#//and on top of that! the description on his box only talks about his gun so we know nothing about his personality and stuff like that

[mechahero]

//gazelle the peacemaker is such a weird character. the dude was supposed to be in a video game but then the video game went unreleased and all that’s left of it is a 20 second clip of the game and since then he’s only shown up as a figure with a recolor variant released in 2005 and that’s it.

[captains-simp]

hi! can you write a yelena x fem!reader based on best friend’s brother by victorious where reader is nat’s best friend but falls for yelena?

I love the best friend's sibling trope🤧 Yes, I used Google translate for some parts. Yes, I am sorry in advance

7k words

Warnings: brief injury description and R getting tipsy (and having less of a filter than usual 👀)

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Nat you're not going to believe what I just saw! It has single handedly made my week- whoa!" You exclaimed as you threw your hands up and backed against the nearest wall.

"Who are you?" Demanded the blonde from the other end of her gun. You glanced frantically between her hand gun and her stone cold grey eyes, not knowing which you should be more afraid of.

"Y/n." You answered shakily, your mouth and throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper.

"Yelena!" Natasha shouted as she came into the living room. "Put your gun down you сумасшедшая сука (crazy bitch)!" Yelena hesitated as she gave you the once over and slowly lowered her weapon. You didn't fail to notice how she kept it in her hands until Natasha snatched it away.

"Hey!" She argued and tried to grab it back.

"You get gun privileges back when you stop pointing them at my friends." Natasha said as she put it in the safe under the kitchen counter.

"She didn't knock!" Yelena defended with a thick accent.

You were still stood awkwardly against the wall as you watched the interaction. You had no idea who the blonde was much less why she had acted like a paranoid guard dog. Not that you were offended, being friends with someone who had a lot of protective friends and coworkers meant this had happened more than you wanted to admit. JARVIS actually had some very over the top weapons pointed at you twice.

"I don't knock when I go to her place." Natasha pointed out. You smiled nervously at the blonde when she looked over at you again.

"Well as your new roommate it seems like something I should know."

New roommate? Natasha hated the idea of a roommate and had always been very vocal about it. It was why she insisted on having her own apartment rather than living in at the Avengers compound.

You glanced around and couldn't see any moving boxes or suitcases or really anything that indicated anyone else was living there. Either Yelena had already packed or she just wanted to keep all her personal things to herself.

"Temporary roommate." Natasha corrected making the blonde huff. "Who still hasn't gotten the groceries." Yelena mumbled something under her breath in Russian as she trudged towards the door. She glanced your way once then looked back as if second guessing you. She narrowed her eyes slightly and you fidgeted on the spot, feeling nervous under her gaze.

"What did you see?" She asked.

"I'm sorry?" You replied, not knowing where the question came from.

"What did you want to tell Natasha about." You stared at her blankly for a second before you suddenly realised what she meant.

"Oh! I saw a man walking seven ferrets." You said with a fond smile as you remembered the way their leads were getting caught up as the scrambled over each other. Yelena stared back at you. "Seven is a lot." You said. She still didn't seem to get it. "I like ferrets." You mumbled as you felt embarrassed.

She didn't say anything as she looked you over one more time and opened the door to leave, shutting it firmly behind her. You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding once the door clicked shut.

"Seven?" Natasha teased with a smirk as put some toast in the toaster. You grumbled as you walked over to the kitchen island and leant against it.

"She's intense." You commented and whipped your head around to the door, afraid she would walk back in.

"She's my sister." Natasha said casually.

"Sister? What?! Since when did you- Sister?!" Natasha chuckled at your reaction and shrugged simply.

"It's complicated."

"Everything with you is." You fired back. "Look I'll tell you our life story later." She waved off. You had known Natasha for years and considered each other your closest friends. You told her everything but you understood early on that there was a lot about her life she couldn't talk about. Whether it was because it could endanger you to know or it was simply to painful to recall, there would always be something.

"And I'm sorry about her wanting to shoot you. She's a lot." Natasha sighed, clearly tired. She had been away for months and you guessed she had found Yelena at some point during that mission. She had only been back a week and clearly needed a break. You wondered if she would finally take Fury up on his promise of a vacation.

"She's just protective." You shrugged. "Like someone else I know." You eyed the redhead with a smile. Yelena honestly seemed nothing short of terrifying to you, but you weren't going to admit that to your friend who would remind you of it every chance she got.

"Trust you to defend someone who put a gun on you." Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed a hot drink towards you.

"She seems nice." That wasn't the right word and given the look Natasha gave you she agreed. "Witty?" You tried. Natasha pulled a face in disagreement and you sighed in defeat. "Whatever, she's cute though." You thought aloud. Natasha shot you a warning look.

"Don't go crushing on my sister, y/n." She said with a serious edge to her tone. You laughed at her sudden shift and fell down on her sofa to grab the remote to start binging the shows Natasha had missed with you.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

*

It was a Friday night when you saw the blonde next. The bar you worked at was surprisingly quiet for the day but you didn't mind at all. Less people meant less chance of having to deal with a drunken fight. Not that that ever really happened there.

You worked in a small bar that had been running since long before you were born. It wasn't the most out there establishment and combined with it's location on the quieter, arguably more sketchy, parts of the city, it wasn't massively popular. In fact, everyone who showed up at the bar you recognised instantly, lest the rare groups of people who stumbled upon the building. No one who went there was all that talkative, but you had come to know each of them over the years.

It wasn't that the bar itself was sketchy. It wasn't involved in illegal gambling or drug dealings. It was just that it seemed to remind people of home. You had alcohols there that you just couldn't find in shops or other bars. Behind the bar was everything from Mexico's brightest palomas to Russia's strongest vodka. The latter was what had drawn Natasha to your worn down place of work the first time you met her. While she didn't like to be reminded of her past in Russia, like a couple other customers you had, she couldn't deny she missed the booze. So you guessed you shouldn't have been surprised to see Yelena joining her that night.

"Just give it a chance will you." Natasha scolded her younger sister in a hushed voice. You smiled at the encounter as the pair came towards the bar. Everything the redhead had been able to tell you about her time away was evident from the way the siblings interacted. It really hadn't taken them long to fall back into the squabbling sisters role, like they hadn't ever been apart.

Yelena grumbled something in Russian as she glanced around the bar, her eyes soon landing on yours and just as unreadable as the last time you saw her. The memory had been playing a lot in your head.

"Hi again." You smiled at her before turning your attention to your friend. "The usual?"

"For this one too." Natasha nodded to her sister as she sat down on a stall, soon followed by Yelena.

You took two shot glasses from the shelf and put them infront of the sisters and opened a bottle of Natasha's favourite bottle. You filled the both to the brim and put the bottle on the counter, knowing the redhead wanted it there. Natasha wasn't really a regular drinker, but when she did enduldge herself she didn't seem to have a limit. You had never once seen her drunk.

Natasha didn't hesitate in tilting her head back with the glass at her lips and didn't flinch when she swallowed the drink. Yelena rolled her eyes but copied anyway.

You carried on with drying some glasses and tried not to pay close attention to the blonde's reaction. You always loved the moment that customers realised they had found the drinks of their country. And as Yelena was harder to read, it took extra attention to detail to spot the moment of realisation. Natasha was watching for it too.

Yelena shrugged. She shrugged, clearly underwhelmed. "It's good." She commented. Natasha sighed dramatically and poured herself another shot as she grumbled about never being able to please her sister.

You went back to your duties properly and shook your head with a sigh. First time for everything. However when you risked a glanced at Yelena you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips. You grinned to yourself, deciding then that you were determined to see a proper smile from the blonde at some point.

"What's got you smiling?" Natasha asked with a smirk.

"Am I not allowed to just smile, Tasha?" You quipped back.

"I take it your date went well." You groaned at the mention of the event.

"It actually really didn't." You huffed. It was actually one of the worst dates you had ever been on. You had been giggling like a school girl when Natasha told you a shield agent had eyes for you. The two of you exchanged numbers and arranged a date but it became clear to you pretty quickly she wasn't as ready to date again as she thought she was. "She's definitely not over her ex." She grimaced. Natasha hummed in thought.

"Okay, but do you want me to key her car?"

"She paid for my coffee!" You laughed, she always had to be dramatic with her protectiveness.

"Is that a no then?" Yelena asked. You honestly had no idea if she was joking or not.

"It's a no." You confirmed with a smile.

"I'm sure I can find you someone else." Natasha said confidently. You hummed in response and watched her pour another pair of shots.

"That's okay, Tasha. Maybe you should focus on yourself and a certain other redhead." You grinned. Natasha shot daggers at you as Yelena whipped her head around to stare at her sister.

"You have a boy..." She paused and scanned her sister quickly. "Girlfriend?" She concluded. You snickered and poured a drink for another customer, focusing on him momentarily as the pair bickered further.

"There is nothing going on with me and Wanda!" Natasha exclaimed.

"The magic one?" Yelena asked with interest.

"The magic one." You confirmed with a grin.

"What's she like?" The blonde continued as she leaned forward.

"She's better than you Сволоч (jerks)." Natasha mumbled as she rolled her eyes.

"And a total babe." You added and leapt back when the redhead went to hit you.

"Y/n!" You spun around at hearing a familiar voice. Joseph, your oldest regular, was making his way through the room towards the end of the bar, a fond smile etched into the deep lines on his face.

"Hey, pal." You smiled back and went to prepare his usual as he started to chat away at you.

"You never had anything with her?" Yelena asked boldly as she tilted her glass towards you.

"Y/n?" Natasha was surprised to say the least. She had never thought of you that way and no one else had ever asked about it. "No." She chuckled, thinking of all the times you had done everything in your power just to get her and Wanda alone in a room together. "Why'd you ask?"

"I just wondered." She said as she tapped her glass in thought, grey eyes watched you actively engage in conversation with the older man. Natasha narrowed her eyes at her sister.

"Right. Just don't crush on my best friend." She warned as she poured her sister another shot.

"You got it." She nodded and threw her head back as she downed the shot.

*

You ended up seeing Yelena quite frequently. Not only did she join Natasha in coming to the bar, but she seemed to always be there when you visited your friend too. She wasn't much of a small talker, you learned that quickly, but the passing moments you happened to be alone in each others company stopped being awkward quickly.

Yelena was surprisingly easy to get along with. Once you had found a common ground of interest (making fun of Natasha) you could easily carry a conversation with her, but she was still closed off - something you were expecting given her past. There was one evening that made that as clear as it could be.

"I'm just saying the Avengers would be very happy to have you!" Natasha exclaimed with a smile as you sat giggling next to her.

"I'm not going to be a hero." Yelena waved off. She had quickly began agitated when she had nothing to do. There had always been something. Some mission. Some test. Some important training. Anything. And now she was free from the Red Room Yelena was struggling to know what she could do. You could tell she wanted to have a meaningful role, you just doubted she was going to admit that.

"There's always bounty hunting." You suggested as you flicked through the thin file in your lap. Sometimes when Natasha was struggling with a particular case file she gave it to you for a new insight. You never got a name or any big details in the files and it still wasn't entirely within the rules, but sometimes you actually helped.

"He bled to death from the stabbing, then he was shot." You muttered to the redhead as you passed the file back. Turns out being a drop out med student was good for something. While Natasha was the best of the best, she was still human and there were things even she overlooked from time to time that you picked up on.

"That's a good one." Yelena agreed as she sipped on her beer, pondering the suggestion.

"But why even go for something like this at all?" You said. Natasha and Yelena gave you a confused glance.

"I'm sticking to what I'm good at." The blonde said slowly.

"I'm sure you're skill set expands beyond all...this." You waved your arms around aimlessly. "Was there anything you remember enjoying before?" You asked curiously and Yelena instantly stiffened.

"No." She said bluntly and put her bottle down on the table. "Bounty hunting sounds good, I'll look in to it." She said as she left the living room area and headed towards her room without a second glance.

Your throat felt dry suddenly as guilt washed over you. What kind of a question even was that? She was only a kid when it happened, part of you wondered if she even remembered the part of her life before the Red Room.

"She's okay." Natasha assured, as though reading your mind.

"I shouldn't have asked." You muttered.

"Probably not, but for what it's worth" Natasha started as she went to put the shield file away "I thought you were onto something."

So you never asked about her past again, but that didn't stop you from thinking about it. You wondered if it was something she and Natasha talked about, only able to confide in one another about the nightmares they shared. Or was it an unspoken thing, something that they kept in the deepest darkest parts of their minds? You didn't expect to ever get an answer to that question.

Not so deadly assassin: THERE'S A FUCKING RAT IN MY ROOM

Not so deadly assassin: come deal with it!!!

Not so deadly assassin: Y/N

Not so deadly assassin: oh NOW you have a life

Not so deadly assassin: if you don't come over in 5 minutes I'm killing it

You huffed as you took your phone out of your pocket to see who had been blowing up your phone. You skimmed over Natasha's messages and sent a quick threat telling her if she ended the rat's life you would end hers and sped up your walk.

Luckily you were only a few minutes away from Natasha's apartment and after running up the stairs a few at a time you knocked on your friend's door and licked your partly spilt drink off your hand with a curse.

Yelena opened the door and motioned for you to come inside, seeming unfazed by your arrival and no doubt knowing why you were there. "Is she okay?" You asked as you looked around frantically.

"She just got called away for a mission." Yelena said as she led you through the apartment to Natasha's room.

"I meant the rat." You mumbled and spotted it in the corner. Yelena snickered at your comment and leant against the door frame as she watched you slowly approach the rodent.

"How did it even get in here?" You asked as you cooed and held your hand out to the rat that considered you curiously.

"Came in through the window apparently. I think Natasha wants to tear down the fire escape now." Yelena deadpanned.

"Like either of you need it anyway." The rat came closer to you and sniffed your hand before walking onto it. You picked up the small creature and placed her down gently on the fire escape before shutting the window.

"Was that so hard?" You said with a smile.

"They carry disease, you know?" Yelena fired back.

"So do we!" You exclaimed and paused when Yelena gave you a side eye. "Okay some of us." You corrected as you washed your hands.

"I hope she didn't call you away from anything important." Yelena said as she glanced at the hot drink you had left on the counter.

"I was just about to go to the pharmacy." You shrugged.

"It's your lucky day, I need band aids." Yelena declared as she picked up her satchel bag.

"Band...aids?" You questioned with a shit eating grin as you grabbed your drink and headed for the door with the blonde behind you.

"Yes, y/n. I need band aids. You're as bad as Natasha, she doesn't seem to think we need them either. We have everything in that bathroom except band aids!" You giggled as you watched her ramble in exasperation, finding it undeniably cute when she got lost in her own world about something.

"So if you're bleeding to death you'll be fine but if you get a papercut then things are gonna get bad?" You teased as you left the building. Yelena rolled her eyes at you but seemed to not be able to stop the small smile fighting for it's appearance, tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"It's a pretty big papercut." She mumbled as she inspected the cut on her forefinger.

"Well I think you're very brave." You grinned.

You walked in a comfortable silence for a while until your eyes landed on something that spiked every happy hormone in your body. "Yelena!" You grabbed at her arm and pointed across the street. The blonde was understandably alarmed at first and you noticed her reach into her back pocket for something until she saw what you were pointing at.

"Seven ferrets." Yelena muttered as she watched the small animals half run down the street infront of their owner.

"Seven adorable ferrets." You corrected as you watched them continue to scurry along.

"I can see how that could be the highlight of your week." Yelena recalled and you couldn't help but blush slightly. "I think this is the highlight of mine." She admitted.

"You're only human." You sighed as you turned around to keep walking, a content smile on your lips.

"Why don't you have pets if they make you so happy?" Yelena asked curiously.

"Not allowed in my apartment." You said gloomily. It was probably for the best, you would have a lot of pets if you could, too many to handle.

"If you think about it, rats are just small ferrets and you see those everyday. You could go find some more." Yelena teased and you chuckled.

"Haven't you heard? They carry disease." It was Yelena's turn to laugh lightly at that. You smiled proudly at causing the beautiful sound and felt your stomach do a small flip.

*

It turned out all the Avengers were keen to have Yelena on their team. Tony and Steve had introduced themselves to the new Russian one evening and bored (Yelena's words) her with stories of their latest successful missions and how great it was to be an Avenger. She didn't buy it.

Then she started getting emails and texts from the team, inviting her to different events and trying to get on her good side. Tony had even sent an extravagant gift basket to the apartment one day. Yelena had asked you to spend the afternoon sorting through it with her, snacking on all the expensive chocolates on the way as you told the blonde you thought she had a secret admirer.

It was early in the afternoon when she finally agreed to meeting the whole team.

"I just think it could be fun. I know they probably seem like annoying children right now, but at those parties they have to behave." You said into the phone as you balanced it on your shoulder.

"I don't think I own the right kind of clothing for it." Yelena said.

"I'm sure Natasha can lend you something, she is your big sister after all." You teased and heard her groan.

"You don't even have to stay long. But once you actually meet them they'll lay off about you joining if you still don't want to."

"It's just not-"

"Your thing." You finished with a smile. "I know, Lena. They'll get it." She hummed in thought and a silence fell over your phones until you cursed. "Shit." You muttered when the table leg fell down again.

"You need help putting that table together?" Yelena asked for the umpteenth time. You sighed as you sat back and glared at the parts sprawled out across the floor.

"Yes please."

*

Yelena Belova wearing a suit was something else entirely. Every outfit her sister offered her she turned down until Natasha grew frustrated and took Yelena out for a suit fitting, and god it paid off. The blazer hugged her body closely in a way you partly wished you could feel. You knew the blonde wasn't big on any form of affection, especially physical, but you loved it and Yelena had become a good friend. During late evenings when she was sitting comfortably in an armchair with a large hoodie on you thought she looked so soft and warm. You could only imagine how safe you would feel in her arms. You always had to put those thoughts aside quickly, not wanting to let your mind linger on things so intimate.

"Told you this place isn't so bad." You laughed nervously as Yelena approached you. She smiled and shook her head, her eyes looking so much brighter in the new lighting.

"I can't argue with that." The blonde shrugged and followed you to the bar.

"You um, you look amazing by the way." You said as she avoided Yelena's gaze, not wanting to let your eyes wander the way they were straining to. Unfortunately that meant you missed how she took in your attire and the admiration she struggled to hide.

"So do you." She smiled.

"Evening." Natasha said with a smirk as she came up to you and Yelena from the other side of the bar.

"This does not feel right at all." You winced making the redhead smile, more so when she prepared what she knew was your favourite drink.

"Yelena! You running away from me?" Sam grinned as he strolled towards the bar. You smiled into your drink when you saw the blonde shift on her feet in slight frustration.

"You gotta come meet Maria, you're gonna love her!" He exclaimed as he tried to steer Yelena away. She looked back at you with a face that was clearly asking for help but you just giggled as she left and waved goodbye to her.

"Has she met Wanda yet?" You grinned at Natasha knowingly and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks.

"She has." You hummed and looked across the room to spot the Sokovian in question. "And?"

"And they only just stopped talking when you arrived." You nodded with a triumphant smile, knowing the pair would get along. You missed Natasha's short analysis of your expression, trying to find the thing she knew you were hiding until someone else arrived at the other end of the bar and she rushed off.

You leaned over the bar to pour yourself another drink and started across the room. It didn't take long at all to find Wanda, or rather for her to find you.

"Y/n!" She exclaimed as she pulled you in for a crushing hug barely a second after you had turned around.

"Hey Wan." You laughed as you tried to hug her back.

"How are you, sweetie?" She asked as she let you go.

"I'm good, how have things been for you?" It had been far too long since you had seen the Sokovian and you missed her company a lot. She had such a calming presence that you always felt so comfortable around. You had told her that once, not knowing the fears she faced of her powers and the mistrust she had in herself, and she had teared up as she pulled you in for your first Wanda hug.

"So, I hear you met Yelena." You smiled after a while of catching up with the redhead.

"I was slightly terrified of her at first." She admitted with a laugh.

"She had a gun on me when we met!" You exclaimed as you remembered it clearly.

"So I heard." Wanda teased. "I also hear you guys are getting on like a house on fire." She continued as she watched you carefully.

"Yeah." You muttered as you spotted her talking to Maria. "She's pretty great." You said easily.

You spent a while catching up with various team members between drinks. You kept steeling glances at Yelena, mostly catching her in conversations she clearly didn't want to be in but a few times you caught her eye and paused to smile at her. She was always beautiful but you really couldn't get over how she looked in the navy suit.

You were sat by the bar when the party started to come to an end. You usually would have left a while ago but you wanted to be able to say goodbye to Yelena before you did.

"I'm exhausted." Came the familiar husky voice from behind you. Yelena leaned on the bar next to you and poured herself a vodka and downed the shot.

"Me too!" You said loudly with a slight slur. Yelena paused before letting a smile creep onto her lips as she watched you with an amused glint in her eyes.

"How much have you had to drink?" Yelena asked as she took your glass away from you.

"A few." You thought as you tried to calculate in your head but just shrugged in conclusion.

"легкий (lightweight)." The Russian muttered.

"Hey, come over here." Natasha called as she rounded a corner and spotted you and her sister. "We're putting a film on." She declared. You glanced around and noticed that everyone had gone. When did that happen?

"Let's go, Lena!" You called as you took her by the hand and led her through to where Natasha had gone.

"Are you sure?" She questioned as she looked down at your entwined hands.

"Absolutely!" You jumped up a few steps and saw the group sitting around the large TV on the comfy sofas.

"I missed these." You said to Yelena as you fell down onto the nearest sofa and pulled her down next to you. Natasha placed some snacks down on the table and eyed your joined hands without a comment.

You brought your legs up underneath you, not unlocking your fingers when the blonde's who didn't seem to mind. The other Avengers didn't seem to take much notice or interest in how close you were to Yelena and thanks to your slightly tipsy state you didn't bring much attention to it either. All you knew was that you felt comfortable sitting so close to the Russian that your bare arm was touching her soft blazer.

"Your hands are really soft." You whispered to her. She smiled to herself and tried to fight off the slight blush painting her cheeks that you, lucky for Yelena, didn't notice.

"So are yours." She whispered back.

What you didn't realise was that Natasha was still paying close attention to you both with Wanda smiling knowingly besides her, even when the film started and the lights dimmed. She finally stopped when she heard Wanda laugh lightly at something on screen, turning her attention to the girl besides her and then the film.

