. He knew what this kind of gesture meant. He’d been truthful in confessing his want for you. It was a selfish need. Something that grew because you’d continuously denied him. And then it’d shattered before it’d even had a chance to become anything. And during that time he’d admitted to himself that he was willing to compromise. To follow your rules. And as a boss who ran his own shit by his own decree, it was difficult to come to terms with. But he’d done it. Why? Because something told him it’d be worth it. Whether for the great sex or the companionship.

Time would tell.

He ran his finger along your cheek, observing the way you fell into the touch. “You didn’t have to.” He assured you, meaning every word.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me, darlin’.”

“Well, thank you again.” You smiled, pressing your chest to his.

“Call it even.” He joked, gesturing to the state of your bodies still twisted around each other.

“Let’s get some pizza.” You suggested suddenly, pulling the sleeves of your dress back up, sans bra.

He laughed at both your words and the fact that you were getting dressed with his dick still sheathed inside you. “You hungry?”

“I didn’t get to finish my dinner.” You reminded him, retying the tassel around your waist. His hands sluggishly skimmed your thighs, stopping to squeeze whenever you suddenly straightened. “Oh, what about that food truck you took me to last week? The one with the fried mac and cheese?”

Rio took in your enthusiasm, finding it endearing. He didn’t have to use words to figure out where your head was at in all this. It was written on your face. In your voice. Beaming from your eyes and seeping from your pores. And like so many other things between you, it would go unsaid. For now. Because that’s just how it was. And maybe it was fucked up. But it didn’t invalidate any of the chemistry between you. Words just...weren’t needed. And that was sort of how it had always been.

“I got you.” He assured, patting your ass as he did. You beamed at him, not knowing that his words ran much deeper than a meal.

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl

@thebookisbtr

@beardburnsupersoldiers

@nina-nkl

@gemini0410

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio x reader #rio x you #rio imagine #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away. Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere.

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat.

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for.

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t.

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her.

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself.

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went.

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting.

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her.

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity.

It was just plain concern.

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case).

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before.

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further.

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation.

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week.

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month.

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created.

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother.

And a damn good one at that.

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception.

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded.

This would be our first flight without her.

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye.

“I��m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.”

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show.

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered.

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek.

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes.

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.”

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits.

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me.

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly.

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.”

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant.

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.”

_ _ _

“Reid?”

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought.

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything.

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her.

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?”

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.”

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.”

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence.

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently.

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone.

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.”

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it.

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now.

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia.

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia.

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave.

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave.

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!”

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year.

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained.

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.”

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises.

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever.

taglist: @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny

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#spencer reid #spencer reid pregnant #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #juniorgman187 #any day now

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nocapesdahling · 3 years ago

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As the World Falls Down - Chapter 1

Helmut Zemo x Gender Neutral Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Summary: You are the head of Research and Development for your squad in Sokovia and also serve as its handler. Your leader is the esteemed Colonel Helmut Zemo, your best friend though you’ve often sometimes wished that it could be more than that.

Rating: Mature (17+)

There is currently no explicit sexual content planned for this fic, but there may be things heavily implied as we move forward so rating it M to be safe. Please respect the rating.

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Slow Burn; Canon pairing of Heike Zemo/Helmut Zemo; implied potential polyamory; Zemo likes to be called Sir; Referenced Age Difference; Angst will be coming in subsequent chapters.

A/N: Hi everyone! Helmut Zemo and this idea would not leave me alone. This is my first reader fic and my first fic published on Tumblr, so I would love to hear what you think. This will be a multi-chapter fic, covering Age of Ultron, Civil War, and TFATWS. The first three chapters will cover AOU. Zemo and everyone in this chapter are speaking Sokovian, but it's written in English. It is assumed that the reader’s nickname exists in the Sokovian alphabet.

Chapter 1: Beneath a Fallen Sky (Age of Ultron) - Part 1

Word Count: 3k

Chapter Summary: Everything was normal. Well as normal as it could be in the day in the life of a handler for a Sokovian covert intelligence squad when robots began to attack Novi Grad and things…well, things went downhill from there.

You had met Baron Helmut Zemo years ago, though you hadn’t known he was a baron back then, in what felt like another life and had been by his side ever since. You served as the tech wizard and handler for his team of EKO Scorpions, outfitting them with gadgets, designing their suits and masks, and acting as tech support for their missions. Zemo had jokingly referred to you as Q when you presented him with his purple mask for the first time and to your slight embarrassment it had stuck. No one on the team had called you anything else since.

Now, machines had attacked Novi Grad and you had to do something for Sokovia, for her people. You tried hacking the machines to no avail. You’d get into one and then it would fall over lifeless as though it never worked in the first place. The algorithm was constantly changing and the AI was too complex without your specially designed work equipment, which was currently in your base miles outside the city and not your apartment, so it was time for plan B.

You focused on getting your people out of the city and saving as many civilians as possible. A swarm of robots attacking seemed like something that would attract the attention of the Avengers, but they weren’t here yet and you couldn’t sit idly by waiting for them to arrive. You called the members of your team and reached almost all of them. They were stationed around the city, doing their parts to help civilians as covertly as possible. Your team was not used to doing anything without their masks, which you did not tend to bring home, but this was an extraordinary situation so you would all do what you must.

You had reached everyone, except Helmut. He wasn’t picking up via his phone or his earpiece, and you couldn’t help but worry about him and his family. You had all been called to (well, ordered if you were being technical) to defend the city, but your squad wouldn’t function the same without its leader.

You needed Colonel Helmut Zemo.

This was the first time in a long time that you had been out in the field, preferring to be behind the scenes, but you were capable and skilled enough to be there. Zemo had made sure of it.

________________________________________________________________

Flashback:

You were designing an exploding pen in the lull between missions, just for fun, when you registered Helmut’s presence in the room. You had no idea how long he had been standing there as you often got lost in your head, especially while working on a diverting project. Your brain flitted from one thought to the next and fixated on solving different problems or creating new gadgets. The outside world became a blur to you. Helmut’s voice was one of the few things that could draw you out of it. It had been like that since you first met him. Maybe, it was the timbre of his voice that always seemed to reach you even when you were figuratively miles away. His deep voice was so lovely.

“How useful do you think that would be, my Q?” Helmut’s voice was amused and fond.

You turned to face your best friend ready to excitedly tell him the multitude of uses for the exploding pen in the field, when your breath caught in your throat. Sometimes, it took you aback how handsome he was. He was wearing his military uniform today and he looked too attractive in it. It wasn’t even fair.

His hair often fell on his forehead, giving you the urge to brush it away. It was difficult for you to resist the urge to touch that lock of hair and him in general, but you were succeeding so far. Somehow. You gave yourself a metaphorical pat on the back for that. You thought you deserved it.

A man shouldn’t look so good with a gun in his hand either, even if it was one you designed. There was something undeniably sexy about the way Helmut used your gadgets, which took you so much time and effort to make. He took the time to understand them and utilize their full abilities. It made you feel like he was making the effort to understand you.

His smooth and confident motions were also mesmerizing to watch via the screen, while you directed the squad on missions. You had never allowed yourself to get too distracted by him, but acknowledged the beauty of his savagery that he occasionally employed to get the job done.

It was a toss up between which look you liked better, the military uniform or the dark purple sweater and coat he wore for certain missions. You had made sure that his shoulder holsters fit under it and that everything looked smooth. God, you loved how he looked in that coat. (You would also admit to admiring how the shoulder holsters looked on him too).

You took him in. His hands were encased in black leather gloves and his hair was mussed from his mask, but he looked good like always even having just come back from a mission. You took a glance down at his hands.

No blood this time, thank goodness.

You attempted to snap yourself out of it, hoping Helmut wouldn’t notice. Your brain was being particularly uncooperative today, pointing out everything you shouldn’t notice. Your mind was filled with of images of how it would feel for Helmut to caress and handle you the way he did the guns and gadgets you presented to him, what the leather of his gloves would feel like on your bare skin, and how it would feel to trace the multitude of scars you knew he received from missions not just on his chest but all over his body.

Maybe, it was time to find a new romantic partner that Helmut couldn’t scare away. He had intimidated the last one away within minutes of meeting them, and you hadn’t bothered to try to meet someone since.

What was the point when Helmut vetoed them as soon as you introduced them?

Given some of your current thoughts, it was probably time to do something about the lack of romance in your life. With your luck however, they would take one look at Helmut and run for the hills in both a figurative and literal sense. The man was quietly intimidating at the best of times, but when he actually tried he oozed danger. You almost couldn’t blame your possible partner. Meanwhile, when his full focus and attention were on you, you felt flustered and hot in a way you had never felt with anyone else though you attempted not to show it. You thought that you had been rather successful at that, though who could tell with Helmut? The man might have known about your crush on him for ages, but hadn’t said anything to save your pride.

(Helmut did in fact know and found it adorable. He and Heike had once mused about adding you as a third and equal part of their relationship, because both had seen the way you watched them even if you might not have noticed them watching you back. That reminded him that he needed to bring that up with Heike once more when he returned home. He schooled his face to give nothing away before continuing to watch you as you stayed lost in your thoughts. He would coax you out of it soon, but enjoyed watching your face as your brain worked.)

You attempted to shake your thoughts away again, knowing that at this point if Helmut hadn’t noticed your inattention before then he certainly had now. The man was happily married to a wonderful and gorgeous woman, who you adored, and you were his son’s godparent for goodness sake. You might have had a chance at one point years ago. You had thought your friendship might have become something more, but that had been before Helmut had met Heike.

What chance did you have with a Baron, anyway?

Helmut had stepped closer, while you were lost in your musings and reached for your hand. “Where have you gone Q, darling? Have I lost you in your head again?”

You snapped out of it and almost jumped back because of his new proximity. His brown eyes bored into yours with slight crinkles in the corners, showing his joking mood. You shook your head and hoped again that he didn’t notice the reason for your distraction, though you didn’t have much hope. The man noticed everything.

“I was just thinking about the improvements I could make to the exploding pen and how you all could use it on your missions!” you exclaimed, excitement in your voice and face as you spoke of your work. You hoped your enthusiasm would divert him from questioning what had distracted you.

Helmut chuckled softly and played along, “May I?”. He indicated the pen that was still sitting in your hand. His lips were slightly upturned. He knew how passionate you got about your gadgets.

“Of course, Colonel,” you smirked back and handed him the pen. Your hands brushed, the leather of his gloves caressing your palm.

Helmut stepped closer to the light and examined the pen. “I can already think of several uses for this, my Q, though I did happen to notice something about this particular pen.” He turned on his heel and held the pen up for your perusal as though you hadn’t spent the last hour examining and perfecting it. You played along, leaning closer as if to examine the pen. Helmut loved his games, and you had never been anything but a willing participant.

“Hmm?” you made a questioning sound as you straightened your blazer and looked away to avoid eye contact in the hopes that he would come closer with your faux avoidance of his question.

You heard him step nearer, knowing that he could walk silently if he chose and that he wanted you to hear him. “Look at me, my Q. Where has this shyness come from, hmm?” His hand was on your chin, tilting your head up before you could respond.

At some point, when you weren’t looking, he had taken his gloves off and you had to stifle a shiver as his gun calloused warm hand touched the bare skin of your face. A brief thought crossed your mind of what that hand would feel like elsewhere before he let you go, staying a little too close for your piece of mind.

“There you are,” He smiled at you, a full one that was more rare than you would have liked. “Now, Q, you know what I noticed? This pen,” and here he drew your attention back to the pen by playfully flourishing it like the showman he was, “is one of mine. I am the only one on the team that uses this brand. Do you know how much a Mont Blanc costs, darling?”

You shook your head and smiled sheepishly. You knew vaguely that they were expensive, but it was the best kind of pen for this sort of thing so you hadn’t thought twice. “No, but it was the most sturdy pen and I knew that you, Boss, would be the one most likely to use it once it was done. So I thought you wouldn’t mind if I used your pen.”

Internally, you wanted to laugh. You knew that Helmut would not have let another member of the squad get away with some of the stuff you pulled. You were the only one who called him Boss, though you had experimented with calling him Sir like the rest of your squad. That had brought an odd light to his eyes that you had never been able to quite decipher. He had almost looked hungry. You refrained from calling him Sir too often after that, except when you really wanted something or intended to tease him.

Helmut smirked at you as he slipped the pen into his pocket, “I’ll be keeping this, Q. Usual activation, I presume?”

You smiled back, attempting to stop yourself from bouncing up and down on your heels. He and the rest of the squad always praised your gadgets, but it gave you a secret and special sort of thrill to have Helmut’s approval in particular. “Of course, Boss.”

“Now, for the actual reason I came here before we got so delightfully distracted by the products of your brain, you and I are going to the gun range. I happened to notice you haven’t been there in some time, Q.”

“I’ve been busy,” you protested while knowing he wouldn’t buy it, “Being the team’s handler and tech wizard is hard work.”

You had never enjoyed committing violence yourself, so tended to avoid the range, though you had never minded watching Helmut on his solo missions and as he lead the team on group missions. The thought passed through your head again that the man looked sexier than he should in full uniform with a gun in his hand. You shook your head in an attempt to dislodge your thoughts. You weren’t sure where they had come from today, but you wanted them to stop and stop now. You resolved once again to pursue a new relationship. Helmut was your friend and could not be anything more, no matter your fantasies and dreams.

“I know you work hard, darling Q, and that you can handle yourself, but you must practice in case the worst were to happen and we needed you in the field. I know you have the needed patience, my Q, with your line of work, but you must gain the experience. A person can do anything if they have those. You can do anything… I’ve known that ever since I first met you when you were a young student. How many grades did you skip again? Look how much you’ve accomplished and you’re still so young.”

You ignored his question about the grades you had skipped. You had been something of a child prodigy and had been younger than the average grad student. “Yeah, yeah, Boss and you’re such an old man. Also, I’m not that much younger than you. Do you remember our first conversation in the library?”

“Of course, Q. I’ll never forget it, even when I am actually an old man. You got my attention by your book selections. Machiavelli and hmm what was the second one?”

You noticed again that Helmut truly was in a joking mood today. The mission must have gone well. They hadn’t needed you to act as the handler for this one, but you were glad there’d been no mishaps. Sometimes, after a difficult mission, Helmut brought his field persona back to the base. During those instances, his demeanor gave off the impression of a man who would do whatever necessary to accomplish his goals. No matter what was required. You hated to say it, but when he was like that you were a little turned on. (Well, more than a little but you weren’t going there at the moment).

You had always had a thing for intelligent and ruthless men, which now that you thought about it had started once you met Helmut, and his domineering field persona made you feel hot. You gave up on controlling your thoughts today as that seemed to be a lost cause, and internally sighed. Heike was a lucky woman.

“You’ll never let that one go, will you? It was for my course. Read one German erotic book or two, and no one ever lets you forget it.”

“Or two, my Q? Who said anything about a second one?”

“No one. Not me. Moving on, anyway you think anyone younger than you is young, Helmut. Also, you look younger than your actual age.”

“Yes, I know. Helps for undercover missions.”

“Of course, it does. Did you even need those glasses you were wearing when we met or were they just there to make you look more studious?”

He laughed and gestured for you to lead the way to the range, not answering your somewhat rhetorical question. “Let’s go, Q. I have to see how rusty you’ve gotten. Afterwards, perhaps if you’re good, I will teach you how to wield a sword.”

“Oh I’ll show you how good I can be, Sir.”

End Flashback

_____________________________________________________________

Well, the so-called worst had happened and you were out in the field, facing killer robots of all things. You were working in conjunction with your squad to evacuate and protect neighbors and strangers alike, but it was different being out here as opposed to behind a screen. You had finally been able to reach Helmut, and he had gotten Heike and Carl to safety outside the city with his father on their estate. You had breathed a sigh of relief at that. They would be safe there, and you did not need to worry about them. He had also reported that the Avengers had finally arrived and that they had been able to see them from their car window, which meant that it was time for your squad to finish up and get out of there.

Helmut was elsewhere in the city, and your squad was one of the only ones still in Novi Grad proper, so you were spread thin. Yet you couldn’t help but wish to see Helmut, to embrace him for what could be the last time. You had faith in your squad and the Avengers, but this was your country and your people at stake. That unwavering faith lasted until Novi Grad’s, your home’s, streets began to splinter and the city began to lift from the ground faster than you would have thought possible and no one seemed to be able to stop it, not even “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

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hpalways · 4 years ago

Text

Conquer || Childe

Disclaimer: This is a Yandere! Childe x Reader Oneshot. There will be obsession, light gore, and death. If you are not comfortable with such topics, you do not have to read it. I would also like to put a reminder that I do not condone such behavior either, nor should toxic relationships ever be romanticized. Thank you for reading if you choose to do so!

BLADES coated of water skewered the enemy, pummeling them down mercilessly with every motion. The quick fight was soon over, so the male brushed his gloved hands together and left the vicinity, plastering a smile on his face yet again. Tartaglia had just gone on a quick errand for the Fatui, to analyze an area for their future plans. However, he ran into a little trouble there and ended up fighting monsters and whatnot.

It frustrated him, having to deal with such lowlifes. He was better than this! If it didn't provide him the thrill he was so desperate to lay hands upon, then what was the damn point? They shouldn't even be spared any time, for they forced him to dally along, which kept him away from you longer.

He combed his fingers through his red locks, sighing in the process. It was about time he began the trek back to Liyue Harbor. Lands spreading far and wide, he stayed obediently on the path and watched the peaceful birds soar through the skies. It was a very nice day today, but he felt restless anyway. The hands at the sides were twitching, nails digging sharply into the palms until blood seeped out. The pain of it did not bother him at all -- in fact, he merely enjoyed it, lips curving up into an actual smile. It made everything less pleasant, but more real.

The greenery grasslands of the wilderness faded into pavement, marked by the craft of humans. The huge structures of the city brimmed of familiarity of what he called 'home' for the past few months now. It would never truly be home of course, and it would never satisfy his wants, but it would have to do. At least you were apart of it.

His dark boots echoed upon the planked docks as he dodged the bodies milling about. The waves lapping below were as clear as the sky, reflecting against the warm sun. He knew exactly where to find you, and had sucked in a breath when he indeed saw the person he wished to see the most. [h/c] hair blowing with the wind behind, your figure was hunched down, a pair of chopsticks in your hand. You were on a lunchbreak from your job at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, so you were currently shoving down food at your favorite spot of Liyue. It was a simple place -- the edge of the dock with a good view of the sea, but it was also where you and Childe marked the first letter of your names on the rail.

"If it isn't my favorite comrade." The voice nearly sent you jumping in fright, so you whirled your head around to meet deep, blue hues. The tall male was leaning on the ledge, capturing you wholly with an unwavering gaze.

"Childe! You've returned," you said, grinning at the sight of him.

He leaned closer in, immediately causing your heart to race. Without a second to waste, he kissed you chastely, tasting you softly, in addition, the salt coming from the chicken you just ate. You instantly kissed back, cheeks warmed and lids closed, the food forgotten entirely. Body heat stemmed from him, wrapping you in a comfortable embrace. It was enough to ease your current worries, because Childe was here. The man you loved since the time of beginning... was safe and sound. It wasn't that you doubted his skills -- because he was strong -- very strong, considering he helped train you previously -- but the world out there was still terrifying. Not just that, but he could sometimes get ahead of himself; that was a call for trouble.

His kiss suddenly deepened, lips and tongue burning you until it began to eat you away. Your heart pounded ever so faster, but not in excitement -- rather in alarm. Pulling your head back from him and hungrily gulping fists of air, you averted your eyes to the waters. Despite not looking back at the Snezhayan man, you could feel his gaze digging into the side of your face. He appeared confused as to why the act of affection ceased so soon.

