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#eva navarro
lusaaadaria day ago
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queerbrujas8 days ago
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nobody tagged me but this picrew has been going around and i liked it, so here are some of my if ocs: eva (twc), kay (scout), sahar (atoc) and oriana (fhr)
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gaywoso9 days ago
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[06/10/2021]
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marionacaldenteys9 days ago
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LUDfemenino: 馃摙 @LevanteUD and @evaaanavarro reach an agreement for her contract renewal 馃榿
What a beautiful year is coming, Eva 馃實馃弳! Delighted that you're staying at home 馃惛
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queerbrujas19 days ago
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He looks at her as though he鈥檚 found all the stars of the universe in her eyes. She thinks she might be burning.
He wants her, he loves her, so much, and she is burning.
(he loves more than a human would be capable of, he loves with all the weight of three centuries and loving him back is going to consume her)
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nahikarifc23 days ago
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aitana-bonmati29 days ago
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The local player getting the first regular season goal and getting an assist is amazing. Big future for Emina Ekic.
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queerbrujasa month ago
what do you mean eva and morgan are different from every other m-mancer relationship <3
fhsdajfk oh anon i wrote you a whole response about how i play the route vs trends i鈥檝e seen and then deleted it because i don鈥檛 want it to look like i鈥檓 talking about anyone else鈥檚 interpretation of it (which i love! so many of them!).
so i鈥檒l just say it鈥檚 really about the way i鈥檓 writing this fic. it鈥檚... interesting. soft, in a way, but a... different? kind of softness. because i鈥檝e been developing eva and morgan as friends first, no sex or even kissing for a long time despite the attraction that is there (a choice on eva鈥檚 part, less 鈥榠 wish it鈥檇 mean something for you鈥 and more 鈥榥ah, it鈥檚 not worth it鈥), and they鈥檙e both equally unaware of any feelings that are stirring between them until it all blows up in their face. and then there鈥檚 the fact that eva is an extremely assertive and direct person. so all of this means there鈥檚 a lot of give and take between them. that post i made yesterday about how M has probably never had their聽own聽comfort brought up in a sexual situation is part of it, too, because it comes up in the fic, along with a few other things.
idk, it鈥檚 just a dynamic i haven鈥檛 seen before, and that i鈥檓 very interested in exploring. sorry about the ramble, i don鈥檛 know if this made a lot of sense, but thank you for asking!
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queerbrujasa month ago
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snippet sunday
hi i鈥檓 actually聽finally working on something鈥攖his is a follow up to and I was set alight, because I have not known peace since I read the M route in the book 3 demo (no spoilers here though)
Just outside the door to Morgan鈥檚 bedroom, Eva waits. Bottom lip between her teeth, rocking back on her heels just for something to do while she鈥檚 standing here. She runs a hand through her hair, in a gesture that she knows she has picked up from Morgan, and just waits.
She鈥檚 not going to knock.
If Morgan wants to talk to her鈥攁nd that鈥檚 a big 鈥榠f鈥, now; that鈥檚 an 鈥榠f鈥 she hasn鈥檛 had to consider in months鈥攖hen it won鈥檛 be long before she opens the door. There鈥檚 no way she doesn鈥檛 know she鈥檚 here.
But what if she doesn鈥檛 want to talk?
What if this entire thing was a mistake?
How long is she going to stand here?
Too many questions, too many what-ifs. This level of uncertainty isn鈥檛 something Eva has to deal with often. Then again, nothing about this situation is; she鈥檚 never felt so off-balance in her whole damn life.
(Nothing, not even the bounty on her head, has ever felt so life-or-death as this.)
You should get some rest, sweetheart, Morgan had said, low and not unkind, thumb brushing over Eva鈥檚 lips, and they鈥檇 left it like that. Left it like that after a kiss that still has Eva鈥檚 mind reeling, a kiss that felt like鈥攍ike nothing else she has ever felt before. Not even a single point of comparison.
Shit, Morgan, please open the door.
tagging @coldshrugs @dierosenrot @weakzen @evilbunnyking @zarneki @tinyuselessmagics and anyone who feels like sharing~ (and ty @narrativefoiltrope for the tag!)
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queerbrujasa month ago
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i replayed books 1 & 2 with eva and i am living for her new stats
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aitana-bonmatia month ago
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Eva Navarro run, Ona Batlle goal.
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ejunkieta month ago
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jasmine and juniper (epilogue)
this is long overdue, but the release of the new demo (and revelations about a certain someone鈥檚 parentage 馃憖) reminded me of it <3
this is a small follow-up to my christmas gift to @queerbrujas鈥 (thanks also goes to @agentnatesewell鈥 for chatting with me about this & suggesting the flowers!)
Pairing: Detective Eva Navarro & Nathaniel Sewell Notes: <1k words, short and sweet, rated teen, no warnings.
鈥淚 have a gift for you.鈥
The mattress tilts under him as he draws back, and she can feel the warm weight of his gaze as he traces his hand along her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face.
She hums at the touch, reluctant to move, still half-dreaming and lost in the lazy warmth of him.聽
鈥淚 have all I need right here.鈥
read on ao3 | twc masterlist
--
jasmine and juniper (epilogue)
Later, their limbs tangled together amongst his sheets, his fingers twined in the dark strands of her hair, Nate whispers her name into the curve of her shoulder.