Barely 10 minutes in you found yourself growing sleepy. The dark room and the warmth of Yelena were certainly part of the cause but you found you really didn't mind, especially when your head fell onto Yelena's shoulder and she didn't shake you off.

Your eyes struggled to focus on the screen and really anything that wasn't the blonde when she shifted on the sofa to let you lean back against her. You smiled faintly as you let your eyes close and relax against Yelena, your hand still in hers.

*

You awoke when the main lights started to come back on and you felt Yelena stretch behind you. Her blazer was draped across your front and you smiled like an idiot when you realised. She had only worn it for a few hours and it already smelt like her.

"Hey." She husked and you felt a chill run through your body when her breath hit your neck.

"Hey yourself." You grinned back.

"Come on, let's get you home." She said as she sat up on the sofa.

"Can you get me a cab?" You asked as you rubbed your eyes.

"I'll drive you." Yelena stood up and held out her hand to help you up too. You took it happily and leaned against her for support for a moment.

You said goodbye to the team and made your way slowly out of the living area and eventually out the building in a concentrated silence. Concentrated for you, Yelena didn't have any issue putting one foot infront of the other.

"You guys okay getting home?" Natasha called from the entrance as Yelena helped you into her car. You gave Natasha two thumbs up and grinned her way as Yelena nodded. The redhead nodded back and folded her arms as she watched you carefully leave the building site.

It wasn't that long a drive to your apartment. Yelena drove in silence while you hummed along faintly to a song playing quietly on the radio, unaware of the smile playing on the blonde's lips.

When Yelena had parked outside your apartment complex she helped you out the car and up to your apartment, unlocking the door for you and guiding you through to your room where she lay you on the bed gently.

"You should change." Yelena said as she got some of your night clothes from the closet and went into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

"You should stay." You grinned at her. She arched a brow at you in question but you didn't respond, only turning around on the bed. "Can you help me with my zipper?"

Yelena nodded and put the glass of water down on your bedside table and pulled the zipper down, trying to ignore the urge to see if the skin on your back was as smooth as it looked. She cleared her throat when she realised the zipper went lower than she thought, reaching your tailbone. Yelena took a step back and turned towards the opposite wall as she heard you step out of the dress and into your bed clothes.

"You should take some too." You said when you pulled the duvet back.

"You really want me to stay?" Yelena questioned, it looked like you were starting to sober up.

"Of course!" You grinned as you leaned on your elbows to watch her and patted the space in bed besides you.

"Okay." She smiled and got some clothes from your closet that she quickly changed into when you looked away to drink the water she had given you.

Yelena folded her suit on a chair in the corner of the room before hesitantly getting into the warm bed besides you. But she surprisingly felt a lot more at ease when you draped an arm over her stomach as you closed your eyes. Yelena sighed lightly at the contact. She never thought she was one for physical contact, but she had been wondering what it would be like to receive it from you for a while. Even craved it after you had held her hand earlier that night.

"Night Lena" You mumbled sleepily. Yelena put her hand on your waist to pull you closer to her and brushed a stray strand of hair away from you face.

"Good night y/n."

*

Despite the killer headache that greeted you, you actually woke up feeling pretty great. Your bed was warmer than usual and you didn't feel quite as alone as you always did in the large bed.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned but froze when you felt a hand on your bare waist where your shirt had ridden up. Yelena was sleeping soundlessly besides you and your breath caught in your throat when you took in her appearance. The sunlight seeping into the bedroom hit her face just right and you had to remind yourself not to stare, even if she wasn't awake to notice it.

You spotted a bottle of advil on the bedside table and a fresh glass of water that you took together. You tried to be careful not to wake Yelena but she started to move when you did, her soft hand slipping from your waist.

"Morning." You said after finishing the glass of water and wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist. Yelena groaned as she stretched out like a cat and looked up at you.

"Morning to you too." She smiled and you wondered if she knew she had her hand on your waist just a few seconds prior.

"Feel free to take a shower and borrow some of my clothes." You offered as you stood up from the bed and made your way across the room.

"Thanks." She hummed quietly. "Hey." You turned around by the door when she called you. "How did you sleep?" She asked curiously as she sat up to face you properly.

"Like a rock." You recalled happily. "You?"

"Yeah," Yelena smiled back, "pretty great." You nodded and made your way to kitchen as Yelena got out of bed with a content smile.

Yelena was in the shower when you started on breakfast. Usually you would have made something simple like toast or some fruit but you figured as you had a guest you should make something better and settled on pancakes. You also wanted to thank her for staying the night with you.

"That smells amazing." Yelena said with wide eyes as she trudged into the kitchen, still drying her hair. Your heart swelled at the sight of the blonde in one of your band shirts with some loose shorts. Your thought that your clothes probably looked better on her and you imagined how soft she would look in your favorite hoodie.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." She teased when you didn't respond. You snapped out of your daze and smiled sheepishly as you avoided her eye and continued to flip the pancakes. You put a plate down on the kitchen island and motioned for her to eat as you put some juice and fruit down too.

"No pressure, but what I think of you as a chef is going to be determined by these." She quipped as she started to cut the food. You smiled and turned around to watch the blonde's face change into a childish grin.

"Not too shabby." You concluded before shovelling more of the food into her mouth.

"No too shabby." You repeated with a sense of pride as you sat down next to her.

"That's what they used to say on the American shows I watched as a kid." She explained. You were about to tell her you had heard the expression before but paused when you realised it was the first time Yelena said anything about her childhood to you.

"Weren't they translated?" You asked carefully.

"No because they were copies from America. My father got them for us." She said and you noticed the far away look in her eyes, no doubt remembering that day as best she could.

"Well if you remember what the show's called we can try watch them again." You suggested with a shrug. Yelena considered you for a moment before she smiled at you softly. "Okay." She agreed. You opened your mouth to speak but there was a sudden loud thudding on your apartment door. You went to stand up to see who it was until Natasha opened the door and slammed it shut making you jump.

"I locked that door." Yelena said with certainty.

"I have a spare key." Natasha showed the metal piece before putting it back into her pocket.

"You want pancakes?" You asked as you stood up to put some more batter in the pan.

"What's going on with you two?" The redhead demanded, ignoring your question.

"What do you mean?" You and Yelena used in unison.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Natasha exclaimed as she raised her voice and looked between you and her equally baffled sister. "Are you dating? You could have told me." She continued as a hurt expression flickered across her face.

"We're not dating." Yelena said slowly but glanced at you. "Are we?" You could have sworn you heard her voice hold something hopeful rather than teasing.

"Not since I last checked."

"Can you quit fucking around and just tell me?" Natasha took a second look at the shirt Yelena was wearing before her jaw clenched.

"Oh no no no. We didn't- she just slept over!" You rambled as you started to panic. Natasha looked far from happy. You had been thinking a lot about what your friend had said the first time you met Yelena. You were never sure if she was really serious or not. All you knew was you that you started to feel guilty when your eyes lingered too long on her sister or when you felt the butterflies in your chest at her contact or really anything she did. You told yourself you kept your promise and didn't have a crush on Yelena, but it was becoming increasingly harder to convince yourself and now Natasha.

"You can tell me." The redhead said quieter as her stance softened. You looked to Yelena who seemed set on staying silent as she stared at her empty plate.

"Natasha I really don't know what to say..." You honestly didn't. You were baffled by the whole situation and Yelena was hardly helping. She really thought you were dating?

"Right, I just wanted to know." The older Russian sighed as she trudged towards the door. There was a heavy silence over the apartment until Natasha stopped by the open door to turn towards you both with a frown.

"I didn't mean it. What I said about..." She glanced around as she fidgeted in the doorway and searched for words. You and Yelena waited patiently. "Wanda said you guys are cute." A smile flickered at the corner of your mouth and you looked to the floor. "She's right." She left without another word and shut the door gently behind her. You exhaled heavily once you heard the click and leaned against the counter.

"Crazy, right?" You laughed nervously. Yelena didn't respond. "You okay?" You started filling the washing up bowl with water, needing to do something as you talked.

"She thinks we're dating." Yelena muttered.

"Yeah that's what I... that's crazy." You laughed more and scratched the back of your neck.

"Is it?" She questioned as she turned around to face you. You couldn't help but stare back at her light eyes that you struggled to read.

"Maybe not." You shrugged. The blonde looked back at the ground with a conflicted look. "No... no it's not." You concluded.

"I like spending time with you." Yelena continued. "Just hanging out, helping you put together that damn table, sleeping next to you. Even at that damn party with like one hundred people I still just wanted to be with you." She admitted and you exhaled a breath you didn't know you had been holding. "I just like being around you."

"I like being around you too." Yelena looked up and you held her gaze as your hands shook with nerves.

"Would you still like being around me if we were on a date?" She asked boldly. You couldn't contain the smile that grew at her words. You reached out and took her hands in yours as you took a step closer to the Russian.

"I would love it." Yelena smiled and stood up slowly, her eyes flickering to your lips as you licked them. You closed your eyes and leaned forward bravely, finding your hands were no longer shaking. Yelena's left hand left yours and came up to your neck to steady herself and close the gap between you, pressing her lips ever so softly against yours.

You snaked your hand around her waist to bring her somehow closer and deepened the kiss you realised you had been craving for so long. You pulled away softly and rested your forehead against Yelena's, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

"I have a huge crush on you." You admitted with a sigh, to yourself and Yelena.

"I have a huge crush on you too." Yelena laughed softly. "Can we do that date now? I think I've waited long enough." You giggled lightly and nodded your head as excitement rushed over you.

"Sounds perfect." You smiled and went to your bedroom to get changed but paused in the hallway. "You should call Nat."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taglist: @caroldanvers2 @marvelwomen-simp @likefirenrain @horcruxhunter90 @mrs-avenger3000 @marvelwomenslut @grxvitye @emilyprentisslittlewhore @lostandsearching @firenrain13 @bxngbxngintothewomb @gayarchnemessis

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[wolves-in-the-world]

clayne crawford in lethal weapon 1.1 “pilot”, so you don’t have to watch it.

(image descriptions below the cut)

~

1— A view of the front of a bank building with a man's head in the foreground, out of focus and facing away, to where Clayne Crawford as Martin Riggs is approaching the bank in the background. Riggs has three pizza boxes balanced on one hand, his other arm swinging loosely at his side. His hair is short, curly, and warm in the sunlight, and his shirt sleeves are rolled messily up to his elbows.

2— A close-up of Riggs kneeling on the floor, utterly unconcerned by the tip of a rifle pointing at him. His head is tilted back, eyes closed, and he's combing his hair back with one hand, like a moment in a shampoo commercial. He has a moustache, and he hasn't shaved for a few days.

3— A view of a door to an office, Riggs just stepping inside with one hand on the doorframe and his jacket in his other. His shirt is only tucked in in one place, the top few buttons undone and exposing an undershirt. His expression is polite enough, and it looks like he's talking to someone inside.

4— A close-up of Riggs' partner Murtaugh in the foreground, wearing a blue brimmed hat and facing away, and Riggs in the background looking to one side with a frustrated expression. His eyes are tight, his forehead creased, his tongue just visible like he's licking his lips. His hair's quite short at the sides, and only a little messy at the top.

5— A close-up of Riggs sitting with a fork in his hand, looking to the side and smiling so he gets creases around his eyes and his forehead, one eyebrow barely raised. It's mischievous, but there's something insincere about it.

6— Riggs standing in the doorway of a softly-lit room with pale pink walls. His posture is quiet, and there's something soft and open and a little sad about his expression.

7— A close-up of Riggs standing in the same pale pink room, someone off-screen handing him a baby in a patterned onesie. Riggs is looking down at the baby, mouth open like he's protesting, and he looks very caught off guard. There's a curl of hair sticking out at the back of his head.

8— A close-up of Riggs and the baby, who is adorable, looking almost directly at the camera with dark eyes. Riggs is holding her comfortably now, looking down at where she's holding his thumb. His expression is difficult to read: it's not entirely sad, though he does look tired. From this angle, the little bumps on his cheek and the odd dents in the skin of his jaw show clearly.

9— A close-up of Riggs against a pale, blurry background, showing the back of his collar and his face in profile, chin obscured, features half in shadow. His hair is really rather neat.

10— A view of a dimly-lit kitchen with a woman sitting with her back against the fridge, hands on the floor by her sides, and Riggs crouched in front of her. The woman looks distressed, probably telling him something. It's an odd angle for Riggs' face, but he's clearly attentive, and his hands are close like he wants to be able to act or reassure her at short notice. His 'rumpled home intruder' vibes are through the roof, but his wedding ring is visible on his left hand.

11— A close-up of Riggs in his trailer, with a backdrop of ugly curtains and various bits of paper on the wall, including an image of a skull and crossbones. He's talking, arms crossed but one hand raised to gesture, his eyes down, the whole thing a bit defensive.

12— A close-up of Riggs in the foreground, facing us but looking to one side as though listening to the person in the blurry background, who's pointing at him with what might be a gun. Riggs' face is half in shadow, eyebrows raised, eyelashes visible, a messy curl of hair sticking out at the back of his head.

13— A view of Riggs crouching in a warmly-lit warehouse holding a rifle tilted towards the floor, face in profile as he looks towards the car a short distance behind him. The car door is open, Murtaugh beginning to climb out. The line down the side of Riggs' neck is showing, and he looks alert and capable, like a soldier.

14— A view of Riggs and Murtaugh sitting side by side behind a crate. Murtaugh is a little out of focus, but he looks wiped out, eyes cast upwards and catching his breath. Riggs, nearer the camera, has a bloody bullet wound in his shoulder that doesn't seem to be bothering him much. He's looking to the side, mouth open and teeth visible, already planning their next move. Some of his hair falls down the side of his face, reaching his cheekbone.

[glitteryhellhole]

alright lets do this

here we go

Title: The Tent Fandom: Z nation Pairing: 10K x female reader Word count: approx 3k Rating: 18 Description: fluffy smut with awkward cinnamon roll 10K

A gas station. A real life, untouched gas station. Apart from the bloody handprints smeared on the concrete walls.

It didn't take long to sweep and secure the area, then fill up the truck and the reserve cannisters. Afterwards Warren gestured with her gun to the convenience store. “Look for anything useful.”

The place had been untouched since day one. Mummified hot dogs still sitting on a rack. The register hanging open- perhaps in the beginning some people had looted cash, but it didn't take long to realise money didn't mean anything anymore.

You shoved bottles of water and packets of candy into your rucksack before following Addy's gaze to the toiletries shelf. Pads and tampons, little travel-sized bodywashes, an actual toothbrush.

“It's a whole new kind of mercy,” she whistled.

You picked up the first aid kit and the two crushed boxes of painkillers, turning to ask Doc if they'd be any good- and found him and Murphy kneeling on the counter, pulling away the plastic panel which guarded the cigarettes.

Priorities, huh.

Loaded up, you looked around you. Warren was on watch so 10K had let his guard down for once and was poking at the faded magazines. You saw his pink lips move as he mouthed the titles to himself. Something familiar caught his eye, probably the one with guns all over, and he reached up- and the whole top shelf came tumbling down. Suddenly 10K was surrounded by glossy double-page spreads of unnaturally bronzed and perky breasts and butts.

He froze like an animal in a trap.

“Found what you're looking for?” Doc's voice was loud and his arms were cradling an impressive quantity of alcohol. “There's a lot of generic lesbians, over forties, asian fetish, but for a beginner I'd recommend-”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a crash as 10K backed rapidly out of the shop, cheeks ablaze, taking down a stand of air fresheners and sending sunglasses skittering across the floor in every direction.

The rest of you laughed, for the first time in a while. Back in the truck and passing round bags of only-slightly-stale chips, you all agreed that the gas station was your best find in quite some time.

Except perhaps for the tent.

A little way back, a stranded family had been incredibly grateful for a tow out of the ditch, and had gifted you their spare tent. No ordinary camping gear, this thing was foil-lined and had a built in waterproof, cushioned underlayer. On an especially hot night you'd probably want it to yourself but the rest of the time it comfortably housed two people, keeping in the heat. You'd been taking turns each night, with priority to the injured, meaning that every morning there was at least one person who was fully rested and recharged. Ideal when every day was a battle for survival.

Of course, there was one other advantage to the tent. Privacy. Human needs didn't really get talked about in this un-human world, and whatever got overheard in the night would also go unspoken.

It was nearing dusk and you were pulling over to make camp. “Who's turn in the tent?” Murphy called out as he threw himself down on the ground. “Dibs.”

Warren, who was unloading a heavy bag, gave him a kick in the side. “Get up and help. I don't think 10K's had a turn yet.”

“Neither's she.” He nodded at you.

“Settled then.”

Murphy sniggered.

Since there was plenty of water, there was a rare chance to wash up a bit. Ladies first while the men stood watch with their backs turned, and then vice versa. Nowhere near to having a hot shower in privacy, but it was something. You noticed that 10K didn't bother putting his shirt back on afterwards as he squatted by the fire cleaning his weapons, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

How could somebody so skinny be so strong? Must be the result of life outdoors.

He raised an eyebrow and you realised you were staring. Oops.

“Here.” Somebody passed you a can of cheap beer that had come from the store along with the snacks and cigarettes. It was almost like being at a camp-out. The beer was gross but it gave you a nice warm feeling in your chest, and the idea of lying down somewhere soft started to seem quite appealing, so you said your goodnights and retreated into the tent.

You weren't sure how long it was until you were joined, perhaps you'd started to drift off- the sound of the zip jolted you back to your senses as 10K flopped unceremoniously into the tent, stretching out next to you. “Beer makes shoelaces hard.” He complained.

You giggled and sat up to help. “When was the last time you slept without shoes on?”

“Probably before my voice broke.” He scratched his head while watching you remove his boots and then said, “I'm not good at talking, especially to girls, but you don't scare me.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I think?” You laid back down, closing your eyes and pulling your blanket over you. There was silence for a minute but it was oddly comfortable, the security of a warm person breathing next to you.

“What was your first word?” You asked into the silence. “I bet it was gun.”

“Actually it was primrose.”

“Huh?”

“My momma's favourite flower.” He rolled over onto his stomach, closing the gap between you, and rested his cheek on his folded arms. “I was six. Doctor said I wasn't learning but I was paying attention to everything. She used to take me to the library in town to look at all sorts of books, that where we learned to sign.”

You couldn't help but ask. “When did she...?”

“When I was nine. Pops wanted me to try and be a normal kid but once she'd gone he didn't want anything to do with the rest of the world and stopped sending me to school.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.” He wriggled a little to get more comfortable. “Can you talk for a bit now?”

So you talked about your own parents, and your hometown, and it surely wasn't very interesting but 10K watched you intently as he sobered up, studying your face, and you hoped you weren't blushing. After a while you came to a natural conclusion in your story and realised that his fingers were twitching, as though he were nervous.

What's up?” you asked softly.

He blinked slowly. “Ain't always easy to tell when you're supposed to say stuff and when you're not.”

Unsure what to expect, you gave him an encouraging nod.

“Can I... touch your hair?”

Your heart started to beat a little fast and you nodded again. 10K's fingers reached out timidly to feel you hair, twisting strands and brushing them away from your face.

You hadn't felt human touch in so long, and you couldn't help but rest your head on his arm as he stroked. The pair of you seemed to breathe in unison. It was almost peaceful.

Almost. Apart from the little sparks of electricity that seemed to fizzle into life where your skin touched his.

Could he feel it too? It didn't seem so. There he was growing more and more serene, while you were   warming up in a way that had nothing to do with the insulated tent.

“Um...” You fidgeted awkwardly, trying to choose the right words. “10K? You know why they were giggling right?”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes were closed. “People do stuff in the tent. Its pretty obviously I've never... y'know.”

“Does it bother you?”

“A bit, but its not like I can go meet a girl and ask her Pops if I can take her to the barn dance.”

You couldn't help but laugh a little. “I mean the teasing.”

“Oh.” He blushed slightly as he opened his eyes to look at you. “I get why, you're near my age and you're pretty. Any guy would be lucky to date you.”

Oh indeed. Maybe he did feel it then.

“You could...” You bit your lip and steeled yourself. “You could pretend that you were.”

He sat bolt upright, making you jump, and a wide grin spread across his face. “I could ask you on a picnic, at my favourite place in the woods.” His words were tumbling out fast from nervous excitement. “Make nice bread, Mom's special recipe with the dried fruit. And we could talk like we did earlier and I could pick you flowers and then I could kiss you.”

His lips were clumsy as they first met yours, but eager, and didn't take long to find a groove. You sighed and leaned in, one hand reaching up into his hair, and-

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

In an instant 10K was lurching for the tent entrance where his gun was propped. You reached for your shoes, panic rising in your chest.

“False alarm.” Doc's voice came from outside. “Nothing to worry about. Hey, you okay in there kid? Need me to give ya a quick pep talk on anything?”

“I'm good.” He zipped the flap back up then turned back to you. “Actually do you think maybe I should? I don't really know what to do.”

You couldn't help but laugh again. He was way too innocent for someone so good-looking.

You put and hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.  “Just do what feels natural.”

“Okay.” He gave you another wide grin, showing those adorably crooked teeth, and then practically launched himself at you, so you landed on your back and he was on top of you, lips moulding to the shape of yours. You gasped for air and 10K made an apologetic sound without pausing the kiss, propping himself up on one elbow so that you could breathe.

His hand rested on your stomach, fingers still for a moment before balling up your shirt and gently navigating the exposed skin. Tentative. Like soothing a spooked animal.

You reached your hand up to touch his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under surprisingly soft skin. Tracing his collarbones and around the back of his neck. He shivered and broke the kiss, and you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

“Maybe I could take your shirt off too.” He mumbled. In answer you sat up and held your arms above your head. 10K pulled your shirt over your head- sending the little lamp tied to the tent roof swinging- then looked confused as his thumb hooked into the shoulder strap of your sports bra. You kind of wished you'd been wearing something nicer for this occasion, but you'd dressed for practicality before hitting the road.

“Here. Let me.” You wriggled out of the bra, trying not to elbow him in the process.

“Wowee.” 10K let out a whistle. “You look even better without clothes on. Why would anyone want to look at random pictures?”

It seemed like he could have sat there and stared forever, but you didn't have forever, and so you pulled him in to kiss again. He trailed his lips across your face and on to your neck, one arm supporting you from behind and the other hand landing on your chest, squeezing experimentally.

“Not so hard,” you gasped.

“Sorry. They're squishier than I expected.” He let out a humming noise into the crook of your neck as his fingers found a hard nipple and brushed back and forth.