You decided to answer his unvoiced question, knowing it'd be a bigger hassle if you didn't. "I'm eating and we're in public." No response came from him. "Would you like a piece?"

Snatching a piece of chicken from your bowl, you turned to look at him. That was when you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles adorned beneath his eyes, his hair was messy, and his outfit was slightly rumpled. What had exactly happened out there? Even the offer for food didn't appeal to him, his body stoic without the charm he usually exuded.

Then it happened like a light switch. He nodded eagerly, opening his mouth for the chicken. Despite your unease, you pretended not to see it and did as asked. Plopping it into his mouth, his expression brightened and he nodded while chewing. "Very delicious. Isn't life beautiful, [Y/N]? It's always beautiful with you here."

"Oh... stop being a flirt," you laughed, shaking your head to hide your flustered state.

"Why should I ever?" he asked, tilting his head. A finger twirled around your hair strand, twisting it -- deeper and deeper like a snake burrowing within. He grinned wide, teeth baring and too bright it nearly blinded you. "You're fun to tease."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back onto the food. "How did your day go today?"

"It was annoying," he murmured, features growing dim for a second. "I had only hilichurls to fight. I need something stronger."

"Isn't that a good a thing? You won't get hurt that way."

He blinked at you, brows raised for a few seconds. "You're right," he agreed, shocking you. He wasn't the type of person to stray from the idea of danger. "Patience is key. My opportunity will arrive when it comes."

Oh. So that was what he meant. "That's not the point," you mumbled under your breath, repressing the sigh threatening to spill out. He wouldn't listen to your warnings anyway, so you decided not to press on it. "You look exhausted, Childe. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"I'm not tired at all," he smoothly denied, expanding his smile even more, as if to try and convince you. "Besides, it's our date night, isn't it? I'm not missing out on something so special just for a nap."

That was right. With how busy both your schedules were, the last time you went out on a date with him was a month ago. It was a miracle when the two of you found an evening where both parties were free. Even so, it was a little worrying. You would rather reschedule than force him to go somewhere when he was in that state. Before you could say anything, he beat the punch, as if he read your mind just then.

"We're going. You can't say no."

"Fine," you sighed, shaking your head with a small smile on the lips. "Ah, shoot. I should get back to the Parlor. Break is already over. It went by too fast." Shoving the rest of the food into your mouth, you swallowed it in one go. There was one last thing to do. On the tip of your toes, you pressed your lips on the side of his face, feeling his smooth skin under. Soft as a baby's. How unfair. "See you tonight?"

He nodded, shooting a quick wink your way. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, comrade."

Chuckling under your breath, you whirled around and left the docks, oblivious to the eyes glued on to your form.

The moment you arrived to the building of your workplace, a certain director was waiting. She had long, brown hair put into two ponytails, with a dark hat sitting on top. Amber eyes showed from beneath her bangs, darting back and forth in wonder. Her fingers continued to tug the sleeves of her dark, traditional coat. It was none other than Hu Tao -- the person you called a boss.

"[Y/N]! You were a minute late!" she said, huffing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh... sorry," you said, scratching your head.

She picked something up beside her. It was a stack of papers, showcasing calligraphy, which advertised the company. Same old Hu Tao. She never gave a break about it, considering clients were hard to keep. More-so, the woman was the one who typically scared them away, talking about death and whatnot. It sometimes unnerved you too, but it kept things interesting. Hmm... now that you thought about it, you attracted quite the strange bunch of people in life. Strange people often led to strange situations. Strange situations often led to death. Death?! Did your boss somehow brainwash your brain into thinking like her?

Hu Tao dropped the heavy pile upon your arms. "Let's go and find more clients! While we're at it, we'll tape these on some buildings too!" she declared, pumping a fist into the air.

Forced to follow her like a lowly dog, you drooped your head and did as ordered. It was a nightmare having to approach these people, witnessing the terrifying lines Hu Tao would sometimes spit out to them and the horror apparent in these innocent citizens' eyes. Then they'd threaten to call the guards on her, so the two of you would be forced to flee, and the cycle would continue. If not obvious by now, this was your least favorite task of this job, but it wasn't like you could argue with her. If she ended up firing you, you wouldn't know what to do.

Traveling through the city of the Geo Archon, you prepared yourself for the long day ahead.

The sun was setting by the time the two of you began to return to the Parlor. Skies streamed of pink and orange, looking magnificently beautiful. Lights began to illuminate the buildings, coloring the streets with its warm glow. It was growing silent too; the merchants and travelers were beginning to retire to their abodes. This made it much more peaceful and a definite welcoming sight to see. The embarrassment you gone through today made you wish to never see another human being again.

Ah. It was getting near the designated time for the date with Childe. Just as you were about to ask to be dismissed by your boss, the female beside you had let out a groan.

Turning your head to the left, you found Hu Tao sagging to the ground, grasping her head in pain. "Are you okay?" you questioned in panic, shaky hands unsure of what to do.

It was over quickly. She stood up and brushed herself off, clearing her throat. "I have a bad feeling," she said, placing her hand onto your shoulder. You glanced down in bewilderment, confused by her line of actions. "Someone is going to die. Is it you?"

"What--" you blubbered. "That's not funny at all, Hu Tao."

She hummed, placing a finger on her chin in deep thought. "Perhaps it's me."

"Don't say that!" you gasped, shoulders trembling in shock. What the hell was she spewing out?! Maybe you should be used to her tactics at this point, but never had she said something so... so drastic! Why would say she such a thing? How could she say it so casually? She was lying, wasn't she? This couldn't possibly be real!

Her expression was entirely serious. Trailing from your shoulder to your wrist, her tight grip weaved around it. "Come with me. We're going to Wuwang Hill."

You decided to go with her. This was an emergency. The original thought of your date with Childe had been pushed to the back of your mind, entirely forgotten.

The trip to the this place she talked about was longer than expected. Night had fallen across the lands, dim stars twinkling in the distance. It was dark out -- it didn't help that you found yourself in some abandoned woods, where gnarly trees stemmed from the ground. Where did she just take you? Her prophecy about someone's death was beginning to look a bit more convincing. The woods were the perfect spot for a murder scene. You flinched at the sound of a stray owl hooting from somewhere.

The woman finally halted at a mound of dirt, to which she nodded in approval at. She spun around to face you, giving you a thumbs up. "Alright. Just wait here for me. I'll be back in a bit."

"What?! You can't just bring me to this creepy place and ditch me like that! Let me go with you-"

She shook her head, looking stern. "I can't do that. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." Her words were a little hard to believe and did not help to assure you at all.

Despite your futile protests, she ignored them and entered a magical veil. In less than a second, she was gone, leaving you alone in a dark... dark place. Curses ran through your mind and you hugged yourself in paranoia. All was silent, saved for the rustle of leaves blowing against the wind. The moon casted trickles of light past the gaps of trees, the color of it more ghastly than helpful. Broken wood littered the ground, which you assumed were past homes. What happened here? If people used to live here, what happened?

The nape of your neck prickled, the feeling of it slithering down the spine of your back. It sank its fangs into you, ready to spill your blood to fill the soil. Whirling around, you found an empty clearing, with no one there.

Taking a step back, you tripped over a log. Shit! Shutting your eyes, you prepared for the fall. The wind knocked out of you, but before the impact arrived, time had froze to a stand still.

Cold, searing hands were placed on you, burning into your back through the fabrics of your shirt. Eyes opened to see the familiar outline of a person. You yanked away and shoulders lowered. Relief seeped into you, knowing that it wasn't somebody dangerous. He was here to protect you, for he was untouchable, unmatched in skills and strength. Suddenly, you did a double take. "What are you doing here, Childe?"

"I followed you here," he said, a grin never leaving his face. Pearls gleamed, reflecting the moon's glow. His gaze didn't match the smile he had on though; they were overflowing with something. Turmoil. Anger. Desire. "I was going to pick you up from the Parlor as a surprise, but then I saw you leave the city."

"The... date," you mumbled, knitting your brows together. "I'm so sorry...! I can explain."

"Hush," he said, grin stretching ever wider. He snatched a strand of your [h/c] hair, breathing it in deeply, while licking his lips in the process. "There's nothing to explain. You decided your job was more important than me."

"That's not it!"

He ignored your remark, scanning the surroundings with great interest. "This place is pretty dead. There's nothing to kill." Bending down, he picked up a wilting flower, analyzing it with those haunting hues of his. The next second, the flower was crushed in his hand, squeezed so hard it had turned into dust. He blew on it and the specks disappeared into the breeze. "Where's Hu Tao?"

Hu Tao... He had never paid attention to her before. As far as you knew, they had not spoken to each other once. What did he want with her? Your lips parted, but your throat dried. No words came out. You couldn't seem to find your voice.

"Cat caught your tongue?" he sneered, taking a step forward. His question was repeated, a little harsher on the edge. "Where's Hu Tao?"

"I'm back!"

Speak of the devil. The brunette had appeared out from the burrow yet again. Childe whipped around at the voice, a crazed excitement flashing past him. You wanted to scream at the girl to get out of here immediately, but your mouth would not move. Although, why? Childe was your boyfriend, was he not? What was this fear that threatened to suffocate your every being?

The tall man went over to the director, who had stopped in her tracks. "So this is it," she breathed out, her gaze locking in with the red head. "Balance has been shaken because of you, Harbringer."

"Does it look like I give a damn about your words?" he said, barking out a chilling laugh. "Please do at least give a nice challenge for a fight. I've been bored all day."

"I have no choice, do I?" she said, slowly unsheathing her polearm.

"No! Stop it! Leave her alone." you yelled out, running out to the battlefield.

He pushed you back, sending you sprawling to the ground. "Stay there." You tried to get up, but by then, it was too late.

Blue and red visions gleamed in the dark and in a biting realization, you knew who was instantly at a disadvantage. Childe had taken out his blades as well, water forming from them. The two figures ran at each other in great speed, weapons clashing and clanging. Every time Hu Tao tried to hit him, it was easily met by the other, the fire dissolving at the taste of water. Steam arose in the air, fogging the air around. "At this point, I won't even need to go into the other form. You're weak," Childe taunted.

"And you're hurting [Y/N] with your selfish deeds," his opponent quipped. Fury blossomed in the depths of his heart at the sound of this. He was going to go easy before, to keep the fight going for longer, but it was running out. Hitting her polearm with his entire strength, he knocked the long stick from her hands.

He grabbed her by her neck, squeezing it. Her legs were lifted from the ground, eyes bulging and her hands desperately trying to scratch the iron grip of his. She wheezed out in pain, the sound of it raw and scratchy. "Stop! Stop it, dammit!" you cried, crawling over to the scene. He ignored you, dropping the ragged body of the woman down. She was still alive, but barely.

Just as you were about to reach her, Childe had kneeled down and plunged the recently dropped polearm straight down into her chest. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Blood splattered upon his face, where a sick smile took place. Sticky substance landed on yours, the intense iron smell making your stomach turn. The woman's eyes which used to gleam of life had faded, though they were still wide in horror for the upending doom.

You couldn't even process it or grieve.

His bloodlust eyes turned on you, crimson splatters oozing down like drying paint. Wiping a spot from his cheek, he sucked his thumb and smiled, looking too happy -- looking too normal for someone with blood on their face. You reeled back, uneven breaths breaking the uncanny silence.

"[Y/N]."

You couldn't answer. You didn't have an answer. This wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He was a stranger. A murderer.

"[Y/N]."

Nails dug into the dirt and you dared scooted yourself back.

"Why do you look scared?"

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. He was pouting, jutting his bottom lip out childishly. How could he say that with his hand still on the polearm used to kill someone? Stop it.

"I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"Leave... me... alone..." Your voice cracked and it shook with every syllable. With the last bit of your strength, you heaved yourself up and began to run like your life depended on it. And it did.

You barely last a few seconds. Yanked back roughly by your shoulder, he held you, claws digging into the side of your torso. His head lowered and hot breath tickled your ear lobes as he whispered.

"I will never leave you. One day, I will conquer the world. So I need you by my side. Forever."

His blue eyes were no longer blue. They were purple, the color of poison.

A/N: PLEASE the way childes banner is coming very very soon but i be writing this-

If youre pulling for him, good luck! We're getting our bastard man babes :D

#genshin #genshin impact #childe #tartagila #childe x y/n #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #reader insert #x reader #genshin x reader #yandere #oneshot #love #romance #angst #obsession

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lazarettta · 3 years ago

Text

Misthios V

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (T)

Word Count (1.9k)

Warning (Language)

You spend your morning with Alcina and her daughters while Miranda deals with Karl and Village business.

By the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains you'd already made yourself at home on one of the balconies of the castle with a woven basket full of croissants and mason jar full of freshly squeezed orange juice. You'd been snooping in the kitchen looking for a snack when you found the partially hidden side door. It was shielded by produce crates and bags of potatoes—you guessed it was an old service door or something, and it was probably what the help around the castle used to sneak around the castle grounds while their Mistress sleeps.

You certainly did. You took a trip to town on a whim and you were bored. You didn't have anything on you in terms of currency but you weren't one to rely on some currency to get you by as there was always a favor or two to be traded. New era, same tricks and it never failed you once. Most of the village was still asleep when you strolled through but the few farmers you saw tending to their stocks gave you less than friendly looks but you didn't take any offense. You were new and places like this didn't take too kindly to a new face, especially a young new face.

Hell, the woman in the bakery shop by the church wasn't very fond of you either until you revealed that you understood every word that she said. She turned into a different person and suddenly you weren't much of a stranger anymore, by her standards anyway.

By the time you found your way back to castle Dimitrescu, you had bruised knuckles, a basket full of goodies you probably shouldn't be eating and a decent knife now warming the holster in your boot. It wasn't tactical or as balanced as you liked but you felt a hell of a lot better with it than you did a few hours ago without it.

You had no idea who's bedroom you'd invaded to get to the balcony though you didn't really care, you saw a plush chair that was only just covered in ice and the cushions were only just a little wet, shockingly.

And that is exactly how Alcina found you, and she wasn't alone. Trailing behind her bundled up even more than you with the hood pulled up over her blonde head was a young woman with eyes that matched Alcina's. Curious that she didn't get her mother's height though—she was probably around your height, give or take.

“You missed breakfast, dear.”

“Didn't think you'd send a hunting party for me,” you smiled but in truth you hadn't realized how much time had passed since you got back to the castle. Between stuffing your face full of bread you hadn't really had in years and well, yeah, you definitely lost track of time. Thankfully there were still a few pastries left in the basket for you to offer to Alcina and who you assumed to be one of her daughters.

The girl's eyes hadn't left you since she first saw you—you knew when you were being studied but for the moment, you were too tired to actually care but not tired enough to drop your guard with these people.

Alcina waved away your offering as she took a seat in the other chair, obviously as unbothered by it's less than ideal conditions as you were but her daughter graciously scooped up a buttered croissant before leaning against the rail, her back to the gorgeous view behind her. She was probably used to seeing it and you certainly weren't a stranger to such joys either but you never really grew bored of them.

“(Y/n), this is Bela, my eldest daughter. Also my successor should anything ever happen to me.”

“Mother, stop it. Nothing will ever happen to you.” You watched as Bela ducked her head, but she wasn't blushing, she turned to you, pushing the hood back from her face slightly but she didn't say anything.

Alcina pulled her cigar holder from somewhere on her dress she was currently wearing, and pointed down at the basket sitting on the small table between you three, “It's not safe to roam around on these roads at night.”

You shrugged, “I can take care of myself, Lady Dimitrescu. A few wolves don't really scare me.”

“There are far worse things out there than death, (Y/n).”

You scoffed, laughing a bit much to the dismay and surprise of the Lady and her daughter, “I've been around long enough to know how true and wise that statement is, but I'm far too old to be scared by it anymore.”

Bela looked at you curiously, “But you don't look a day over thirty, (Y/n).”

You bit back another laugh, picking at the pastry still sitting on the napkin on your thigh. Well. You weren't going to be getting any answers if you didn't give any yourself. “Who do you think Miranda got her skin care treatment from?”

You looked up when the other two balcony occupants were quiet for too long and you realized that they were both staring at you with equally unreadable but different expressions. Though Alcina's hat always made it impossible for you, or anyone else, to gauge her moods and reactions.

“What?”

“You're being serious?” Bela asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing beneath her loose hair.

“Yeah, seriously. I met Miranda back when she was ruling her first kingdom. She thought I was a fucking Viking for the longest time.” Miranda is going to murder you and find a way to make it permanent.

“You're joking. Mother, the mortal is joking...isn't she?”

“Mortal?” you finished your breakfast and wiped away the crumbs, “I haven't been called mortal for a very long time, but now that we've all established that no one on this balcony is of average stock...”

“We can really talk.” Alcina finished as you trailed off, taking a very long and heavy drag while giving you another once over, slower this time as if she was going to find the answers to whatever she was wanting to know. She glanced at her daughter and sighed when she saw her starting to tremble a bit.

“Bela go inside and get your sisters.” Alcina said softly but her tone still held no room for argument and you could tell that Bela wanted to protest against her mothers wishes, “Have tea prepared and brought to the study.”

“For everyone?”

Alcina smiled a bit, “Yes, dear, for everyone.”

When Bela was around the corner and well out of earshot, Alcina brought her attention back to you. And you looked back, waiting for her to ask or say what was on her mind.

“What era?”

“The Peloponnesian war. I'm the last living Spartan on Earth.”

Miranda neatly folded away the paper the moment she heard the ceremony doors opening. Miranda sighed heavily when she heard Karl’s mouth down the corridor—the man's need to chatter (and argue) never ceased and Miranda was positive she would be leaving this meeting with a migraine. She'd rather be doing something more productive with her time…working on her own research, cracking you like an egg or maybe even trying a new recipe for a change.

It wasn't long before Karl burst through the doors, his prized hammer resting on his shoulders and a cigar between his teeth and in his other hand was a satchel that was holding something it wasn't designed to carry. The grin he wore grew when his eyes landed on her and Miranda sighed inaudibly behind her mask.

“Well,” he purred, sitting on the bench he normally claimed and set his hammer down next to it, “If it isn't the woman of the hour! How kind of you to meet with me today.”

Miranda didn't care too much for his charming tone—his charisma was impressive but Miranda had never been a true fan of it, and Alcina outright hated him forcing Miranda to often play the role of a mediator every time there was a faction meeting which almost always ended in chaos and bloodshed. Thankfully it was only once or twice out of the month unless it was an emergency.

“Your message said that you have something of importance to show me, Lord Heisenberg, get on with it.”

“Oh, someone's testy today,” he mumbled under his breath but just loud enough for her to catch his words and Miranda's jaw clenched, “As requested, one head of a troublesome villager only searching for his beloved little girl. Maybe do your job and tell that supersized bitch to keep her brats on a leash next time.”

The satchel landed on the floor at Miranda's feet. Miranda's eyes narrowed in his direction, barely glancing at the satchel that narrowly missed touching her, and Karl felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise alarmingly fast, “Do not forget your place here, Heisenberg.”

Karl snarled but he quickly conceded—he's proved himself to be the biggest Alpha in the region time and time again but he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could challenge Miranda evenly. Miranda relented, accepting his surrender but she didn't buy it, she never did.

“All I'm sayin' is that we don't hunt in the village for this very reason—”

“I understand that, Heisenberg. And it's been taken care of. Lady Dimitrescu will see that it never happens again.”

Karl grumbled but thankfully he didn't push, this time, “There's something else too that I think you should know. There's a stranger in the village, probably owns that cute little camp my lycans tore apart a few miles outside of town.”