Eva.
She has always loved the way his mouth shaped her name, the gentle cadence of his voice as he says it, soft and low and sweet.
His mouth brushes along her shoulder, warm breath skimming along the length of her throat until his lips find the hinge of her jaw. 鈥淚 have a gift for you.鈥
The mattress tilts under him as he draws back, and she can feel the warm weight of his gaze as he traces his hand along her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face.
She hums at the touch, reluctant to move, still half-dreaming and lost in the lazy warmth of him. 鈥淚 have all I need right here.鈥
He laughs at that, low and rumbling, and she can feel the vibration of it beneath her fingertips, spread wide across the warm planes of his chest. He brushes another kiss against her temple. 鈥淎s do I.鈥
When he shifts from beneath her grip, she hums again, in disapproval this time. 鈥淣ate.鈥
鈥淚鈥檒l be just a moment.鈥
When he returns, a delicate parcel of tissue paper and ribbon cradled between his hands, the smell of jasmine that had permeated the room since he鈥檇 arrived is stronger. She can recognise the looping arabic script on the label attached to the bundle, although the name itself is unfamiliar - something more local, perhaps, unique to the dialect.
He handles the gift carefully, delicately, as if anything more than that would crush it, and she pushes herself up against the pillows, allowing the sheets to fall around her shoulders, pooling at her chest as he takes a seat beside her on the bed.聽
His eyes are warm as he glances over her, bright in the early morning light, lingering on the arch of her collarbone, just visible from where the sheet has slipped, before offering her the bundle.
鈥淗ere.鈥
Shifting herself fully upright, she accepts the gift, carefully pulling apart the layers of tissue and dried flowers - a blend that contains jasmine, of course - until she reaches the box beneath.
Nate removes the tissue and returns to sit close, the bed tilting under his weight, the heat of him radiating warmth enough to chase away the chill of the morning.聽
鈥淕o ahead.鈥
She smiles, nails slipping beneath the tape, separating it, until she can lift the lid and reveal what鈥檚 inside.
Resting on a bed of tissue paper is a single flower, the cut stem resting in a small sachet of water, its delicate shape preserved despite what must have been a long journey.
A black iris.
鈥淚t鈥檚 beautiful,鈥 She murmurs, unable to disguise the wonder in her voice.
It is.
Velvety black petals arch from the stem in the unmistakable shape of an iris - but not one she is familiar with, the deep purple bleeding into a rich black, with a depth of colour she hasn鈥檛 seen in a flower before.聽
The scent is subtle, almost drowned by the jasmine that had been bedded with it, and a crease forms between her brows as she takes in its immaculate form - by all means, it was impossible for a flower to remain in this state after days of travel, and this one appeared as fresh as the day it had been cut.
鈥淚t鈥檚 enchanted. The agency has connections in the city, and I was able to call in a favour.鈥 His eyes are warm, glimmering as he watches her handle the stem carefully, rich chocolate and muted hazel. 鈥淵ou like it, then?鈥
She glances up to catch his gaze, a slow smile spreading across her lips. 鈥淚 do.鈥
Placing the flower carefully back into the tissue paper, she leans towards him, reaching out to trace her hand against his jawline, nails catching against his stubble, before he lowers his head to meet her lips.
The kiss is chaste and sweet, lingering, neither of them willing to break away from the moment. It鈥檚 with a soft sigh that she pulls away, drawing back to catch his gaze.
There鈥檚 one question she wants to ask, must ask, in the face of all his other gifts-
鈥淒oes it have a meaning?鈥
His lips curve into a subtle smile at that, his dark eyes dropping for a moment. When he meets her gaze again, there鈥檚 a softness there, the meaning of which she can鈥檛 quite read. 鈥淥nly what you want to give it.鈥
--
Later, when she is back in her office, she will look up the black iris and its cultural significance - cheeks burning as she skims past the details of the painting by Georgia O鈥橩eeffe - and she鈥檒l think back on that moment, what he might have wanted to say, before he decided against it.
The flower, she keeps in a small vase in her bedroom at the Warehouse. It never wilts.
--
final notes: the idea here is that Nate has purchased the flower from a magical horticulturist who specialises in the growth & preservation of rare flower species (who also maintains their own gardens).
Nate leverages a favour for personal and sentimental reasons (related to the book three demo...)
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queerbrujasa month ago
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then it vanished away from my hands (part three)
pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro rating: T word count: 4k (10.1k total so far) warnings: angst (with no happy ending, though there鈥檚 a lot of comfort in this chapter). discussions about mortality and loss of agency. murphy trauma and flashbacks.
After discovering the reason why she can't turn, Eva tries (and fails) to come to terms with it.
part one | part two聽|聽read聽on ao3
this fic was originally meant to have three parts, but uh, that didn鈥檛 happen. current plan is to have it be four or five, depending on how the writing goes.
part three: my sense of self I lost somewhere
Eva鈥檚 eyes squeeze shut.
She鈥檚 all out of tears.
How long has she been sitting here?
This is鈥攖his is not working.
She can't be alone right now.
She can't be here right now, in this place that was once home to her and where there is nothing left that is familiar or comforting. Nothing but void, a shell filled with what鈥檚 left of the covered furniture she couldn鈥檛 get rid of.