You dipped your head down too, lightly touching your teeth to his throat. A low growl escaped and he pushed you back down, pressing his body close to yours, and you could feel his eager hardness against your hip.

10K tried the same move, nipping at the skin under your ear. His breathing was very shallow and rapid as he licked and sucked experimentally, moving down over your breasts.

“You taste good. But not in a zombie way.”

Your hands rested on his hips, fingers splaying out to softly squeeze his ass and then dipping below the loose waistband.

“Oh, wait.” He rolled off you to shed a pile of concealed knives and the little sharp discs that he used in the sling shot.

“What else are you hiding down there?” You smirked. For a moment he turned beetroot red and covered his crotch with his hands, but then met your smile with one of his own.

“Just means I like you and I like this.” He shrugged. “Do you-”

“Mmhmm.” You reached out to ease his trouser buttons undone, fumbling slightly, but you weren't nervous. It just felt right with him. “I like you. And I like this.”

He groaned softly as the restriction on his hardness eased and grabbed you for another kiss, this time hungry and slightly sloppy. 10K's fingers found the fastening of your own jeans and made quick work, tugging them down to your knees. Then he paused for a moment, putting a finger to your lips.

There was no noise from outside.

“We're good.” With a bit of awkward shuffling, you both shed your trousers and then looked at each other.

“We probably shouldn't go all the way,” you said almost reluctantly. “No protection and all that. But there's still stuff-”

“Anything.” 10K blurted out without a second's pause. “Everything. I'll do whatever you want. But not what you don't want.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips again as he stared at you earnestly.

You felt a shiver travel down your spine. Nobody had ever looked at you quite like that before. Not just lust but something deeper, as though he was seeing through your skin and right inside you.

“Come here,” he whispered huskily, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You sighed into the kiss and slowly moved your hips, letting your centre rub against his as you straddled him, tangling fingers in his messy hair.

10K moaned something that sounded like “shucks” and you couldn't help but snort. What would it take to make him swear? You dug your nails in a little, catching his lip between your teeth.

“Want to touch you.” He moaned, gripping your hips. “Want you to touch me.”

You trailed your hand from his cheek all the way down to cup the pronounced bulge in his boxers and his eyes rolled back in his skull, but then he visibly shook himself and swatted your hand away. “Ladies first.” The hand slid a little clumsily down into your knickers.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against 10K's, feeling how hot his skin was. His curious fingertips traced your labia and in between.

“It's wet.” He sounded surpised, and brought a thumb to his mouth to taste.

“That's a good thing.” You felt a little self-conscious as you explained, watching him suck his thumb. “It means I'm, you know, turned on.”

“Show me how to make it feel good,” he murmured, lifting you off his lap and laying you back down before tugging your knickers all the way down and spreading your legs.

You took his hand in yours and guided him, showing him your clit. His marksman fingertips quickly picked it up and he kissed you again as he touched you. “Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah you're- oh, yeah thats good.” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy. 10K made a satisfied “hmph” and nuzzled into your neck. He smelled of safety. Less dirt and blood than usual, traces of soap, whatever he was using for hair gel, engine oil. Sweat but not in the just-been-running-and-fighting way, in the musky hormonal way.

The feeling swelling inside you was something you hadn't experienced, hadn't even thought about, in a long time. But here and now it was growing, consuming, and you couldn't imagine anything other than his touch, his hot breath on your cheek.

“Hey.” 10K's voice was husky again. “You need something else?”

You became aware that your hips were twitching. “A bit faster maybe?”

A moan escaped your lips as he obliged, and 10K grinned. “That's hot.” Then he cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. “I assume girls can- y'know-”

“It looks a bit different but yes.” You were gasping now as you spoke, chest rising and falling.

“Do it for me.” He murmured, watching you as though hypnotised and biting his lip. His words and his gaze loosened the coiled spring that was weighing down your abdomen and the endorphins came rushing as you climaxed.

“Shh.” He pressed his mouth to yours and swallowed your moan, pressing his fingers harder as you moved beneath him until it became almost too much. “Do you want them to hear us?”

You shook your head, trying to control your breathing.

“Maybe you do.” He raised an eyebrow again as his fingers finally slowed to a halt. “I kinda do. So they all know what I just did to you.”

“Do you want your turn or not?”

That shut him up. He glanced down and you followed his gaze. He was still very much erect, and there was now a distinct wet patch where he'd leaked a little in excitement.

You pushed 10K onto his back and settled yourself next to him. “Let me know if something's not ok,” you told him. “I won't do anything you don't want.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. He flinched a little as you pulled his boxers down but then his face relaxed and his lips parted as you touched him.

“Have you done this to yourself?” You asked. “So you know what you like.”

He nodded, looking somewhat bashful. “A few times. But this is different. Better.”

It was your turn to grin as your fingers circled his erection and found a rhythm. 10K's head tilted back and the smallest of high-pitched noises escaped his open mouth. You lowered your lips to his exposed neck and sucked gently at the skin. There was a red mark when you pulled away.

“Mmmph.” He rasped through gritted teeth. “Again.”

“It'll leave a bruise.”

“Don't care.”

You began to create a trail of little hickeys down his throat and across his collarbones as you continued to stroke, and his tiny whimpers grew more frequent. You knew it wouldn't be long.

10K was holding onto you tightly, nails digging in, droplets of sweat visible on his forehead. “I think I'm gonna- ahh....” He seemed to lose the ability to speak as you attacked his neck again, eyes rolling back. A few moments later, his hips bucked and you could feel hot sticky warmth coat your fingers.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

So he did swear after all.

You kissed him again, and then looked down. “Um, got anything to clean up with?”

Still breathing heavily, 10K sat up and reached for his trousers, pulling a bandana out of one of the many pockets. “It's my least favourite. I'll burn it.”

Like the gentleman he'd been raised to be, he wiped your hand off first before tending to himself, then tossed the soiled cloth out of the way and pulled you close. You rested your head on his chest. You'd heard the term 'afterglow' but never really thought that it was a thing; it apparently was. The chemicals your brain was releasing and the protective hold of his arms made you want to laugh, and cry, and drift off to sleep, and run a mile, all at once.

Just for a moment, there was no apocalypse. There was only you and him and the little lamp above your heads.

It was 10K who broke the spell. “I need to pee.” he said apologetically. “Like, real bad.”

You laughed at the face he was pulling and threw his trousers at him. 10K slithered with some difficulty into them, kicking the side of the tent, and then stumbled outside.

You realised how cold it was now and reached for your own clothes. As footsteps indicated 10K's return, you could have sworn you heard the sound of a high-five.

“What was that?” You demanded as he re-entered the tent.

“Never mind.” He grabbed the blanket and laid it over you.”I  want to do that again. But we should probably get some sleep.”

“The whole point of the tent is to get proper rest right?” You scooted closer as he laid down, offering the blanket, but he refused, tucking it round you and then wrapping his arms round too so you were tightly cocooned against his side.

“Yeah. Sure.”

>>>>>Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfic i’ve done in literally years. Open to feedback and even perhaps requests :) PS i am v english so I apologise to any Americans insulted by my attempts at your words

[yrpreciousmoon]

Morioh Hi-Fi (1/25)

Title: Morioh Hi-Fi (1/25) Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pairing: Josuke x Okuyasu; Rohan x Reimi; Koichi x Yukako; more. Rating: T for now Description: In an AU where Part 4 never happened, it seems Stand users are still drawn to each other. Rohan Kishibe runs Morioh's coolest record store, along with the world's okayest employees: Koichi, Yuya, and Okuyasu. They live happily in their bubble of obscure music references and hipster style points until the fateful day when Josuke Higashikata enters the picture. AN: Started writing a self indulgent AU heavily inspired by the series and movie High Fidelity, and just decided to lean into it. This fic's got me making moodboards and playlists at 2am because I've lost control of my life. Buckle up! [x-posted to AO3]

Prologue : New Noise

“Top Five songs about falling in love, real love. Go.” A click of the tongue. “As your friend, I refuse to answer.” Okuyasu punctuated the remark with the most dramatic sigh he could muster, then ticked his pricing gun to a reasonable ¥1999 and marked down the album in his hand.

“This is an easy one,” interjected another voice from across the room, before Koichi could argue or Okuyasu could elaborate. “Number five is 'Demolition Lovers'.” “Don't encourage him,” warned Okuyasu as he twirled the price gun in his hand, pointing and taking aim at Yuya. But despite his words, he leaned against the nearest rack of records and patiently waited for his co-worker to continue.

“Wait, hang on,” insisted Koichi, raising a hand in Yuya's direction while turning to look at Okuyasu. “Do you have something to say?” Okuyasu pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows. “Me? No. No! Just... sayin'.” He turned back to his work. As if he were actually going to do some work today.

“Saying what?” A shrug. “That... I... wouldn't waste a perfectly good love song on a summer fling. That's all.” There was a soft jingle as someone crossed the threshold of the record store.

“Oh!” Koichi said the word too loudly. Nodded. “Right, I forgot. We've got Nijimura here, the expert on relationships.” “I'd never pretend to know more about true love than you, Koichi!” Okuyasu gently placed a hand on his chest, feigning innocence. “I wasn't finished,” Yuya announced, stepping into the aisle that separated the other two boys. “Now, number two: 'So Alive'.” Koichi and Okuyasu both groaned, united in their disdain.

“Unforgivable.” “Embarrassing.” “You're both children,” Yuya sneered. He took half a step back to make way for their only customer perusing the stacks. “Come on, I'm being serious,” Koichi whined, “I want to make her a mixtape that really says something, but it can't be super obvious. I need something like...” he paused, squinted into the middle distance. “Like, I don't know. 'What it is to Burn'?” “Oh my god.” Okuyasu mimed fainting onto the nearest shelf. “So you're tryin' to tell her you have no taste.”

“I'm trying to say I'm in love without saying I'm in love,” Koichi replied dryly. Okuyasu heaved himself back up from his wretched position and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Okay, okay. So like. What about 'Heart Shaped Box'?” “ 'Wild Horses',” sniffed Yuya, who was clearly not entirely over their earlier riffing, but still wanted his input heard.

“I hate everything about this conversation,” came a high and irritated voice from the back office, “But I guess I need to remind you fools of 'This Must Be the Place'.” “What about 'Raspberry Beret'?” Three heads whipped towards the source of this suggestion: the tall young man who had been wandering through the aisles, his delicate fingers ghosting over album covers. Even Rohan looked up from his work in the office to pay closer attention.

The customer looked 'round at them all, eyes all shining with naivety. “Uh,” he said, “I mean... we're talking about a girl, right?” Yuya rolled his eyes and turned back to whatever task he was originally pretending to do, having just barely enough sense to not argue with a customer in front of his boss. Okuyasu on the other hand simply tilted his head, folded his arms across his chest and looked on with interest.

“Oh!” Koichi exclaimed, “Hey, Higashikata! I almost didn't recognize you!” The guest/intruder turned his deer-in-the-headlights eyes upon the fair-haired boy. “Yeah, hey!” He offered a small wave. “Sorry, I... didn't mean to interrupt.” Koichi laughed. “No, no, it's... Sometimes I forget how clueless these two are and... anyway, anything I can help you find?” Josuke chuckled, blushed slightly, held up his hands in a defensive position. “I was just looking. Don't mind me.” He suddenly seemed very aware that he was out of his depth. Okuyasu, for his part, recognized that Koichi knew this guy in some capacity, and accordingly dialed down his need to assault someone with The Good Word of Post-Punk. Still, he hovered, refusing to pass up an opportunity to make a recommendation. “What kinda stuff are ya lookin' for?” “Um...” Josuke glanced over at him before turning back to the records he'd been thumbing through. “I don't know, really. Just something... new.”

“Well...” said Koichi, “Okay, so we know you like Prince. That's a starting point! Are you looking for something else like that?”

“What's 'like' Prince?” the other two demanded in harmony, with differing levels of confidence in Koichi's ability to actually answer the question. Okuyasu met the customer's eyes and they both laughed.

“Nice. So you may have unrefined palate,” said Okuyasu daintily, mimicking one of Rohan's favorite criticisms, “but ya clearly have taste. More'n Koichi, obviously.” Koichi steamed quietly, face suddenly red hot. “I didn't mean– No, I just thought– ”

“Here.” Okuyasu closed his eyes and waved a dismissive hand in Koichi's direction. “Let's try this: Who's a band you only know one song by, but you wanna know more?”

The other boy smiled a bit. “Um. Okay. Well, you know that song 'Bittersweet Symphony'?” “Yup. That's The Verve.” Okuyasu snapped his fingers and jerked his head in the direction of this particular band's discography. He heaved himself off of the rack that he'd been leaning on. “If you wanna know where they came from, check out The Rolling Stones,” he added, pointing in another direction. He made his way down the aisle, bumping shoulders with their guest along the way. “Or if you wanna lean hard into the pretty-boy thing... try Savage Garden.” He finally came to a stop in the entrance to the back office, hesitating for a moment before adding, “They're... alright,” and then he disappeared into the next room. Josuke blinked at the empty doorway, then down at Koichi. “...I feel like I should be offended?”

Koichi sighed. “No, my colleague just thinks radio play somehow cancels out artistic integrity,” he said with a roll of the eyes. “Unfortunately for us, he actually really knows his stuff. Here, let me put something on for you, and tell me if you like it, okay?”

From the confines of the dingy back office, Okuyasu peered through the blinds, hoping to see how their customer reacted to the record that Koichi was putting on.

“What, you talked to one customer and now you're done working for the day?” asked a tired-sounding Rohan.

“Eh, seemed like Koichi knows him,” said Okuyasu with an indifferent shrug, and an unyielding gaze that betrayed his words. “I can let him have this one.” Rohan looked up from his depressing accounts book and once more observed the customer as best he could through the pleated blinds. “Mm. Probably went to school with him,” he said, pointedly. Okuyasu recognized the edge in his boss' voice and sneered. “Look, if I'da finished school, you wouldn't be able to pay me so little.” “Fair,” conceded Rohan, “But you might actually find another job and I wouldn't have to put up with you, and wouldn't that be nice?” “Real nice,” muttered Okuyasu, still staring, “Shame you're stuck with me.” “Maybe I should start paying you to leave the shop. Might actually improve business.” “Uh huh.” Okuyasu leaned in a little more towards the window. “So y'think they went to school together.

Rohan stared at his employee for a moment before casting his gaze back out through the window and onto the two young men in question. This mystery boy stood a good foot or so taller than Koichi – not that this was terribly unusual – and he sported a cheesy hairstyle, like he'd just come from a rockabilly show. But his fashion was less gaudy, thank god; simple, dark slacks and jacket that fitted his lean figure, with just enough intrigue added by his unusual lapel pins to keep Rohan from writing him off entirely. “Looks like he could be the same age as you idiots,” Rohan finally concluded, turning his eyes back to his desk. “And seems too put-together to be someone he met at a show.” Okuyasu nodded slowly. “Makes sense.” He couldn't resist a smug smirk as he watched the mystery boy nodding along to the Stones track that Koichi had put on. “Bet ya I can make him a repeat customer.” Rohan cast a haggard look at him. “That guy? Sure. Or, you could just spend less time actively scaring away every other customer that comes in here.” “Eh?” Okuyasu cupped a hand to his ear as he backed up towards the office door again. “Can't hear ya!” He jerked a thumb towards the two they'd been leering at. “I'm gonna go see if I can help!” “You're ruining my livelihood,” called the other, a few decibels louder.

Okuyasu gestured towards his ears, shrugged helplessly, departed. Rohan sighed and reached for desk drawer that contained his well-loved bottle of Asprin.

“Hey, Hirose.” Several days had passed since his first encounter with that well-dressed stranger, but Okuyasu had yet to forget about his new pet project. For the life of him, he couldn't quite put his finger on why that guy had stood out so much to him, why pinpointing his musical tastes seemed like such an interesting challenge. But in any case, Okuyasu hadn't even gotten his name yet.

Koichi slowly raised his eyes from the humble lunch waiting for him on the store countertop. “...Mmm?” “Who was that kid who came in the store the other day? Someone from your high school?” Koichi lifted his head a bit more, furrowed his brow.

“Y'know... with the...” Okuyasu reached up and fluffed his own hair, trying to make it look as full as possible before it succumbed to gravity.

“Ohhhh.” Koichi nodded. “That's Josuke Higashikata. Yeah, we were in school together. He's cool. Why do you ask?” “Jo-suke,” Okuyasu tried the name on his tongue, propped his chin in his hand, drifted off into the the middle distance. “Huh. Just wonderin'.” Koichi frowned, raised a brow. Okuyasu was not the type to “just wonder.” There had to be something more at play here. “No really... why? Are you scheming?”

Okuyasu shrugged. “He seemed interestin'. More'n the other people you've brought around here.” “I've only ever brought Yukako to the shop before.” “Exactly.” Koichi hesitated, then kicked Okuyasu under the counter. His friend only snickered.

“Anyway.” Koichi shot Okuyasu a final glare before returning to his meal, “I actually saw him a day or two ago. Said he was enjoying 'Number Two' but wants to try something more modern.” Okuyasu nodded sagely. “Okay. Then I'll make him a mix CD.” “...huh?” quipped Koichi, mouth full of noodles. “Oh, no, it's not a big deal, he just– ”

“I got a bet with Rohan, don't worry about it. Next time you see him, just tell him to stop by the store again, okay?” Koichi shrugged. “Uh... okay. If you say so. I don't know if I love the idea of you guys making bets based on my high school acquaintances. But it's one of the more harmless requests you've made so... sure. And hey, speaking of mixes, what did you think of that track list I put together for Yukako?”

Okuyasu's eyes lit up at the question and he leaned in far too close. “Oh, Koichi!” he exclaimed, “Your song choices were absolute shit! Let me count the ways!”

It was a long while before Josuke stepped foot into Dark Pink Records again; long enough that Okuyasu was getting dreadfully close to accepting that he may never actually come back.

And of all the Wednesday afternoons that had come and gone since then, Okuyasu would have ranked this one pretty low. There was nothing to do and everything was bullshit as far as he was concerned, with Yuya nursing a hangover in the back and Rohan doodling cartoons in the margins of their accounts book.

But when Josuke pushed his way through the front door again, Okuyasu snapped to attention, all ennui chased away at the sight of the man with the positively strange aura about him.

Okuyasu quickly turned away, tucked his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, hoping he hadn't looked too much like an eager dork when the guy walked in. Though of course if he hadn't turned away he would have seen that Josuke lit up as well, making a bee-line straight to him.

“Um... hey!” Josuke tried, tapping Okuyasu on the shoulder.

Okuyasu lifted a brow, turned his head just a bit, trying to really sell the detached nonchalance. “Hmm?” “Sorry, are you... Koichi's friend?” Okuyasu laughed. “Sometimes. Why?”

“Hm.” Josuke shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looked at this other fellow with curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Maybe you don't remember, but you helped me pick out an album a while back? It was pretty cool, and Koichi said you might have some more recommendations for me.”

“Right, right.” Okuyasu waved a hand, playing it off as though this were the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah, you, uh..?” he craned his neck to peer around the back of a display, making a show of looking for the plastic CD case as if it weren't the only thing stashed there. “You got a CD player at home?” Josuke nodded. “Cool.” Okuyasu reached back at last to grab the jewel case, then turned to offer it to the other. “Give this a try. Listen to it a few times, lemme know what you like, and I'll find you five records that will blow your mind, guaranteed.” A lop-sided smile flashed on Josuke's lips as he took the case. “Okay, and what happens if I don't like any of it?”

Okuyasu narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Dude, this mix could raise the dead. If you don't like any of it I'll hafta get a priest to come exorcise the demons outta ya.” The other boy laughed and offered his hand. “Cool. Thanks, man. I'm Josuke, by the way.” Pretending he didn't already know this, Okuyasu gave a solemn nod and shook the boy's hand. “Okuyasu,” he replied gruffly.

Standing proudly in the doorway of Rohan's office just a few minutes later, Okuyasu cleared his throat. The man at the desk refused to acknowledge him, so he simply began: “Hey, Kishibe! Didja notice I got that guy to come back?” Rohan's eyes stayed fixed on the notebook before him. “Did you notice that he didn't buy anything?”

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Oh damn. Your drabble "Drowning" has given me IDEAS....

I can just see hero managing to stop villain from killing Supervillain, but Supervillain still being injured/ getting pneumonia from the water in his lungs... and how awkward it would be for hero to take care of someone who'd just tried to drown her.

This idea is fantastic! I hope that this was an ask to do it. If not, I apologize, but this was just such a great idea!

May get a little sad at the end (spoiler alert)

Drowning Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: concussion, CPR, death/killing mentions, descriptions of how someone was going to kill another (never acted upon), classic sick and delirious whumpee, sedatives mention, descriptions of medical setting and practices, mentions of loved ones death, pills (tylenol), hallucinations

~

Villain grabbed the knife, his fingers clutching the hilt until they glowed white. Supervillain was breathing heavily, yet he was still unconscious- lips parted and blue.

Hero also moved forward, her legs tensed and ready to pounce. The scene registered in her mind very quickly. The knife, the villain, and the heaving supervillain... blood and then the inevitable stop of breath.

It didn't have to be inevitable.

Hero rushed forward, grabbing a metal rod, and landed the blow directly to Villain's temple. He faltered, letting go of the knife and collapsing into Hero's awaiting arms.

"M Hhh," he breathed, bleeding head lolling in the crease of Hero's elbow. His eyes shifted from focused to unfocused in a matter of seconds, only to fluctuate back. Here flipped out her phone and called her medic.

"Hero! You alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Get to Supervillain's base. It's empty. Villain has a bad concussion, he's not entirely lucid right now..."

"Oh uh, um... I'm on my way." The line clicked.

Hero laid Villain against the wall, cupping his heavy head for a moment before tending to the unmoving supervillain. He wasn't breathing.

Hero quickly felt for a pulse and upon finding a soft thump-thump, she tilted his head to the side. Water immediately gushed out of his nose and mouth. He sputtered a little bit, but never woke.

Hero pressed her lips against Supervillain's after rolling his head back to the center. She breathed into his mouth four times, checked to see if he began to breathe. No.

She continued this. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, check... breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, check... until the supervillain gasped for breath, choking and coughing out water and mucus.

Supervillain jerked himself forward, glancing at Hero to Villain and then back at Hero.