That caught Miranda's interest though she did not let it show—it wouldn't do to have a man like Karl have even the slightest bit of leverage over her. He was still too useful for her to kill.

“A stranger?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, relighting his cigar and taking a long pull, “Tall, real tall and quite a looker too...I'm here to officially claim her. If she's as tough as she looks, I'll—”

Miranda's wings fluttered when those words left his hairy lips, he didn't have to go into detail for her to know who he was talking about and Miranda felt the edges of her claws trying to grow beneath the veil of her dark wings.

“No.”

“No!?” he sat up quickly, setting both of his feet down on the ground, “What do you mean no?! Aren't those your laws for fresh meat?!”

“Yes, and that woman is off limits. Defy my word, it will not end well for you. If that is all Lord Heisenberg, I will see you this Friday at the faction meeting.”

“You gave her to that zombie in the castle didn't you!” he called after her when Miranda transformed into a flock of birds and left through the rafters.

Karl pulled his hammer to him as he jumped to his feet and he destroyed the bench he was previously sitting on but Miranda was already gone by the time the splinters where she had once stood, “I never get anything nice around here! Always scraps this and scraps that ever since that bitch took over!” he turned and threw his hammer, nearly slicing a pillar in half and he was half transformed before he caught himself.

Karl dusted himself off with one hand while the other brought another cigar from an inside pocket of his oil stained coat and picked up his hammer on the way out of the ceremony room, his temper simmering down. He took one last look at the damage he caused, and smirked.

“Have fun cleaning this up, mother. ” He didn't care what she said, the woman in the village he saw this morning was his game.

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #assassins creed odyssey #the old guard #resident evil village #lady demitrescu #dimitrescu family #reader is a spartan

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #garfield logan #marinette dupain-cheng #garmari #MaribatMarch2021 #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Smile, though your heart is breaking

Pairing: Bi!Cordelia Chase x fem!reader; Xander Harris x Cordelia Chase; Xander x fem!reader (familial/platonic)

Request: hi! i already requested some cordy x reader but i have another idea, if i may! could i have a fic where reader is Xander’s sister, and she walks in on them kissing. reader has a crush on cordy and xander knows this. cue angst and sibling fights 😭!

Requested by: Anon

You had a crush on Cordy. You had played it off as silly and fleeting at first, but as you became closer friends it grew.

She was the reason you realised that you liked women. Discovered and began to love yourself and your sexuality. She was such a gift to you and yet she never knew.

A while after, you told Xander about your sexuality. He was shocked, struggling to comprehend it but he held you in a hug. Showing you that you would always be his sister, even if he was still coming to terms with your news himself.

Eventually you came out to the others. Everyone except Cordy. You weren’t prepared for her not to want to be your friend anymore. You were scared of the rejection. You adored her so much, you were happy with platonic so long as you could be close with her.

The others supported you and those that were unsure at first slowly got more used to it. They loved you, you were such a good friend, a big part of your close-knit little group. Things were going well.

Months later, as you sat on the bleachers with Xander and your friends watching a school football game, he turned to look at you and saw you staring at the cheerleaders.

“Stare much?” He muttered.

“I was trying to, um, pick up the routine” You offered, smiling at him.

“Oh yeah, ‘course. You’re so gay, y/n” He joked, showing how far he had come. How much more comfortable he was with you. He was the only one allowed to tease you though, if anyone else did he got really annoyed.

“Shut up, Xander” You shoved his shoulder and he mock-surrendered. The others all knew now and smiled along with your sibling squabbling.

When the game was over, you and your friends all walked back together. Buffy, your brother, Willow and Cordelia walked with you towards your respective homes. You were in good spirits, it was a rare night where there were no demons or anything. You could just relax and have a nice time.

You lit up when Cordy specifically moved through your little crowd to walk beside you. You giggled together and she gave you one of her pom-poms to hold as you walked almost completely in-step. She spoke to you a lot nicer than she did with anyone else, you were probably the one Scooby that could claim that you were genuinely good friends with her.

She offered you a lift back home in her car that she had parked a few blocks away because so many people were parked in the usual lot. You declined, starting to get nervous that she would find you really lame. Not to mention Xander would have to come too and they just got into a insult-slinging contest when they were both together.

Cordy looked a little disappointed but shrugged and waved goodbye before getting into her car. You regretted it instantly. You could have given Xander the code and told him to walk, but he probably would have insisted to come in the car just to annoy you.

You watched her drive away before you realised that she had left you with the pompom and you smiled down at it. It was like she trusted you. You had a piece of her to take home with you. You smiled the entire way home and Xander thought you had gone mad. Later in the evening, you decided to admit that you were crushing on her. Really hard.

“I think I’m in love” You whispered to Xander, in case anyone else was in the house and could hear through walls. You were both brushing your teeth, a little tradition you had left over from when you were growing up. You used to do everything together.

“Oh yeah? Poor girl” Your brother teased. You rolled your eyes and spat into the basin.

“I’m being serious! I wanna hold her hand and touch her face and-” you started to stare dreamily off into the distance before he interrupted.

“Please say somethin’ normal like have sex with her”

“I want to cherish her, hold her! Tell her that I love her” You frowned at him for being crude. You wanted a love story with her, she was so special to you.

“Who is she then?” Xander asked while the toothbrush was still in his mouth.

“Cordelia” You smiled.

“Not the devil in designer boots!” he was genuinely surprised at this.

“She’s not like that!” You insisted and he gave you a look before you left him to go to bed. He continued to tease you mercilessly about it for the rest of the week. You wished you hadn’t said anything, Xander had never really been a fan of Cordelia.

Although, what you didn’t realise was that somewhere after you had revealed your crush on Cordy, Xander and her had started to steamily make-out in secret. Whenever they got the chance. Today, it had been in a deserted art classroom.

You had been sent there to steal some paper for Giles for the library. There was an inter-department free-for-all on paper and Giles was currently losing the battle.

You opened the door, your intuition giving you a bad feeling. But you walked in anyway. Just in time to see your brother sticking his tongue down Cordy’s throat.

“Oh” Was all you said before you backed away, slammed the door and ran. Tears blurred your eyes as you sprinted, letting your legs take you as far away as you could.

The pair sprung apart immediately. They walked around everywhere looking for you. They squabbled and almost bit each other’s heads off over it. Neither of them had ever wanted you to see that, for very different reasons.

Eventually, when they had stopped an entire football practice by shouting at each other in the middle of the pitch they decided it was better if they split up and looked for you.

Xander found you in the late afternoon, sobbing into a book. You had made your way back to the library after hiding in the bathrooms for most of the day.

You had decided to cry in a change of scenery. Giles had insisted you really didn’t need to be there researching but you said you wanted to help. Or, he thought that’s what you said he couldn’t really hear over all the crying noises.

You were heartbroken. Twice over.

Giles had tried twice to take the book you were leaning over, he wanted to save the pages from water damage. But you had insisted on helping and he didn’t want to make you cry harder. He had retired in his little adjoining office. Crying made him uncomfortable and he was fond of you which made him feel worse for you.

“Y/n! God, I’ve been looking everywhere!” Xander said. As if he didn’t have a care in the world. You stood up, closing the book shut with a soggy snap. Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them, he wanted to come and give Xander a piece of his own mind once you had explained what had happened. However, as you started to speak, he knew you could handle your brother.

“You knew how I feel about her! You knew and you still-” You tried to calm yourself down, but your next sentence came out angrier and even louder, “You don’t even like each other for fuck sake!” Your voice echoed around the empty library.

“Woah, hey, y/n calm down” he said, waving both of his hands out to try and get you to be quieter. He didn’t want people to know why you were shouting. He was embarrassed. It made you feel even worse.

“Are you kidding?! Calm-?” Your temper was rising and you didn’t know if your relationship with him was going to survive this, “You know how much I like her and you just let me talk about it over and over like some idiot! All the while you were kissing her behind my back!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t even know it was that serious” Xander shrugged, but he did feel guilty. But he would have done it again, he knew it. Kissing her was fun.

He did become more guilty, especially so when Cordy had explained to him that she was bisexual and he had neglected to tell you. Which, on one hand of course it wasn’t his place but on the other he had done this for entirely selfish reasons.

“You liar! You’re so selfish Xander Harris! I hate you!” You screamed, shoving him away when he tried to rest a hand on your elbow.

You felt so betrayed. You were disappointed in him. He was supposed to be family. Your own brother. He supported you but only so long as it benefitted him. He loved you, but he still whether intentionally or not blocked you from even trying to date the woman you were interested in.

You stormed off, barely missing that you passed Cordelia in the corridor. She had heard everything. But you had tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. You needed to get out of there.

You stayed at Willow’s. You told her everything and Willow explained what she had heard from Xander. Your best friend was completely on your side.

She told you a secret that night, one you kept hidden from the others until she was ready. You bonded over the things you had been hiding. But, you weren’t so sure your affection for Cordelia was hidden anymore.

This was confirmed to you when Willow came up to her room and told you that you had a visitor. You frowned, not sure who it could be. You skipped down the stairs, having put yourself in a better mood with your best friend by your side.

But you stopped as you descended, and you swear your heart did too when you saw her standing there. The light hit her face perfectly, she was glowing. As always.

She smiled, shakily. The corners of her eyes crinkled in that way you adored when she was truly happy. But, why would she be happy to see you? After everything she had found out.

“Cor, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. Is that a crime?” She said a little more half-hearted than she usually would. She seemed almost nervous to face you.

“No, except you did once say that if you were ever seen dead in whatever frumpy bungalow that willow lived in-”

“I know what I said, I didn’t really mean it. They’re just words” She shrugged, interrupting you. She forgot half of the mean things she said sometimes.

“Okay…” You said a little awkwardly. You knew that she knew. So, you thought it better to just let her speak. It was one of her favourite hobbies, after all. A hobby you usually loved, she turned insults into an art form.

“I’m here because-” She took a deep breath, this was so important to her she couldn’t get it wrong, “Because I like women. Uh, but mostly I like you.”

“You… like me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No! I only- I know this makes me look so totally heinous but I only got close with Xander because I wanted to get close to… you”

“You got bored of one sibling and wanted to hop onto the next? I don’t think that I’m comfortable with that” You explained truthfully. It was weird to you.

It was all you had ever wanted her to say, but it was still just so alien to you at the moment. As if you were dreaming. You were ten seconds away from pinching yourself because it felt too good to be true.

“I just wanted you to know, I had nothing to lose anymore. I broke it off with him as soon as I heard what you said” She explained, referring to hearing the way you felt.

“I-I need some time” you explained, your thoughts still spinning so fast around your head that you were starting to get dizzy.

“Anything, for you” Cordy nodded her voice barely above a whisper as she opened her arms to you. You almost fainted in shock, bowling her over as you embraced her. She wrapped her arms around you, inhaling happily.

She had wanted this for so long and you never even knew. She had stolen glances when you weren’t looking. Watched you from afar and imagined detailed fantasies of being close to you. Perhaps even kissing you. She had even gotten way too close to your brother in an attempt to learn more about you. She had been lonely, it was her only explanation.

You moved from the close hug and she wasn’t able to stop herself from grinning. You wanted to trust her, but you weren’t there yet. You needed a change to sort through your own feelings.

She turned and left and you watched her go. Things weren’t great with your brother. Your friendship group was fractured. But as you watched her turn back and wave at you, you had something special starting.

It started small in the back of your mind, but it was slowly growing. Hope.

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deathduty · 3 years ago

Text

Sew What || Deirdre & Irene

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart & @deathduty (special mentions to Angela Lansbury) SUMMARY: Deirdre strips. Irene does her job and nothing more. They both do what they know best.

Deirdre never considered herself to be a sentimental person. Yet, with her dress torn up the side, she found herself more willing to find the nearest tailor than to get a new one. She’d had the thing since moving to White Crest, and was certain at that moment that no other dress could make her look as good. More than that, though, she had things to do. Places to be. As much as she liked being nude, a torn up dress simply wasn’t acceptable. If she could just get the thing stitched up, however crude, she’d be on her way. “Hello?” The banshee called out, poking her head around the shop, trying to find someone to assist her. “I need–“ and at that moment, as someone emerged, Deirdre waved them down. “Do you work here? I need some help,” Deirdre pointed to the tear in her dress. “Just something to make it presentable enough. Can you do that?”

Irene sat at her computer, finishing up some paperwork for a few of her orders, when she heard the front door of her shop open. Quickly getting up, she walked out to greet whoever it was and spotted a new face. “Hello, yes, how can I help you?” she responded as she made her way to the front counter. It would be one thing to assume that this person was looking to get something fixed, but Irene had encountered a fair number of strange asks (like “Where’s the closest Pizza Hut?” and Irene had to bite her tongue to not inform them that she was not a map). At the question, Irene leaned forward and noticed the tear on the dress. Her brow furrowed as she studied it before she stood back up. “I can definitely get that properly sewn back together for you. Uh when would you need this by and, perchance, are you… um are you dropping off the dress right now?”

“Right now.” Deirdre said, twisting around to reach the zipper. “And I’ll wait; I can wait. I just need this done immediately.” Getting the dress half off, dangling from her bare shoulders, Deirdre considered that maybe stripping inside a store was not acceptable conduct in human society. It was fortunate then, that she didn’t care about human society. “Here,” she handed the dress off, standing about in her underwear. “Do you mind if I watch you work? I’d be bored otherwise.” Deirdre’s smile was wide, her best attempt at being friendly. The last tailor she had gone to, she murdered. Of course, because he was going to die anyway, but murdered all the same. This tailor was, however, much prettier than the last. And she wasn’t a murderer anymore. For now, anyway. “That won’t be a problem, will it?” She beamed, “I’ll pay double. Triple, even. And I am very pleasant to look at.”

“Wait!” Irene immediately held her hands up before the customer fully stripped right in her shop. She blushed slightly when half of it was already off as the seamstress walked to her desk and grabbed her long coat. “I-I don’t have any spare clothing in the shop right now other than this.” Her arm stretched out, offering it over as she averted her own gaze while her other hand reached for the dress. The moment her fingers found purchase with it, Irene noted that the material was quite nice and thankfully was something she had worked with before. “Oh, um, of course that’s no problem.” Normally, she would have politely informed her customers that she would need at least a day to complete something like this but this didn’t seem too difficult. And the prospect of being paid extra for this wasn’t unalluring… “Feel free to take a seat,” she finally decided with a small smile. Setting the dress down on her counter, Irene quickly began looking for the tear. “As much as that may be true, I’m afraid I can’t look back at you while I fix up your dress,” she indicated with a light tone as she began to pull out some tools from her cabinets. And she had been so caught up in this sudden exchange that only when Irene began to get to work did she realize that she was picking up some strange emotions from the woman. Not strange in the sense that it wasn’t reflective of the scenario but… dulled? Her brow knitted and she tried to shake it off. The last thing she needed was to mess up the dress in front of an audience.

“Oh no, I like being naked.” Deirdre tried to explain, but with a sigh, she took the coat offered and put it on. Humans could be such prudes. This human was fixing her dress though, and so she figured she might as well cover up. Though, at mention of taking a seat, despite knowing exactly what the tailor meant, she hoisted herself on the counter and took her seat there. “A tree branch got me, you know,” she said, offering an explanation for the tear. She smiled wide. A tree branch did not get her. It was, rather, the hand of a dying man, who’d managed to claw at her dress before she could leave. “I’m Deirdre,” she said, insisting on being a nuisance. “Why tailoring? It certainly can’t pay well, and it seems like such an unappreciated art…”

Irene managed a stiff smile in response to the woman’s comment about being naked, but the seamstress really did not want to explain having a naked person in her shop should anyone pass by her windows. A sigh of relief escaped her when the woman took the coat, though tension twisted her stomach once more when she noticed the guest hoist herself up onto her worktable. “Please be careful of the pins and other uh sharp objects on the counter,” she offered tersely as her hands continued to address the garment. “A tree branch… sounds dangerous. If you need any first aid, I have a kit in the back room I can grab.” Irene wasn’t certain she believed that especially as she picked up a dull feeling of smugness that seemed to emanate from the woman. Or perhaps she was really proud to be struck by a tree; Irene was not one to judge. “Lovely to meet you, Deirdre. I’m Irene,” her response flowed automatically from her lips. It was certainly taking a bit of effort for the seamstress to hold her tongue. “It’s actually a family business so I inherited the skills when I was old enough,” she briefly explained.

Deirdre watched the seamstress work, doubtlessly skilled in her work. Her great-grandmother had taught her to sew, still enraptured by the idea that a proper lady must know how to embroider, but she’d only ever enjoyed the feeling of sticking the needle through. “Oh no, I’m okay, you should've seen the tree though, Irene,” she smiled at her own joke, leaning into the woman’s work. It looked boring to her, but there was something about the ability to mend that always caught her attention; weapons never could learn to heal. “Like a duty?” She leaned back, “like some obligation to run this shop? Do you enjoy your work?” Deirdre watched the woman some more, graceful fingers finding what they wanted with ease. “I guess I’m in something of a family business myself…” she trailed off, looking out the shop window at the people passing by, living their own obligations. “But of all the things…” She turned back to Irene, “you’re not one of those people that wish to be a fashion designer, are you?” Not that there was anything wrong with that.

Having an audience while she worked normally wouldn’t distract her, but Irene found herself a little on edge with this woman, probably because she had initially wanted to stand around the shop naked. “Poor tree couldn’t put up much of a fight? What did it do to deserve such ire from you?” she replied with a small chuckle as she tried to imagine such a scene. Her mental image came up with something rather absurd and cartoonish, causing her to let out another quiet laugh. Irene paused, both to check on the progress of her sewing and also to consider the questions. “It was an obligation and now it’s what I know best. I enjoy it as much as one can enjoy their work I suppose. There are good days and bad ones.” Her fingers deftly finished up what she was able to hand-sew before she got up to move to her sewing machine. “Fashion designer? It’s something that’s crossed my mind a few times but it’s not a particular passion of mine. I do have a lot of respect for designers though. The pressure to constantly create something new or avant-garde that hasn’t already been created, I can’t begin to imagine it.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, it looked at me the wrong way…” Deirdre trailed off, grinning toothy and lopsided. She had started the process of trying to think of something else to say, something to make the woman uncomfortable, when she continued. Deirdre’s grin faltered, and from her position nosing into Irene’s work, she leaned back with a frown. She was not so deluded on ideas of passion that she didn’t understand practicality, but the way the woman described it sounded…sad. Or, at best, Deirdre would unknowingly insult her. “What you know best?” She repeated, hoping Irene would correct her. “What you know best and what you enjoy are two different things.” Deirdre stared at her, completely having intended to ruin her day and yet being struck with confusion instead. “Irene,” she began, “is there some other thing you imagined you’d be doing?” She sighed, she could understand duty and she could understand obligation. She could even understand knowing something too well to not make anything of it, but like this? Deirdre stared around the shop, nose wrinkled; was it really worth it? “It’s just an odd way to word your sentence—‘what I know best’ what I know best is murd—“ Deirdre froze. “Uh,” she turned to Irene, “Mur—Murder, She Wrote! The show! Love it. It’s what I know best, but, it’s not…uh, it’s not what I imagined I’d be watching. It doesn’t satisfy my life’s hunger.”