The only thing here is鈥
is鈥
fuck.
The only thing here that seems alive and vivid is the image playing behind her eyelids of the apartment flooded with bright red smoke, the sounds of crashing and breaking, of Rebecca telling her to run, of Nate鈥
And a cold, cold voice that rings in her head, louder than every other sound.
She鈥檚 back outside in the rain. It soaks her to the bone, makes her shiver.
You are rather special, after all, Detective Navarro.
Why, why the hell did she think of coming here, of all places?
I do so prefer the quiet ones.
There isn鈥檛 enough air, she鈥檚 not getting enough air. She tries to gasp for it, to take deep breaths, but it鈥檚 not enough. When she opens her eyes the white walls of the apartment are closing in and her vision is blurred, hazy (not smoke, it鈥檚 not smoke, it鈥檚 not). A trapped scream tries to fight its way up her throat.
She wants to let it out. Scream. Thrash.
Tear her skin apart and climb out of her body.
This is not working.
This is not working鈥攖his won鈥檛 work.
She鈥檚 not going to be able to make it out of here on her own. Not out of the apartment, not off of the goddamn floor.
The sudden moment of clarity, tenuous and brittle as it is, spurs her into action.
Her phone. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her jacket: her hands are still shaking, and it takes her at least three attempts to get hold of it. Once she has it, it slips between her fingers and clatters to the floor.
She flinches at the noise. She鈥檚 going to start sobbing again.
She flexes her fingers. Breathe. Breathe.
Eventually, she manages it.
For just a split second, she considers calling, then decides against it. That won鈥檛 do. She doesn鈥檛 trust herself to speak without bursting into tears again.
I'm at my old apartment. Can you come over?, she writes, hits send. Then a second text: Please.
The reply comes before she鈥檚 had time to lock her phone again: there in 2 seconds.
She loses track of time again after that, closes her eyes and would not be able to say, later, how long she spent like this. What is left of her rational brain tells her not more than a few minutes can have passed before Farah is already there in a whirlwind.
Alarm is evident in the way her eyes shoot wide open as soon as she sees her, in the way she's kneeling down by Eva's side faster than her (human, human) eyes can register.
鈥淗ey, hey.鈥 The words tumble out of her quickly, blurring together. 鈥淓va, what happened?鈥
Farah has seen her cry before, she鈥檚 seen her desperate and distressed and upset, but she鈥檚 never seen her like this.
She examines her, the way she鈥檚 sitting on the floor with her knees held to her chest, the sorry state of her鈥攃learly looking for signs of physical injury. When she seems satisfied she鈥檚 found none, she takes a breath: the alarm fades, but the concern deepens.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 wrong? Did something鈥斺 Farah interrupts herself, purses her lips and waits for Eva to answer.
Eva鈥檚 throat feels raw; her thoughts scrambled, paper-thin. Connecting them, stringing them into something so complicated as language seems a monumental, almost impossible task. Just the thought of it makes her throat start to close up again.
She shakes her head. 鈥淒on't want to talk about it.鈥 Speaking hurts, physically鈥攅ven more than she thought it would.
Farah nods, as though having been expecting it.
She knows her well, after all.
They all do.
Farah reaches out, slowly, and lets her hand hover just over Eva鈥檚 knee. She doesn't touch her, knows better than to touch her, but it's close enough that Eva feels the warmth through her clothes.
鈥淒o you want me to just sit here with you for a while? We don't have to go back home yet.鈥
Eva barely manages to choke back a dry sob at the mention of home, but unexpected relief washes over her all the same. Relief and gratefulness to Farah for putting into words what she certainly wouldn't have been able to think of. Not now.
She gives a quick nod. 鈥淧lease,鈥 she croaks.
Farah attempts a smile that manages to be warm despite the evident strain in it. She moves then, with a grace that Eva has envied before and which makes something in her chest constrict now, to settle more comfortably on the floor, legs crossed under her, facing Eva.
鈥淭hen we鈥檙e not going anywhere until you say so,鈥 she says.
Soothing. Calming. Farah always knows how to be comforting.
鈥淭hank you,鈥 Eva sighs. Farah hums her assent.
With her here, real and solid in front of Eva, the red smoke and the crashing sounds and the voices seem to fade little by little into what they are: a distant memory, years old by now. Not real. Not something that can hurt her now.
(Except it lives under her skin, the consequence of it, the result of it, she鈥檒l never be free of it鈥
Stop.
Stop, stop, stop.
Stop that thought dead in its tracks.)
A while later, Eva鈥檚 breathing still hasn鈥檛 gone back to normal. It鈥檚 still quick and ragged, shallow.
鈥淗ey,鈥 Farah speaks quietly, a low whisper that barely breaks the silence.
She waits for Eva to open her eyes鈥攚hen had she closed them? How long has it been?鈥攂efore speaking again.
鈥淕ive me your hands?鈥 She says it as one would a question, extending her own, palms facing up.
Eva hesitates for a second鈥攂ut only for a second.
The hesitation is instinctive, but the action is conscious. She places her hands in Farah鈥檚, and Farah smiles at her.
With the warmth of the touch she鈥檚 reminded of the few times she鈥檚 done this before, in other circumstances.
Farah taking her hands and teaching her to dance, despite her initial, half-hearted protests.