"H-" another coughing fit with more water. He started to gag, dry-heaving until tears spiked his eyes and nausea rose in his throat. When he was done, he scrambled to his feet and tumbled towards the open door to his base.

Hero returned to Villain's side and scooped her friend up. Medic wasn't there, so she decided to take him herself. Caressing his head, gently, she followed Supervillain outside and to her base.

The next day, Hero was walking along a sidewalk on her way home from visiting Villain in the hospital. It was a nice day, a great change from her near-death experience with Supervillain the day prior... Hero shuddered, trying not to think of the agonizingly cold water, the darkness lapping at her vision, knocking Villain out... the whole ordeal.

Knocking Villain out... Hero replayed the conversation she just had with her very ungrateful ex-frenenemy (apparently?). The half-dazed cusses and just plain rudeness from the bedridden patient were more than enough to make her feel annoyed. She saved Villain from committing an act that would have surely land him in jail- if not a mental facility. Especially the way the concussed villain talked about killing Supervillain. Apparently, Villain was going to slowly kill him with the knife, decorating major body parts with cuts and blood.

Hero sighed. That sadistic little turd that couldn't just walk away-

A groan.

Hero looked up to find herself walking in front of an alleyway. It was dark, if that's not a little too cliche, and eerily quite. Not even a stray cat knocked over a garbage can like in every classical alleyway scene.

Hero entered the alley stealthily, opening her holster and lying her hand over her gun. She looked behind every dumpster and every cardboard box. Finding nothing, she proceeded to leave, but two hands grabbed her mouth and throat.

Being yanked backwards sent a spark of adrenaline through Hero's veins. She turned and thrashed, but her attacker was unrelenting.

"Let me go!" Hero yelled when a large hand slipped away from her mouth. The other hand went away too. Pulling her gun out, Hero spun around, only to have a fist meet her face.

The impact startled her, but not as much as the body leaning heavily against her's.

The body heaved and gasped, heat radiating off its skin. Hero looked down and took in the features. She couldn't see a face, but it was obviously a guy. Hero dragged the man over to the only bare spot against the brick wall and leaned him aaginst it. She began to step away, only to realize that his head was resting against her shoulder.

"Hey," Hero mumured and grabbed the man's cheeks, holding him up, examining his face...

Hero nearly dropped the pale face.

It was Supervillain.

Also known as the man who tried to kill her.

Hero, for a brief second of primitive logic, contemplated leaving the feverish man to deal with himself. But guilt, and maybe a twinge of annoyance, drove her the complete opposite direction.

After all, she didn't just save him and give Villain a concussion only for him to die, right?

Yet as she scooped her attacker up, two portions of her brain- her sensible part and her empathetic part- played tug-of-war with each other. Drop him, bring him home, drop him, bring him home...

Of course the empathetic clump of cells won and she bridal-carried the shivering supervillain to her apartment.

She set Supervillain on her beige couch with a blanket strewn over his lap. He just had a cold right? She brought him some tylenol and a glass of water.

"Hey," she said softly, almost a whisper. Supervillain seemed so disconnected that she was afraid that she would startle him. His eyes were glassy and had an abnormal, faraway look.

Supervillain didn't reply, or look at Hero. His gaze was fixated on a corner of the living room.

Then, like a bomb suddenly going off, he started to cough.

He coughed until blood, water and mucus gushed from his mouth. He hacked it up like a waterfall. Hero stood up, linked her hands under his shoulders and hauled him into a better sitting position.

He coughed until he was sobbing, screaming. He fell back against the cushions, sputtering and crying, with tears streaming down his face. Each breath seemed to be a workout- shaky and shallow. He never made eye contact with Hero. Just stared ahead, coughing and crying.

"Are you okay?" Hero asked, loudly, but she still doubted the sick supervillain heard her. She placed a hand against his back, rubbing circles. It was just a cold- she was certain.

But he was so hot.

So unnaturally hot.

Hero frowned and went to grab a thermometer. She placed it against Supervillain's lips, but he didn't open them.

"Come on now," she coaxed gingerly and rubbed his flushed cheeks. She sighed. She didn't even need to know the temperature to know that the sick man infront of her had a fever.

Supervillain parted his mouth open and allowed the pointed metal edge to find a home under his tongue. He tried to move it around, but his resolve was too weak. Hero held it there until it beeped. 102.9

102.9 degrees fahrenheit. Nearly 103 degrees...

"Oh gosh," Hero exclaimed and dumped a couple tablets out of the tylenol bottle. She coaxed them onto Supervillain's bacteria-lidden tongue and pressed the glass of water against his bottom lip.

"Drink," she whispered. Supervillain obeyed and took a sip just big enough to force the pills down.

"Good job," she praised and lowered Supervillain down. Only for him to start coughing again.

"Take it easy, honey," she murmured. Honey? Where did that come from? Come on Hero, she scolded herself. The guy just tried to drown you the other day; you don't have to make this even more awkward or embarrassing.

Supervillain leaned into her. His firey body nearly made Hero begin to sweat. His eyelids drooped, breaths slowed, and soon he was alseep in her arms.

Hero knelt there by the armrest, alone with her intense thoughts. She rubbed his moist hair, allowing her nails to scratch at his scalp. Even alseep, she hoped it gave some comfort.

Not that he exactly deserved comfort. Villain was in a hospital bed, sleeping off sedatives and painkillers greedily and dealing with a major concussion. She thought of the grim night the doctors and her shared. Restraining a delirious villain, the MRI, all the tests... and then finally given the clear to inject a moderate sedative dose to help him sleep.

But Hero still gave the undeserved comfort. Maybe she was too empathetic, too caring and generous for her own good, but that matter could be taken care of another day.

Supervillain awoke a few hours later to Hero'd strawberry smelling hair resting against the top of his head. Her arms dangled across his chest as if she was giving him a hug from behind. She fell alseep mid-hug.

Of course, the supervillain did not register this interaction as that. He imagined it more as encompassing tendrils of ivy tying him down to a foreign object. He squirmed, trying to break free of Mother Nature's restraints, but he was too sick, too weak, and too helpless to do much more than move around.

Hero then woke up also, pulling her arms- the so-called vines- off the terrified supervillain's body.

"Good morning," she yawned and pressed a hand against her ward's forehead. Supervillain didn't seem to know what to do. He wavered between pushing forward into the hand- or the frustratingly threatening boulder to him- or pulling away. He chose the later, jerking away only to send a rush of mind reeling dizziness through his head.

He swayed, or he thought he did for he was still lying against the couch as if a magnetic force attached him to it. Reaching out weakly to grab Hero's hands, he closed his eyes.

"You are so sick," Hero cooed, her voice a mixture of both anxiety and tranquility. Supervillain gripped her tighter and tried to pull himself up to her.

"Shh, shh," Hero whispered. "Sleep."

Supervillain seemed like he nodded. Or was it due to him loosening up as he fell asleep again? Hero didn't know, nor cared.

She stood up and laid a blanket over Supervillain before heading into the kitchen to make a bland chicken soup and a small bowl of rice.

After the meal was done, about thirty minutes later, Hero returned to Supervillain on the couch with a portable plastic table and the food. She propped the still sleeping man into a sitting position before awakening him.

Supervillain blearily opened his eyes, blinked, and settled his gaze on Hero's eyes. He twitched his head upwards, but that was all. Hero didn't even think he noticed the steaming food on the table beside him.

"Want to eat?" She asked, more to herself than anyone. Supervillain looked at her with those wide, brown eyes like he did right before he attempted to drown her.

"Mnh," Supervillain groaned. "M chest hurts."

"Your chest hurts?"

"Mhm."

Hero tentatively lifted his shirt, but the feverish man didn't seem to care, or realize the possible intimate gesture.

"Let's take this off, shall we?"

Supervillain nodded, which made Hero nervous. Why was he being so compliant?

Nevertheless, she striped his shirt off and examined his ribcage. She had him take a couple deep breaths, but the movement seemed to exhaust him further. His ribs seemed a bit swollen, but nothing was broken.

Then a horrid realization dawned on her.

He had pneumonia. Most likely due to the water still festering in his lungs.

"Ooookay," Hero breathed. She would deal with that later, maybe call Medic- no, no one could know that she was housing the Man of Terrors- but first she had to get some food into Supervillain's stomach.

So she spooned, mouthful by mouthful into Supervillain's parched mouth slowly. She cleaned any broth dripping down his chin with a washcloth.

After he finished eating, Supervillain was so exhausted that he nearly fell alseep with his neck bent awkwardly. Hero readjusted him to a laying position, but elevated him slightly to ease his ragged breathing.

Pneumonia.

That would explain the harsh breathing and the daunting fever. Gosh, was he sick and so sudden too. Hero sat next to Supervillain, rubbing his hair back from his sweaty forehead like a caretaker.

Even though it was awkward, given the circumstances and past events, Hero stayed with him all night. Easing his pain, feeding him small bits of rice and soup, taking off blankets and putting them back on, wet washcloths and fans. Sometimes she would doze off on his chest, but never for long.

Whatever connection and trust built up between the two that night was unbelievable. Extraordinary, even. But still, nothing, not even with the newfound relationship, prepared Hero for the one simple and innocent yet insanely heartbreaking word that sickly Supervillain uttered.

"Mother?" He squeaked, looking up at Hero with eyes so full of love and relief that they looked about to burst. Hero felt her heart break, shattered to a million pieces as her guest extended his hand to her face.

"Am I in heaven?" He asked in such a childish manner. He looked around, but frowned at his surroundings. "Mother? You're dead right? Am I dead too?" The previous chirpy voice lowered to Supervillain's desolate montone.

Hero didn't know what to say, for Supervillain gazed at her with all the intent he could physically muster.

She could give into the hallucination and play along, but guilt would eat her alive. But, she thought it rude to just blatantly say, "No. You're mother is dead. It's me, Hero."

Supervillain whimpered, chin trembling as he began to cry. Hero winced, but then realized:

She said those words outloud and now she had a grieving, delirious, and sick supervillain to tend to. Great, just great.

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT 

Word Count: 5k 

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!! 

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist //  Next Chapter -->

--

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him. 

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing. 

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake. 

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.  

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled. 

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly. 

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off. 

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk. 

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.  

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge. 

 If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again. 

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents. 

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.  

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know. 

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?” 

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about. 

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell. 

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise. 

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap. 

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night. 

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did. 

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.  

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it. 

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?” 

 “Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,” 

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter. 

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?” 

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said. 

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

 “Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes. 

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were. 

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed. 

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,” 

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner. 

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

 —

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time. 

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying. 

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you. 

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes. 

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening. 

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level,  “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?” 

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,” 

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!” 

“Insane,”  You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend. 

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you. 

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail. 

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you. 

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door. 

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well. 

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. 

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city. 

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him. 

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him. 

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes. 

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips. 

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards. 

“Fucking bitch,” He growled. 

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away. 

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete. 

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective. 

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?” 

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun. 

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again. 

“Where’s Peña?” You asked. 

“At the bar,” 

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease. 

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done. 

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?” 

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over. 

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head. 

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle. 

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut. 

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little. 

“Don’t be a baby,” 

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear. 

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly. 

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him. 

 “Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined. 

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh. 

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed. 

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed. 

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction. 

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet. 

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on. 

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now. 

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes. 

 You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building. 

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did. 

You opened it. 

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table. 

“Fuck,” You swore out loud. 

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest. 

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared. 

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked. 

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment. 

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly. 

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,” 

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded. 

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it. 

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,” 

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,” 

 “You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,” 

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head. 

“Guess not,” 

Next Chapter  -->

--

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

tag list: @beskar-falcon  @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @wille-zarr @danniburgh @rentheisopod @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick @pedrosmustache @wantingtobekorra @balmasedas @angelsunflxwer @brujademente​ @kingsmanandqueens​ @igotissueswithfictionalmen​

[oddshelbyout]

Dance With Me // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: Your childhood friend John promises you a dance at the pub you work at but he disappears. You spend the night worried about him until he shows up at your door, wounded.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Description of wound (slightly graphic), Blood

Word Count: 2304

Author’s Note:

I decided I wanna write for John more so here is another one. I liked the idea but I’m not sure how it turned out, some parts can be a little too vague and rushed. I still hope you’ll enjoy it!

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

Friday nights were always the busiest at the pub you worked at. You were busy filling up pints. You were also bopping your head to the song the pretty lady on top of the chair was singing.

It was a joyful night, everyone was singing and you loved Friday nights for that. You left the bar and started wiping the tables. The tables were sticky from all the spilled drinks, as usual.

As you were minding your business, enjoying the next song that lady was singing, everyone just shut up. The pub went all quiet. You heard the door close and you looked up. There stood John Shelby.

“Go ahead people, continue.” he said and people started singing again. You left the cloth you wiped the tables with on a table and ran to John. You threw yourself in his arms.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks! Where have you been?” you asked. If anyone else asked him that, he would be furious but it was you. You grew up together, you were basically a Shelby and he thought you were the only one worth telling where he was.

“Had some business in London.” he said, he held your hand and dragged you to a table. He sat down and put his tab of cigarettes on the table.

“I’m working.” you smiled. He just turned to your boss and said “She’s taking a break.” you chuckled, sat down to the chair beside him.

“I’d rather you work in one of our pubs.” he told you, the only thing you did was roll your eyes. “I’m good here, thanks though.” you said a moment later, just to fill the uncomfortable silence between you.

“So you were in London for almost 3 weeks?” John nodded to your question, that was unusual. He usually never stayed in London for that long, “It should be serious then.” you said and he nodded again.

“Is something wrong? You’re a little too silent.” you asked. “Uh no, I actually wanted to ask you if you’d like to dance.” John smiled. You didn’t know if he genuinely wanted to dance or if he just didn’t want to talk about what he did in London.

“No, I’m at work!” you said, he smiled. He wasn’t going to let you go without a dance. “Come on Y/N!” he encouraged you. You would love to dance with him but not at work.

“My shift ends in half an hour, what if we dance then?” you ask, John looks happy to hear that. He looked at his watch, he got on his feet. “I’ll be back in half an hour.” he promised and left the pub.

You got back to wiping the tables. The time passed quickly and you didn’t realise how fast. The music coming out of the record player replaced the lady’s voice, who seemed to leave.

You dropped the dirty cloth into the bucket of water. You looked around the pub and then the clock on the wall. John hadn’t came, it’s been more than half an hour.

“Is it okay if I leave?” you asked your boss. The pub wasn’t as crowded as it was earlier and it was obvious he could manage on his own.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” he shouted behind you, “Good night.” you shouted back before opening the door. You walked down the dark alleys of the city, your steps were slow. You weren’t afraid of the dark nights of Birmingham, you knew how to protect yourself well.

When you finally got to your home, all you wanted to do was go to sleep but your mind was busy with John. Not showing up was nothing like him. He had never stood you up. If he said he’d show up and dance with you, he was going to. You could feel something was wrong.

You just changed into your night dress and went to bed immediately. You lied in your bed, closed your eyes but you couldn’t sleep. Normally you wouldn’t be worried but this time was different.

You also really wanted to dance with him. You danced together a lot when you were younger, then both of you started seeing it as something more romantic. You were best friends, you didn’t want to seem romantic.

You couldn’t sleep. You wondered where John was but also you wondered the reason behind him offering that dance. That occupied your mind so much that sleep seemed impossible.

Was it because he didn’t want to talk about London like you assumed or was it because he wanted to dance with you like you hoped? You didn’t know how long you have been trying to go to sleep either.

Your tired body started giving up and your loud thoughts faded. You were finally falling to sleep and you would if someone didn’t knock on your door.

Your eyes opened wide, you jumped out of your bed. John didn’t show up like he promised you and spent 3 weeks in London for ‘business’ so you just assumed you were in trouble.

It wouldn’t be the first time you were on a kill list because you were so close to the Shelbys. You took your paper knife from the desk in your room, it was your best choice as a weapon at that moment.

You held the knife tight and stood behind the door. “Who is it?” you said, ready to stab whoever was behind your door. “Y/N just open up!” you heard John say, he sounded like he was trying to speak with his teeth clenched.

“Thank God!” you dropped the knife on the floor and opened the door. What you saw behind the door made you take the thanks back. John stood still, blood dripping behind his white shirt. His jacket was missing and he had no gun on him.

“What the fuck happened?” you asked, you pulled him in. You shut the door and made him sit on the floor, he was losing so much blood that he was dizzy and couldn’t stand up properly.

“You fucker!” you shouted at him, John looked at you not getting why you were angry at him. He was shot on his left arm, the bullet missed his heart with only a few centimeters.

“Just take this bullet out now!” John shouted, “Don’t you have a whole family who can do that better than me?” you asked in horror. “Just do it!” he shouted back.

You ran to the living room, grabbed the single bottle of vodka you had. You handed the bottle to John but he drank it instead of showering his wound with it.

“That’s not why I gave it to you!” you shouted at him. You were sure the neighbours were going to complain a lot. You took the bottle back as soon as he finished his sip.

You sat down on your knees. You took the paper knife again, first cut the sleeves of his shirt and then poured the vodka on. “Don’t waste it, I need it!” John told you. You just chuckled and carefully put the knife on his skin.

“Yeah, drinking is more important.” you complained while you tried to dig the knife under the bullet. John screamed in pain, “I thought you were tougher than that.” you laughed.

“Shut up!” he shouted back, scrunching his face from the pain. You finally pushed the bullet out, piled the cut sleeve into a ball and started pushing it on the open wound.

You took a sip from the vodka, “I thought it wasn’t to drink.” John mumbled while still being obviously in pain. “I need it because you showed up wounded in the middle of the night and stood me up earlier.” you said and John’s face just relaxed.

“You waited for me?” he asked simply, you hated that he had the balls to ask that. You ignored the question, “You should’ve gone to Polly, I’m sure she would be better at taking it out.” John squinted his eyes.

“No I couldn’t, nobody can know I fucked up.” he said, you knew what he was talking about. He fucked the ‘business’ up with whatever he did in London. “And couldn’t let the kids see me like this.” how could you forget about John’s kids, apparently they were with Polly when he was in London.

John took the ball of shirt from you and started pushing it himself. “If you did something wrong, they’ll know sooner or later.” you said, almost pitying him. You knew very well how an angry Tommy Shelby behaved.

“I’ll tell them, just not like this.” he said but that made you a little uneasy. “So why did you come here? To put me in danger too?” you asked, still bitter about the dance.

“No because I wanted to apologise.” you took your gaze away from him. “For what?” you asked like you didn’t know. “For not being there to dance.” he said, you looked back at him.

“I thought we didn’t dance, friends don’t dance like that, remember?” you asked, trying him and searching for the answer you hoped for.

“You were willing to dance when I asked you at the pub.” you nodded, had nothing to say. “And also for not keeping my promise, you were probably worried.” he confessed, you once again nodded. “Obviously I was right to be worried.” you pointed at his left arm.

He laughed, you assumed the pain had faded. “I’m sorry Y/N.” he apologised sincerely, his impression said it all. “It’s okay, you never stood me up.” you sounded sad.

John took a deep breath, “Dance with me.” he said. You were surprised to get that offer at that exact moment. “What?” you asked, he tried to stand up but he felt too weak to do so.

“Dance with me like you promised me, I came all the way here.” he said smiling softly. “You came here because you were shot.” you answered, “So you’re not gonna dance with me?” you copied his smile and helped you get up.

“My record player is broken though.” you said while walking him to the living room in your arm. You looked down to the floor worrying about the carpets. All of your carpets now had blood stains on but it didn’t matter. One of the things Shelbys thought you was how to take blood stains off, you were in luck.

“We’ll dance without music then.” he said, he stopped pushing on his arm even though it was still bleeding. He wrapped his arms around you even though it caused him pain.

You started looking deep into his green eyes, they hadn’t changed a bit since the day you first met him. Neither of you were over the age of 10, kids playing together, sharing anything. Your parents passed away and your aunt who was your guardian was absent. You grew inside the Shelbys and that was the best thing that happened to you.

Looking deep into his eyes made you remember the day he married Martha and how happy he was. You saw the same happiness in his eyes that day. “Are you happy?” you asked him, totally unintentionally.

“I am when I’m with you.” he said and started whistling a tune. He kept whistling and you moved your body in sync with his.

“John Shelby, do you love me?” you asked and he stopped whistling. He didn’t stop dancing though. “Is that even a question?” he asked and you thought he didn’t get the exact question.

“But do you love me?” you let your arms go, you stopped dancing and stood before him like a statue. “I do.” he said, you weren’t convinced. Your brain just couldn’t accept that your love wasn’t unrequited.

“Do you love me like you loved Martha?” you asked, he licked his lips and blinked. “Maybe even more.” he confessed, your knees got weak.

You looked on your right arm, it had stains of blood from John’s wound. You still weren’t convinced that he loved you back. You thought best friends could be the only thing you’ll ever be.

“What took you so long.” you swallowed, you should’ve been happy but you weren’t. You’d rather not learn about his feelings this way. You would rather learn it at a time when he wasn’t wounded and came to you for it.

“Denial.” he said, “I didn’t believe we could be anything other than friends.” he confessed. Hearing that made you smile, you didn’t even realise you were smiling until he copied yours.

“So what now?” Do I let you kiss me?” you raised your eyebrows and asked. “Yes and maybe more?” he divided his lips like he was asking for the kiss.

“I just took a bullet out of you!” you exclaimed, “That never stopped me!” he replied back. You laughed, “Fucking hell!” you gave up and pushed your lips on his.

This was surprisingly your first kiss with him. As teenagers you two had debated if you should try kissing but that seemed too dangerous for both of you. Neither of you wanted to risk your friendship.

What made you risk your friendship at that moment was a mystery. You didn’t think a moment about that because after that one moment of shock, you were finally happy to get that confession.

His lips were better than what you imagined. They were soft even though they looked rough and chapped. His lips were cold most likely because of all the blood he lost.

You parted from him to take a breath and slipped an “I love you.” before you kissed him again. Knowing he wanted more, you didn’t care about his wound and pushed him on the couch. You knew exactly what he wanted and you would give it to him.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 3

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 3

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2344

Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.

Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn

           Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.

           The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.

           “Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.

           “What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.

           “Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.

           “Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.

           “You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.

           You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

           You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.  

           Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”

           “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.

           When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.

           “I think we should do gifts.”

           It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.

           “Hmm?”

           “I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”

           You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”

           “Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.