Irene expertly adjusted her machine, her movements second nature after years of working in this profession. As she ran the dress through the machine, she chuckled again. “I have noticed that some trees do make some devious faces.” The playful banter was easy enough to maintain as the seamstress worked, a trait she picked up early on when she had to mend her sisters’ clothes while they chattered away beside her. But then the sudden shift in tone surprised her, almost causing the woman to completely stop in her work. She swallowed hard, her lips pursing into a small smile despite her facing the machine and not her customer. “In the end, it’s all semantics,” she replied quietly before clearing her voice. There were many things she had tickled in pursuing: places she’d considered visiting or even living in, career paths she might have enjoyed, goals she’d like to achieve. “What I enjoy most is making sure my family is doing well and is safe and happy, and this happens to be the way I am able to achieve that.” The fabric slid through her fingers and past the thrumming needle of the machine. Her brow furrowed once more at the way this conversation unfolded from this curious woman. “I suppose that’s a thing about life, though, isn’t it? If Murder She Wrote doesn’t satisfy you, there are so many things out there that might do the trick.” With a satisfied sigh and a more genuine smile now, Irene finished up her repairs, snipped the loose thread from the dress, and held it up to examine. “This should be all good to go and ready for another battle with any tree that gives you the wrong impression.”

Why did it bother her? Long after Irene held the dress out, signaling the end of their little tête-à-tête, Deirdre stood and stared at her. She was dissatisfied; with Irene’s answer, her amiability and her lack of disdain at Deirdre’s general demeanor. It was spiteful. How dare the woman feign happiness in her face? It was tragic. How dare she answer honestly? And then it was pointless; why did it bother her at all? Irene was being practical, smart, safe. What could she possibly find a flaw in? Perhaps it was just that, the perceived perfectionism of the whole thing. Deirdre’s expression soured quickly. “Is that so?” Deirdre got her little inside glance at the woman, watching her words bounce right off. She had no hook, no control; friendly people disgusted her. A saccharine grin greeted Irene as Deirdre yanked the dress from her grip. “I suppose your family are all grateful. Where are they? Out back or…?” Perhaps it was the whimper of feeling blooming in her stomach; sadness, or something like it. “Aren��t you the hypocrite? Deluding yourself into thinking this satisfies you. At least Murder, She Wrote has Angela Lansbury.” From her boot, she drew out wrinkled hundred dollar bills, offering no explanation for either action. One hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred dollars, slapped down in front of Irene. “I’m taking your coat.” She announced with a huff, finding it to be the apology she deserved after Irene ruined her evening with her politeness. “And you!” she jabbed a finger at the tailor, throwing her dress over her shoulder. She stepped to leave, eager to free herself from Irene’s bullying. “If I peel back those layers of lies and professional, am I going to find a woman who fights or flees?”

Despite the muted emotions Irene picked up from Deirdre, she managed to pick up something akin to frustration. From the very beginning, this whole exchange presented to be a challenge. Why was Deidre frustrated when she had bulldozed Irene from the moment she arrived? Her gaze flickered momentarily at the questioning, each interrogatory a sharp, yet familiar, stab. Everything Deidre was saying was not incorrect. In fact, Irene was certain her sisters would likely agree. But, unlike Deidre, Irene made peace with her own reality, a reality she had resigned herself to for quite some time. “My family--my sisters are where they wish to be.” Was that so bad? That she prioritized their happiness over hers? It was her duty, always has been her duty, to take care of the family. As the money slammed onto the table, far more than was needed to pay, Irene made no move to collect it. “I suppose you and I will find out if that happens.” Each day in White Crest forced Irene to face that question: was she here fighting for something or was she actually fleeing? She lifted her head, swallowing hard and finding it harder to maintain a professional front. It was too early in the day for her regularly scheduled existential crisis. “Well, thanks for your patronage; I hope the dress is to your liking,” were the last words, auto-piloted by habit, she managed to say as she finally reached to collect the money dispensed upon her work surface.

Deirdre reveled in the sort of annoyances she could spur in others; she desired to control their reactions to her. If she forced hate, she would beat them all to the punch. But there was a special sort of person she could never crack: those that desired to be polite, kind, friendly. Those who refused to stoop to her level. Those, much like Irene. Her grievance all along might just have been envy. If only she had half a mind to be as optimistic. “I hope for your sake,” Deirdre said as she lingered at the door, “you find out sooner rather than later, the kind of person you are.” Without so much as a thank you, she was gone, and the store fell back into the silence that didn’t know her. One day, Irene would be dead, and her legacy was her own concern. It didn’t bother Deirdre one bit. Not at all.

#wickedswriting #c: irene #sew what #chatzy #threadofheart #i love irene so much #im so excited to see more of her and all of her facets #also sef is great

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bearsace · 4 years ago

Text

through my broken and bruised eye, it was you i beheld.

Summary: Bearsace watches Mai grow up right before his eyes. (He is, after all, the one closest to her.)

Or: a friendship through the ages, told in three parts.

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to get this fic published for almost a year now; I had so much fun writing it as I hope you do reading it! Please enjoy one of the most niche fics you might ever read: Ikemen Sengoku in Bearsace’s POV, a la Edward Tulane. Special thanks to @rainebowkitty for reading it over super quick! You can also find this on AO3 here.

Pairings: Nobunaga/MC, but fic centers around Bearsace/MC friendship

Genre: Friendship, family, fluff, hurt/comfort

Rating: K

Word Count: 4,000+

Read Time: 10+ minutes

part one / broken. kyoto, 2004-2017.

What is this?

When he blinked into existence, he felt soft hands beneath his arms. He could not move or speak, but he could feel, and with the hands, he felt warmth.

Who am I?

“Oh, Mai, he’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, Dad!”

Where is this place?

“You’re absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever made in my whole life. I think I’ll call you… Bearsace.”

This warm feeling in his chest… he wished that he could put a name to it, but everything was dim, and it was uncomfortable to him not to be able to see the face belonging to the long, silky brown hair as it bent over him. The hands caressed a spot above his nose and lips kissed it.

“I still have to sew another eye on you, ‘cause the other one was the wrong size, and I promise you I will… but even though you’re not complete yet, just know that I already love you so much.”

Love . It was a foreign word, but somehow, Bearsace understood that was the name of this feeling. He could not move, yet he wished he could gaze into the face of she who loved him so much— Mai.

Love. I love you, too, Mai.

—

By the time Mai managed to sew another eye on him, he already loved her with all his stuffed heart. He could see her clearly now that he had two eyes, and she was beautiful, and he admired the way she would seat him beside her sewing machine and model gowns for him.

Mai had many ambitions. Bearsace would support them as much as one stuffed bear could. She was his best friend— his only one, to be fair, because every now and again her mother would glare at him and make some snide comment about being too old to play with toys. Bearsace would glare back.

And you’re too old to be judging your daughter like that, but you don’t see me complaining!

—

Mai became very sad very often because her job was not the best one. She would come home, take off her uncomfortable-looking shoes, and Bearsace would always feel his heart swell with bittersweetness anytime she came through the door.

He would wait patiently on the couch, where she placed him every morning, as Mai would slip silently into her room and change into a fuzzy pair of pajamas— Bearsace loved those pajamas!— then, when her hair was up into a messy pile on her head, he would swell with happiness when she finally settled onto the sofa and pulled a blanket up around her legs, taking him into her arms.

Their favorite show was My Vintage Love, a story about a girl who fell in love with a CEO. Well, it was Mai’s favorite show; Bearsace didn’t care much for it. Personally, he enjoyed The Berenstain Bears, which came on the television one day while Mai was at work, but Mai never turned it on on purpose.

It was definitely one of their worst fights.

Fortunately, it was pretty much the only thing that they fought about. Oh, and her job. Bearsace didn’t like anything that made Mai sad.

Sometimes, when she was curled up on the couch, she’d talk to him about anything and everything. Her dreams, her passions…

“Someday, Bearsace, I’m going to make clothes for women everywhere that make them feel beautiful and happy. Every single piece is going to be made with care and love...”

Like me?

“...sorta like the way I made you.”

I knew it. What will you do when you reach that high?

“I was wondering what I’d even do when I get to the top. Maybe I’ll start my own magazine, or maybe I’ll create a fashion line that emphasizes the beauty in every woman’s body, regardless of shape, size, or whatever society calls ‘imperfection.’ I loved you even before you had both your eyes; why shouldn’t every woman feel that same love?”

Yes! He cried in happiness. Yes, this is such a good dream, and I support you completely. Mai, you won’t forget me, even when you are making others as happy as you make me?

“Man, I’m hungry,” she said with a yawn, placing him on the armrest and setting him down before trudging to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go order in some takeout.”

He felt his heart pang in a little bit of disappointment. He hated it when she ignored what he said.

—

Bearsace hated Mai’s other friends. Like “love,” it took him a while to find the word for “hate,” until Mai slammed her phone into the couch, snarling,

“I absolutely hate Yuka!”

Ah, Yuka. A fine piece of work, she was. The first time he ever met her, Bearsace was on the couch as usual when Mai came home with her.

Hello! Bearsace had said, excited to make a new friend. But Yuka ignored him and tossed him to the side to make room on the couch for herself. How rude!

Not to mention, she seemed to have no idea what it meant to be a good friend, the way Bearsace did. She rolled her eyes at Mai, suggested she find something “better” to do with her time… really, how bad of a friend could one person be?

“All she ever does is beat me down on my dreams… she thinks I should go back to school for something more— more— more reasonable ?! She says I’m not talented enough to be a fashion designer? I hate that!”

It’s okay, Bearsace said, falling over into her lap. I’m here for you.

—

It was on a rainy day that Mai whooped for joy. Bearsace wished he could turn around, because currently he was seated on the couch watching My Vintage Love and he would rather be spending time with Mai.

But she came into the living room soon enough and lifted him into a hug, which made him very happy.

What’s going on, Mai?

“Oh, my dreams are so close! All I’ve gotta do is nail this job interview and then it’s no more time-wasting coffee runs for a devil boss, no more getting yelled at for even the little mistakes— no more of that for me. I’m so close!”

If a bear could dance, he would. But for now, he was content to revel in the joy that Mai felt as she danced, and danced, and danced.

—

“Fine stitching you’ve done on it,” said the interviewer.

Bearsace rolled his eyes. I’m not an “it,” he responded in a biting tone. He looked to Mai, wondering if she might share in some of the same annoyance that he did, but she held her tongue.

“I did all the stitchwork by hand,” she explained.

“Tell me, what was the reasoning behind acrylics for eyes, instead of buttons?” The interviewer poked him in the eye, and Bearsace wanted to flinch away.

Watch it, jerk. I use those to see.

Mai smiled that amused smile. “I guess I just figured it’d help him see better.”

—

When Mai got the call that she got the job, she squealed and ran into the next room to call her father. Bearsace was not jealous that she did not go to him first; after all, he knew that she would be a shoo-in, anyway.

He looked upon Mai with pride when she picked him up and squeezed him to her chest.

I knew you could do it.

“What do you say we go do something special, just you and me?”

—

“I wasn’t expecting this much rain!”

Bearsace fit rather comfortably in her purse and was also impressed by the deluge that hit them at the temple at Honno-ji, though why Mai considered that a vacation was beyond him.

But it was special. They were there together, after all.

What absolutely was not special was this downpour! Mai’s hair was dripping, and also the hiring packet in her purse was going to get soaked. Never fear, though— Bearsace flopped over inside Mai’s bag onto the hiring packet, protecting it from the rain.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Bearsace found himself fearful; he couldn’t see anything! There were voices; one was Mai’s, and it sounded afraid, and he desperately wished to protect her. The other sounded as if it belonged to a man, and Bearsace felt alarm bells ring in his head. At all costs, he had to protect Mai.

Run, Mai, run! He had barely managed to say the words when a flash of white took over his world. All he could feel was fear.

part two / bruised. azuchi, 1582.

Bearsace didn’t like the Oda forces, or whatever other clown names they chose to call themselves.

He tried, he really did.

Hello! He cried again, excited when he saw the strange man taking a nap on the burning roof. Hello! I am Bearsace. And you are?

“I am Oda Nobunaga… How would you like to rule the world at my side?”

That seems like a pretty good deal, Mai. We should take it.

“Uhh, thanks, but no thanks.”

But that’s a good choice too.

And then they were running quickly through the bushes. Wryly, Bearsace couldn’t help but point out that they would not be running if she had taken that man’s offer, but Mai, of course, ignored him again.

—

Bearsace tried very hard to make new friends. After discovering that he had traveled five-hundred years to the past, he was surprised for a moment, but only a moment. He was, after all, a talking bear.

Hello! He said to the man with the eyepatch. I am Bearsace. And then the man held a sword to Mai’s throat, and from that point, Bearsace would snap his teeth at him instead of greet him politely.

It’s nice to meet you! He said to the man who did not really smile, but wore a lot of yellow, which confused Bearsace, who associated yellow with the color of happiness. I hope we can look at each other happily. The man did not speak, except to insult Mai. Never mind. I hate you.

I look forward to being your close friend, he said to the man who was friendly and had a mole near his eye, and Bearsace soon discovered he liked him the best, because he was the only one who was friendly to Mai from the start.

The three who Bearsace did not particularly bother with were the one who reminded him of a snake, the one who lectured Mai too much, and the one who was dumb enough to take naps on the roof.

He didn’t really have time for negativity like that.

—

Fortunately, Mai was as smart and resilient as expected. With the help of a ninja— an actual ninja!— she built up a plan to return to the future after three months from now. That, unfortunately, meant that she was under the protection of these weirdos for the next three months. She was awfully lucky that Bearsace was there to defend her.

We’ll get through this, Mai. Together.

—

It was very irritating, the way that those warlords seemed to fall for her within a matter of weeks and fawn over her as if she was a doll. Mai, for her part, did not seem to be getting attached, which was good, if they were going to return to the present and finish Mai’s dream together.

Following two months in the Sengoku, his friend began to spend some time away in the evening, which was nice but also lonely. Bearsace could not sleep, but he could sit and stare at the ceiling and think. Usually he would not get bored of it, except that he could not stand guard over Mai if she was not there.

She actually seemed to grow happy, which made Bearsace happy. That was really all it took, and because it seemed to be those handsy Sengoku warlords who made her so, he gave them his grudging respect.

—

Mai cried sometimes. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, but it was the small, conflicted sobs in the middle of the night that snapped Bearsace out of his daydreaming as he kept watch over her.

Don’t cry , he said as his heart ached. Please don’t cry.

It was then that Mai reached for her purse and pulled out the hiring packet, and Bearsace’s heart broke a little bit more.

We have so many plans, don’t we? You can’t be sad for those.

She sniffled and held the papers in her hand.

Look! I kept them nice and dry for you. Surely that must mean something. All our plans, all our dreams… I will stick by you. Don’t give up yet.

Mai ignored him again. She tore the papers in half.

—

“I’m not going back.”

The only person— or bear— more surprised than Sasuke was Bearsace, himself.

What do you mean you’re not going back?! You didn’t speak to me before making this choice on your own, so that we could make it together?

“I thought you might say that. What gives?” Sasuke gave that secretive smile.

“To be honest with you, Sasuke… I’ve fallen in love with Oda Nobunaga.”

You WHAT?! The roof man?!

“Oh, is that so?”

Be quiet, Sasuke. Mai, how could you not tell me this?

“Well, to be honest with you,” Sasuke continued, “I’m not going back, either. You see, I have found some employment here that I can’t bear to leave in such a tumultuous time. You understand. But Mai, by my calculations… it seems that we may be forced to return.”

Yes! Don’t give up on our dream, Mai! Bearsace exclaimed, though he immediately wished to take it back once he saw the crushed look on Mai’s face.

“Please tell me that isn’t true, Sasuke. It took a lot of soul-searching to choose that he means more to me than any desk job.”

Look on the bright side; we’ll have the chance to be happy again, in our own time, right?

Sasuke launched into a long-winded explanation that Bearsace was far too agitated to understand, but it seemed to boil down to this:

As long as Mai and Sasuke remained in the past, time itself would remain wrathful and relentless.

—

Mai stayed in her room that night and cried. She did not meet Nobunaga, whom Bearsace now realized she snuck out every night to see. She cried until Bearsace feared her chest would cave in with sadness. He leaned against her thigh and allowed her to bury her face into the top of his head until the tears stopped… and, inevitably, they would start again.

How could he have known that Mai was falling in love? In dismay, he realized that the seam between them was tearing faster than he could patch it up. He tried talking to her many times that night— would try to offer words of encouragement, that even if they had to go back, he would always support her no matter what. But no matter how loud he yelled, she only cried harder, ignoring him.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered. “I can’t leave him.”

Those were the first words she had spoken since Sasuke left, and Bearsace was immediately at attention. For the first time in a long time, Mai picked him up and looked him straight in the eye, and hugged him.

With a pang in his chest, he realized that she didn’t hug him quite the same, anymore.

It’s going to be okay. Can you please, please just respond to me once? I’m so afraid for you.

Her tears stained his fur, and he didn’t realize that anything could quite hurt this bad. “What do I do, what do I do?” she repeated, as if doing so would create a solution.

Mai…

“Ugh, what am I doing…?!”

Mai?!

“I’m talking to a dumb… a dumb stuffed toy! You can’t even talk or think; why do I still even depend on you?”

She had never raised her voice at him— not even when he wanted to change the channel from My Vintage Love to just anything else. Startled, he fell backwards as Mai snarled down at him, tears in her eyes.

“Sitting here crying isn’t going to do anything. I need to think of a way to stay.”

With a note of finality, she took him out the double doors and sat him down inside the storage closet outside. The room went dark when she closed it, and he yelled for her.

—

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

—

A maid found him, once, and asked the castle head what to do with him. He said that because Bearsace belonged to the princess, she should put him back where she found him.

—

A rat ate one of his eyes and choked to death on it before the other one. It did not hurt as bad as Bearsace thought it would.

—

The roof of the closet caved in, and of all people, it was Eyepatch Man who found him.

“Ha!” exclaimed Eyepatch Man, tugging at his paws. “Mitsuhide, didn’t this belong to Mai?”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t realized our beloved Lady Oda had forgotten anything when she left this room. How very much like her.”

“Look, he’s missing an eye. Guess he matches me, now.”

They forgot about him when they were done fixing the closet, and a castle boy put him back on top of a puddle of melted snow.

—

“Oh, it’s here somewhere…”

Mitsunari! Bearsace cried hoarsely. It had been many weeks (or months, or likely even years) since he had seen Eyepatch Man and Mitsuhide. He would have been happy to see anyone, but Mitsunari was a treat. Where is Mai? She cannot have forgotten about me…

“Just grab what you need and go. You’ll be late for the treaty-signing with the Uesugi-Takeda forces if you don’t hurry up.”

“You’re always so wise, Lord Ieyasu! I- oh, here it is!”

Mitsunari extracted a sword from the depths of the shed. It was ornate and lovely, and covered in dust.

“This will do for a fine peace offering, don’t you say?”

“A peace offering isn’t necessary, with Mai having strengthened our relationship with them so well. I still don’t understand why you were so insistent on…”

Bearsace could not hear what Mitsunari was insistent on, because neither of them saw him on the ground.

—

A young girl with carmine eyes and caramel hair was the next one who found him. Beaten down, Bearsace could offer little more than a weak hello. The girl tilted her head and tugged at a sleeve whose owner was partially hidden by the doorframe.

“Father, what’s this?”

part three / beholding. azuchi, 1592.

Nobunaga’s hands were oddly gentle when he propped the young girl on one arm and took Bearsace in the other. His face was blank, and those hawk’s eyes were boring straight into his.

But those eyes… they were softer, somehow. Content. Bearsace felt ashamed at the way he must look in those eyes that had clearly seen a happy life— were continuing to see a happy life. His face had grown tan, his hair cropped a little bit neater. A scar on his cheek that had not been there before was there now, but did not distract from his handsomeness.

That wry smirk was impossible to misplace, though.

��I recognize you, don’t I?”

“What is it?”

“Your mother made him. Have you seen her, little one?”

“She’s with my uncles.”