Farah dragging her to celebrate her birthday because it was on the same day as hers and of course they needed a celebration; no, sneaking away with Nate to the library did not count, what part of it鈥檚 our birthday and we should have a party did she not understand?
Farah helping her stand up after a bad injury she鈥檇 sustained during a mission, the fear in her eyes eclipsed by the quick resolve to get her away.
She鈥檚 reminded of this, of all this. Of Farah鈥檚 liveliness and warmth but also of the way she always seems to understand how she feels, long before words are spoken.
Eva doesn鈥檛 quite manage to return Farah鈥檚 smile, but her lips twitch a little.
鈥淕ood,鈥 Farah says. Her thumbs rub circles on the palms of Eva鈥檚 hands, and something soft in her eyes seems to make them glow golden, brighter than their usual amber. Something soft and sad and old, because as young as Farah seems, Eva is all too acutely aware (especially now, especially here, with a sting that doesn鈥檛 seem to go away) that she is still close to three times her age.
鈥淏reathe with me?鈥 Farah asks, before Eva鈥檚 thoughts can spiral too far in that direction.
Eva nods.
Farah breathes. Eva breathes.
It鈥檚 a deeper breath than any she鈥檚 taken since she got here.
They spend a while like this, until exhaustion finally settles in, weary and bone-deep. Until she鈥檚 staying here out of pure stubbornness, and when Farah quietly asks 鈥渉ome?鈥 Eva does nothing but squeeze her hand and nod.
She tries then, she tries to adjust to the new information.
To move forward.
It鈥檚 what she鈥檚 always done. It鈥檚 the only thing that can be done.
She lets the rest of Unit Bravo know about the results (thinks for half a second about not saying anything, but she could never hide anything like this from them) and then refuses to discuss them at all.
It is what it is. If there is nothing that can be done to change it鈥攁nd it has been made very clear to her that there is nothing that can be done, not about this鈥攖hen there is no point in wasting time and energy thinking about it.
Because if she starts thinking about it, she鈥檚 not sure what she will do.
If she starts thinking about it, it鈥檒l be back to the apartment, back to the rain, back to that other warehouse.
And if she starts thinking about it, she鈥檚 going to have to think about how all the reasons she had for wanting to turn in the first place are still there. They have not gone anywhere, except that now she has no way to deal with them.
She鈥檚 not sure if she feels numb or if she only wishes she did.
She thinks about it, anyway, whenever her gaze falls on the faint, jagged marks on her wrist, paler than the light brown of her skin.
For years she鈥檇 almost forget the scar was there, the memories associated with it pushed back to the deep corners of her mind. Now it seems to exert a gravitational pull of its own, drawing her sight to it without her permission.
She thinks about it whenever she remembers鈥攁nd she remembers it often these days, can鈥檛 seem to pull the thought from her mind鈥攖hat the blood in her veins is not her own. The whole of her body has been made into a foreign object; unrecognizable, enactor of violence upon itself.
The nightmares are worse than they鈥檝e ever been.
It takes three days for Nate to bring it up: he鈥檇 been waiting for her to do it first.
He does it as gently as ever, as softly as ever. With a kiss to her forehead and hands seeking her skin, brushing down her arms. Perhaps hoping his touch would soothe the sting.
He seems almost apologetic, as though she could break at any moment.
Who鈥檚 to say she won鈥檛?
鈥淛oonam,鈥 he whispers. 鈥淲ill you tell me what鈥檚 on your mind?鈥
(Joonam, he calls her.
He calls her many things in many different languages, but this is the one he always, always comes back to.
Mi vida, she calls him.
Not as often as he does鈥攕he was never one for pet names鈥攂ut often enough.
The thought forms before she can crush it: it seems almost cruel, now, that they鈥檝e dug so deep to call each other my life when he will outlive her by an infinite amount.)
And the look in his eyes makes her want to cry all over again. He鈥檚 pleading with her, keeping the emotion from his voice but it鈥檚 clear in the way he looks at her.
Fuck, this won鈥檛 work.
She can鈥檛 keep doing this. She can鈥檛 do what she always does, not with this.
Because being with Nate has never been easy.
It has been many things鈥攊t has been love and passion and comfort and truth, but it has never been easy or painless. It has never been natural or effortless or uncomplicated.
They don鈥檛 fit together like that.
What it has been is a choice, constant and conscious. A choice to go against her instincts鈥攈er instincts that tell her to hide, to never stop moving, to raze what鈥檚 left and never look back鈥攁nd open herself up in ways that leave her raw and exposed but so vibrantly, painfully alive.
(A choice that she鈥檇 been willing to make for the rest of eternity, even if it never got easier.
A choice that he makes for her, too.)
Poke around in the wound to dig the bullet out.
Her instincts tell her to pull back, and there are words on the tip of her tongue that she swallows down.
Slowly, she takes one of his hands in hers, brings it to her mouth to brush a delicate kiss against his knuckles.
鈥淚 will,鈥 she says, eyes closed. If she opens them the words might not come out. 鈥淲e鈥檒l talk about it, I promise. Just鈥攇ive me a little time, please. Just a little time.鈥
Nate breathes out a sigh that sounds like relief drowned in concern.
鈥淥f course,鈥 he says. 鈥淎nything you need.鈥
The water in the bathtub has cooled around them; the steam dissipated long ago.