           “‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.

           “It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.

           Sam heard anyway.

           “You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.

           “I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.

           About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.

           It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.

           You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.

           Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.

           “Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”

           He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.

           “Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.

           “Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.

           “I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”

           “That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.

           You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.

           “I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.

           You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”

           “They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”

           You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.

           “It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.

           “It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.

           “Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.

           “Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.

           “Want to open the other one?”

           Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”

           You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”

           He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x04- And the clerk had a firm...

You can tell I’m enjoying this season when episodes air on Thursdays and I’ve written a recap by Friday night. More under the cut, as always. 

I woke up very early on Thursday morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to just watch this episode on my phone (I write these on rewatch). I’m sure the show was hoping that the upside-down clips of fake!Love Island would be disorienting, but wow, did this work on me. Between the lack of sleep and how plausible it would’ve been for me to accidentally have my phone upside-down with rotation lock on... I truly thought it was an ad for Love Island and also had to pause the episode to check my phone settings. Good job, show!

It turns out, however, that Carmen is doing a headstand and watching reality TV on her laptop. Very happy to see Carmen at home. It would be easy for the show to have her just be a mysterious presence at the firm, so even seeing her do perfectly normal things is a good reminder that she is a whole person and not just Associate Who Will Defend Anyone.  

(I wouldn’t have expected Carmen to enjoy reality tv, but then again, I love Big Brother so...)

Carmen lives in a studio that doesn’t look like it is brand new!!! I’m ridiculously excited to see an apartment that actually looks like a place someone fresh out of law school might live. I’d believe it if Carmen lived in a studio in a luxury building or a one-bed on the salary she’s surely making at RL, but it’s very refreshing to see a character who isn’t super-wealthy on this show that tends to be about, well, very wealthy people.  

Carmen is smarter than every other character on this show and on most TV shows: instead of opening the door without taking any precautions, she puts the chain on first. Remember how people used to just show up at Alicia’s door when she was the governor’s wife, and she’d always just open the door and look surprised?  

Charles Lester is at Carmen’s door even though it’s nearly midnight. She tries to get him to leave, but he insists on staying. She closes the door to undo the chain, and uses the privacy of the closed door to grab a makeshift weapon, just in case.

Carmen explains her apartment by saying, “student loans.” So she doesn’t come from (excessive) money. (Or she was cut off by her family, but I feel like the early character description of Carmen said something about her family not having money.)  

Lester has something very important to tell Carmen, but all his notes are on different scraps of paper and, even though he says his information is time sensitive, he takes his time looking for the right piece of paper.

He says Carmen can’t say she heard the info from him, blah blah. He’s there to share that in ten minutes, someone at the firm is going to be searched by the FBI. This info comes, of course, from Rivi.  

Do we think Lester has to reference his notes to remember that the FBI is searching a name partner of Carmen’s firm? Or do we think he’s fucking with her? I think the latter.

Carmen was doing exercises to help with migraines, btw.  

Carmen calls Diane to tip her off. Diane and Kurt are already asleep, but luckily, Diane has her phone on full volume and takes the call. She’s not happy about it and asks if it can wait until tomorrow. Asks is the wrong word—she instructs the caller to hang up if it can wait.  

Even though Carmen can’t say where she got the information, Diane knows it must be from Rivi. Seems obvious enough.

Kurt gets out of bed and starts locking up guns and getting to work; Diane calls Liz. Liz is in bed with a guy we’ve never seen before and she does not really want to talk.  

Liz notes that the info also could’ve come from Wolfe-Coleman, since Carmen is “tangled up with some rough characters.”  

I’m sorry, fake Netflix CEO man... WHY ARE YOU STILL TRYING TO KISS AND PLAY WITH LIZ WHEN SHE IS ON THE PHONE TALKING ABOUT PURGING FILES AND THE FBI????  

I don’t even hold this against the character. This is one of those things the writers of this show LOVE doing to heighten tension. They think people behave like this in real life and that it’s funny to have a million competing priorities at once, so they insist on doing things like this. In reality, I would be concerned about any person who did not hear “FBI” and go, “um, what the hell is happening? I should stop trying to fuck rn.”  

Kurt starts burning papers. Is no one going to point out that maybe being on the phone (after you KNOW you’ve had NSA issues) talking about tips from powerful criminals and asking questions that are pretty clearly about document destruction... is a bad strategy?  

Dude, why are you STILL GOING after Liz clearly tells you to stop!? Do you want me to hate you?!  

Liz adds Jay to the call. He is asleep and also his hallucination from the premiere is (sadly) back. I still don’t get what they’re going for with this, so I’ll just be happy that (1) there is only one hallucination this time and (2) it’s only on screen for a minute.  

This dude is really chanting “Let me see ‘em!” at Liz while she is on a frantic work call! This is how we are introduced to him! This is not funny! If this weren’t being played for laughs/to raise the stakes by having a lot going on I would be calling this man misogynistic!

Liz remembers that Diane has full boxes of files! They spill onto the floor as she tries to hide them! Drama!  

And then the FBI arrives, so Diane asks Liz to take her 9 am with Wackner

The FBI enters, accompanied by... Nancy Crozier! Nancy is now an AUSA for some reason!

Nancy has graduated from “just a girl from Michigan” to using her pregnancy for dramatic effect. I guess she’s aged into being Patti Nyholm, or something. (I would LOVE to see Patti Nyholm show up on TGF.)  

I know the client files are top of mind for Diane, but isn’t it kind of obvious that the FBI would be there about Kurt, given that the FBI was talking to Kurt days earlier?  

9 mins in is early for credits!! (This first act flies, too—did not feel like 9 minutes.)  

I say this once an episode, but isn’t it so fun to see all the characters from season one of TGW pop up in season five of TGF?  

Liz sees her new man, Del Cooper, in reception. He’s a client. They try to be professional with each other. Liz remembers Diane’s 9 am with Wackner and asks the receptionist to tell her when he arrives. She dismissively says it’s “Some judge guy.” Wackner is, of course, already there and watching the interaction with interest. He uses this as an opportunity to “look for the restroom,” observe Liz meeting with someone else, and walk down to the associate floor.

He asks associate Leah (we’ve definitely seen her several times before) where he’s supposed to go for the staff meeting. She asks if he means the partner meeting or the associate one—he wants whichever is more interesting. She says she only knows about the associate meeting, and so he tags along.

Leah and Lucy (the associate from last week; Michael Boatman’s daughter) talk and assume that Wackner is from STR Laurie and thus in charge of the fate of their careers.  

The associate meeting is fairly small—Leah refers to it as their “daily” so I wonder if it’s more like a team meeting than a meeting of all the associates.  

The COTW is about a comedian who isn’t always PC. FakeNetflix is getting a lot of Twitter pushback.  

“Ah, so you’re worried about being cancelled,” Liz notes. “Don’t say the ‘C’ word,” Del jokes. Then he asks the firm to do a sensitivity read of the comedian’s act.

Liz asks why them. David doesn’t get why she’s asking, though obviously Liz knows he won’t be offended by her question since they have a relationship outside of work. Del thinks that RL is the right firm for this task because they are a black firm, and also because this can be an audition for the rest of their legal business.  

This seems like it is better for a PR firm or image consultant? Not a law firm? But sure.  

Diane explains the whole January 6th situation to Liz. Liz immediately understands that if Kurt is in trouble, Diane is the one representing him. Because Kurt is Kurt, I’m willing to accept the “spouses-representing-each-other" trope here. But let the record reflect that, as always on this show, it is a TERRIBLE idea to have your spouse represent you! Just pick someone outside of the firm! JUST PICK ELSBETH, KURT.

Diane asks how her 9 am went; David Lee interrupts to ask Liz why she is being so casual with Del. “David, I am on the phone,” Liz responds. I love that she doesn’t really answer him.  

Leah and Lucy try to turn the associate meeting into a showcase of how great they are; the other associates catch on quickly and all are happy to answer Wackner’s questions. He wants to understand jury trials.

Nancy’s pregnancy act does not work on Judge Farley, yet she keeps it up anyway. Court doesn’t go well for Diane, but it also doesn’t go well for Nancy.

Some of these interactions remind me a little too much of Peter’s trial at the end of TGW, like this one where Nancy goes to Diane with information about Kurt.

Leah gets off the elevator as Diane and Nancy talk, and to Diane’s surprise, Wackner is shadowing Leah! She takes a moment to look surprised before we return to the scene with Nancy.

I like all the little interactions within this Wackner plot. Diane asking Liz to meet with Wackner both connects Wackner to Liz AND shows that Diane would turn to Liz for back-up, and having Wackner/Leah run into Diane in court is a good reminder that even though Diane is dealing with a pressing issue, Wackner hasn’t just disappeared.  

Diane encourages Kurt to talk. She wants to know if he’s not telling her something because she’s his wife or because she’s his lawyer. This is maybe why you don’t hire your wife as your lawyer.  

Kurt says it’s because of politics—Diane doesn’t like that, since this is one issue where their politics should be shared.  

“Diane, this works between us because we don’t let our political judgements overwhelm our respect for each other,” Kurt explains. But... is that relevant to this particular issue?  

Diane asks the same question, essentially, noting that January 6th changed “everything” for her and she can’t treat this like a “chess game” anymore. Kurt wants to know what she’s calling a chess game. She says their marriage is the one thing that’s not a game.  

On one level I understand exactly what Diane is saying and on another level I have no clue what this dialogue actually means. She can’t treat things like a game anymore, but also their marriage is the only thing that isn’t a game? So does that mean she can treat everything else like a game, then? I think what she’s trying to say is that the time for seeing political disagreements as a calm and rational game of strategy is over, and that she values her marriage and won’t play around with it.  

Kurt tells her what he burned—a list of people in his little group. He says he’d protect them just like he’d protect Diane’s book group friends. Oh, wow, I was not EVER expecting to hear about that arc again! This is a pretty perfect time to mention it, though, since Kurt DID protect book group for the exact same reason he’s protecting the members of his club.  

Other than “winning over a new client is important,” I have no idea why Liz and David Lee would gather together a group of partners to do the sensitivity read. I don’t know who IS the appropriate person to do the sensitivity read, given that this is a law firm, but I know this is a bad call.

Oh, they are going to go through line by line dissecting each joke in a group. They get through one joke before Madeline notes that the comedian is “objectifying black men.” A black male partner says he doesn’t mind. Madeline says that doesn’t matter because the joke is racially insensitive.  

Overlapping chatter ensues, and the partners try to make changes to the comedian’s jokes, like substituting Norwegian for Nigerian. This... is not what law firms do. The joke isn’t funny with the substitution, but it also wasn’t funny before. It was low hanging fruit and the correct answer is to just cut it entirely. (Also, if you’re a comedian and all your jokes are about common stereotypes of groups to which you do not belong, you are probably not a very funny comedian!)

Diane has Jay do some more investigating. Jay looks up when Diane says, “ringleader of the insurrectionists,” and Diane is just like, “I know.” Then Carmen walks in.

Diane congratulates Carmen on “hitting the ground running” and then asks again how she knew about the warrant. Diane says she’s covered by the same attorney-client privilege, so Carmen should be able to share. Carmen notes the warrant was actually about Kurt, which does not answer Diane’s question. “So this came from Rivi?” Diane asks. Carmen says she can’t confirm.

“Carmen. You have been here three weeks. You have two clients: Wolfe-Coleman and Oscar Rivi. It’s one or the other!” Diane notes. Yep. I love that they didn’t forget that this isn’t much of a mystery. It’s more about principle than anything. If Diane knows it’s one of two sources and needs more information, I’m sure Jay can figure it out.  

Carmen knows she’s stuck, so she asks if she can make a phone call. “I think that would be smart,” Diane says.  

I’ve noticed that Liz and Diane are both being quite firm with others this season—and I like it. They're spending more time with lower-level characters, and both Diane and Liz have reasons to be more curt this year. Diane is under a lot of stress and it’s showing in all of her interactions; Liz is making a point of seeming in control to establish herself as the leader of the firm.  

Then Marissa walks in. “What is going on with your crazy court judge?” Diane asks. “My?” Marissa asks. “Marissa, I am in no mood for defensiveness,” Diane insists. She mentions Wackner missing his meeting and shadowing Leah. That’s news to Marissa.  

Marissa heads to Wackner’s court to figure out what’s going on.

Wackner is now experimenting with juries. This is interesting to me—I'd wondered before how smart it was to just have Wackner make all the rulings, so exploring the idea of having a jury shows he’s thinking about that, too. Also, it’s another sign that Wackner wants his court to have many of the same structures as a real courtroom. There are still judges, juries, witnesses, trials—he's starting something new, but it feels more like he’s testing out improvements for an imperfect system. I wonder if his end goal would be to set up separate courts, or if he’s more interested in shaping laws/reforming the system? Surely Wackner has ambitions of scaling up whatever conclusions he comes to. So what are they?  

The reason for the juries is that the associates told him that juries are racially biased, so he’s trying to correct it. He also explains how he ended up shadowing Leah, and advises Marissa to go exploring whenever she’s kept waiting. (I have a feeling Marissa doesn’t need to be told this, but then, that’s why she’s Wackner’s “muse.”)  

Marissa notes that Wackner’s court is looking nicer—there must be money coming in from somewhere new. Wackner confirms there’s been a sympathetic donor.

Wackner is dealing with a case about NFT fraud. Marissa says she doesn’t know what that is. I’m going to assume that Marissa is using Wackner’s strategies against him (she had just accused him of playing dumb to get others to talk) because I cannot believe that Marissa, who always knows random facts, ESPECIALLY ones that involve weird corners of the internet, would not know what an NFT is.  

Marissa hears the case is about $4 million, and she’s shocked because this raises the stakes a little more than even she is comfortable with. Wackner has a signed and notarized document saying that both sides will honor the verdict. It is, as Marissa points out, notarized in 9 ¾ court by Wackner about a fictional case. “About a fictional crime,” Wackner adds on.  

I’m a little surprised this is all these writers had to say about NFTs! Maybe they knew that by the time this aired, the actual topic would feel dated.  

Mandy Patinkin is just SO GOOD as Wackner! I’m watching a fictional show about a fictional crime in a fictional court and even I am starting to believe in his ludicrous court!  

Wackner’s jury selection process involves catching potential jurors in traps, like pretending to know the national anthem when they don’t. Smart. Probably super problematic if you think about it too hard and put it in the wrong people’s hands and people start to know the system. But smart, for now.  

Diane is now in the sensitivity read meeting, for reasons passing understanding. They are still talking about the first joke. Jay calls Liz out of the meeting and notes that everyone in the room is old and no one is funny. “I’m funny!” Liz argues. Diane tries to leave the meeting, and Liz tells Diane Jay’s idea about needing younger people. “Oh god yes,” Diane agrees. I’m glad she sees it and a little alarmed that Liz doesn’t! I feel like they should’ve sent the tape to everyone interested in participating, then asked them to write up (separately) anything they found questionable or offensive, and gone from there, ending with a close review of anything that wasn’t previously flagged. If you debate every single line for hours you’re going to get nowhere.

I don’t know why Liz is so concerned that Jay thinks she’s not funny? But she is.

Diane asks Liz to join her meeting with Carmen and Lester. This is a scene I’ve been waiting for! Diane and Liz are both there and so the scene FEELS important. The plot advances. And, most importantly, they address why Carmen is staying at RL!

Lester reiterates that Carmen is super important to Rivi, so if Carmen says she can’t share info, then she can’t share info. Liz and Diane do not accept this. “I am a name partner. Carmen is a first-year associate,” Liz says. “Now, Carmen is free to resign and hang her shingle wherever she’d like. She can even go and work for you. That is up to her. But while she is here, she is subject to the rules and the mentoring of this firm.”

Lester tries to take Carmen out of the meeting. Liz and Diane won’t let him: They need to know if Carmen is staying with the firm, now.  

“You have a lot to learn, Carmen. And you can only do that here,” Diane pitches. I don’t think that’s exactly true, but it’s not untrue.

Here is a question I have about Carmen: she is WILLING to represent drug dealers and rapists. Does she WANT to? She chooses RL, so I’m guessing her interests lie in big law and not in aiding criminals.  

Lester leaves, but not before saying Kurt is about to get a grand jury summons. Diane gets one too. It’s not the usual guy! Too bad.

A bigger group is now deciding on if jokes are offensive or not, and they’re doing so with paddles that are red on one side (offensive) and green on the other (funny). I’m sure this is going to go well.

The group sees the replacement jokes and they are confused. Marissa wants to see the original joke. Julius shows the room, and everyone laughs. The joke is funny—and offensive. Someone from the mail room notes that he would be the butt of this joke, but he finds it funny, so he thinks the comedian should be able to continue with her set.  

Here is where I think I fall on this: Get sensitivity reads to get ahead of any huge issues (like, don’t be Pepsi with the ad with whichever Jenner it was who solved racism). Be aware of the potential issues. Let viewers decide what is and isn’t offensive, and make informed decisions rather than arbitrary rules about what content to show. You’ll KNOW if you are indulging the tendencies of someone with a history of making the same type of problematic jokes (for example, maybe if you are reviewing something by Tina Fey and she tries to write another edgy plot where racial stereotypes are the punchline, you advise her to not do that because, I mean, why WERE there so many episodes of 30 Rock that involved blackface??). You’ll KNOW if you are giving a platform to someone who is actively trying to spread misinformation and be cruel to others. Someone’s going to be offended by everything, and it may be a huge deal and it may not be. IMO, it doesn’t really matter that I can’t make an exact set of rules about what is/isn’t smart to air. I don’t think anyone—not networks, not creators, and not audiences—would benefit from that. Lawyers might, though, for all the billable hours...

“You can’t tell a joke without offending someone,” Jay notes. I do not think this is true! Puns don’t offend anyone!  

David Lee’s counter-example to Jay’s point is Gilbert & Sullivan. Of course it is.

As always, the argument devolves into overlapping chatter. These episodes exhaust me. At least this episode has some fun with the topic of the week and seems to have more of a point of view than some of the past episodes where the only conclusion is, “Wow! Controversy is controversial!”

Marissa ends up in the mail room with Jay and one of the mailroom guys (captions say his name is Jimmy). They are mocking the partner’s ideas of comedy. Jay and Jimmy agree that the best comedy is mean. But, Jay says, now it feels like you need “a permission slip to tell a joke.” Is... this true? This feels like one of those things people who would never actually get “cancelled” worry about because their fear overtakes their ability to understand what really gets someone cancelled.  

Then again, this episode was written by professional writers who would absolutely know better than I am if people are really hesitant to tell jokes.  

Jimmy has started making literal permission slips to allow people to tell jokes about specific groups. Jay and Marissa are down.  

Jay asks Jimmy to make a card for something so inappropriate he wouldn’t joke about it... and Jimmy prints a card that says Greta Thunberg. No one wants to joke about that.

And you know why this joke lands well for me? Part of it is that the vibe of this scene is very fun and laid back. But mostly it’s because Younger tried to make a Greta Thunberg joke this season, and it was quite possibly the worst, most embarrassing thing I’ve seen a TV show do in ages. It wasn’t funny, just mean, over the top, lazy, and never-ending. (Poor Younger. That show had an awful final season.)  

Liz is still worried she’s not funny. She asks Del if she’s funny and mentions Jay’s comment. He says she’s funny, but she’s not convinced he’s being honest. He points out this is a discussion no one will win. Del ends up accidentally saying “I love you” to Liz, which is a big deal for a relationship we’ve seen for all of two seconds. Liz says they don’t have to talk about it, but Del insists on explaining that he meant “affection,” not love. I’m glad they’re talking about this.

“Then maybe we should get married,” Liz says as seriously as possible. She stares at Del and smiles. He laughs and admits that was funny. It was VERY funny!  

Grand jury time! Yet Another Ham Sandwich: The Sequel: The Musical: The Series. (Am I funny? Pls tell me I’m funny and hip with the teens!)  

It’s Diane’s turn first. She does well, but there’s not much to say when Nancy plays the recording of Diane phoning the FBI with the rioter’s name. I did not need the clip from last episode in here. Diane is calm in court, but rushes to tell Kurt immediately. Nancy predicted Diane would do that, so she calls in Kurt before Diane has a chance to warn him.

So, wait, Kurt thought all of this was just a COINCIDENCE? Diane didn’t tell him earlier?! I don’t love this choice, but okay.  

Liz finds a joke permission slip on her desk. Julius has one too. “Did you use it?” Liz asks. Julius doesn’t understand what that even means. Then they trade clothes, because Liz does want to tell a joke about white girl clothes.

Julius suspects the cards are a way to make fun of the partners for being unfunny. The associates are also chatting about the cards, having lots of fun, so it’s clearly not about the partners.

I think now is an appropriate time to mention that TGW and TGF have both been consistently hilarious shows and have been on the air for a combined twelve years. Neither rely on the types of jokes that these cards permit. This is a kind of interesting thought experiment, but... doesn’t it say something that the shows never use these jokes as crutches and still manage to be funny? This is what I meant earlier about people being afraid of cancel culture when they’re not actually really at risk of coming under fire. These writers know how to write things that are funny. They know how to make comedy out of absurdity and subverting expectations. And yet they’re worried about how to have jokes that aren’t mean? Really?

The first laugh out loud funny TGW moment that comes to mind right now is the episode that ends with that obnoxious talk show guy trying to out Diane as a lesbian. That joke deals with identity. But it still holds up 12 years later, because the joke isn’t that Diane could be gay... the joke is that Diane DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT what this pest is saying about her on TV, and so she laughs. And because the tension of the talk show guy’s BIG DRAMATIC REVEAL is cut with Diane’s dynamic, loud laugh, we laugh with her! I’m not really sure what I'm trying to illustrate with this example. I’m just noting that you can be topical, funny, and entirely appropriate at the same time... and these writers are great at finding that balance.

HR starts, like, texting (they TEXT Marissa!!!) employees about the joke permission slips? It’s so bizarrely done that I thought this was going to be a prank.  

Jay decides they won’t go to HR, and Jimmy decides they’ll delay. Why wouldn’t HR just come down and take away the cards?

For this week’s dose of Wackner Wackiness, witnesses will be fully costumed, and it goes without saying that the costumes will be as over the top as possible.

David Cord is the mysterious donor. Marissa spots him and instantly puts the pieces together. Cord explains he met Wackner on the elevator. I can’t say enough how much I like that this season has a lot of moving pieces that feel like part of a whole. Cord showed up as part of a case that caused internal debate at the firm and had a thematic parallel to an ongoing plot, then crossed over into Wackner’s plot once he was established as a character!  