Bearsace was so surprised to see Nobunaga bend down to kiss the girl on the cheek that he thought his other eye might fall right off. And if the girl’s mother made him, and Nobunaga was the girl’s father…

“Leave us, Shingen and Mitsunari.”

Nobunaga had made quick time to the audience chamber, where two men and a woman were laughing heartily over a game of cards. The woman had her back to him, but she kissed the two men on the cheeks as they left, then turned around.

Her hair was shorter. Her eyes were bright, and somehow, the kimono seemed better-suited to her now than it had the last time he had seen her many, many years ago. She looked at Nobunaga and the girl with sheer love, and then her gaze dropped to Nobunaga’s other arm— where the stuffed bear sat— and turned disbelieving before filling with tears.

“Bearsace?”

...Mai?

—

Her hands were gentle as she plunged him into rose-scented water and washed away the dust of many years. Her fingers were gentle as they wove thread through his bursting sides. Her lips were gentle as she, like she had many years ago, kissed the spot where his eye would be.

“It seems like you’re just not meant to have this eye, Bearsace. I’m afraid acrylics haven’t been made yet, but between you and me, I think you’ll be just as cute with one acrylic eye and one button one.”

One thing that Bearsace had never noticed was that Mai stuck the tip of her tongue out when she sewed.

One thing that he did notice was that she was wrong many years ago when she told the interviewer acrylics would help him see better.

The button eye made his vision crystal clear.

—

“Yumi, meet Bearsace.”

It’s very nice to meet you, Bearsace said. His voice was still sore from many years of disuse. He felt an unnamed feeling in his heart when he gazed upon Yumi— Mai and Nobunaga’s daughter. Her face was impassive, but with the same spark of curiosity that both her parents possessed.

“I was… very mean to Bearsace when I was younger. Do you think that you can take good care of him for me?”

The corner of Yumi’s lips quirked upwards as she looked at her mother with twinkling eyes. She took Bearsace in her hands gently, tenderly, and kissed the top of his head.

“Good night, Yumi, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

As Mai leaned down to nuzzle her daughter’s head, Bearsace noted that she always had the makings of a fine mother. She smiled down at Bearsace next.

“I’m so sorry that I got angry at you and left you in that shed. You were always there for me when times got rough. I love you so much, Bearsace,” Mai whispered in his ear and kissed the tip of his nose.

Slowly, Bearsace felt the frigidity that had taken hold of his heart begin to melt away. He did not feel empty anymore.

I love you too, Mai. It no longer hurt when she could not respond, because he knew now that he would always be with her.

“Good night. I love you. Say good night, Bearsace.” Yumi said. She lifted Bearsace’s arm and waved at her mother with it.

For one blissful, thousand-thread moment, Mai waved back.

epilogue / azuchi & kyoto, c. 1600s-2016.

Nobunaga and Mai died hand-in-hand on a beautiful spring day after living a long and happy life together. They were the last of their friends to pass, and were buried with them, too. Bearsace had come to love the strange family he had found, who had all found each other, too.

Even if they had hated each other for so long.

When it came Yumi’s time, she held the hand of her son and made him swear to protect Bearsace with his life. And when it came his time, he did the same with his daughter, and she with hers.

Bearsace did not throw his words so much now. He spoke carefully, affectionately, and with all the wisdom he possessed after so many years.

Sometimes, he would reminisce.

The way that Mitsuhide’s lips puckered before teaming up with Masamune to tease Mai.

The way that Kenshin and Nobunaga would spar in the courtyard, scaring the maids even from across the castle.

The way that Hideyoshi nagged Yukimura, and the way that Yukimura rolled his eyes.

They made his heart blossom and wilt and laugh and cry and dance and sing— all at once. This was love, Bearsace had decided a few hundred years ago. The way he could so clearly see in his button-eye the joys that they had shared together— and the way that, after so many years, he could not help but care so deeply.

Even after all these years, Bearsace was in excellent condition because of how well everyone had taken care of him. It was why, when a great, great, great— who-knew-how-many-greats— descendant of the Oda donated him to a museum, he was placed in the center of the Azuchi-Echigo exhibit, right across from a weathered painting that explained the importance of Mai.

c.1582: An ancestor of the teddy bear, “Bearsace” was hand-sewn by Oda Mai, famous peacekeeper of the Azuchi-Echigo Treaty, then passed through the generations by her descendants. This is one of the best-preserved artifacts of the Sengoku period. Generously donated to the Azuchi Castle Archive Museum by Oda Sakura.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

Bearsace had felt asleep for many years, missing the sound of her voice. When he heard it again, he almost felt his heart collapse in shock.

“This Bearsace kinda looks like my Bearsace.”

It took a moment for Bearsace to look down at the newspaper that Mai held in her hands, dated with the year of 2016— the year, he realized, before she and another version of him would go back to the Sengoku period. His eyes could not take enough of her in as she tilted her head, looking at him with a fond sort of bemusement.

Mai, he called, voice breaking with brilliant, shining emotion as she walked away, not thinking twice of the strange encounter. I missed you. Don’t forget to give me to Yumi, and don’t forget to sew me another eye.

But she was something of a white bird in a blizzard— he could not catch her. But he was content to watch as she walked away, farther into a life that he knew would make her very happy. This was all that he swore to do— was to protect her, so that she could finally be happy. The joy of it settled something within him, and visitors to the museum that day could have sworn that the bear’s face settled into a permanent, peaceful smile.

—

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanfic #oda nobunaga #nobunaga #mizusaki mai #mai #bearsace #ensemble cast #my fic #fic: broken and bruised

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gyromitra-esculenta · 3 years ago

Text

Misery is the Drug in Your Veins 1

Dead Dove Mob/Yakuza AU

Hanzo has a problem threatening Shimada-gumi’s working relationship with Reaper’s organization: the altercation between his shit-for-brains men and Reaper’s kid’s bodyguard that ended with blood spilled. It’s his responsibility to smooth things over and offer an appropriate apology.

Over two years earlier, working deep undercover in Reyes’ family, Jack finds himself with his cover blown and his very life a balancing act on a tightrope.

Warnings: Serious Dead Dove, ncs, dubious/coerced consent, ncs drug use, violence (like people buried alive at night in woods in future or mentions of necklacing), abuse, objectification, ptsd, cptsd, fawning, no-one is objectively good, etc - also Hanzo & Genji being bros.

He should have taken the coat, not just the scarf, Jack thinks, observing the falling snowflakes, big and fluffy. Probably the first snow, too, all poetic and shit. He just needed some space to breathe and clear his mind, if only for a moment - hitching a ride with Amelie and Jesse on their morning trip to the shore seemed like a good idea then, not so much now.

To his left, Amelie speaks into her phone in angry spitfire French. Jack sighs and closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wooden post. Should've taken the coat, he's too fucking cold. Cold enough to shiver.

"Will you die?" Jesse asks and Jack cracks one eye open. He can hear the sirens getting closer - he also feels the blood seeping through the fingers of the hands he keeps pressed to his side - and he's so fucking cold.

"I don't know," Jack answers sincerely, "but Gabe's gonna be angry with me, for sure..."

Jesse nods solemnly and puts his own hands on his - Christ, he's what, seven? The kid's seven, Jack needs to remind himself, and asking him if he's going to die now, and no child should do that ever, but he's just tired and fucking freezing.

It doesn't even hurt anymore and the sirens are getting away.

The car ride through the early winter landscape takes over an hour. The serpentine road leading up the mountain mansion is cleared of snow - and at this point, observing the scenery passing by the window, Hanzo is considering making a damn PowerPoint presentation. If it will save him from this kind of headache in the future, it will be worth it. Maybe he will even delegate the task to Genji. Speaking of whom, as the car turns around and rolls to a stop in front of the mansion, Genji is the first out with a cigarette in his hand.

Hanzo waits for Daichi to open his door.

The air is chilly but not enough for the snow to linger for more than a few days unless the temperature drops further. Hanzo would spend a moment to appreciate it under any other circumstances.

The angry European woman, underdressed for the weather, leans on the banister of the balcony and glares death at them. Another variable Hanzo’s unfamiliar with.

"Get back in the car."

Genji waves his cigarette.

"I just light..."

"The car, now."

Genji swears in a protest but complies. Good. Hanzo needed him to only show his face around, anyway, so it’s known he’s taking the situation with all the seriousness expected.

The woman above raises her chin and turns away from the banister, disappearing from his sight. He's expecting to meet her inside.

Hanzo walks past the first car, nodding to his people as he passes them. The hall is hot, and Hanzo entertains for a moment the notion Americans have absolutely no moderation in anything. He lets Daichi take his coat and leaves him behind in the vestibule, following one of the two guards deeper into the house. Up the stairs, the mercenary lets him into the day room connected to the balcony. Through the glass doors, he can see it's far more spacious than it appears from the outside.

The woman from earlier sits in a wicker chair, drinking something warm from a cup. The kid, dressed more appropriately in a sweater and a cap, plays with toy cars on the floor, pausing once in a while to talk at her - by the movement of the steam above the rim of the cup he can follow her answers.

Hanzo sits down on the couch.

When he was much younger, he believed in all the tall tales of honor, whole-heartedly even, before he had realized it was just a pretty word for bruised egos and petty vendettas of the vain. And as such, the vulgar display of power before him is merely that.

"Shimada," Reaper raises his glass minutely without offering. The whore, half-sitting on the floor with face leaning on his thigh, bound and gagged - thankfully covered with a thrown on yukata - either pretends not to notice the audience or is completely out of it. Hanzo fixates for a moment on a darker patch on Reaper's trousers, obviously wet with drool and gods know what else. He's even marginally curious if the whore's going to be one of those he has to arrange for a discrete cleanup after, one of the obligations of the agreement negotiated by his father, both the supply and the subsequent removal.

"I've become aware of an... incident involving some of my men. I want to extend my sincere apologies and assure you they will be disciplined appropriately."

"Will they?" Reaper sips his drink.

They certainly are already very sorry, is what Hanzo would want to say, since your minder sent all three of them running, and two, in the aftermath, to the urgent care. He settles for the appropriate prostration.

"I will personally ensure a situation like this won’t repeat."

"My property was put at risk."

The negotiation stage, at last. If such a thing ever came to be, Hanzo dearly hoped he himself would never refer to his own child, or their mother, as his property, though he harbors no such futile delusions where his own future is concerned.

"We will offer the customary tribute."

"I demand the full retribution."

"It was a grave mistake but it would be a far too drastic action to undertake."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Shimada," Reaper smiles and inclines forward, setting the glass between them on the table while his other hand pets the whore's hair. He leans back against the couch, pulling at the gripped between his fingers hair, forcing the whore to straighten frantically to follow his movement. One of those gags, Hanzo notes in the back of his mind, watching the man's throat as he seizes and tries to fight for his breath with his changing position. The cloth slips off his frame, revealing the stitches on his left side and the reddened flesh underneath.

It's the distinctive scars that make Hanzo realize he had read the situation wrong, right from the very start. Whatever Reaper sees in his face is enough for him to let go of the man's hair and allow him to fall back against his thigh with a small sound of distress.

Hanzo was never in a position to negotiate.

"I'll arrange for the place and the time."

"See that you do, Shimada."

Halfway down the mountain, Genji finally asks.

"So, what's it gonna be? Fingers?" Hanzo holds his hand out to him and Genji, sighing, gives him his flask. "What, their balls and dicks?"

When Hanzo drinks more before passing the flask back to him, Genji grimaces.

"They just pestered the chick and knifed the hired muscle, that's a bit much."

"Only he wasn't a hired muscle."

"What, some family?"

Hanzo looks out of the window.

"Genji, do you remember, when the old man sent us to pick up the kid from the airport?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The junkie."

Standing outside of the terminal with the kid in his arms and a backpack, with a duffel bag full of money on the ground. Obviously lost and confused, suffering from withdrawal if one knew what to look for, and ready to bolt if anyone as much as tried to approach him - with months-old scars slashed across his face, and another one along the left side of his head, barely hidden under the hair.

And he would run if Hanzo didn't have the foresight to instruct his men to surround him; even made a panicked move before a strange resignation took him over and he quietly followed them to the car - not letting go of the kid even as he tore into the packet Hanzo provided him with and swallowed the pills dry, high as a kite already when they finally arrived at their destination and made the exchange, staying long enough to see him and the kid escorted to the mansion.

"Yeah, what about that one?" Genji flippantly takes a swig from the flask.

"It was him, and he's his woman."

"Shit." Genji meets his eyes, then continues in an unfamiliar display of sympathy. "I'll get everything ready, you just pass the word."

"Thank you." And Hanzo means it.

It's not the first time that Hanzo considers Genji would be a much better fit for the position, if not for his rambunctiousness, and some other quirks seen as weaknesses and not the strengths they were. Nevertheless, it was far more likely it would be Genji providing the heir, either by design or by accident, Hanzo idly thinks by the way of distraction from his current task, which is delivering a signed death warrant on his own men. They were foolish and young, their deaths superfluous, and yet...

The Chinese were good partners if one traded in lives - and Shimada-gumi partook in it - but drugs and firepower were a whole different matter altogether. The triads were unwilling to part with the total control, so if the man who provided the connections and his network wanted a blood tribute, he got the damn blood tribute. Too bad he never got to know what the old man paid for the deal they've inherited, but merely seeing him squirm over it was sure worth the price.

Hanzo sits on the couch just as the maid – Filipino, if he were to guess - finishes pouring the tea into what appears to be his designated cup out of the four on the table. The host is absent, as is the angry European woman; he can put the time it affords him to some use.

The indirect source of his headache is half-lying, half-sitting on the cushions on the floor. The kid, working on a picture, is sitting between the table and his legs. Hanzo observes for a moment, trying to look past the preconceptions and circumstances skewing his perception. The man is relaxed and definitely under the influence, be it painkillers or something else altogether, and except for the initial glance, he ignores Hanzo completely, staring off into space. Hardly frail, in a physical sense of the world. His physique is maintained. A wide bruise that wasn’t there before is circling his neck.

"I don't believe we were introduced," Hanzo clears his throat, extending his hand over the table. "Shimada Hanzo."

The man flicks his eyes at Hanzo's palm before returning to looking at an unspecified point in the air.

"...Jack."

But his lips were forming a different sound at the beginning before Jack apparently caught himself.

"I see," Hanzo puts his hand back on his thigh. "Can I ask you something, Jack?"

Jack shrugs noncommittally, with the accompaniment of subtle clinking.

"Thank you." Hanzo spares a glance to the kid busy adding copious amounts of red crayon to the picture. "This might be an inappropriate discussion for a child."

Jack shrugs again - there's the metallic sound once more - and answers without looking.

"I shot his mother in front of him."

That's... definitely, one way of saying it doesn't matter what's discussed. Hanzo purses his lips, mulling over how to proceed, when the kid puts the crayon back on the table and looks at him.

"Mom killed dad and wanted to kill Jack," the kid smiles and grabs the black crayon this time. Jack at first just stares at the boy, then Hanzo feels his surprised attention on himself as if, somehow, Jack had consciously noticed him only now, biting his lip in what could be apprehension or anxiety. Intriguing, how his focus wavers immediately, prompting Hanzo to continue with caution, to sustain it.

"Can you tell me, Jack, how you got the scars on your face?"

Jack mulls the question over.

"Glass. It was... a window, and the bomb went off..." His voice trails off. Fair enough. The cuts must've been clean and deep, missing both of his eyes by a close margin.

"Jack." The man's wandering gaze snaps back to Hanzo at hearing his name, again. "And the burn on your neck?"

"...gun." Jack doesn't elaborate on it. Hanzo keeps the momentum up and does not push for the information that is not provided freely.

"The scars on the chest, Jack?" As soon as Jack parses the question, the additional nervousness builds up in his shoulders. The metallic clinking is back. He answers with a barely perceptible stutter.

"...Afghanistan."

Either military or mercenary, might be both. Running convoys, possibly; maybe this is the connection Hanzo's looking for to sate his personal curiosity, but the further line of questioning is best saved for later.

"Jack," Hanzo calls the man's wandering attention back to himself, again. "And the scar on the left side of your head, Jack?"

Jack freezes for a moment before both of his hands fly up to cover his hair there - handcuffed and used to it, judging by the flawless coordination - the reddened skin around the wrists has an oily wet shine to it.

"No, it's not visible, Jack," Hanzo finds himself trying to placate him with his open palms showing and reaching over the table. The unexpected manner of an animal gulping air and ready to lash out reminds him of all the times he had to talk Genji down from whatever bad high he'd been on. "I've seen it before. Before. There's nothing to see now, Jack. Nothing."

The change is gradual. Jack's expression settles back into an impassive mask as his hands slowly return to their previous position. Hanzo lets the matter rest, sparing a glance at the kid unperturbed by the incident and happy to be left alone working on his picture.

"I failed to blow my brains out," Jack delivers in a flat voice bereft of any inflection. There's something disturbingly familiar in his words and eyes Hanzo cannot pin down, not now at least, but the impression of the fact that he had seen it somewhere before remains. Puzzle pieces to be assembled together later - if he finds enough of the missing parts to create the image or at least the idea of the image.

"That's all that I wanted to ask, Jack," Hanzo focuses on the cup he reaches for, still feeling the uncomfortable stare of blue eyes bore into him.

Over time, he grew accustomed to the western idea of what tea is - made with much too hot water and too many leaves - and marinated. The one in the cup has a lovely red coloring and smells deeply of tannin. The taste is tart and bitter, with a smidge of sweet fermentation. From the corner of his eye, Hanzo can still see Jack observing him with unnerving intensity. He tries to remain unbothered by it while sipping his tea, idly noting it would be acceptable as a sweetened drink when watered down.

The uncomfortable moment lasts until Jack shifts his whole posture, best described as a scramble to prop himself up on his hands - the reason obvious when the host enters Hanzo's field of vision - the whole of it a ridiculous approximation of a pet reacting to its beloved owner.

As ridiculous as Hanzo's own refusal to refer to the man as 'Reaper' in the confines of his own mind, but the fact some of his people took to calling him 'Shinigami' is even more preposterous, and he will take no part in this absurd game unless otherwise required. And, even being in a position of a supplicant - again - he will not vie for the attention that at the same time he is owed as a guest. The whole situation leaves Hanzo with a substantial quandary to navigate while he goes through the mental list of all the interdependencies. Not for the first time, he's more than curious what the old man had offered his current host in the introductory package - but definitely not the mansion itself. Hanzo had discreetly investigated all the details of the acquisition of the property and nothing came up, except for the fact that it had been allowed to be bought out by a foreigner. If he were to hazard a cautious guess, it almost looked like a cozy retirement plan.

Hanzo sips on his tea, watching the interaction before him play out: at the same time put off and fascinated by it. Jack strains, the corner of his lips Hanzo can see from his vantage point twitches. The position he put himself in must be forcing pressure on the stitches that punches through whatever pain medication - or anything else - he's on. The host takes ahold of his jaw - definitely not a gentle grip but probably not bruising - and pulls him up even higher, enough that Jack now has to brace his palms on the table to keep balance and minimize the strain on his side. Hanzo has the unsettling notion he's being privy to something far too intimate to be displayed during what is basically a business meeting. While he does understand the difference in the sensibilities, this is too much, with how Jack keeps his eyes trained on the man. As soon as the so-far hidden from the view pipette is raised, he opens his mouth obediently.

Hanzo counts three drops, a pause, and then the fourth one like an afterthought. Free from the grip, Jack remains at attention until the host pats his cheek in dismissal. At this, he eases off slowly, sinking down until he rests his forearms on the edge of the table and reaches for his teacup, downing it in a fashion that makes it clear he's trying to get rid of a displeasing taste in his mouth. All things aside, on its own, it is an impressive maneuver to be pulled off while being impaired both by the cuffs and the sustained injury, not to mention the medication. Hanzo makes a note of it, moving Jack up several rungs in his personal risk assessment. He's dangerous, maybe on par with the angry woman, who, at the moment, seems to be absent from the meeting.