Even in the cooling air, they have not moved in a while: Eva leans back against Nate鈥檚 chest with her eyes closed, his arms wrapped loosely around her as he presses sweet, barely-there kisses to the birthmarks on her shoulders. He follows paths he has mapped and memorized countless times before, ones that feel familiar on her skin.
Ones that should be soothing.
As slowly as ever, Nate lets his kisses trail up the side of her neck. They are soft, featherlight; his lips ghost over the multiple marks that have accumulated there before lavishing her with an attention that makes her shiver.
For the longest time, this was something he would not allow himself.
For the longest time, he would shy away from Eva鈥檚 neck as though burnt, and the first time he let her see the fear in his eyes as his fingertips traced the line of her throat is a moment that remains imprinted on her mind.
(She took his hand and pressed it more firmly against the side of her neck, against the beating pulse there. Gentle, almost as gentle as he always was with her鈥攁nd always offering him the choice to draw back. He almost stopped breathing, but his eyes never left hers, and that single instant stretched out into moments, into something she still struggles to name.)
A lifetime seems to have passed since then.
He does not shy away from it now. Not now.
鈥淚 wish we could stay like this,鈥 Eva murmurs.
Just this, right here.
A single moment, endless. One where nothing else matters or even exists. One where the thoughts that have been plaguing her have no power or importance.
鈥淲e can,鈥 Nate whispers in return. His breath is warm, still close to her skin, and he follows it with another kiss directly over her pulse. 鈥淎s long as you want to.鈥
She lets out a sigh. It would be so easy.
God, so easy.
So easy it鈥檚 terrifying.
The temptation to never talk about it again hasn鈥檛 gone away.
But thoughts become corrosive. They seep into every last piece of her sanity that she鈥檚 tried to keep safe. Into every dream and every waking moment until nothing, nothing remains untainted.
The way she flinches when she sees the scar, when she barely paid attention to it before. The way she looks at herself in the mirror and finds flaws she hadn鈥檛 noticed, the way she sometimes wants nothing more than to open her skin and drain out the blood to get it all out. Maybe that would help.
No, it would not be that easy.
鈥淣ot that long,鈥 she forces herself to say. The words are always stuck in her throat, and they will not come out on their own. 鈥淣ot forever.鈥
Nate鈥檚 kisses stop, and the briefest moment of tension tightens his embrace鈥攕omething Eva might not have noticed if she didn鈥檛 know him like she does. But he speaks into the crook of her neck, tenderness the only thing in the softness of his voice. 鈥淒o you want to talk about it now?鈥
It has only been a few days since he鈥檇 mentioned it.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I鈥檒l ever want to talk about it,鈥 Eva admits. 鈥淏ut I have to stop acting like it鈥檚 something we don鈥檛 have to talk about.鈥
She sighs again, sinking further against him. Her own hands come to rest on his arms, wrapping them more tightly around her. 鈥淚 just don鈥檛 know what to do. Where do we go from here?鈥
Nate hums, a soft sound she鈥檚 come to recognize as a contradictory mix of subtle exasperation and patience, tempered by love and concern. She鈥檚 been on the receiving end of it more than a few times. 鈥淲e鈥檒l get to that part. Let鈥檚 take it one thing at a time.鈥
Unspoken: For now, just tell me how you feel.
Also unspoken (because it has been spoken too many times): You don鈥檛 have to solve everything by yourself. You don鈥檛 have to solve everything right away.
He knows her too well.
It makes her want to cry, that he knows her this well.
鈥淚 just never thought about this.鈥 Didn鈥檛 think it wouldn鈥檛 work. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 even consider it.鈥 Her voice is barely above a whisper. Small. So fucking defeated.
Because if she can鈥檛 do anything鈥
鈥淣one of us did,鈥 Nate says, and that cuts deep, too.
He does not have defeat in his voice like she does, but the barely concealed pain is enough to make her eyes sting.
The fact that he鈥檚 trying to conceal it at all.
For her sake.
Dammit, Nate.
Because if she can鈥檛 do anything, then what鈥檚 left?
(鈥淣ate, I don't get to have a normal life.鈥 She鈥檇 been trying not to raise her voice, to rein in the tremor in her words. Trying, and failing. 鈥淣ot with this blood, not with these scars. Not with everything that's happened to me already. Do you think anyone can be normal after that?鈥
One of the many times they鈥檇 argued about this. He had tried, wanted to show her value in humanity that she could never see.
He鈥檇 turn back, he鈥檇 choose to be human, to be mortal, if only he could.
鈥淓ven if I could have that,鈥 she鈥檇 added, more quietly. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want it. If this all went away, what do you think would be left of me?鈥)
She shifts in his arms, turns around until she can face him.
鈥淚 wanted this, Nate.鈥 She lifts a hand to close her fingers around the pendant that hangs from her neck, the one she never takes off, the one he gave her. She closes them so tightly her nails dig into her palm. 鈥淚 wanted us, like this, forever. I wanted it so much I don鈥檛 know how to be anything else anymore. Nothing else makes sense even if I try.鈥
Nate covers her hand with his own, both closed around the pendant. He hesitates before speaking, examining her with eyes that betray the depth of feeling in them, but eventually, he does. 鈥淚 know nothing can dull the pain of having the choice taken from you,鈥 he says, careful, too careful. He鈥檚 been through this. 鈥淚 know that. I would give everything I have to spare you that hurt.鈥
鈥淏ut I鈥檓鈥斺 A soft breath escapes his lips, something that is not intentional, something that is far less controlled. 鈥淚鈥檓 not going anywhere. I will make that promise a thousand times over. It will still be鈥 it can still be forever, for you. You still have us. You still have me.鈥
鈥淎nd you鈥檒l just watch? You鈥檒l watch me get older, weaker, god knows what else? You鈥檒l be okay with that? With watching me die?鈥
The questions leave her mouth like bullets, one after the other.