Cord says he’s interested in “disrupting things” so he’s interested in Wackner. I did not need the still photo of where they founded HP that’s used to illustrate humble beginnings, I guess.

Nancy mentions Kurt’s unfortunate last name—she so would. Kurt takes the fifth. Was this thing about needing a reason to take the fifth true in the earlier seasons and just not mentioned? Didn’t Kalinda and Will use this strategy?

Nancy, obviously, plays the recording of Diane reporting the rioter. Kurt conceals his reaction for the grand jury, but he’s pissed.  

Diane tries to apologize and Kurt asks for another lawyer. This is the right move. I can’t be all that sad.

The partners have collected all the cards and are trying to do damage control with HR. (Interestingly, there are certain topics the cards we see don’t touch on. Like, where’s the rape joke card? Aren’t rape jokes what we usually talk about when we talk about comedians getting cancelled? And where are the jokes about minority groups (aside from little people, referred to using the PC name instead of the names that would probably be used in most offensive jokes about little people) not represented in the TGF cast? I find this little bit of self-censorship quite notable, especially given that the writers seem to be arguing in favor of not regulating humor. These omissions, which MUST be intentional, tell me the writers do have their own lines they won’t cross...)  

(My larger point there, and where this funny-but-unnecessary subplot fails for me, is that this whole episode feels like a bit of a panic over cancel culture and winds up being a strawman argument. I don’t disagree with the conclusions the writers come to and I do find some of these scenes funny. But at the same time, I don’t think Cancel Culture is actually about coming after every single joke that makes fun of any person or group (if we must do a cancel culture plot, why not do one about someone who is an odious person and yet still has a following even after they’ve been “cancelled”). And I don’t think that showing HR as a very stern, strict, humorless body is helpful. I’m getting ahead of myself, but all that accomplishes is having Liz win on a point that pretty much everyone can agree on, because no one is actually as humorless as STRL’s HR department! Humor has so many gray areas and if you try to make it black and white, obviously the side that’s saying YOU CANNOT MAKE JOKES ABOUT ANYTHING is going to be the one that is wrong.  

I did just remember that all of these writers have probably dealt with unfun and strict standards & practices departments, and I like the way HR is portrayed more if I try to imagine them as Standards & Practices.

Liz decides she is going to see HR so she’s seen as an authority figure, not someone subversive. But first, Liz has to meet with Del and the comedian.

Wackner and Cord are in Diane’s office. Diane’s skeptical of their alliance. She also points out that it is corrupt for Wackner to be financed by Cord and decide on Cord’s cases. This is true. Cord says he has no vested interest in any of the cases. And Wackner says he’s the “most untouchable man on earth” and quotes a song again. Yet another example of how this court only works if Wackner is in charge.

The comedy meeting does not go well. David Lee is already trying to pitch their other servicces. The comedian finds the censored version hilarious in how terrible it is, and then she starts making fun of it, loudly, and for way too long.  

David thinks it went poorly; Liz isn’t concerned. David is all, “you failed” and Liz asks him to cool it and notes that David isn’t the highest-ranking person at STRL, so he should “stop the shit” and work with her. She’s already sounding more like a boss.  

Julius complements her on being “Boseman-like,” which is true (though I wish she didn’t need to be compared to her ex-husband). “I know,” Liz says quietly, likely because she hates that Adrian is still influencing her this much.  

Del joins Wackner and Cord in the elevator, and this isn’t the end of the episode but I’m going to pretend it is so all the episodes can end on elevators this year. It’s close enough.

Kurt’s new lawyer is Julius. Ah, yes, choose the corrupt judge Trump pardoned who works at your wife’s firm to represent you. Seems smart.  

Liz walks past Diane’s office and the camera follows her up to HR. She tries to get HR to understand humor. They do not. And that’s the episode.

So, a few thoughts to conclude. First, I went into this recap thinking I’d have a lot more to say about cancel culture and the way this episode handled the debate. But I ended up liking this plot—and this episode-- more the second time around. I still don’t think this episode said anything groundbreaking about cancel culture, because I don’t think it actually engaged with the topic beyond the surface. As I noted earlier, coming to the conclusion that jokes should be allowed because we’re all human isn’t really a resolution the real topic. What about accountability? What about allowing for some jokes to be too far without taking the teeth out of every joke? What about the way people panic over cancel culture when they’re not being canceled (this episode felt a little bit like a panic over cancel culture, which is why I reacted negatively to it the first time through) or about how cancellation doesn’t always stick or have meaning? There is SOMETHING to explore here, but I don’t think this episode found that something.  

Second, because I didn’t find a way to work it in above... is it me, or is it actually HELPING the show to not have Adrian or Lucca around!? This season feels so much more focused than the past several, and I think it might be because the writers (who are, as always, very good at adapting to curveballs) had to restructure the show. Lucca always had her own subplots that were separate from everything else, and Adrian’s charisma tended to overpower others’ presence (especially Liz’s) whenever he was in the room. It didn’t help that the writers seemed to LOVE writing Adrian plots, even if it meant neglecting others.  

Don’t get me wrong—I love Adrian and Lucca both. But there’s something to be said for a tighter show with three main interconnected pieces (Liz/firm drama, Diane/FBI and Kurt, Marissa/Wackner’s court) that carry over from episode to episode. Like the titles of the season, these episodes build on each other.  

Also, there’s the right amount of every character this season. David Lee is used sparingly; Jay and Julius are supporting players who sometimes get the spotlight; Wackner is a huge presence but his plot feels like part of the show; Carmen feels important but isn’t being given screentime for the sake of screentime; Liz is finally the type of lead she should’ve been from the start; Marissa has nicely grown into a role closer to leading than supporting; Diane remains a clear lead.  

5x05 next week!!! I am expecting some Hitting the Fan level quality and at least one fan-service-y reference. (Not really, but wouldn’t it be fun?)  

[psychosistr]

Steelbeak fankid- Valentino

Behold, my Steelbeak OC fankid! Art by @thefriendlyfour​ , full bio below the cut!

Physical Description: A young American-curl breed of cat with the breed’s signature curled-back ears and a medium-thick coat of black fur across his lanky body- minus a white heart-shaped spot on his torso which is usually hidden by his clothes- and is still a bit short for his age, with the tops of his ears stopping just below Steelbeak’s chest. Lost his tail when he was little, so he only has a small stump left of it until he gets adopted and his dad has Dr.Rose Gold make a prosthetic one for him that’s made of steel like his dad’s beak. Has amber colored eyes that, when paired with his breed’s curled back ears, tend to make him look like a devil when he grins or laughs maliciously.

Outfit: He’ll never admit it out loud, but he admires his dad’s sense of style and tries to mimic him while still making it his own. Wears a white button-up shirt with whitish-silver buttons and three-quarter style sleeves, a red western-style bow tie, a red vest with silver buttons that’s left mostly open with a small grey paw print pattern along the button holes and a larger paw print on the back, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and black slacks with a white waistband that blends in with his shirt and pockets lined with silver studs.

Gender: Demiboy that usually goes by male pronouns because it’s easier for others to understand, but appreciates it when others ask him if/acknowledge when he prefers using other pronouns.

Sexual Orientation: Still figuring it out since he’s young, but so far has a preference for boys given a few of his past crushes.

Age: 14

Nicknames: Val, Stumpy, Devil Cat, King, Fluffy.

Val is his preferred nickname and what most people end up calling him.

The middle three are names used by his gang and their enemies.

Stumpy= Mean-spirited nickname regarding his missing tail.

Devil Cat= How people see him when he’s grinning and showing off his sharp teeth with his fiery eyes and curled ears that look like devil horns.

King= His title within his gang and what most of his underlings call him.

Fluffy= Used exclusively by Steelbeak and he knows Valentino hates it.

Real Name: Valentino was given his name after being adopted by Steelbeak and, as far as he’s concerned, that is his real name.

Had another name he was called while in foster care, but refuses to say what it was and would refuse to answer to it if anyone ever called him that.

Background:

Abandoned as an infant and found in a cardboard box in an alleyway in the middle of winter- he was very sick from it and his survival was questionable for several weeks following his rescue.

Spent his early years in and out of foster homes and orphanages all over St Canard. This gave him a pretty cynical view about people in general after a while since they always ended up giving him back for being a “problem child” or he’d run away because he didn’t like the way he was treated.

The “problem child” comments were from him doing things like taking stuff, hoarding food, not obeying orders, and questioning authority.

The times he’d run away ranged from him finding the people annoying to cases of actual neglect or abuse-the worst experience being when his tail was purposefully slammed in a door and he wasn’t taken to the doctor until it was beyond saving and had to be amputated off.

No one ever believed him about the incident since he was the “problem child”.

Despite his personal experiences, he knows there are good foster homes and orphanages out there- he just ended up dealing with the worst of the worst in St Canard.

By the time he was eleven, he’d had enough of being caught in the city’s toxic foster care system and ran away to start a life for himself on the streets.

Ended up forming a gang with other kids and teenagers he’d met from his time in foster care, quickly taking the lead-role since he was smart for his age and good at coordinating/planning raids, pickpocketing without getting caught, memorizing police patrol routes, dividing loot appropriately, and intimidating others into listening to him.

The gang was called “The Broken Pawns”, with the higher-ranking members all having chess-related titles- he was the King.

One day, his gang executed a raid on a store that turned out to be a secret SHUSH base and they unknowingly stole some boxes containing flash-drives/SD-cards full of confidential files. They didn’t know this, though, and were extremely confused about why they suddenly had a bunch of men in suits chasing them down.

While running away, he ended up bumping into Steelbeak. The chief officer was confused about why SHUSH would target a kid, but got roped into a fight with them to avoid getting caught himself. After fighting them off, he questioned the kid and figured he must have stumbled onto something REALLY valuable to SHUSH and wanted to get his hands on it.

The kid wasn’t a fool, though, and worked out a deal with Steelbeak: His gang had a protocol when chased by higher-up authorities after a raid that involved them splitting up and remaining separated with no contact for a while to avoid everyone getting caught, so it would take a few weeks for them to get all of the boxes that were taken from the SHUSH base together again. The kid wasn’t very good at fighting on his own, so Steelbeak would protect him while they waited for the rest of the boxes to arrive at his base and he’d stay at Steelbeak’s home so Steelbeak could make sure the kid didn’t try to run away or double-cross him. Once he got what he wanted from the boxes the gang stole, Steelbeak would let them keep any other valuables and he’d part ways with the kid once he got his share.

Steelbeak agreed to the terms of the deal, though he originally planned to just double-cross or ditch the kid after he got what he wanted and either take everything or let SHUSH take him. After a while, though, he found himself getting attached to the kid because he reminded him so much of himself at that age- scrappy, conniving, clever, distrusting of others, and one heck of a pickpocket.

After a few weeks of living together, teaching the kid things like cooking, saving him a few times, and just general bonding with him, Steelbeak decided he liked the kid and wanted to keep him around and the kid, oddly, felt the same- it was weird for him to have an adult that treated him with respect without trying to change him or discourage him from doing stuff like stealing or lying. They talked it over and Steelbeak ended up adopting him, naming the kid Valentino after his deceased father.

Current Status: Lives with Steelbeak and attends school during weekdays while still running his gang after school and on the weekends when he doesn’t have plans with his dad.

Personality:

Valentino generally has a cynical and antisocial attitude towards most people, usually finding them boring or annoying. However, he can grow to like certain people if they show him respect and don’t try to control or change him- like his gang or his dad. Those people are the ones he’ll generally be more relaxed around and make jokes with or try to protect when there’s danger.

As a leader for his gang, he’s cool under pressure and won’t freak out even when there’s a gun being held to his head while also being cruel and calculating enough to know how to make others listen to him- a baseball bat to the head or clawing out someone’s eye usually does the trick.

A bit of a kleptomaniac and opportunist, Val will take advantage of any possible opportunity to steal something from, frame, and/or con someone for whatever he can get out of them.

This part of his personality doesn’t apply to people he actually likes, but he WILL still try to swipe stuff from them in a joking way.

Example of this is him constantly trying to take Steelbeak’s wallet and the two of them laughing about it every time he gets caught or almost gets away with it.

Interesting Bonus Facts:

Val’s had terrible problems with his balance and equilibrium ever since he lost his tail as a kid. He can still walk and run okay, but if he needs to make sharp turns or move quickly in different directions he tends to fall over. He’s gotten good at getting up quickly afterwards, but it makes it hard to do stuff like fight and dodge attacks.

This is slowly remedied after getting his prosthetic tail from Dr.Rose Gold and receiving combat lessons from Steelbeak.

Because the only white spot on his body is usually covered by his clothes, most people think he’s just a black cat and that he’s bad luck, resulting in general distrust and contributing to people classifying him as a “problem child”.

Has a loving but cheeky relationship with his dad- they like being sarcastic with each other and saying playfully mean things, but they know it’s all in good fun and they love each other a lot.

Val knows his dad will always support him and have his back if anyone actually tries to insult or hurt him, but Steelbeak still respects Val’s independence and pride so he allows him to handle things his way first and only steps in when it’s an emergency or if his son asks him to help traumatize someone.

Doesn’t really have a favorite weapon when fighting since he’s still learning how to fight, but in a pinch he has a tendency to bring out his claws and go for the eyes.

Enjoys messing with adults/older teens that think they’re better than him by saying something very intelligent and/or scary for a kid that makes them do a double-take and ask him to repeat himself but he just looks at them “innocently” and acts like he didn’t say anything.

“If I slashed your radial artery, it would only take you 90 seconds to die in a pool of your own blood…hm? What? No, I didn’t say anything.”

I personally enjoy imagining that Steelbeak adopted Val a few years after the canon timeline for Darkwing Duck, so Valentino and Gosalyn are about the same age and go to the same private school (it’s one of the better ones in town and Steelbeak wanted his boy to have a good education since he never got one).

The first time Steelbeak comes to a parent-teacher conference, he gets jumped in the hallway by an irritated Darkwing Duck who thinks he’s there to cause trouble or corrupt the youths of the school. He has a hard time believing that Steelbeak’s just there to meet his son’s teachers, even after Val comes out into the hall to find out what’s taking him so long (he thought Valentino was being threatened or coerced until the kid nailed him in the stomach with his backpack full of textbooks). While Darkwing argues with Steelbeak, Valentino manages to swipe his wallet and reveals Darkwing’s secret identity (“Oh, you’re Gosalyn’s dad?”). The two adults agree to a (reluctant) truce when attending school functions to keep their kids from getting suspended or expelled.

This leads to many awkward/tense but funny interactions between Drake Mallard and Steelbeak’s civilian identity “Pauly” where they constantly try to one-up and insult each other while being forced to interact within the socially-regulated confines of school events and PTA meetings.

Example: Parents are asked to contribute to a school bake-sale. Drake makes cookies that are very popular at first, but then Steelbeak shows up with something fancier like lemon-meringue cupcakes with real toasted marshmallow meringue on top and he just smirks while Drake’s seething over being dethroned as the best baker in the PTA.

Valentino and Gosalyn aren’t exactly friends, but they do think it’s funny watching their dads constantly look like they’re one step away from killing each other while arguing over whether or not a new school regulation should be implemented or not.

They run scams together sometimes for quick cash and respect each other’s skills at conning suckers out of their money.

Also, they tend to sympathize with each other since they were both orphans who ended up being the “unwanted kid” until being found and adopted by their respective dads, so they’ll stick up for each other if someone tries teasing the other for being adopted or not looking like their dads.

[talesofsonicasura]

Wonderful Hunter

Chapter 1: Awakening

Life was very odd when it came to the future. Sometimes souls are brought together in the most extreme circumstances...in a bang. Warning: Description of graphic injuries and swearing! Rating Estimate: Teen

I never wanted to be a hunter. Ever since I was little, there was a desire in me to perform. Dance on the stage to my own melody, to bring awe and in wonder for others to witness. A dream that I never had a chance to grab.

To perform in little free time, what wasn't taken by vigorous unwanted training. Nearly every piece of money made to buy materials with the purpose of crafting costumes was placed for ointment to mend any injury or ailment. A toy soldier who wished to no longer have a winding key.

Who would've thought that day where the key had broken was the day I died?

"What the hell did you do?!" The soft whir of electricity echoed through the void in a massive blur of distortion. Voices clear for all to hear but so jumbled that a possible identification of even a gender was impossible. Under all that chaos was a quiet heartbeat. "The machine is overloading! Everyone evacuate immediately!"

That soft whir grew into a high pitched whine as a formed cacophony alongside the harsh thuds from thousands of stomping feet. "___?! No, come back it's too dangerous! Leave that mongrel behind!" Growls of pain and concern from some unknown animal blend together with the crackle of electricity.

An explosion of bright white and velvet purple burst throughout the void with that heartbeat going silent and a small voice hidden amongst it all. Despite the darkness filling the abyss, sensations of phantom pain, muffled voices full of concern, and hands across the skin, that one voice overrides them all.

"We had a good run, pal. Misfits always stick together, ____."

Bright red eyes opened with a harsh start, their owner fully aware of the unfamiliar dimly lit room around them. These confused ruby orbs belonged to a young man around his mid 20s, and almost nude except for the black boxer briefs. Wild cherry blossom pink hair that ends halfway down the man's back, soft peach tan skin, 6'8 tall body sculpted with lithe but powerful muscle and covered in various scars.

Some of these healed wounds were mild such as scratches, bite marks, punctures but there were extreme ones from burns whether it be acid, electric or fire, 2 in deep lacerations to even a large bite mark on the jugular of his neck. Part of the man's body such as his chest and arms were covered in fresh gauze bandages paired with a crude makeshift splint on the right arm.

Raising an eyebrow, the young man removed the bandages whilst breaking the splint with a harsh pull before he took in his surroundings. The room seemed to belong to someone with a rich background from the decor alone. Pastel blue walls lined with beautiful expertly painted portraits, furnished dark oak dressers, a large vanity, double king sized bed complete with silk sheets, pillows, and hard oak frame, large oak wardrobe and three separate doors.

If anything, this made the man feel very out of place. He did catch what looked to be a pair of clothes folded by a table near him, a note on top of the stack. The pinkette delicately got out of the large bed and walked over to the table. 'Dear guest, sorry if I had to leave you a bit underdressed but your wounds needed to be addressed. Hope these would suit you until your wounds finally finish healing. The discussion about the armor would be a later dealing. Sincerely, Maestro of Wonderworld Theatre, Balan."

The man couldn't help the snort or raised eyebrow from the rhyme scheme of the note. His caretaker had left a plain white shirt and long black pants, the material being silk from spiders by the feel of it. Placing the clothes on, he noticed it was a perfect fit suspiciously as it wasn't too tight or loose.

Upon leaving the room, the young man fully understood where he was. It seemed to be a theatre, well, if a theatre was mixed with the dimensional size of a small mansion and aesthetics of a castle. The grand small staircases, rafters above a tall ceiling, fancy torches hanging through a few corridors and the various posters of different shows being some evidence.

As the pinkette walked down the halls, he couldn't ignore the feeling that he was either being watched or led somewhere. The corridors felt wrong, almost if the walls were alive and shuffling each other. He also can't forget the sensation of invisible eyes on his lone form. Whatever the case, the sound of someone talking or to be precise, two people grew louder.

"You are not touching my guest, Lance. Even if the man is odd, I will still hold a defensive stance./ That human isn't normal. Something you would easily notice if you drop being formal. Injuries on his flesh were those that can kill any human. You aren't blind to that weapon and armor made from materials that aren't of man."

Both voices were definitely male in tone and their owners' clearly arguing. The first voice was deep and had a texture similar to smooth chocolate, a type of sweetness paired with charisma. The second voice was softer just as it was light in pitch, however there was hidden animosity to the calm yet alluring tone, a siren luring their delusional prey.

All of it was coming behind a slightly opened door, perfect to peek through or eavesdrop. Quietly the pinkette tiptoed over to the oak frame, ruby eyes looking into the room on the other side. This particular door led to what appeared to be a bar from the kegs put on the side of the bar stand and the various liquor bottles stacked on the shelves behind it.

Sitting at a table adjacent to each other were two humanoids, both being significantly different from the other. The only traits these two oddities shared were their tall 10 maybe 11 ft tall forms, peculiarly thin waists, tendril-like hair, performer attire, spindly arms and spindly legs. Other than that, they could be considered Yin and Yang or opposites.

The one on the left had soft jellyfish-like pastel green hair similar to dreadlocks, pitch black skin, a large perpetual toothy smile, and amber yellow eyes that peered through his hat. A sparkling white hat bearing a red ribbon which acted like a mask for those odd eyes, red cravat, long sleeved short white coat with gold elegant rims, a black tuxedo vest, short red cape alongside fancy white gloves, long glittering white pants that were ruby red past the thigh with gold rims on the bottom, and white pointed shoes.

His opposed companion looked more human except for some glaring details. Deathly pale skin highlight by soft dark violet, long elven ears, blue eyes bearing slit pupils that dwelled in yellow iris, sharp clawed fingers, and long black tendrils with elegant markings in various colors such as green, pink, blue and yellow that sprung from the man's back but was also his hair.

A pitch black bodysuit with gold rims, torn long sleeved short violet cloak bearing elegant gold embroidery for a top, white mask shaped pauldrons on his bony hips and gold toed shoes made for nasty kicks. Wine glasses sat between these two eldritch like entities.

"Dragging others into darkness might be your role, but this one isn't taking a more grizzly toll. He is also greatly injured and like you said could've been dead if I didn't help instead." Spoke the top hatted male, that deep velvet voice belonging to him. It also meant that the darker counterpart had to be Lance from what the pinkette heard outside.

The young man scanned the room, ruby eyes looking for anything familiar to him. His focus immediately sharpened on the glint of darkish violet poking from a large wooden crate, belonging stripped off the pinkette. Carefully and quietly, the man opened the door then slipped inside.

He stuck close to the floor and moved about as the two slender giants were focused on their conversation. It was almost comical how the young man traveled on his hands and feet like a predatory cat, stealthily approaching the target without a sound.

The pinkette was about to reach for the box when the unexpected happened. The door he went through had slammed itself shut with a loud thud, both giants immediately pulled out of their conversation and watched as the chairs parted away from each other. An act that put the stunned human on full display, a deer in the headlights or hand in the cookie jar situation.