"Don't worry about your little earlier chat, Shimada."

Ah. Hanzo had been caught snooping for information, not that he really counted on it to go unnoticed. The question, how much his host, now sitting in front of him, cares about this perceived invasion of privacy.

"He won't remember it."

Apparently, not as much as Hanzo would expect, but another possibility opens: a warning that Jack won't recognize him as an ally down the line. He might be overthinking it. Probably is, and, feeling the warning bells of borderline paranoia, Hanzo glances at Jack now reclining back on the pillows with his eyes half-closed.

The kid remains unbothered by it all, focused fully on his artwork.

"I understand," Hanzo begins, reaching into his front pocket for a card he places face down on the table - keeping his fingers on the laminated paper. "Regarding our previous discussion..." He slides the card towards the host. "I hope the time and the place are acceptable."

The man observes him with the most irritating smirk on his face, barely noticeable but definitely there. It's his frayed nerves, Hanzo decides when the host finally leans forward and he pulls his hand away from the piece of paper, straightening his posture. Only, the man picks up his cup.

"I'm sure there will be no scheduling conflicts for this event."

'Event'. Hanzo will murder his own people in cold blood. Idiots of mythological proportions, true, but still his people. Business oiled with blood, like any other. The loud clack of a crayon put down with force on the table startles him - Hanzo hopes his face doesn't show it. The kid gets up and steps over Jack's legs, going for the cupboards on the other side of the room.

"Did you finish your classes?" The host asks, not breaking the eye contact.

"In the morning," the kid answers as he retrieves what looks to be a handheld game from the drawer before making his way back to the table.

"Okay then." The host smiles, almost fondly. Nodding at that. "Children," he adds as a means of the explanation that's unneeded. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe this was all, unless..." The man sets the cup back - untouched - and rises from the couch. Hanzo mimics him, struck by the sheer rudeness of it: another garish display of the imbalance between them and their respective organizations. At least, until there's a hand extended towards him over the table. He takes it. The grip is firm and does not ease, making it uncomfortable as silent seconds pass.

"Gabriel. I'm looking forward to our continued partnership."

They'd never been formally introduced before. Hanzo feels the balance shift imperceptibly with the name slotting into the appropriate spaces in his mind.

"Hanzo."

"See that it doesn't end too soon," Gabriel releases his hand with finality. Hanzo nods, feeling like he has just, how the western saying goes, sold his soul to the devil.

"I will definitely keep it under consideration."

"Good."

Gabriel sits back down and Hanzo more than feels it's his cue to leave. He turns, with one last glance to the kid: he has managed to place himself between Jack's arms, with his back leaning against the man's chest. If not for the cuffs around the wrists laying across his lap, it would appear as nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn't, really, with how the kid was now engrossed in his game like everything was in perfect order.

Hanzo spends the ride back ruminating on the meeting.

The puzzle pieces do not want to fit together - he gets two or three to connect but not more - different bits of information suspended in the void of unknowns. When Daichi opens his door, one memory strikes him randomly. Hanzo sends him away with the wave of his hand.

Still sitting in the car, he takes one cigarette out of the case and lights it.

Hanzo doesn't smoke. It's rather a sympathetic nervous habit he had picked up from Genji: holding a burning cigarette between his fingers and the disagreeable smell help him focus and calm. He has been right. He knew the expression, or rather the lack of it, that Jack wore on his face when asked about the scar. He had seen it before, had heard the same flat voice, all from some of the used merchandise, the ones that were broken in, or just simply broken.

Two and a half years ago.

He wakes slowly, with pain lacing through his body at every minute motion. Tries to sort his memories out, what was real and what has never happened.

The room is oddly familiar. The slid shut curtains remind him of something disturbing.

It's probably morning.

Over the hum in his head, he can hear someone moving downstairs.

He works the courage up to shift and sit - then stand on unsteady legs - his tongue feels swollen and sticks to the roof of his mouth. It makes sense for it to be morning, somehow.

The first door he tries is the bathroom. The light comes on by itself - he barely registers moving before he's gripping the sink with both hands and drinks straight from the tap. When he finally looks up, there's a baggie stuck with yellow tape to the mirror's surface.

He rips it off and stills, staring. His reflection is a sorry sight - but it's not right - the bruises and scrapes are healing, his lips are scabbed. It's days, not hours. Tentatively, he reaches to his cheek and winces at the sharp pain.

But it's not right, not when his wrists are rubbed raw fresh and stinging - and there's nothing in the air but the smell of gasoline - and if Gabriel comes any closer, his hair will catch on fire too...

He flinches away from the mirror and the specter lurking in the reflection. But Gabriel is still standing in the doorway. Blocking his way out.

He knows.

Gabriel knows.

The fragments of the last few - two? three? - days come together into a mismatched tapestry of metal, gunpowder, and gasoline. He tastes blood and breathes in the sand. The edge of the sink digs into his back as Gabriel steps closer and crowds his space, hand reaching to his palm and freeing the still-gripped in it plastic bag.

With his fingers, Gabriel forces the pills past his lips; a drop of blood trickles down his chin from an open again split lip.

But he's only interested in finding what hides behind those eyes that observe him with the knowing superiority: what’s the verdict?

One phone call, he needs but one call, and 'Jack' will be wiped from existence, and he will be safe and away from all this.

Away and safe to lick his wounds. He’s good at that.

"Swallow." The command comes with a pressure to his jaw and a palm covering his mouth - he does. "Good doggie. Wash up, change, and come downstairs. Dinner's ready soon."

Gabriel lets go of him and leaves.

'Jack' needs to die.

He spares the last long look for his own reflection and wipes the blood off his face with one of the pristine towels hanging by the side. He throws it to the ground.

Hot water in the shower stings and hurts, but his lips and fingertips tingle with numbness. The steam makes it hard to breathe; the towel still comes away tinged pink with a few darker spots scattered around, stark in the contrast to the glaring white. There's still some grime under his nails he can't get to; he's not sure he cares, not now.

Opiates, this time, with something extra mixed in, he realizes when he overshoots with his hand at first try while reaching for the change of clothes lying on the bed. The loose sweatpants and the long-sleeved shirt, both in spruce - is spruce even a color? - hang off his frame. It's... a first. He remembers losing some weight, but this is ridiculous, as is the thought they're probably a set of pajamas. He chuckles and covers his mouth immediately, surprised at the sound.

He needs time and a place to lick his wounds and process before he crashes. He needs time away from 'Jack'.

He knows his way around the house as well as he knows someone outside will put a bullet in the back of his head if he runs.

He needs 'Jack' to die.

He steps barefooted off the carpeted stairs onto chill parquet.

On the chest of drawers by the wall lie his keys, gun, wallet, and the phone - the screen is cracked but as long as the other sim card is in it should dial the right number and 'Jack' will die either way. He almost picks up the phone and the gun but thinks better of it.

He's got a straight line to the outside. Baby steps. Just be quiet. He recognizes the jacket hanging on the coat rack, it's his own - looks back to the gun.

The sound of metal hitting on glass is too loud, almost like it's supposed to catch his attention.

"Oh, you're up! Just in time, too." Chipper and pleasantly surprised. He blinks and winces at the voice, turning to his right. She's there, in shades of pink, holding some spatula or some other implement. "Sit down, I'm just finishing up," Angela continues with a smile.

She can't not know. There's no fucking way she doesn't know at least that one thing. She shouldn't be smiling at him.

"...I don't want... to intrude."

"Don't be silly, Jack, I'm happy to have you. I tried something new tonight. I hope you like lamb in mint and black beans."

The table is set for four people. Jesse sits in his chair, elbows propped next to his plate, his cup of juice half-emptied already. Gabriel's not here. He can't decide if that's good or not.

Cautiously, he walks to the closest chair and sits with his back to the corridor.

Closest to the exit.

Angela busies herself with the pots. Jesse observes him with the fervent disinterest only children are capable of. He tries to smile; Jesse's not impressed and kicks the table.

"You must be hungry." It's bad. He had missed her moving.

Angela puts the meat on his plate first. It smells sweet. He is hungry - he must be hungry with how his breathing speeds up and shallows - or maybe he has just noticed it? She comes back with the beans; they're really, honestly, just black in black, and he laughs and chokes on it.

He wipes his lips with his wrist, barely noticing the blood.

The hand on his shoulder is not hers even if she's back again by his side, closer than before. Fingers move to his throat, a thumb rubs hard circles into the back of his head. She sees it, doesn't she? She has to.

"You'll be eating with us more often, won't you?" Angela coos, leaning in. She pets his hair and kisses his cheek. "You're family, after all. Well," she straightens and claps her hands. "Everybody, dig in. Dinner's served."

The hand on his neck lets go with one last shove - and only then he feels he's able to take a shallow breath. He focuses on the plate; the fork held between his fingers wavers. The beans glisten and he's pretty sure they are not moving, even if he would swear they do. He pierces one with the fork and brings it to his lips; somehow, it tastes numb. He almost recoils at the sudden pain when his tongue presses it against the roof of his mouth - and after a short pause, he moves the bite to the side of his mouth before swallowing.

That's... he remembers. That has happened.

He keeps his head low, forcing himself not to look anywhere but his plate, carefully gathering what is probably meat on the fork that hits the glass with too much force more than once.

He blinks.

The meat is on the fork.

The light is different.

The sickly sweet smell brings up bile in his throat. He lets go of the fork. The sound it makes when it falls is louder than a gunshot. He almost trips to the side together with the chair when scrambling to stand up, one hand pressed to his mouth.

"I need a smoke." Stained and high-pitched. It's not his voice.

He backs into the corridor until there's a wall behind him he can lean on. His breath comes in short wheezing gusts through the gaps between his fingers.

Little late to start panicking.

"Take the jacket. It's cold."

He turns to the left. The jacket.

He vaguely remembers he had a pack of cigarettes in there, one he only started on. He slides along the wall and tries - fumbles at it the first time; it feels too heavy - to pry the jacket off the hanger – stumbles to the door - forgets for a second it opens outward and pulls first.

The chill in the air hits him as he steps out to the porch. It's dark out. Shivering, he manages to slip the jacket on his shoulders and pats the pockets before he finds the cigarettes.

There are two SUVs with tinted windows parked in the front. He knows there are people in them.

He can't run.

The first cigarette is broken - he lets it fall next to his bare feet. The next, too. The third, too; he breaks off the dangling part and puts it between his lips.

He lights it off the offered light, noticing only after the fact Slim is standing next to him. And Slim is not slim, it's hilarious.

He drags on the cigarette. The smoke feels like nothing and burns the roof of his mouth, but quells nausea. Vertigo comes as he closes his eyes; a hand under his elbow keeps him stable for that fleeting moment.

His mind is clearer. Somehow.

He should be dead. He isn't. His cover is blown, and he has nothing. He's compromised. He throws the butt to the ground and takes out another cigarette. Slim lights that one for him, too.

Maybe, just maybe, he can go.

Walk past the parked cars with no one stopping him. Hitch a ride to the nearest gas station. Make a call and wait for someone to come and pick him up. With nothing of substance to show for the months spent.

Pathetic.

Run away with his life.

But...

No one else but him got this close. It almost feels like he's... being allowed to stay. Like they know - Gabriel knows - it isn't about him. The game's far bigger.

He can do it. 'Jack' can stay for a while longer.

He can do it. He still needs to make the call.

Jack takes the last drag on the broken cigarette and then tosses it away. He's still shivering. The hand leaves his elbow; Slim is still not slim, it's still hilarious, and Jack bites back a chuckle that sounds wrong even to his own ears.

"How's...?" Slim asks, almost like a concern.

Jack shrugs. Feeling the gaps in the wood with his soles, he takes a small step forward and breathes in the air.

He can stay a while longer. Jack is here to stay.

He turns around and sizes the door leading back into the lion's den. The click of the lock has a finality to it.

The only light in the corridor pours in from the kitchen. The familiar vertigo is back. Foot after foot, slow and careful, the thrum of blood rising in his ears, Jack makes his way to his phone left haphazardly in the open.

"What are you doing?"

He freezes with his fingertips trembling just above the cracked screen. Gabriel is behind him.

"I... need to make a call."

"You can do that tomorrow." Jack flinches when a clip of notes lands next to his palm. He flinches again when the jacket slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor. "You'll need a new phone, anyway."

"I really..."

The hand on his wrist pushes his arm down; Jack offers no resistance, his breath catching in his throat.

"Good doggie."

Fingers move over his shoulder and then knuckles brush against the hair on the nape of his neck. The touch follows the bumps of his spine - stops just below the shoulder blades with commanding pressure. He climbs the first step of the staircase. His grip on the handrail spasms. It was stupid, to expect the lion to lie meek in its own den.

Jack doesn't fight the hand at his back - doesn't fight it even as it pushes him later down under and keeps him at the bottom of the bathtub. In the morning, Angela fuses over him with the concealer. When she's satisfied with her handiwork, she drags him to stand in front of the mirror.

"See? It's all better now."

#sometimes i write #r76 #reaper76 #mob!au #dead dove #misery is the drug in your veins

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trashystar420 · 5 years ago

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CHAPTER 3!!! Babysitter Maribat AU AGE Reversed Chapter 3!

Well here’s chapter three, not sure how good it is. A bit OOC here so yeah.

Selina awoke from the annoying buzzing from her cellphone resting on the night stand. It was Bruce?!? Selina immediately answered.

“Wh-THE MANSION IS IN ONE PIECE SELINA!!!!! Do you know what this means!?!?” Before the older woman could respond, Bruce interrupted her, again.

“ I can take you out on dates, I can actually focus on work without having to stress over them, I can actually feel confident walking into my home to NOT find it in pieces!!!! Selina please you must give me that lady’s number!!! Selina Love!!!” Selina was too stunned to even respond. How were you supposed to respond when the BRUCE WAYNE, stotic man who feels nothing, shows more emotion then he has in the last thirty years. Not that this was a bad thing, for a happy Bruce meant a GRAND time in the bed.

The cat lady licked her lips, eager to have the man in her bed yet again. She really must thank that girl for doing this for her.

“Brucie Dear, could you please slow down, I can barely stay awake, especially from last night.” She purred. What she didn’t expect was the tone in his answer.

“Oh, I know and I can keep coming back, IF you give me that young lady’s number.” Shit, since when did he get this aggressive!??!? The poor lady was blushing a new shade of red. Bruce wasn’t the type to be this aggressive. Now she REALLY must thank Marinette.

“Ugh let me talk to her first, then we’ll see.” And she cut the call. Getting up from her bed, Selina’s nightgown slipped out of her shoulders. The proof of Bruce’s late night visit was all over her neck and upper chest area. Blushing at the reminder of what went down that night, Selina made up her mind and called Marinette quickly.

...

“Mari dear, I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” She asked wincing that she woke the poor girl up, she wasn’t much of a morning person, much like herself.

“Mmmm” the older lady chuckled.

“Hey Mari dear, you know the babysitting gig I set you up for?” Somehow that woke Marinette up.

“OH NO DID I DO A TERRIBLE JOB?!? What if he fires me?!? What if he blacklists me and I can never get my dream job!?? Am I going to jail I can’t go there Selin- Marinette calm down!!!” Selina finally calmed the now sobbing Bluenette over the phone.

After a few minutes of Selina calming the girl down, Marinette was now in a better state of mind to listen to what Selina had to say.

“So he actually wants me to be a permanent babysitter?” She clarified. Selina confirmed.

“Why is this so hard for you to believe?” Selina asked annoyed. The young designer chuckled, as though the older woman knew no better.

“don’t you think it’s a bit weird how he hasn’t even had me for a week to SEE if I was good or not? What about a proper background check?!? For all he knows I could be a suspicious person who is in it for his fortune or something?” Selina rolled her eyes. Leave it to Marinette to start overanalyzing.

“That’s because I recommended you to him dearie, are you saying I have poor judge of character?” She teased.

“Yes” she retorts back then precedes to laugh, Selina gave a pout but let it slide. She really owed Marinette this.

“So Selina, how was it?” Mari asked in a mocking tone. Selina heaved a sigh.

“It was absolutely Devine Mari Darling. It was perfect, though I think the neighbors might complain over the noise.” The more experienced woman smirked. Marinette blushes on the other line and quickly chastised her.

“Selina!”

“You asked for it!”

“Ugh so should I call him?”

...

The Wayne’s were currently seated in the dining room, everyone eating the breakfast Alfred made for them. What was unusual about this morning was Bruce’s mood visibly brighten, which set everyone else other than Alfred off.

Tim reaches over to lil Dick.

“Why do you think he’s in such a good mood?” Dick asked. Tim being the know-it-all he is, gave an answer.

“Bruce got to go out with Selina, and came home to find the house not in shambles.” He whispered, fearing that the good mood his father has will dissolve.

“Father, are you ok?” Damien asked. His father smiling unnerved him. Something about it felt really unnatural.

“Never felt better.” He responded too quickly for Damien’s liking. Jason was just poking his pancake with a fork. Alfred looked concerned, usually Jason loved eating anything and everything.

“ What is the matter Master Jason? Are the pancakes not to your liking?” The butler asked. Jason shook his head, then looked at Bruce with fierce determination burning in his eyes.

“Hey Bruce.” The man looked at the young boy feeling slightly apprehensive.

“Did having sex with Aunt Selina really feel that good?” Bruce immediately spits his drink. Tim was on the floor bawling, while Damien did his best to look unaffected, but ultimately snickered. Dick, being the innocent bean that he is, wonders out loud what sex is.

A blushing Bruce told his clueless son it meant nothing, while Alfred gave a disapproving look to the troublesome brat.

“Master Jason was that appropriate?” Before Jason could answer, Tim gave a ‘yes’ in response to the question. More laughter persisted as Alfred gave a dejected sigh, Dick being clueless, and Bruce wanting the earth to swallow him whole.

The phone left on the counter buzzed. Quirking an eyebrow, Alfred retrieves the phone for Bruce.

“Unknown number?” Bruce took the phone and accepted the call. He waited on the other line with baited breathe thinking it would be another spam caller. Instead a familiar feminine voice spoke.

“A-Are you Mr.Bruce? The one who needed a last minute babysitter? Selina told me that you were planning on making me a permanent one...”

“Ah Ms.Dupain-Cheng, did Selina give you my number?”

“Yes, sorry to call you so early.”

“Ah I wouldn’t worry about that. Anyways this is good timing, I need to talk to you about being a babysitter. I made sure to deliver you your check in the mail. You should have gotten it by now.” Shuffling was heard from Bruce’s line. And some crashing noises. Bruce was close to wincing.

“Ah um... si-sir y-you didn’t”

“Oh yes I did”

“But sir this is $10,000!!! Isn’t that much for babysitting two kids, well behaved ones at that?!?” The entire mansion echoed the laughter that came from the businessman.

“It’s because they behaved so well that I gave you that much, but now that I think about it. Perhaps I should give you three extra zeroes.” He replied. Now everyone was listening in on the conversation.

“NO! I-I mean, Monsier Wayne, please this is considered too much for a babysitting job, and for a day. Please I can’t accept this.” Bruce wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh no I insist you have been a great help. You have no idea how hard it is to manage those troublemakers.”

“You must be joking, the boys have been nothing but angels”

“ either way no take backs” Bruce stubbornly stated. The boys couldn’t pick up what Marinette said over the phone that was muffled by Bruce.