Harsh. Too raw. The things neither of them wants to hear.
She鈥檚 the one panicking, now.
She鈥檚 said this before.
And Nate flinches, flinches at the bluntness of it鈥攕he wants to take it back at that, even when she knows it has to be said鈥攂ut it does not make his voice waver when he speaks. 鈥淚 love you,鈥 he says, as though that answers all her questions. 鈥淣othing can change that. Every second you鈥檝e chosen to give me has been something precious, something I have treasured, and it will continue to be, no matter what.鈥
One of his hands moves to tangle in the wet locks of her hair. To hold her in place, staring into the depth of his brown eyes, eyes that reflect back the same hurt she feels even if he will not say it.
鈥淏efore we talked about this, before you decided to turn, I鈥擨 knew I might not have you forever. I didn鈥檛 dare to hope I would, didn鈥檛 dare to think of it. But loving you is worth any pain that might come from it.鈥
Her throat constricts, and the emotion in Nate鈥檚 voice dulls the edge she鈥檇 imparted to her words. Of course Nate would say this. Of course he would think this, would feel this.
He would break himself to keep her.
He would break himself for her, without even a hint of hesitation.
(I won鈥檛 do that to you. She鈥檇 said that.)
She looks away, blinking to get rid of the tears that prickle at her eyes. She fixes her stare on the edge of the bathtub: gleaming, burnished copper misted over with condensation.
Instead of following that line of thought鈥攕he doesn鈥檛 trust herself to鈥攕he grasps at something else. Something that stabs with equal force at her chest.
It sounds like someone else speaking when she says, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to be less than you.鈥
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way he frowns.
鈥淏eing human doesn't make you less, Eva.鈥 Nate is resolute, his voice firm even in its warmth, echoes of a recurring argument neither of them had ever won.
鈥淏ut it does,鈥 she counters, voice cracking and desperate, turning her face back to meet his eyes. 鈥淒on鈥檛 you see it? It does, and it will always feel that way. I already have to try so hard just to keep up. What happens when I can鈥檛 anymore? What happens when my body gives up, when I'm too slow, too weak to go on missions?鈥
Why won鈥檛 he see it?
She has tried. Tried to make up for her lack of abilities, for her humanity. She has tried to attenuate it, to make sure it does not become a burden.
She has learned combat from Morgan and Adam, spent hours upon hours in the training room with them until she can barely stand, until Adam smiles at her after a well-placed hit, until Morgan throws a towel for her to catch and there鈥檚 nothing but pride in the look she gives her.
She has studied the supernatural world in every way she can; submerged herself in it, let it coat every cell of her body and every neuron in her brain.
It is what she breathes.
And she鈥檚 been forced out of it.
鈥淭hat still wouldn鈥檛 make you less, nothing could.鈥 The affection, the love in his voice burns. 鈥淭here is so much more to you than what you can do.鈥
She shakes her head.
鈥淚 swore I wouldn鈥檛 be a burden to this team. And you know how I am, Nate, I couldn鈥檛 bear鈥擨 don鈥檛 want to get left behind. And I will. You鈥檒l keep on being who you are and I鈥 won鈥檛.鈥
The tears aren鈥檛 pricking at her eyes anymore. They are falling.
The words aren鈥檛 stuck in her throat anymore.
鈥淓verything I told you I didn鈥檛 want, all of it, that鈥檚 going to happen and there鈥檚 nothing I can do about it. And I have this thing inside me that鈥檚 making it all happen and my body isn鈥檛 mine anymore. I don鈥檛 get a say in any of it.鈥
She leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his touch even when it won鈥檛, it can鈥檛 be enough. Not for this.
She is instantly enveloped in his arms, drawing her closer against him.
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry, mi vida,鈥 she whispers against his skin. 鈥淚 just don鈥檛 know what to do.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry, too,鈥 he answers, quiet, almost too quiet, into her hair.
And there is a thought.
Because if there is nothing she can do鈥
But this is one she refuses to even entertain. To acknowledge.
I won鈥檛 do that to you.
She鈥檇 said that.
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queerbrujasa month ago
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your love is sunlight
pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro word count: ~700 rating: T
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this is absolutely mindless fluff i wrote this morning in an attempt to freewrite, please don鈥檛 look at it too hard
Nate usually wakes earlier than she does.
(He insists on keeping human hours, even though he doesn鈥檛 need as much sleep. Eva will not question him, not when it leads to them waking up together, and it鈥檚 just one of the things that make him so very Nate. But she doesn鈥檛 quite understand it, either.)
Not today, though.
When she opens her eyes, still bleary and sleep-heavy, he鈥檚 still sleeping: the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing makes his chest rise and fall under her, and the thick lashes that frame his eyes flutter lightly against his cheeks. His face is turned towards her, and one of his arms is still loosely wrapped around her, as though even in sleep he could not bear to let her go.