No one moved as it was a silent staredown, neither were expecting the chairs or door to come to life like that. It was the man who immediately broke out of his stupor first, the pinkette sidekicking the crate. The box shook as an object was flung out of it by the harsh force, a gun.

It was a double barrel shotgun that was an inky sinister violet in color, the barrels were that same violet but lightened to a red color by the end, the handle of the gun mimicked a dark violet scabbard bearing tannish gold spiral patterns on the side, bone like caparace similar to a segmented blade lined the bottom of the gun barrel and held the trigger within a bone like cage.

With very fluid movements, the pinkette grabbed the descending gun from the air by the handle and spun it until he was holding the trigger whilst the barrel was aimed at the two taller entities. Sapphire and amber could see the subtle cautious fear hidden in those steeled ruby orbs.

"Who the hell are you? And where am I?" The pinkette's voice was slightly rugged, fire within the husky baritone, and a bit of a growl in the pitch. You could hear how deadly serious the human male was at the moment from his voice alone. Lance and his unnamed companion carefully put their hands in the air, sudden movements would only spook the pinkette further.

"There is nothing to fear, you are completely safe here! Please put the gun down, such an item used in a theatre is a huge frown!" Even that giant smile remained despite the slight twitches that showed the top hatted male's nervousness, well, that plus the beads of sweat and now dot sized pupils.

Lance merely raised an eyebrow at the weapon. "You do know it is rude to destroy those bandages you were given? Balan had some difficulty but his will to help you was focused and driven." Those words made the pinkette lower his weapon but not drop it.

He contemplated the words then thought back to the note. Whatever conclusion that came to mind was enough for the smaller man to put the gun down on the table, something that eased the room's occupants. "That means you're Balan? Fucking hell. What the hell happened to me?" The pinkette questioned as he went to sit on the floor only for a chair to move in place instead.

An action that made the human jump back in shock, nearly kicking the chair. "Bloody hell! My day has already been Congalala shit so I really don't need all these magical shenanigans! Please tell me you have some liquor to spare." Balan and Lance could only look at each other completely aware of a very odd explanation.

Not even 5 minutes later, the pink haired man had down half a bottle of wine as he now sat with the taller odd men in the room. Massaging his head, the mortal man finally spoke up. "So I am in a magical sentient theatre that serves as a gateway to someone's heart. You two, mainly Balan, are tasked to use that magic to bring balance to anyone whose heart is out of place upon entering. Nearly godlike beings who performed this task for over 3000 years?"

The top hatted Maestro nodded his head in agreement while Lance took another swig of his wine glass. Both of them ignored the pinkette swearing under his breath, the guy was having a bad day so it was normal. Although none of them could deny that this particular person was anything normal at all.

"Alright. My name is Val'tah, Val'tah Choso and I'm a Monster Hunter." Val'tah quickly raised his hand up before Balan and Lance almost immediately shot out of their seats. "Whoa! Not that kind of hunter for Namielle's sake so don't have your knickers in a bunch. Do any of you have a pen and paper?"

Magically upon request, the mint green haired performer took out a pen and notepad from behind his cravat. Rolling his eyes, the hunter took the items and began to draw something on the paper. Val'tah then placed it on the table for both Maestros to see.

It was a sketch of what looked like a dragon made completely from stone. Stony humps that grew bits of moss protruding from the back, a tail that looked like large pebbles strung together, even flat wings to a wide meteor shaped body and narrowed rhinoceros-like face. "That is a Basarios, a Monster or species of monster."

Lance and Balan looked at the picture with curiosity. It definitely explained why the man had that sort of weapon or armor. "Hunters are sort of like mercenary peacekeepers. Whenever a monster starts a huge ruckus or someone has a job in monster infested territory, we get called to do it."

Taking a swig from the wine bottle, much to Balan's distaste, Val'tah continued. "We don't have to slay targets such as the Basarios if we want to. A Hunter has permission to capture and relocate any large monster to a better habitat, something that I usually do. Where I'm from, it's our duty to keep the balance of not only the ecosystem but between human and monster kind."

A hum of acknowledgment rumbled from Lance's throat, it was almost comical in a sense. Normal hunters have various goals in mind when it comes to hunting: glory or survival. This was the first time hearing about ones who bring balance amongst more dangerous fauna and humans. How very ironic.

"Very interesting, to imagine there is a world beyond the realm of our understanding. There is still a question, how did you end up in our sacred bastion?" Balan's question rang through Val'tah's head alongside a bit of pain. Memories flashing through the pinkette's mind as a look of solemn horror crossed his face.

"I'm remembering it now. I was assigned to an expedition to investigate some odd ruins located near Wyvern's End, a den of a very dangerous monster. Those ruins were actually a machine that accidentally turned on and… I think I was caught in an explosion. Dear Namielle, I think I died."

Silence washed over the room, it was so deafening that a pin drop could be considered a bomb going off. Balan's perpetual smile dropped into a neutral frown, horror crossing his eyes upon the hunter's visage earlier. Severe burns on the unprotected skin and his arm in a very unnatural angle...Wait.

Any other chance to say anything was stopped when a look of abstract terror and grief burned within Val'tah's eyes. "No…! Buena was with me. She must have got caught in the blast too! Where's Buena?!" The pinkette shot out of his chair, the piece of furniture hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Neither Lance or Balan could grab the hunter before he ran for the door, the hard oak opening into a gray expanse of rocky terrain than the actual hallway. Not that the change deterred the hunter as Val'tah ran in but surely took the two Maestros by surprise.

"The theatre opened its doors to a new world never seen before! Could this be the hunter's trauma born from his core or is it something more?" Balan was quick to pick out the growing intrigue within his darker counterpart's words. There was more going on with Val'tah but they couldn't figure it out without finding the man.

Both Maestros quickly ran through those doors to catch up with the hunter and his questionable head start. It appeared that the gray expanse was actually the part of a larger mountain, a steppe to be more accurate. Thick deciduous forests could be made out past some of the gray rocky cliffs other than the one the door led them there, vast yellow fields of grass and very rough uneven terrain laid alongside unknown fauna than just plants.

Or the terrifying large nest made from various sticks, broken logs, ivy, bones of different creatures; humans included, and large egg shell remains of whatever species made it. The only indication that this world was made by Val'tah's heart were the small floating islands and giant airborne accessories or props.

Ribbons woven through part of the forest, a showman's cane that hung by the cliff leading down to the grassy plain, masks hanging across the stone walls, and instruments disguised as plants or rocks playing beautiful music bearing a tribal origin by the beating drums, whistling flutes and sitar strings being strung.

"How very odd and peculiar. This place must be spawned from a memory very familiar. It will be harder to avoid any wrong, when the aura of this world is heavily strong." Balan spoke wearily, a feeling that they were being watched prickle the fuzz on his skin. There was also the strong sensation about splitting up being a very bad idea.

Using the cane to slide down to the forest below helped give both theatre dwellers a quick glimpse of the surrounding areas before they hit the ground. For a split second, Lance swore he saw something large moved through the trees. Whatever it was, it was too big to be Val'tah or any of his familiars.

Both Maestros landed on a reddish clay ridge, small ledges to an almost natural stone bridge connected the large ditch at the center, a small stream of water passing down the middle, various large mushrooms and beehives leaking honey from multiple branches. Or that they weren't exactly alone.

Grazing about the area were deer, their pelts were a dark green speckled by white dots that overlapped a soft peach underbelly, large grayish silver antlers for the males whilst the females had short black horns and azure eyes that stared at the duo. Some of the deer continued to munch on the flora while the others kept a wary gaze on Balan and Lance.

"Definitely inhabitants of Wonderworld but not quite. I think these deer were crafted by Val'tah's memories that hold powerful might." If these animals shared similar traits to their earthly counterparts, the Dark Maestro knew they were relatively harmless unless provoked.

Another thought then immediately crossed Balan's mind. "If these creatures are here, then we might have more to fear. These deer are prey…" Suddenly the various green pelted beasts rose their heads up, ears twitching as if they caught something the other two hadn't.

"Wouldn't a predator cause dismay?" The top hat wearing man really didn't like where things were going as the large herd began to scatter immediately when the sound of heavy thuds could be heard. One deer was running for the bridge, the thuds stopped and both Maestros only had time to blink when something large and purple snatched the scared fawn off the stone ground.

"Holy shit." Balan would've scolded Lance for foul language if they didn't have a bigger problem on their hands. The body of the snatched deer hung limply from the jaws of a giant purple monster. A 69 ft hulking dark violet draconic tiger, its body mostly covered in violet and yellow edged plates of caparace like armor bearing a ruby red underbelly, a short tigerine snout that held large sharp teeth and two large tusks at the ends of the mouth, giant jagged yellow horns that mimicked those on the helms of samurai which also covered long thin ears or the burning azure eyes.

Both front and back legs held four digit paws carrying razor sharp claws or what looked to be long yellow spikes on the forelegs, and the large reptilian tail that ended with a three pointed Spade spear. Balan and Lance watch the deer disappear into the beast's mouth, minced to pieces down its gullet and the feline smiled with blood tinted fangs.

Or that the draconic tiger let out a threatening roar right at the duo as bright blue fire burst from the edges of its mouth like a miasma. They barely had the chance to jump out of the way when the giant beast bounced at the two, sharp claws shredding through the dirt as if it were paper.

"This is a beast we'll have to fight or neither of us will come out alright!" Violence wasn't something Balan often indulged in but he knew there were times that he had no choice. Facing his hands forth, small spheres of yellow energy manifested on the maestro's fingertips before tossing them in the form of arrows.

With a wag of its tail, the draconic tiger brought forth burning blue will o' wisps and launched it back with a tail swipe. Both volleys of energy exploded into fireworks of their respective color, the armored beast leaping through the smoke with claws alight in blue fire.

Lance quickly dove under the beast while Balan flew over to the left side, the Dark Maestro flared out the tendrils on his back then slammed into the beast's unprotected belly alongside a vicious uppercut. The violet tiger felt the pain but took the opportunity to release a thin burst of glittering blue powder from its body before being launched into the air by Lance's attack.

Whatever the blue powder was irritated the raven haired male, the sensation being a mixture of itchy powder and bubbling hot grease. "Lance, look out!" Balan's shout made him look up at the airborne beast, the spade of its tail had opened into a trident as it swung the limb through the air.

The momentum being enough to correct the beast's position and trajectory so it could dive-bomb the Dark Maestro like a burning blue meteor. Neither of them expected for that particular powder to ignite upon contact as Balan watched his dark counterpart get flying by an azure explosion from his own body.

Creating a larger blast of yellow energy, the hat wearing man threw it at the violet tiger before heading over to his fallen ally. It let out a howl of annoyance upon the projectiles not only striking it's face but burst into a thick mustard smokescreen that made the feline gag.

Lance laid slanted by the tree he had hit, burn marks sprinkled over parts of his skin and clothing was singed too. "You okay, Lance?! This beast has more frightening power than just a ferocious stance!" Balan spoke, carefully helping his counterpart off the ground.

The movement made the elven male let out a mild hiss before shaking the greenette's hand off him. "As much as I like seeing you frown, this beast needs to be taken down. Balan, watch out for any powder from the skin of the hide, you'll lose more than just your pride."

Sharp claws of the draconic tiger swept away the hatted maestro's smokescreen. Bright blue fire burning burst the open jaws, the feline was absolutely pissed as even more azure fire spewed from the legs and tail or that the yellow ridges on the back and forelegs were now giant blades. It let out a furious roar forcing Balan and Lance to prepare for another attack.

That was until the entire world became silent, all of the instruments had oddly stopped playing. It was quiet until the sound of shamisen strings being plucked filled the still air with an orchestra of intimidating brass to follow in its wake. Sinister sounding melodies of violins and shinobue flutes were met with someone walking out from the brush.

It was Val'tah, a violet mask resembling the tiger donned on his face alongside dark violet coat with golden fur sleeves, dark violet hakama trousers decorated in elegant gold patterns reminiscent of fire and swords, two fake tails similar to the violet beast sewn on the back and without any shoes, only barefooted.

Balan and Lance stood speechless as the pinkette did something neither of them expected. The hunter had begun to dance in a style similar to those done by kabuki actors. His arms glided through the air, bits of glittering violet powder produced from the sleeves creating streaks in the air with an appearance mimicking purple misty fire.

Val'tah stomped his foot to the ground to spread out the mist like powder around him, the man spun into a short pirouette so he could stop in the Dragon Stance found in martial arts. It was like the hunter was manipulating magic to flow with his elegant and entrancing dance.

The sinister orchestra went perfectly with Val'tah's movements. Beating of hand drums, male chants with an ominous tone, shinobue flutes paired alongside the plucks of the shamisen and strung chords of the violin told a story on its own. A ritual performance of omens and cautionary tribulations.

Balan and Lance couldn't look away, neither could the beast who appeared to be calming down. The long yellow caparace blades lower themselves back into thin ridges, the trident tip of the tail collapses into its spade form and the eerie blue fire burning around the beast sputters out. Bright blue in its eyes dimming into a soft mellow teal.

Val'tah spun on the ball of his feet before transitioning into an aerial kick. The pinkette then used the momentum of the kick to position himself so he could bring down his arm in for a slash. He landed on the ground in a predatory stance, nails of his right hand dug into the soil, feet spread apart with knees bent for a crouch, left arm held out behind the man and the tiger mask facing the spectators.

The hunter then twirled himself into a backflip, all for the purpose of landing on his feet with his arms held and hands pressed together while the fingers were positioned to mimic fangs. Val'tah pulled his arms apart and let out a loud beastly roar with the final loud beats of the drum, the draconic tiger letting out its own roar in unison.

The pinkette took off his mask once the music returned to its more peaceful counterpart. "Glad I made it in time or Buena would've torn you to pieces. Luckily the Sonata of Omens can be played here or I would've been forced to do an acapella." Balan nearly choked upon the words Val'tah just said.

The giant hellish tiger that spews blue explosive fire was the hunter's friend?! Something Lance couldn't help but state the inquiry out loud. "You telling us the beast that nearly had us ravaged, is your companion that you ran off to scavenged?!"

Val'tah sheepishly scratched his head and let out a soft chuckle. The beast or Buena groomed their paws as if nothing happened. "She is a Magnamalo and they tend to be... tenacious predators. Buena is unique since she's friendlier than the regular 'malo, at least to me and any friend of mine."

Balan had a feeling there was more to this odd bond than just a story but… "At least your missing friend has been found, even if she treated us like a steak for a pound. Best to return back to the theatre, Lance got burnt bruises that need gauze by the meter." The top hatted Maestro then clapped his hands together as a giant door formed behind him.

It was big enough for the large Magnamalo to go through without any hindrance. Val'tah had a feeling there was going to be more magical convenience when it came to this odd theatre than just the taller duo living inside and a magical replica of the ritual clothing for the Sonata of Omens. Something to think about when he tries to figure out their situation.

And that's it! Yes this is a crossover between Balan Wonderworld and Monster Hunter but also my first Balan fic too! If you guys don't know, Balan Wonderworld is one of the games I've recently got and wholeheartedly. Sure it had problems but it was a delightful experience throughout my entire playthrough.

If you do decide to get the game, wait until it goes on sale. The full price isn't really suited considering the huge controversy involving it's development.

Our two star characters of this fic are an unlikely pair.

'The Hunter Who Wished To Dance' and owner of the mysterious 13th Door in Wonderworld: Val'tah Choso. A Monster Hunter who strived to become a performer but forsaken the goal partly for his ward, Buena.

Buena is a subspecies of Magnamalo called Will-O-Wisp Magnamalo. They expel blue fire often mistaken for spirit orbs and can engulf their body in an armor of azure fire for offensive defense. Only the Sonata of Omens, a mysterious ritualistic dance can calm a rampaging Magnamalo.

Until next time folks! I'll see you back in Wonderworld.

[fourthwallhateclub]

Help me

Description: Emma is with Phoenix when she is kidnapped, can Bravo set aside their emotions in time to save her, or will they be too late...

A/N: I wrote some things like this over on Ao3 under “FourthWallHateClub”, this will eventually have a second part but with my ADHD I don’t know when that will happen 🙃 please feel free to send feedback on the fix, I know it’s shit but I live for shit so 🤭

@rebelreblogs

Emma's POV

Darkness... Floating... Silence... My eyes fluttered open and started to adjust to the light... where was I? The door slammed open,

"You're awake!" Was that... was that an Afghan accent? Then it all came back to hit me like a freight train...

48 hours before hand

"Sup Dalton." I said.

"Shut it Hayes." He said pissed off.

I turned to Mac with a questioning look, "Who pissed in his coffee?"

Mac smirked, "Don't take it personally, he's not pissed with you, he's pissed with Maddie. He was on his way to a football game with one of our old delta buddies when he got the call."

"It's..." I glanced at my watch, "1300 hours?"

"We we're gonna have a few beers!" Dalton groaned.

'More than a few.' I mouthed to Mac, he just coughed to stifle his laugh.

Matty walked in, tapping the glass creating a privacy screen, and clicked a button bringing an image up on screen. "Amir-Botzwat-Asharu."

"10 of clubs..." I breathed out in disbelief.

"International arms dealer, drug trafficker-"

"and grade-A prick." Jack stated matter-of-factly.

Mac snorted, "You can say that again."

"The guys been evading Phoenix since it was OPS, us personally for years, why are we concerned about him now?" I wondered.

"What's this got to do with us, CIA took over the case, why now?" Jack asked.

"If you’d let me talk, you’d know,” Matty said sarcastically, “He recently kidnapped and murdered an American. Phoenix have had him on our radar for a while now as you’re aware but the higher ups refused to green light the op to take him out, saying CIA had it handled. That all went to hell when their undercover agent was exposed, they shot him and put a bounty on everybody CIA affiliated."She said.

"We're on their SOS list Matty, we outrank some shitty little 'bounty' list." I said.

"Regardless, you, Dalton and MacGyver leave for the Middle East at 1600 this afternoon so you arrive at night, get your affairs in order because the big men upstairs say you don't leave till the jobs is done. You'll be properly briefed on the plane, but there are more pressing issues, you guys have up to date parachute qualifications right?"

"I don't like where this is going..." Jack mused.

"Me either..." Mac agreed.

"As much as I hate agreeing with you two shmucks, me three..." I said.

"Well whether you like it or not your jumping from that plane, there's no where for it to land where you'll keep your cover. Unless you want to walk 13 miles to where you'll be staying?" She challenged.

"WE'LL JUMP!!" We said in unison.

She smirked, "That's what I thought."

"Okay... where exactly are we going in the Middle East, and where are we staying?" I asked.

"You are going to Afghanistan."

"Fucking Trashcanistan?!? You've got to be kidding." Jack screeched.

Ah Dalton and his hatred for that place... he would get along with Uncle Sonny, man has a fear of bloody everything...

"SHIT!!" I yelled.

All heads snapped to me, "What's wrong Hayes?"

"Um... where exactly would we be staying?" I asked biting my lip.

"Navy base in J-"

I laughed nervously, "Would that be in J-Bad by any chance?"

"Yes, why?" Matty asked.

"We have a little problem..." I mumbled.

"And what would that be..." She mused, raising an eyebrow.

"My uh- my family was spun-up there a few weeks ago." I said.

"What do you mean Em?" Mac asked.

"I mean my family, is Bravo team. They are currently in the Middle East, and are stationed in J-Bad for the foreseeable future. What do we do?"

"I'm assuming that they were not among the people you told about your job?" Matty asked.

"No ma'am. Mac, Dalton, Bozer and Riley are the only ones who know..." I answered.

"You arrive at night anyway, you cover your tracks and stay as hidden as possible, don't talk to anyone and stay away from the sailors. Nobody is to know what you're doing there or who you are... to them you three are Black Rose, Hunter, and Eagle." Matty said.

"Yes ma'am."

"Well... get out of here."

We didn't need to be told twice, we were running out the door and to the squad room.

"What the fuck do I do?!?" I yelled as we entered the room.

"Want a hug?" Mac asked opening his arms. I nodded and walked into him tucking myself into his figure, "You'll be ok."

Jack's POV

"Wait! Is your dad the Jason Hayes, like Bravo 1, the legend?!?" I screeched.

"Uh- yeah.." Emma said pushing away from Mac and scratching her head.

"That explains a lot..."

"What do you mean?" She was confused.

"I mean, having worked with your father, I see where you get it from."

She laughed, "You are so old."

I gasped, "You mean we are so old. Mac and I worked together in the Army."

“No. You? You're old enough to be my dad. Mac? Is old enough to be my big brother." She laughed.

"Yeah, and we'll protect you like it too." I said hugging her shoulder.

"You won't have to do anything if my family spots me. I'll be on the first plane out of there and back home, complete with a tracker and navy seal protection detail. They'll never let me out of their fucking sight." She grumbled.

"You'll be ok. Let's get ready to rak out." I said.

"You're right."

I walked into my office and grabbed my rucksack and duffel. I met them back in the main room.

"List it Hayes."

She groaned, "Why???"

I smirked, "We're acting like the older brother and dad we are."

She rolled her eyes but spoke anyway, "I made sure my camping gear, fatigues and survival gear was in my bergan, along with Guns, ammo, knife and spare phones," we looked at her weirdly, "What? I'm sick of Mac breaking my shit. Dalton and I spend way to much fucking time at the Genius Bar creating new and inventive covers to explain what Mac does as is."

Mac raised his hands, "You got me."

She smirked, "I know I do, anyway, I grabbed my go-bag, passport and fake ID's."

"What's in your go-bag." I quizzed.

"Toiletries, Clothes, Cash, Raincoat, Matches, Lighter, Laptop, Flashlight, MRE's, water purification tablets, rope, duct tape, whistle, batteries, knife, and First aid kit. Why do we keep doing this?"

"Good, and we do it because we care." Mac said kissing her head.

“Ugh! Let's go." We headed out to Mac's truck and dumped our stuff in the back. She hopped in the back and we drove to Mac's place.

"Bozer!" Mac called.

"Sup guys." He said bro hugging Mac.

"We're heading out, I need you to take care of some stuff for us." Mac asked.

"Yeah ok, let me grab some paper." He said.

We walked into the kitchen and told him what we needed, Mac didn't need to worry because he lived with Bozer, so Em went first, "My rent is due first of the month, it auto pays but I need you to check on the seventh if I have mail just in case it didn't go through. I need mail collected on the 7th, 14th 21st, and 28th. Plants need to be watered but that can be done when you grab my mail, if anything happens there is a contact sheet folded in the draw of my desk, it'll tell you who to call, in what order. You good with that?"