“Can you come at least once a week?” He asked. More muffled digital voices in. The boys gaped as their well respected father, fist-bumped to himself like a little kid getting the best thing in the world. Alfred had merely begun cleaning up after the Waynes.

“Yes you can cancel in advance if something comes up.” He answers

“Yes you can take the boys out, but make sure it is not passed 7.” Jason and Dick perked up at that. Even Damien had to do a double take on that. Tim was listening intently to every little tid-bit.

“You want to start by the beginning of next week?” Bruce asked to confirm.

“I would be glad to Monsieur Bruce.” Marinette finished.

“Please Ms.Dupain-Cheng call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me Marinette.”

“Then it is settled, Marinette.”

“See you next week Mon- er - i mean B-Bruce.” And the call ended. Bruce was half tempted to do a happy dance, but after looking at his boys, decided not too.

“Now everyone, I expect you all to be in the bat cave by 8, we have another serious meeting to discuss. But right now. ‘Looks at wristwatch’ looks like I have to get going.” And off Bruce went. His kids could only stare as he took off in his very expensive looking car.

“Miss.M-Marinette is going to babysit us!” Squealed Dick while Jason grinned from ear to ear.

“I’m so gonna beat pixie-bob at ultimate mecha strike three!!!” Jason spoke determinately. Tim just sipped more of his coffee, realizing he’s gonna need another mug and walks to the kitchen to make some more.

“That harlot is simply humoring you two.” Damien answered, while looking away. Dick and Jason were clearly offended by that statement.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Dick screeched as he racked his older brother who was completely caught off guard.

“Yeah lil Dickie teach Demon Spawn a lesson!!!! Jason cheered from the sidelines, and Damien struggles to get the flexible boy of him. Dick eventually kicks Damien in the family jewels.

“Ahhhhhhh oh you are so gonna- eat shit Bitch!” As Jason threw a chair at the incompacitated Damien. The two younger boys fled the scene as a rather pissed off Damien got up. Alfred offered him an ice-pack and he reluctantly took it.

“When I get my hands on those two.” As he stormed off after his idiotic brothers.

...

“Tikki!!!!!!!!” The super heroine pleaded. The small goddess just gave her a look.

“Just take it in strive Marinette”

“But it’s $10,000!!!!! Don’t you think it’s too much!?!?”

“I don’t know, sounds to me like those boys were not so nice to begin with Mari” Mari scoffed. How could anyone think anything bad of Jason and Dick. They were absolute angels and totally adorable.

“Please Tikki, your just jealous.” The kwami just gave her a look, before muttering ‘clueless holders’

“I heard that!”

“That’s kind of the point!” The kwami sighed. It’s going to be quite the adventure.

#@BlueRosette23 #@novicevoice #@weird-pale-blonde-person #@theatrendcomicfreak @Caffeinetheory @liawinchester67 #@ladysblackcat @derpingrainbow @thecatnipmademedoit #@vivian077 @dur55 @interobanginyourmom #@legendaryneckjudgestudent @persephonebutkore @zalladane #damien x marinette #maridami #maribat #older damian wayne #bruce x selina #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang

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razaks-wheel · 4 years ago

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[In her research into Imperial-funded overhaul events, Meryse contacts the Nerevarine. This probably isn't canon. Unless]

3E 432

Meryse set up a sound wall around the projection room she had booked for the afternoon. She wished she could do this somewhere more private, like her own home, but even the "modern-style" projection that many mages made use of was still a little ways beyond her current skill level, and so she was stuck using a device at her local Mages Guild.

It was a dangerous game, she knew, doing research that could be considered anti-Imperial in an Imperial-funded facility, but she was fairly confident that she knew how to take the appropriate precautions. Besides, if the rumors could be trusted, the person she was going to be talking to was at least nominally considered a friend of the Empire, and so even if the projection could be tracked, she should be safe.

In their brief exchange of letters, they had provided each other with a pointer gem, a tiny crystal infused with a small amount of magicka, to make it possible to target each other with a projection. When the designated time came, Meryse placed Ildari's pointer gem in the device's slot and powered it up with a bit of her own magicka. She sat at the desk in the rune on the floor and set her notebook down in front of her while the device whooshed to life and sent its projection to what she imagined was a fabled mushroom tower all the way in Morrowind.

A few moments later, a translucent form appeared in front of her of a Dunmer woman with hair flopped to one side of her head. She had heard that the Nerevarine had been young, but she was still surprised to see that this mer barely looked older than she. Of course, it was hard to gauge an age from a projection, especially of a mer. Maybe she was older than she looked, or maybe Meryse was really just older than she felt.

As they exchanged introductions and pleasantries, Meryse noticed a ring on Ildari's finger decorated with Azuran symbology. She had heard of that ring, Moon-and-Star, in her studies when preparing for this meeting. It was said to give Nerevar, and only Nerevar, a substantial boon in interpersonal abilities. She wondered whether Ildari was wearing it for symbolic reasons, or if she was just as nervous to be interviewed by a stranger as Meryse was to be conducting the interview. Either way, Meryse wished she had a ring like that, though preferably one that wouldn't kill her.

"So, I'm studying some of the major events that the Empire has seemed to have a hand in, as part of a larger research project, and I wanted to talk to some of the key players in those events," Meryse said. "You were employed by the Emperor himself to fulfill your Nerevarine prophecies, correct?"

"Ah...not exactly," Ildari said. "The Emperor selected me, yes, and tried to get me into his service, but I never even ended up talking to the guy the Empire wanted me to go to."

"Oh," Meryse said, her pen hovering above her notes. "Can I ask why?"

"Someone intercepted me outside the Census and Excise office and gave me a better offer if I would take the orders they'd given me to his boss instead of the Imperial contact I was told to meet. His boss was on the council of House Telvanni, which I wanted to connect with anyway, being my ancestral House, and it gave me the option not to work for the Empire, so I took him up on it."

"And the Empire was fine with you not following their orders?"

"'Fine' would be a stretch." She laughed. "Let's just say that when I visit my mom in the Imperial City these days, I stay clear of Green Emperor Way. They probably know better than to mess with me, honestly, but I also know better than to dangle myself in front of them."

Well, that was a deviation. Maybe this was more dangerous than Meryse had anticipated, if this Ildari was less of a friend of the Empire than she had previously believed. On the other hand, it might mean that her answers would be more useful than she expected, as long as any of the questions she had prepared still applied. She probed her wards to make sure they were holding up, and then glanced down at her notebook to decide where to go next.

"You were still initially set on your path by the Emperor, right? Do you know how he picked you?"

"Oh, Uriel absolutely orchestrated my involvement, even if I broke away the second I had the chance," Ildari said. "Certain entities have the ability to identify 'Heroes'—agents of prophecy. Gods can do it. I suspect Moth Priests can, too. Something about it being written in the Elder Scrolls. I assume an emperor has connections and probably makes it his business to keep tabs on any Heroes that pop up.

"Here's the thing, though: they did have to mess with my life to make it work. They killed my parents before I was old enough to remember them, because the prophecy said the Nerevarine has to have 'uncertain parents.' And they made up the charges that landed me in prison, because apparently being in prison is important to trigger the start of a prophecy, at least according to my friend Vivec. That tells me two things. First, they identified me as a Hero early on, long before the prophecies were actually set to be fulfilled. Second, they're willing to force a prophecy's conditions to be met, if it suits them."

"Wow, I...didn't realize they would go that far. Not that it's surprising, exactly. I guess I just didn't know they had the resources and the drive to act on prophecy so long before it's relevant."

She took a moment to consider the implications for her own research, and jotted a few notes down. She looked at her next question. It would sound strange, she knew, but Ildari seemed open-minded enough. Clearly, she was already aware of the implications of prophecy; she might not balk at a question about the nature of time and the aurbis.

"Did anything...strange happen while you were fulfilling your prophecies?" she asked. "I know that's broad. Anything that's hard to explain or understand, maybe relating to the flow of time?"

"That's very broad," Ildari agreed. "There was the part where I got all my memories back from my past seventeen incarnates' lives. That was strange and somewhat relates to the flow of time. But that's pretty specific to me. Probably not what you're looking for." With half a smile, she asked, "So, you're studying the Warp in the West?"

"Ah...yes," Meryse said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't buy the idea that it was a miracle from the Divines?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Not even a little bit, really. I want to figure out what really happened. Everyone sort of waves their hands around what happened, and no one seems to remember it. I do, sort of, but I was a kid, so no one believes me. I want to know what the Empire is hiding, and what else they might be hiding—who else they've hurt."

"Well, if you're looking for people the Empire has hurt, you've come to the right place," Ildari said dryly. "Be careful, though. The Empire doesn't always look kindly on its opponents, much less on people trying to uncover its secrets. I can say what I want, within reason, because quite frankly, I have power—both politically and in terms of combat ability. If you can't say the same, you should take care who you say these sorts of things to."

"Oh, I am careful, don't worry," she said. "I've got wards set up right now, I obscure my notes, and I keep my exact research questions largely to myself."

Ildari nodded. "That aside, though, you said you remember the Warp? The whole thing?"

"I remember three distinct days, when everyone talks about it being one or two. And when it was over, we were bending a knee to Uriel, and suddenly everyone was talking about the Nine like Talos had been there all along."

That seemed to interest Ildari. She paused, brow furrowed, and opened her mouth a few times as if to talk, but changing her mind each time.

After a few moments, she finally said, "I wonder if you're a Hero."

That was, somehow, not what Meryse was expecting.

"Me? I doubt it. I'm not strong or powerful or...special in any particular way, and I've never noticed the Empire messing with my life specifically, like you say they did with yours." She shrugged. "I'm just a mage, a researcher."

"So was I, before they shipped me off to Seyda Neen."

Meryse considered it for a moment longer. "I don't know. If that's all it is, it just feels like such a disappointing answer. And even if it is true, I still want to know how it happened. I guess I'll keep researching until I know better."

"Good idea. I'm sure there's plenty that the Empire is hiding; you being able to tell that they're hiding something is more of a compass than a solution," Ildari said. "Still, you might want to consider picking up some survival skills, maybe learn how to use a sword or armor, just in case you get tossed on an adventure without warning."

"Yeah, couldn't hurt," Meryse said. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This has been...enlightening, really, even if not in the ways I expected." She added a small laugh at the end.

"Research is never boring, is it?" Ildari said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And if you publish your work, I'd love to read it."

"I will be sure to send you a copy. Thanks again, Ildari." She waved awkwardly and disconnected the projection.

Once the projection device was back to its inert state and she had taken Ildari's pointer gem out of its slot, she glanced down at her notes one more time. There was not much there, but she still felt like she had learned a lot, and come out with more questions than she had entered with. Naturally.

She added one more note about picking up some new skills, and then passed an encryption spell over the page. When she was satisfied that her notes were sufficiently obscured from prying eyes, she closed her notebook, slipped it into her bag, lowered her wards, and headed back out into the Mages Guild as though her concept of the world had not just been shaken.

#meryse #ildari #razak's ocs #this is pre-hok meryse ofc #and pre-eso ildari #this is one of those things where its like #its not particularly great or compelling but i wanted to write it so i might as well share it #it has some hero lore if you're into that sort of thing

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mycupoffanfiction · 5 years ago

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His Favourite Gal: A Bucky x Reader Mobster AU Fic Part 1

An eventual mob!Bucky x Reader fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The reader begins working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little does she realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with it’s quirks as the reader is slowly pulled into the mobster life. Warnings: None for this part, mostly platonic fluff.

Word count: Approx 2500

________________________________________________________________

Exiting through the doors of the bar you worked at, you trudged down the street. Putting your jacket hood up as the rain started, you began your cautious night time walk home. You’d had another gruelling day; your boss was relentless and you were close to quitting and finding a new job. Seeing a group of drunks ahead of you, you decided to take a different route that was slightly longer. It took you through mob territory, but at least it was owned by the King of New York, Bucky Barnes, who made it his objective to keep the people safe.

Rounding a corner, you walked towards the most prestigious club in town, Stark’s. It was a huge gentlemen’s club owned by Mr Barnes himself, it was mostly famous for it’s casino and the fact it was Bucky’s favourite joint in town. Passing one of the tinted windows of the club, you paused when you saw an advert for a job. Inspecting it a bit further, you realised it was for a waitressing position, which was exactly what you were doing now. You pondered for a second before deciding fuck it and grabbing the advert and heading inside.

Upon entering, you were met by a bouncer, who immediately took in your form and realised you were clutching the advert from outside. He silently moved to pat your down, which you relucantly allowed. “Go to the bar, speak to Natasha.” He finally spoke, gesturing to the bar in the centre back of the main room. Giving him a quiet thank you, you walked through the club, feeling very out of place in your casual work clothes as you passed men in suits chancing it at the casino. As you approached the bar, a red haired woman approached from the other side and looked you up and down with a slight smile on her lips. “Hi, I saw an advert outside for a waitressing job.” You started to explain, but she cut you off, waving her hand at you. “You sure? We haven’t had many applicants since this place attracts… well unwelcome mob families.” Her smile never faltered as she spoke. “I’ve got nothing to lose.” You spoke politely, letting the corners of your mouth curve upwards, eliciting a smirk from her. “Natasha.” She spoke her name, holding out her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/n).” You took her hand and shook it. “Follow me.” She stepped down from the bar and waited for you to join her.

You followed her into a back area of the club and stayed close behind as you passed through a maze of corridors. Natasha stopped at a doorway and snatched the advert out of your hand. “You’ll do great.” She smiled. Confused, you watched her knock on the door and open it slightly, poking her head in and talking to someone, although the door obstructed what she was saying from being heard by you. Natasha backed away and opened the door widely and gently pushed you into the room.

You froze as the door closed behind you. Here you were in your wet leather jacket and casual bar waitress uniform, tired as anything and probably looking like a right mess after your shift, stood in front of a large wooden desk. Behind it was none other than Bucky Barnes himself and to his left was someone you recognised as Steve Rogers, his business partner and brother. “(Y/n) is it?” Bucky asked, smiling gently up at you as he relaxed in his chair. His hair was long and hung loosely around his face, framing his handsome features. His jaw was peppered with thick stubble and his eyes were a piercingly deep blue. He was intimidating, but you felt a friendly air about him. “Yes sir.” You nodded, finding your voice, realising it came out far weaker than you had intended. “Take a seat, (Y/n).” Steve spoke up, moving forwards and pulling out the chair in front of the desk for you.

Sitting down, you nervously wrung you hands, you had no idea you’d be meeting the King of New York himself! Maybe this was a bad idea. “What makes you want to work here, (Y/n)?” Bucky spoke gruffly but kept a slight smile on his face as he studied you. “I work as a waitress at a bar down the street, sir. I guess I wanted a change of scenery.” You fumbled with your words. “You realise this place isn’t exactly cut out for ordinary folk, right?” Bucky leaned forwards, resting his forearms on the desk. “You have a family?” He asks, Steve settling next to Bucky and watching you as you shift nervously. “No, Mr Barnes.” You shook your head. Bucky spares a glance at Steve and then back at you. Steve nods and then stands again. “We don’t have many people applying here.” Steve remarks. “Perhaps we should take a moment to consider-.” He continues, but before he can finish, Bucky raises his hand to stop him. “You’re hired.” Bucky smiles, relaxing back in his chair. You look at him absolutely stunned, you’d just been hired on the spot after being in his presence for all of about two minutes, they barely even knew who you were. You knew they would likely do an extensive background check on you anyway. “Come to the club tomorrow night, seven o’clock sharp. Wear all black. Report to Natasha at the bar. Don’t worry about your current job.” Bucky rattles off quickly as if he had the entire thing planned in his head. “Thank you, sir.” You give him an appreciative nod. “Mr Barnes is just fine, doll.” He smirks before Steve steps forward to see you out.

Your first few days working at the club go smoothly. It’s an interesting learning curve, working with people in the higher society, but one you didn’t mind so much. You didn’t gain such unsavoury attention working in the club as you had at the bar. There were no wandering hands, no harsh words thrown your way and as far as you were concerned, for now at least, your bosses were fair.

It was the following week when you turned up to work when Natasha rushed up to you. You’d arrived ten minutes earlier than your usual shift to prepare, which had become part of your routine. “(Y/n) thank god you’re here!” Natasha exclaimed, grabbing your hands and yanking you behind her. “Why is something wrong Nat?” You asked, trying to keep up with her as she ushered you into the back room where the employees stored their personal items. “Mr Barnes has been hounding me for the past hour to get a waitress for him this evening but we’re running short.” She explained as you opened your designated locker and threw your bag in. Shrugging off your jacket you looked at her with confusion. “I can take Wanda’s shift so she can serve him.” You thought it should be easy enough, right? Hanging your jacket on the hook in your locker, you close the door and turn to Natasha’s attention. “No, (Y/n), he wants you to serve them tonight.” Nat shook her head frantically. “Me?!” You spoke a little louder than you had intended, your voice reverberating off the walls of the room. “Yes! God, please just go into their room and talk to them, they’ve been waiting longer than I wanted them to.” She huffed. “You could have called me, I would have come in earlier, Nat.” You frowned a little as you fumbled with your waitress apron, tying it roughly around the back and shoving your notepad and pen into the pockets at the front.

Nat quickly ushered you down to their private dining room and you quietly let yourself in. In the middle of the room was a large round table with around ten men sat around it. In the middle, facing you was Bucky, to his left Steve and to his right was another man you didn’t recognise. “Ah, (Y/n)!” Bucky enthusiastically greeted you. You tried to hide the slightly flustered look you knew you had as you approached the table. “Good evening Mr Barnes, gentlemen.” You nodded, smiling sheepishly as you looked around the table. You had a few polite hellos and nods from them. “Are you waitressing us tonight, (Y/n)?” Steve asked, sitting forward and flashing you a million dollar smile. “I am, Mr Rogers.” You nodded, lifting you notepad and pen. “Allow me to introduce everyone.” You learned the man on Bucky’s right side was named Sam. You realised quickly the people who sat closer to Bucky were closest in friendship to him than the others, those closest to him consisted of Steve, Scott, Clint and Sam.

Bucky motioned you to come and stand next to him once they were all done ordering food and drink. You stood where he’d pointed to and he turned in his seat to face you. You felt your cheeks heat up with a blush as Bucky smiled up at you. “Is that everything, Mr Barnes?” You asked. “Not quite, sugar. Add whatever you’re having to the list, it’s on me.” He grinned at you. “I – uh, sorry?” You asked, a little confused. “Bucky wants you to order yourself some food and drink and eat with us, (Y/n).” Steve sensed your confusion and was quick to help you out. “Are you sure, Mr Barnes?” You hesitantly locked eyes with him and immediately broke eye contact. “Absolutely, please eat with us, doll.” Bucky’s voice went soft as he cocked his head, pouting a little, making you melt a bit. “As you wish, Mr Barnes. Thank you.” You smiled at him, speaking softly before jotting you meal on the notepad and rushing out of the room.

You immediately bumped into Natasha as you made your way to the kitchen. “He wants me to eat with them.” You blurted out before even making your presence known. “He what?” Nat frowns. “Mr Barnes wants me to order my food and drink and eat with them.” You repeated, more calmly this time. “Christ, (Y/n).” She looked at you wide eyed. “What, he doesn’t do that with the other waitresses?” You question, ripping the order out of the notepad and handing it to the kitchen staff. “He’s never done that before.” Nat admitted, gaping at you a little. “Are you sure?” You surely couldn’t be the only one he’s ever asked. “I’ve worked here every night for three years, (Y/n) and not once has he ever requested that.” Nat almost laughed at how unbelievable it was. “I’ll get someone to call for you when the food’s ready. Let me get their drinks together.” She immediately leapt into action, snatching the drink order from you.