And he looks so peaceful. So lovely, no trace of tension in his brow and the softest smile on his lips. Eva could kiss him, wants to kiss him, the memory of the feeling of his lips against her coming back in full force and making her sigh softly.
By all rights, he shouldn鈥檛 look so at home here. Not here in her apartment with the sparse, modern furniture and the white walls and the technology (Tina had once said it reminded her of an Apple store, and Eva can鈥檛 in good honesty argue that claim). Not here in her bed that is only just big enough for him. Not here. The whole place is so much the antithesis of Nate as to be slightly funny.
But none of that had mattered, and it doesn鈥檛 matter now, and it will continue to not matter. She shouldn鈥檛 feel so at ease in Nate鈥檚 room in the Warehouse, either. Or in the antique library with a filing system that has no rhyme or reason. But she does, just as he does.
(Perhaps at ease isn鈥檛 exactly the right way to say it. She is aware of the contrasts. But those places feel like him, and despite those contrasts they are welcoming.)
A feeling starts to form in Eva鈥檚 chest like a soap bubble, delicate, and she tries not to look at it for too long, but the way Nate鈥檚 skin feels against hers makes it a difficult endeavor.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e staring, darling.鈥 Nate鈥檚 eyes are still closed and his voice sleep-heavy, but the soft smile on his lips has grown.
She didn鈥檛 notice him waking up. She never does.
鈥淚鈥檓 admiring you,鈥 she counters with a soft laugh. Now that he鈥檚 awake, she can鈥檛 resist him: she shifts closer until she鈥檚 fully on top of him and starts the task of leaving a trail of kisses along the line of his jaw, quick and smiling.
Nate laughs too and tilts his head back to give her better access to his neck, a request that she eagerly obliges. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e in a good mood today,鈥 he says, hints of teasing seeping into his tone.
She gives one last kiss to his throat before lifting herself on her elbows to look at him. 鈥淥f course I am,鈥 she says, as though it鈥檚 the most obvious thing in the world. It should be. 鈥淚 got to wake up with you.鈥
The smile he gives her at that has no small amount of surprise in it and it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners; she could spend ages, ages memorizing the shape of his mouth, the color of his eyes. His hands settle on the small of her back, a warm, pleasant weight.
She leans in for a quick kiss to his lips but draws back before he can return it. 鈥淟ook at me,鈥 she says, laughing again. 鈥淲hat have you done? You鈥檝e turned me into a sap.鈥
Before she realizes what鈥檚 happening, and before she has time to react with anything more than a brief squeal of laughter, there鈥檚 a blur of movement and he鈥檚 reversed their positions鈥攕he finds herself on her back with her head on the pillow and Nate hovering over her.
The laughter dies down at the look in his eyes鈥攊t鈥檚 not the hungry, lust-filled look he gave her last night, but something equally breathtaking. Adoring, even, something that has that soap bubble feeling growing and growing.
鈥淚 think you鈥檙e still wonderfully you,鈥 he says, barely above a whisper, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. Always a tease, it鈥檚 not a real kiss: just a featherlight touch that sends shivers along her spine.
鈥淵ou would.鈥 Eva reaches up to tangle her fingers in his hair and bring him down into a proper kiss. Still smiling, he goes willingly; he always does.
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mariona-caldenteya month ago
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evanavarro12 驴Lo mejor del deporte? Las amistades que deja
"the best thing of sport? the friendships it gives
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"everything is better with you 鉂わ笍"
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queerbrujas2 months ago
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handmade heaven
pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro word count: 1k rating: T warnings: mentions of alcohol
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look, we all know we鈥檙e never getting the bisexuality conversation in canon, so i鈥檓 just gifting it to myself: nate and eva are both bi, and they talk about it. that鈥檚 the fic.
鈥淚鈥 started dating when I was fifteen.鈥
She doesn鈥檛 look at Nate when she speaks.
A slight frown on her face, Eva looks at the glass of gin and tonic in her hand instead, the ice cubes in it half-melted: it鈥檚 an easy thing to focus on, and the effects of it are already becoming clearer in the way she talks, far more freely than usual.
She doesn鈥檛 usually talk about this.
Not that there鈥檚 anything to hide, certainly not from Nate.
It鈥檚 just not a topic she finds herself coming to often. It鈥檚 tied to certain things she鈥檇 rather avoid.
And yet she keeps going, and Nate lets her. Lets her talk as much as she wants to. Needs to.
鈥淢ostly as a way to be out of the house, you know? Rebecca wasn鈥檛 around except on weekends鈥濃攕he pretends not to notice the way Nate winces at the mention鈥斺渁nd I was too old for nannies already. It was just me. So I just鈥 found other things to do. Had school, joined a lot of clubs. And, well, dating. Fooling around a bit. Didn鈥檛 really know what I was doing.鈥
It hadn鈥檛 been so bad, though. She鈥檇 never dated anyone for long, but she鈥檇 never had bad experiences.
Bobby had been the worst, and that had been much later. Even that hadn鈥檛 really left much of a mark, except for the one on her career.
鈥淚 came out at sixteen,鈥 she adds. 鈥淚t wasn鈥檛 hard, not really. People here didn鈥檛 care too much. I thought they would鈥擨 thought it was the end of the world. But it was fine. Rebecca didn鈥檛 care, either. She was alright about that. But it still felt鈥 weird. You know? Like you have something to prove to yourself.鈥
She shakes her head, lets it go.
But then a thought that has been nagging at her for a while makes its way up her throat before she can stop it.
It鈥檚 just, well, Nate.
Nate with his brown skin that seems to glow in the light of her open-plan apartment. Nate with his tumbler of expensive whiskey that he brought here himself (she wouldn鈥檛 have known what to buy, would probably not have had the budget for it); Nate with his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, always.
Gorgeous, sweet, wonderful Nate鈥攚hom she鈥檚 very nearly in love with鈥攚hom she can鈥檛 get out of her mind and who is three hundred years old.
Three hundred.
She can鈥檛 wrap her head around it.
So, she asks.
鈥淲hat was it like for you?鈥
She鈥檚 still talking to the glass. Still frowning.
鈥淵ou鈥檝e been alive so long, I can鈥檛 even imagine鈥攂ack then, it must have been鈥斺
It must have been so tough.
It鈥檚 one thing for her to be out in the twenty-first century and another very different thing for Nate to have been born in the sixteen hundreds. And she knows he鈥檚 had lovers before, knows he must have navigated it all somehow, and still鈥
But then rational thought catches up with her words, and she stops herself.
She shakes her head. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 have to tell me,鈥 she says immediately.
She means it.
She鈥檚 seen the way Nate looks whenever family comes up, even her own. Whenever his past comes up, and from the few things she鈥檚 pieced together鈥攖he carnival mirror, the few comments he鈥檚 made, him being in the Navy鈥攕he can鈥檛 blame him, wouldn鈥檛 even dream of pushing him to talk about it.
It must all be so raw. Her questions aren鈥檛 worth that.
鈥淚鈥檓 just鈥 curious about you,鈥 she adds by way of explanation, echoing something he鈥檇 said to her once. 鈥淏ut if it鈥檚 too much, I really don鈥檛 need to know. I promise.鈥
She鈥檚 made that clear to him (at least, she hopes she鈥檚 made that clear). Whatever happened to him only needs to come out when he鈥檚 ready to talk about it. If he鈥檚 ready to talk about it.
Before she can lose herself in her thoughts, however, Nate tightens his arm around her.
鈥淚t鈥檚 okay. You can ask.鈥 He smiles down at her and it鈥檚 strained, yes, but she can tell it鈥檚 sincere. (It鈥檚 there, in the way it reaches his eyes, warm and soft and sweet and she鈥檚 never had anyone look at her like that before). 鈥淚 just鈥 try not to think about it too much these days, about how it was. When you鈥檝e lived this long鈥︹ He trails off.
鈥淏ut it wasn鈥檛 easy at first, no. Not when I was in the Navy. I believe that鈥檚 when I first realized.鈥 He gives a soft laugh, but there isn鈥檛 much humor in it. 鈥淚t would have been difficult not to.鈥
鈥淚 tried to鈥斺 He shakes his head, as though thinking better of what he was about to say. She doesn鈥檛 press. 鈥淚t didn鈥檛 matter so much after I joined the Agency, as long as I kept to interactions with other supernaturals.鈥
Something, something in the way he says that makes Eva think that鈥檚 not how it always was. She couldn鈥檛 imagine Nate forgoing human interaction entirely, Agency or not.
There鈥檚 a question on the tip of her tongue, but she knows it鈥檚 not the time to ask it.
Still, she wonders.
Why does he care so much? Why would anyone, after everything he鈥檚 been through? She hasn鈥檛 been through a fraction of that and she barely cares at all.
鈥淣ate鈥︹
鈥淚t鈥檚 just how it was. But I wasn鈥檛 always unhappy. I was lucky, for the most part; luckier than I could have been.鈥
There it is. She鈥檚 learned to read this, too鈥攕he wouldn鈥檛 call it deflection, and she knows he鈥檚 not lying, but it鈥檚 a very clear indicator that the topic is over.
It鈥檚 that tension in his smile.
But then the tension dissipates when he speaks again. 鈥淎nd now I鈥檝e found you. That makes up for everything else.鈥
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queerbrujas2 months ago
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wip wednesday
thank you @magebastard for the tag! aside from my morgan brain worms, i鈥檓 finally finally making some progress on ch. 3 of then it vanished away from my hands, so here, have a first draft:
鈥淎re you okay?鈥
It takes her a monumental effort to speak. Her throat feels raw, her thoughts scrambled, paper-thin.
Eventually, she shakes her head. 鈥淚 don't want to talk about it.鈥
Farah nods, though she still eyes her with concern. She reaches out and lets her hand hover over Eva's knee鈥攕he doesn't touch her, but it's close enough that Eva feels the warmth of her through her clothes.
鈥淒o you want me to just sit here with you for a while? We don't have to go back home yet.鈥澛
Eva barely manages to choke back a dry sob at the mention of home, but she's grateful, grateful to Farah for putting into words what she wouldn't have been able to.
鈥淧lease,鈥 she croaks, giving a nod.
i鈥檝e already tagged people today so i鈥檓 not gonna annoy anyone else lmao, but please tag me if you have anything to share!
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