You waltzed into the private dining room with a large round tray balanced expertly on one hand. The glasses on top gently clinking together as you walked, swaying your hips slightly. Handing out their orders, you took your drink last. You noticed quickly that all the men around the table had shifted and there was now an empty seat next to Bucky. “Come and sit with me, doll.” He patted the empty chair. Steve hopped up to pull it out for you and you obliged, plopping yourself down in the chair and turning slightly to face him. You didn’t want to assume you could speak unless spoken to, so you politely kept quiet while Bucky noticeably studied your face. “Tell us about yourself, (Y/n).” He smiled, sitting back in his chair as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

“Well, I’m from Brooklyn. My parents passed several years ago, I had to leave college to process the accident. It was horrible.” You realised you dwelled a bit too long on the death of your parents and immediately moved the conversation away from the subject. You did appreciate the soft look on Bucky’s face as he listened to what you said, almost like he felt sorry for you. Before you could continue though, Bucky rested his hand over yours and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry, (Y/n), truly I am.” He spoke just above a whisper. “Thank you, Mr Barnes.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Bucky, call me Bucky.” He patted the back of your hand gently. “Are you sure, Mr Barnes?” You asked. “Yes, we’re surrounded by family, no business partners today, so we’re on first name basis, alright?” Bucky gripped your hand again. “Alright, Bucky.” You nodded, mirroring his smile.

You told him more about yourself, your interests, hobbies, about your apartment and your neighbourhood. How your dad had taught you how to sock a guy if he attacked you, although the times you had been approached by shady men you clammed up before you even got the courage to make the back off. As the evening drew on, you became comfortable enough to share a few jokes, which elicited chuckles and laughs from even some of the most scary looking men around the table. One of them, Drax, who was terrifyingly huge and angry looking clapped his hand over his chest and roared with laughter the first time you told a joke, which completely took you by surprise. What surprised you more was how easy it was to make Bucky laugh and play along with your antics.

By the end of the evening, you had spent hours talking with Bucky and his men and had warmed up a lot to them, especially Bucky and Steve. They might look intimidating and have a rather scary line of work, but the two of them were soft and charming on the inside, showing you a side to them you were unsure anyone else in the club was allowed to see.

Finally taking your leave, long past the end of your shift, you made your way to the locker room to collect your things. As you exited the room, you were met by Clint, one of Bucky’s closer mob family members. “Boss is requesting your presence, (Y/n).” Clint said softly. “What do you mean?” You tilted your head in a questioning fashion. “Wants to make sure you get home safe.” He clarified. Nodding, you followed Clint out of the back door and down to a large black SUV where the door was held open for you by Clint. Sliding in onto the plush seats, you realised quickly you weren’t alone in the car. Sat comfortably next to you were Steve and Bucky, smiling across at you as you shifted in your seat.

The ride home was comfortable and a welcome occurrence since the walk would have been long and potentially dangerous at this time of night. After dropping you off, the car waited outside of your building until they saw you safely enter the building and the door shut behind you.

You spent some time replaying the evening in your head, realising you were smiling to yourself when you remembered that Nat had said no one had ever been asked to dine with Bucky and his family. It brought a blush to your cheeks as you settled in for the night and awaited the next time you could waitress for them again.

________________________________________________________________

Hi thanks for reading! I have written several parts to this story, I’m not sure how many I will do in the end, but it’s looking to be around 4 or 5! Feedback is always welcome. It’s my first time posting a fan fic on here and I love mobster Bucky.

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cv-nobody-and-associates · 3 years ago

Text

Nobody Wants to Know

Part II - Oira

“This is it.” I said, putting on my gauntlets. The cold metallic sensation helped to ground me, but it wasn’t enough to completely cease the shaking in my limbs. I couldn’t escape the uncertainty of what were about to do. But no matter how much it terrified me, I had to do it.

Either I would die, or I would finally get answers.

“You sure about this?” Wib asked. It was nice for us to be working together again instead of trying to kill each other, which was far more common. The two of us started as close friends, maybe more if I was to be honest, but it didn’t last. They turned out to be something called a Blockhead, which meant I had to destroy them. That was how I came to Creatorverse.

But then it turned out things weren’t that simple.

Wib didn’t really die. It turned out that we were somehow connected, meaning that neither of us could truly perish whilst the other continued to exist. We met up a few times after that, at first fighting, but it wasn’t long before we started talking again. We both knew something was up, and according to Wib it was connected to some people named Mori and Anis, both exiles of Creatorverse who had been plotting their revenge ever since.

I didn’t pretend I knew much about what was going on, but I knew I needed answers. And they were our only chance. Reluctantly, Wib had agreed to join on the search. Before, they had been working undercover on the side of the enemy, but we both knew that we needed each other for this.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “We don’t have any other choice. I think it’s fair to say we both know that, huh?” Wib clenched their fist.

“Shut it.” They spat. “You’ve always had more choice than I ever did. You weren’t stolen, you weren’t manipulated, you weren’t twisted into their damn weapon-”

“Wib.” I stopped them short. “I don’t know what they did to me. Without the answers, and without my memories, we can’t be sure who had it worse. So how about we skip the angsty yelling and get our butts in gear.”

“Of course. You don’t remember, so you don’t care.”

“Do we really have to do this now? We have more important things to do right now.”

“Fine.” Wib agreed. “You’re right. We’ll worry about all this later.” They smirked, and for a moment everything was as peaceful as it was before I had come to Creatorverse.

Then the newcomer arrived.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” A woman’s voice infiltrated our current hideout, an underground space we had hidden from the rest of the city. It was simultaneously recognisable and completely unfamiliar. “Some remarkable plot-driven revelation? No, it’s too early for that. Perhaps some inter-personal conflict?”

“Nobody, what’s going on?” Wib demanded, getting into a guarded combat-ready stance. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“N-no!” I said. “I swear, I have no idea-”

“I’m sorry, I think they were asking me.” The voice answered, and suddenly a figure appeared from the shadows.

“Y…you’re… me?” I asked, stunned. The figure looked almost identical to myself. Maybe a little taller, and definitely lacking my Siphon Gauntlets and boots, but otherwise the question-mark figure standing before us looked identical to myself.

“In a sense.” My doppelganger answered lazily, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s more accurate to say that you are me. Or rather, a version of me. Though I suspect an intricate explanation of the inner working of the multiverse and how this world is informed by my actions would be beyond you.”

“Are you saying you created this world?” Wib asked, seemingly much more capable of rational thought than I was. I had no idea how I could tell, but my doppelganger smiled at them.

“Ah, of course. You’re the other one. Wib, right?” She turned to face them. “A fantasy I made to explain my lack of answers. A manifestation of my struggles as an antagonist, but one I – or rather, the other me – would learn to accept, leading to the grand revelation where we would finally understand ourself. Makes sense that you would catch on quick. You are correct, if you haven’t guessed. This world is a creation of mine. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked. I felt compelled to draw my sword. None of this was making sense, and it seemed that yet again the only way of getting any sensible answers would be forcing them out. Or so I felt.

“This world is a manifestation of my story, but still its own world.” The doppelganger explained. “In short, I told a story, and the multiverse adapted that story to its own reality. It has been following my design like a script, but I did not make the set or hire the actors.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Wib asked, and I nodded with them. My doppelganger drew her own sword, and we both braced for what seemed to be an inevitable fight.

“I need answers.” She said. “This world contains secrets from my mind, words I could not speak but I suspect leaked out into the page. That is why we are not the same being, Nobody, despite being the same person.”

“Lemme guess – we don’t know these secrets you want either, but you think you’ll find the truth in battle?” I asked, raising my blade to guard. My doppelganger sighed.

“This world is built on the idea of violent conflict. I suppose I should follow the same rules of everyone else.”

She charged forth at me, thrusting her blade towards my head.

“And force the answers out of you!”

---

The doppelganger’s speed was incredible, and I could barely manage to pull my arm up to block their blade with my own, grunting at the sheer impact of the blade. Wib jumped back and moved to position themself behind the doppelganger, waiting for an opening.

I hoped they would find one soon.

“A simple duel of blades then?” The doppelganger said through a non-existent set of gritted teeth. “That’s not going to tell me much. Show me what you can really do!” She punctuated her words with a slash that pushed past my defences and had me slammed into the wall.

“Take this!” Wib came from behind the doppelganger, holding what appeared to be a small dagger with a green blade and gold handle. The doppelganger seemed amused as they effortlessly dodged, sending Wib charging straight me.

“Barrier, CREATE!” I yelled, pulling forth my CREATE button at the last moment. The sheer force was still enough to destroy the wall behind me, but a small barrier in front of me prevented Wib’s blade from striking me. My doppelganger seemed excited to see it, something that had me shivering.

“Yes, the button.” She said, producing a CREATE button identical to my own. She held it floating above her hand. “I’ve always wondered something about it. Can you guess?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Wib protested, even though my doppelganger had raised an interesting question. “We don’t have time to entertain these questions. We gotta take her out, then Mori!”

“It’s the letter, right?” I answered my doppelganger’s question. If it were possible for her to have grinned, I could feel she would have done so. Wib meanwhile rolled their eyes at me, yet uncharacteristically restrained themselves from a remark or attack.

“Yes, yes! I knew you would catch on eventually, you’re me after all!” She walked forth, and I couldn’t help but move back and raise my sword once again, anticipating another attack. “The letter. Almost every button I – even every one we have ever seen; they all say the word CREATE in them. All but ours. We have only the first letter. It’s almost like…”

“Like it’s incomplete.” I said. If I possessed eyes, they no doubt would have widened. My face became an exclamation mark to match my surprise. “Or like it’s just a copy of the real thing! Something we weren’t meant to have, but got anyway!” I didn’t understand even half of what I was saying, but the doppelganger seemed to. I swear I could feel their own interest as though I was the one experiencing it. I supposed it must have been because we were sort of the same person.

Idly, I wondered if I’d get to ask for the details on that.

“A copy. Yes, that sounds right. But why?” My doppelganger asked herself. “It must have something to do with one of the figures from the fog. The humanoid one. Yes, I can feel it. Like some sort of awakening.” She charged forth without warning.

“I need to know more! What else can I learn from you two?!” I blocked another sword slash and tried to counter it with my own, but it failed to have any effect. I glanced over to where Wib was standing before only to find them absent.

“Wib-?”

“Right here!”

“Argh!” My doppelganger screamed as Wib pulled her away from me, grabbing her. “You think you can hold me? How amusing!”

“I’m not gonna be holding you for long.” I heard the voice of Wib come from a second body, and turned to see that they had made a duplicate of themself. I always forgot they could do that, and was glad to see it was being used on someone other than myself.

Sort of. This doppelganger thing was confusing.

The Wib copy kicked the doppelganger at full force right as the original released her, and the result was her flying through the roof. I could see sunlight from the city pouring through the hole she had left.

“We have to make sure she’s down.” I said. I held put my hand and grabbed one of the Wibs. It honestly didn’t matter which body flew me up.

“You sure? We’ll be exposed. That’s going to make what happens next difficult. Plus, you’re a Creator working with a Blockhead. It’s a huge risk.”

“It’s even more of a risk to let her loose!” I cried out. “What if she hunts down someone else for answers? I can’t let her hurt my friends up there!” Wib hesitated, before grunting.

“Fine.” They said. One of their bodies fused with the one I was holding, and together we flew out into the city. The sun was high up in the sky, and for once the city was mostly undisturbed, save for the large hole in the road left as a result of knocking my doppelganger away.

“You’re strong.” I turned, hovering in the air as I released Wib who did the same. My doppelganger still lived, and instead of sounding pained she seemed more amused than anything. “But not nearly strong enough.”

“We need to run!” Wib called out, already flying away before I could respond. I followed, hoping that the doppelganger would do the same. Destroying the city was probably something worth avoiding.

“Are you sure this’ll work?” I asked Wib.

“She’s only after us as far as I can tell.” Wib reasoned. “She might attack anyone in her way, but I think-” I didn’t let them finish, doubling back. The thought of the doppelganger hurting any of my friends was dreadful, and I refused to let it happen.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

I stopped, both because I had reached the doppelganger and because I had just heard a mysterious voice in my head. If it wasn’t for the sight before me I would have stopped to listen to it. Unfortunately, I was more occupied by what I saw.

She was slaughtering people.

The city was already in shambles, buildings falling to rubble and collapsing as flames surrounded the area. Bloody bodies littered the floors, many far too close to the fire and stuck under rubble. The doppelganger looked to me and I felt a chill run up my spine.

“I heard someone.” She said. “As soon as I started this little exercise in attention.” I clenched my fists and screamed, charging towards her at full force. Our blades met harshly and the ringing sound of metal pierced the air.

“Attention?! THESE PEOPLE ARE DEAD!” I cried, forcing her back with all my strength. She skidded on the ground.

“Oh, you think I care. That’s adorable!” She said, before appearing behind me. It was so fast I barely saw her move, but I heard the rush of wind. I went to block but couldn’t stop myself from being knocked away into a building.

“These worlds? These people? They don’t matter!” She said. Something was different in her tone though. She sounded less sure of herself.

“She can hear me. What about you?”

“Who…?” I groaned out, trying to pry myself out of the rubble I had been forced into. The voice stopped me.

“Don’t move. Not yet. She can feel me, but you can actually hear me.” I gave the smallest of nods.

“Nothing matters! Nothing in this meaningless existence matters!” She was starting to sound incoherent, and I wondered if even she knew what she was saying.

“She’s rambling. That’s good. Well, not for her but one problem at a time.”

“Are you a friend of hers?” I asked.

“I owe her my life, but she doesn’t know that anymore. The three of us lost a lot of our memories.”

“Three? Who else is with her?” I asked the voice. I could tell that she – somehow, I could feel the voice was a she – was somehow connected to the other Nobody. Based on how she was talking, it seemed she was in her head, but I knew it went deeper than that.

“Me and V. But they’d only make things worse. I need you to tell her my name.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way she’ll understand. She’s losing track of who she it, what she is. I can remind her.”

“Okay…” I finally pulled myself to my feet, and my doppelganger turned to take notice. “What’s your name?” I asked the voice as the other Nobody approached. She told me right as my doppelganger grabbed me by the throat and pulled me off the ground.

“O-OIRA!” I cried, and suddenly her grip loosened. Her sword clattered to the ground and she clutched her head.

“Oira. That was her name, right?” I had to keep talking, because whatever she was remembering was stopping her in her tracks. “You saved her. A long time ago.”

“T-the tests…” She muttered, falling to her knees. “Needles, hands, too much. Far too much. She hated it. Wanted it to end. Wanted everything to end.” I recalled something we had said to each other earlier, as the doppelganger seemed to hiss in apparent pain.

I felt bad for her, despite our current surroundings.

“The tests were about the button, right?” I asked, hesitantly stepping closer. Her head went down for a moment, and it was a moment longer before I realised she was trying to nod. “They wanted to do something with it. What did they do?”

“They…” The doppelganger let out a groan of pain between words. Her face appeared to be shifting somehow. One moment it was a question mark like my own, the next it flickered to what appeared to be a musical note. “They wanted to make life. Shapeshifting. Genetics work. That was the key, they thought. It hurt. She didn’t want to hurt. I…I couldn’t let her hurt.”

“Why not?”

“What does it matter?!” She hissed. “It doesn’t matter who I strike down, or why, I’m just a weapon! I wasn’t helping her, I was just saving myself…” Her form seemed to be shifting, almost like she was struggling to maintain control.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” That was all it took for the last of her resolve to crumble. She raised her head to the sky and screamed.

“SHUT UP!” She cried. “AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and then everything went dark.

---

When I awoke, I briefly considered that everything I had just been through was a dream. The city that was once covered in flame was now repaired. No, more than repaired, it was as though it had never been damaged in the first place. As for the people, there were no more corpses. Some were still injured, but most seemed to have been restored just as the city had.

“Hey you, you’re finally awake.” I saw Wib grinning at me, offering a hand which I gratefully took to pull myself up.

“You did not just say that.” I groaned, amused. “I swear, if you try to get me to join the Stormcloaks I’m outta here.” Wib chuckled.

“Nah, you know I was always more of an Imperial type.” They replied, before his expression turned more serious. “Jokes aside, what do you think about our new guest?” They pointed a thumb back to what appeared to be a tall woman, slightly shorter than my doppelganger. She was still all black like her – and myself, I supposed – but in place of a top hat, she had a beanie. She also appeared to be wearing a kind of dress. Or maybe it was just another layer of her body? It was the same pitch black as the rest of her, after all.

Her face and chest both had a musical note symbol instead of a question mark. Similar symbols appeared on her hands and feet as well, though slightly different. Her face and chest appeared to be double notes, whilst the ones on her hands and feet.

“Uh, I don’t know what those things are.” She said. Her voice sounded similar to mine and the doppelgangers, but different somehow. Softer, I supposed. “But I don’t think it matters.”

“Oira, I presume?” She nodded, and Wib raised an eyebrow at me. I made a dismissive gesture with my hand, and they rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. I knew I’d have to explain later. “What happened to… you know, the other one…” I was reluctant to use her name.

“Nobody? She’s been…turned off? Disabled? Knocked out?” Oira seemed to struggle to find the right words to describe what exactly had happened. “It’s hard to explain. Nothing about us really makes complete sense. But I suppose with her unavailable, I took back control of the body.”

“Took back?” Wib interjected. “Was the body originally yours?” Oira scratched at her head in response for a moment.

“Yes and no?” She answered. “The body is a new one, but it was built using mine as a genetic base. My body was already…malleable enough for it from the tests.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“I understand.” Wib said, with surprising compassion in their voice. “People can do horrible things in the name of some twisted form of progress…” Oira nodded.

“When I took control, it created a burst of energy.” Oira explained. “That energy mostly reset things back to how they should be, before she appeared. I don’t know the full details. The reality warping is her thing for the most part.”

“What about the injured people still here?” I asked. “Why Didn’t they fully restore?” Oira simply shrugged in response.

“I guess the energy expelled wasn’t enough? Like I said, I don’t know how this works.” She sighed for a moment. “I know you probably have more questions, but I don’t have time. You see, she won’t stay inactive for long. And now that I’m awake, it isn’t long before V follows. And trust me, no matter how bad you think she is, V’s worse.”

“How bad we think she is? She murdered innocent people to get attention.” I said, annoyed. Oira didn’t have a typical face, but I could still feel a sort of fury in her expression regardless.

“She’s done bad things, but she’s done just as much good. You’ve just never seen it before.” She explained indignantly. “Besides, this is a Scripted world. She knew that when she left, things would reset back to normal.”

I prepared to respond to that, but she kept going before I could.

“I don’t expect you to understand her, nor do I expect you’ll forgive her just because of what I say. Best I can ask for?” She paused as something that appeared to be a portal appeared behind her, which she turned to.

“Forget this ever happened.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” I said. She laughed for a moment.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be coming back anyway.”

END

AN - Finally done! This was meant to be done months ago, but stuff happened and I'm bad at time management. At last, the first of the beings within Nobody is revealed! I plan on sharing more Oira stuff in the near future, but hopefully you understand a little bit about her now. I forgot to get to it in the chapter itself, but her CREATE button is different to Nobody's.

This whole chapter was set in the world of an old CV fanfic I wrote on my main blog, @lordterronus . It's called Creatorverse: Self Indulgent Stories, and it's quite outdated but I still enjoy thinking about it from time to time. This chapter was a chance to show a bit more of what I had originally planned for that story, but never actually did. If anyone wants to ask any more about it, I'm happy to answer anything regarding it on my main blog!

#writing #creatorverse #Nobody Wants to Know #Nobody #cv fanfic au (that's what I call it)

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