"All good Em." He said with a smile.

"Thanks Boz."

"Your welcome, Jack anything you need." He questioned.

"I live next to Emma so same as her just no plants to water, if you could check on my place when you water Emma's plants that would be great, and there is a contact list in the box on top of the CD rack."

"Cool, I got it."

“Thanks Boz." Mac said walking back into the room with his bag.

"It's all cool man." He said.

We walked to the door before he called out, "Be safe, I want you back in one piece."

"We'll try Boz."

~Time skip brought to you by Sonny’s Bam-Bam~

We'd been briefed and where currently in our hammocks grabbing what sleep we could before we hit the ground running.

"Drop zone is up in 35."

"Let's go kids." I commanded with a laugh.

We packed up our hammocks and pulled on our jump suits. I strapped my duffel to the bottom of my bergan and grabbed my chute. Strapping my Bergan to my back I pulled the parachute over the top. I walked over to the ramp and waited for Mac and Em to join me.

"2 minutes to the drop zone"

"Ready ladies." I yelled over.

"We're coming." Mac laughed.

We attached to the central line and clipped in, we watched as the light turned on and the ramp lowered,

"5...4...3...2...1..."

The light turned green and we jumped. My drill instructors voice went through my head. Breathing Dalton... in for 2... hold for 4... out for 3... parachute in 3, 2, 1. Pull the cord. Release the parachute. Move your body vertical. Feet pointed down. Legs slightly apart. Hit the deck in 3...2...1. Land crouched. Bend knees and run forward 20 yards. Unclip and pull.

Emma and Mac landed next to me and we packed up our chutes.

"Base is roughly 1 click 228 degrees north east." I said.

"Comms up?" Mac asked.

"Yeah they are." Matty answered.

"Good." I said. "Let's go."

We moved our bergans to our fronts and held our duffel bags. We broke out into a jog eager to get out of the heat. Arriving at the 'base' we were met with our assigned CIA handler.

"Agent Jayden Riggs." He said offering his hand.

I shook it, "I'm Eagle, this is Hunter and she's Black Rose."

"Real names?" He asked.

"That's need to know." Emma answered.

“What do you mean, I'm your handler?"

"Look Riggs, we don't like spooks ok. We work alone, off our own intel. It's important our identities remain a secret." She answered shortly, that's my Hayes.

"Alright then, let's get you set up in cabins, Black Rose, you'll be separated from the men." He said as he started walking away.

"What?" I said.

"Gender sensitivity. Men and women are separated." He said like it was obvious.

"Yeah no, she stays with us. We don't care about gender sensitivity." Mac said before I could, reel in the big brother before you get yourself in trouble Mac.

"It's protoco-"

I cut him off, "Screw protocol, Black Rose stays with us."

"Of course." He relented.

He led us to a cabin as a humvee pulled up, out climbed 6 men and a dog, all in fatigues, before I could see anything else Emma pushed us into the cabin and slammed the door shut behind us as we collapsed onto the floor.

"What was that??"

"That! Was my family." She helped us up.

Jason's POV

We were on night patrol in a neighbouring town to J-bad, we'd been out for 6 hours and it was 0300. I decided it was time to head back.

"Let's move out."

We walked back to the humvee and climbed in. We'd been driving for about 15 minutes when we saw three figures drop from the sky.

"What the hell is that?" Sonny asked.

"I'll find out." I said keying my comms, "Havoc base this is Bravo 1, we've got three parachute jumpers coming towards base."

"Copy that Bravo 1, I'll find out." Blackburn answered, a few minutes later he keyed his coms again, "Stand down, their friendlies."

"What do you mean their 'friendlies'?"

"I'll find out."

I rolled my eyes, cryptic much. We watched as they landed about 5 clicks ahead of us and packed their chutes away, then started running towards base.

"We're not far out now. We'll talk when we get in." I said.

We got to the base gate and rolled through, getting out I saw three figures standing outside a cabin glance at us before one pushed the others into the cabin and slammed the door. Weird. After we dumped our gear in the shed. We walked into the team room where Eric and Mandy were waiting.

"Who were they?" I asked.

"Apparently they work for some government agency, they're following a lead on a case." Mandy said.

"Which agency?" Brock asked.

"I don't know guys. I don't know..." Eric said.

"Why did they jump Eric? Why not just land on the airstrip?" I quizzed.

"Apparently they're meant to be discreet. Nobody was supposed to know they're here." Mandy said.

"Well they did a crap job of that." Ray said.

"Actually Ray, you guys weren't meant to be out tonight, had base been on routine nobody would have seen them come in." Eric spoke.

"Well that's creepy." Clay said.

"What do we know about these guys Mandy?" I asked.

"Two guys, one girl actually." She stated hint of amusement in her tone.

"A girl?!?" Sonny yelled.

"What? Don't think women can do the same jobs as men? Or are you just worried she's going to outshine you." Lisa interrogated.

"No but if she gets snatched we'll be the ones collecting her." He grumbled.

"So? If she's snatched it's going to be for bad intel, and unfair conditions. Not because she's a woman." Lisa challenged.

"Enough! What do we know about them?" I yelled.

"Their handler couldn't tell me much, mainly because he didn't know a great deal. However, their code names are Black-Rose, Hunter and Eagle. Their handler doesn't know their real names and I suspect that's by design." Mandy spoke.

"Ok. First off those why do those code names ring a bell, Second what do we know about the organisation they work for?" Clay asked.

"Honestly? Nothing. None of my bosses know who or what they are and the further up I went the more I was told to stop digging." Mandy said.

"So what do we do?" Trent asked.

"We stay away. We don't talk to them, not only for your safety but for theirs too. You see them walking you say nothing, although I suspect given all the trouble they went to so they weren't seen while getting here, we won't be seeing an awful lot of them." Eric mused.

"Alright then." I said clapping my hands, "We need to sleep." I turned to Eric, "I trust if you find anymore information that could be of use you'll speak to us?"

"Of course." Eric said nodding curtly before walking out of the room.

[storiesforallfandoms]

a dangerous love affair ~ alfie solomons; peaky blinders

word count: 1397

request?: no

description: alfie is really testing his luck with the shelbys when he decides to start a secret relationship with the family’s youngest sister

pairing: alfie solomons x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of smut

masterlist

Alfie briefly glanced up from his paperwork to see Tommy and (Y/N) Shelby entering his office. He smiled at the two of them, his eyes lingering on (Y/N).

“Ah, you brought the pretty bird with you this time I see,” he commented.

The comment earned him a warning glare from (Y/N) and a death glare from Tommy. “Watch yourself, Alfie. I brought (Y/N) here on official business.”

“Oh yes, right, right,” Alfie said, waving away Tommy’s comment. “Of course she is, she must be the smartest of you lot after all. I’ll never complain about seein’ her pretty face in my place of work.”

(Y/N) almost had to take hold of Tommy’s arm to stop him from trying to pull his gun on Alfie. “Okay children, stop your bickering and talk like the men you’re supposed to be so we can all go our separate ways.”

Tommy glared at Alfie as he sat himself across from him in his usual spot.

Besides the tension between the two men, the meeting went smooth and was over before any of them knew it. Tommy was up from his chair and out of the door before (Y/N) even had the paperwork gathered.

As (Y/N) tried to walk past him, Alfie took hold of her arm and yanked her towards him. She giggled as he pressed his lips against hers and held her close. Moments like these between the two of them were fleeting, so they tried to make them last.

(Y/N) was the second youngest Shelby sibling, and the youngest Shelby sister. Her brothers were so protective over her ever since they were kids, but their protectiveness seemed to become worse after Ada got married and gave birth to her son. (Y/N) was never sure if it was because they didn’t want (Y/N) to have the same hardships Ada went through, or because they could no longer control their eldest sister. All she knew was that it pissed her off.

She never meant to fall in love with Alfie. In fact, she didn't even like Alfie when they first met. As time went on, she found herself growing more and more fond of Alfie, and he of her. By the time Tommy sent (Y/N) to a meeting with Alfie on her own, they had both grown so fond of the other their meeting ended with Alfie locking his office door and fucking (Y/Y) right there on his desk.

For obvious reasons, they kept the relationship a secret from her family, which meant a great deal of sneaking around as almost everyone in Birmingham was under the thumb of Thomas Shelby.

(Y/N) finally pulled away from their kiss to check over her shoulder to make sure Tommy hadn’t come back.

“You’re still comin’ to mine tonight, right love?” Alfie asked, taking advantage of her exposed neck by placing kisses all over it. (Y/N) giggled as his beard tickled her neck.

“Of course,” she responded, turning her head to meet his lips again. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

“You’ll be there with nothin’ on.” He kissed her again before letting her go. “Now, you best get goin’ before your brother comes lookin’ for ya.”

As she turned to walk away, Alfie smacked her ass, causing her to exclaim and shoot him a playful glare before she walked out of his office to join her brother.

~~~~~~~

Hours later, (Y/N) was digging her nails into Alfie’s back as she called out his name in pleasure. He was sucking on a spot on her neck, nipping at it as he reached his own climax.

(Y/N) inspected her neck in the mirror, watching as the purple mark started to become more apparent. “My brothers are going to kill me when they see this.”

“Wear high collar shirts and dresses until it goes away,” Alfie suggested.

(Y/N) glared at him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t help but smile at him. “It’s not that easy, they’ll know something is happening if I’m wearing high collar clothes all the time.”

Alfie took a cigarette from his bedside table and lit it, taking a puff before motioning for (Y/N) to come back to the bed with the two fingers holding the cigarette. “That’s enough of that, come back to bed now love.”

(Y/N) giggled and nearly ran to the bed. She curled up next to Alfie, plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a puff of it herself. Alfie chuckled as she blew smoke into his face and handed him the cigarette back.

“Are you ever gonna tell your family about us?” Alfie asked her as he took a puff of the cigarette.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Yeah, when I have a death wish for the two of us. Tommy almost killed Freddie when he found out about him and Ada, and he liked Freddie. I can’t imagine what he’d do to you.”

“Oi, are you sayin’ your brother don’t like me?”

“Oh no, he doesn’t like you, he respects you. That’s something totally different. You don’t necessarily have to like someone to respect them.”

Silence fell over them as they lay together in Alfie’s bed, a cool breeze blowing in through the open window. The moon was bright, lighting the room effortlessly on its own. (Y/N) couldn’t imagine being anywhere but there. She had gotten so used to falling asleep in Alfie’s arms, she couldn’t imagine having to sleep on her own anymore.

Her eyes were starting to grow heavy as exhaustion started to take over her. One downside to having to sneak around to see Alfie was that most of their rendezvous took place at night, and the next day (Y/N) would have to get up and hurry back to her house so that her siblings had no idea that she had left. She had been losing so much sleep lately that she was basically asleep on her feet throughout the day.

“I think we need to tell them eventually,” Alfie said as he ran his along her bare back.

“Why do you care about them knowing suddenly?” (Y/N) mumbled, sheepishly. “You’ve never really cared before. In fact, you loved having this secret over Tommy since we started seeing each other.”

“Oh trust me, I still do love knowing that I’ve managed to capture the heart of (Y/N) Shelby, it’s a nice little tidbit of information I have that can really get under your brother’s skin.” (Y/N) chuckled at this. “But I think it’d be good for your family to know before the wedding.”

(Y/N)’s eyes popped open and she sat up suddenly. Alfie was still facing the window, as if he had said nothing at all.

“What fucking wedding?” she asked him, almost certain she had heard him wrong.

Alfie reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a box from the top drawer. Inside was the most beautiful diamond ring (Y/N) had ever seen. She covered her mouth as she felt tears starting to well in her eyes.

“I know this isn’t exactly the best scenario to propose, but there’s very little better scenarios when I only see you every night,” Alfie said. “I have never loved a woman as much as I love you. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life, and the fact that you’ve stuck around with me and my crazy bullshit for this long has to be a sign that maybe we’re meant to be together forever. What do you say, (Y/N)? Will you marry me?”

(Y/N) couldn’t form a sentence. For a minute, she felt like she couldn’t even move. Finally, she managed to nod before she lunged at Alfie, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him so tightly she nearly choked him. When she pulled away, Alfie took her left hand in his and slid the beautiful ring onto her finger.

“You’ll definitely have to tell them now,” he pointed out.

(Y/N) sighed as she settled back against Alfie again, holding her hand out to look at how her ring sparkled in the moonlight. “We’ll tell them tomorrow, all of them together. At least then I’ll have Polly, Ada, and the boys’ wives to hold them back should they try to kill you.”

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Thanks // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 4

Description: Jay reaches out when he needs it

Warnings: Emotional Whump

Pairing: Jay x Reader (Eventual), Reader x Mouse!Platonic, Jay x Mouse!Platonic

Words: 1620

A/N: No worries, our favorite best friend will be back in the next part. I’m on a roll, the muse assisting to keep the creative juices flowing!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You checked in with the ED, knowing Jay got discharged later that day despite his doctors wanting him to at least stay the night for observation. He was stubborn, you were learning. Though, you’d be surprised if he wasn’t. You felt bad though, knowing he was going to be on desk duty for a while. It seemed as if he’d been through it before, knowing the routine pretty well. 

It took a couple days for your phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on the screen. You’d just gotten home from work, tossing your bag on the couch. Honestly, you’d just been looking forward to a bath, some TV, and a glass of wine before bed. 

“Y/N,” you told whoever was on the phone as you answered it. 

“Hey, hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Jay answered, a smile quickly forming on your face.

“No, I just got home. What’s up?” You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. 

“I don’t want you to have to move your schedule around on my part to visit Mouse, so I’ll just tag along whenever you go.” There was something more to it, though. You could tell by the uneasiness in his voice, stopping yourself from opening the wine just yet. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I usually go on Mondays and Thursdays. You okay, Jay?” you finally asked.

“Honestly.” You heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “I’ve been better. Just a little stir-crazy you know? On medical leave for a little bit, and I really don’t want to take a taxi anywhere.” He chuckled nervously. “And Hailey’s at work, which makes sense. And so is everybody else. And Will is still pissed off that I got shot. I know he just worries but…”

“You’re rambling, Jay. Do you want me to come over? We could order a pizza, watch a movie? Just until somebody gets off work,” you offered, knowing it was going to be a 50/50 shot that he’d take you up on the offer. 

“You sure? I’m not always the greatest company.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll pick up a pizza on the way. Just text me your address,” you assured him, putting the wine back in the refrigerator, glass in the cabinet. There went your plans for the night, but spending it with Jay seemed like a better option. 

You were at Jay’s apartment less than an hour later, pizza box in one hand, pack of beer in the other. You weren’t sure if he was on pain meds or not, but figured it wouldn’t be a long shot that he was more of a beer guy than a wine guy. Making quick work of the stairs, you knocked on the door. 

“It’s open!” you heard him call out, letting yourself in. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you assured again, setting the pizza down on the coffee table in front of him. His lap was covered with a blanket, a pair of crutches right next to the couch. It was a well kept place, not overly fancy, but not a shit-hole either. Being a detective must have meant he made some pretty decent money. “You want one?” you then asked, holding up the six pack.

“Maybe later. The kitchen is right over there, if you could put it in the fridge. You’re more than welcome to have one though.” You followed the direction of his pointed finger, placing the pack in the fridge before going back into the living room. Quickly, you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket before joining him on the couch. 

He’d turned on a documentary, eyes fixed on the screen except when he reached out to grab a slice of pizza. You knew better than to push it, knowing there was something more just under the surface. There had to be a reason he’d called you and not somebody else. It reminded you of sitting with Mouse, though you knew Jay was more than capable of expressing whatever was on his mind. 

The documentary came to an end, Jay flipping through channels before settling on the hockey game. You’d propped your feet up on the table, leaning back onto the couch. 

“You gonna be okay?” you asked him softly, Jay looking at you finally. 

“Eventually,” he agreed with a nod. “I just...I don’t like being cooped up, you know? Gives me too much time to think.”

“I get it. But I’m here to listen if you want to talk. Not as a doctor, but as your friend,” you reminded him, Jay nodding again. 

“I’m going to get one of those beers. You want one?” he asked, uncovering himself and grabbing his crutches. You tried not to look, didn’t want to make it seem like all you were going to focus on was his leg -- or lack thereof. But you noticed the white bandaging on the remaining section, shorts covering most of it.

“Yeah. I’ll take one,” you agreed before he walked over to the fridge. He had it all down pat, how to get around and grab what he needed to. That’s what thirteen years of being an amputee would do to a person. He handed off the bottle before sitting back down and covering back up. 

He didn’t drink the beer though. He’d popped the top off, held onto it for a few minutes before discarding it on the table. 

“It’s the same every time,” he finally said, your brow furrowing as you tried to understand. The two of you looked at each other as he continued to talk. “The first time I got shot on the job was a through and through on my right shoulder. That’s what got me into the unit I’m in now. It’s a running joke. You get shot, you get to choose your unit. The second time was after my dad died. Grazed my side, but no lasting damage. The third time I almost died. Right shoulder again, hit an artery though. The doctor said I should have died. That it was a miracle. And it’s the same every time. The ‘pop’ of the gun, the searing pain.”

“I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like,” you reminded him.

“I know. It was different, though, in Afghanistan. Here, I know I could get shot. Over there, it was just a question of when. A few grazes, nothing major. I mean, there was a firefight every day. But here, it’s the same every time.” He was repeating himself, that was the first thing you noticed before the shift in body language, hands gripping the blanket a little tighter, the stiffness in his shoulders and jaw. 

“Jay.” You put on the psychiatrist voice, the soft and soothing voice. You didn’t move to touch him, staying firmly where you were. “You’re not there.”

“I know. I know. I just- God, what’s wrong with me?” he confirmed, shaking his head as if it was an etch-a-sketch trying to get rid of the picture. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you. Like I said the other day, trauma can bring things up that we try to push away. It’s completely normal, a natural response. But the only way to work through it is to talk about it. Not to push it away.”

“Now you’re sounding like my last therapist,” he joked with a small laugh, despite the tears brimming in his eyes, running a shaking hand over his face. 

“It is what I do for a living. But you do need to talk about it, Jay. To anybody, doesn’t have to be me. Doesn’t have to be a professional. A friend, a coworker, just someone.” This time, you reached out, letting your hand rest on his arm, rubbing circles on the flesh with your thumb. 

“Mouse and I didn’t get to come home together. He was still in a coma, clinging to life in Germany. I got to come back though, knowing most of our team was dead or dying. And I walked away like this. It took a while. Will was in New York partying. My dad never liked that I joined the military. And my mom...she was really sick. So, I suffered alone for a long time. I learned to compartmentalize, to deal with the nightmares and flashbacks. Not in the healthiest way at first, a lot of drinking. A lot of drinking.” He nodded. “And when Mouse did get to come home, I threw myself into making sure he was okay. He was what brought me back time and time again.”

“You have a support system now, Jay. Your brother cares about you, that much is obvious, though he may not always understand. Your team is there. You were talking about your partner Hailey. I’m sure she’d listen and support you. There’s always Mouse, though he may not give the clearest advice at times.” You both laughed at that. “And you have me. You’re not in this alone anymore, Jay.”

“Thanks for coming over. It means a lot. Can we talk about something a little less morbid than about how fucked up my head is?” 

The rest of the night was spent talking about his job, your job, how you grew up on military bases. It was the same type of conversations you would have with Mouse. It was normal, familiar. And that’s what he needed, letting him lead the conversation. As the night continued on, the sun long gone over the horizon and moon in the sky, there was one thing you became sure of. Whatever drew you to volunteer knew that you needed these two men in your life as much as they needed you. 

Tag List: @yzas-stuff @gemmafountainloves @ceiliesla @corebore123 @annaallicce @fullwattpadmusictree @bethii1 @thevelvetseries @mich-lynne3 @itmejado @music-is-my-escape71 @not-onlyedmlyrics @supergirl000983 @mandybug39 @okiegirl24 @haileymatthewss @httphiddlestan @capmanranger @ahhh0ahhh @bookgiver @daenerys-targaryes @galacticsmoon @beachfan412 @wearesodrica @danielacastellon @genericcaner @halsteadsway @theskytraveler @miranda0102 @amyarondottir @onechicago18 @lovecatystuff @doramstr @itsdesiree86 @raveenasblog

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

I finally finished my Chamber spread (and reading the 1994 Generation X run)! What was initially meant to be a quick exploration of British punk/goth fashion from the 1990s quickly grew. Now it’s some punk fashion history, a couple memes, a dress he stole from Ms Frost, some bsl, and one random sweatshirt (for good luck).

Extras (notes, descriptions, wipes, etc) under the cut

[A full body shot of Chamber, who is slouching and holding onto a old time-y cigarette holder. He is wearing a sort of fancy romper, along with evening gloves and low heels. It has a long train and a very low cut chest, which energy is leaking out from. His hair is floofed up like it is in the modern New Mutants comic.] Another much later addition, I was having an art block when I saw the top of a dress which I immediately stole. If not for that dress this might have never been made. Though I’m personally a little conflicted on the psychic powers (but they feel like they were slapped on because they couldn’t think of any other way for someone without a mouth to talk), I do really wish they had bothered to show Emma training his powers.

[A full body shot of Chamber, who is slouching and holding onto a old time-y cigarette holder. He is wearing a sort of fancy romper, along with evening gloves and low heels. It has a long train and a very low cut chest, which energy is leaking out from. His hair is floofed up like it is in the modern New Mutants comic.] Another much later addition, I was having an art block when I saw the top of a dress which I immediately stole. If not for that dress this might have never been made. Though I’m personally a little conflicted on the psychic powers (but they feel like they were slapped on because they couldn’t think of any other way for someone without a mouth to talk), I do really wish they had bothered to show Emma training his powers.

[Another waist up drawing, this time he is wrapped up in a large, dark blue sweatshirt. It has a tall turquoise base, obscuring most of his face. He is side-eyeing the camera.] This one was just a space-filler. I liked a line up of Psycho Mantis drawings so I stole a jacket (without understanding how it worked). So I have no clue what is going on with the lip-thing. My brain apparently has “a type” that it will inevitably latch onto and that is masculine red haired bean poles with gothic themes and fire symbolism. I don’t find any of that attractive but my fixations don’t care about that.

[A finale full body, this time he is wearing a tan trench coat over a purssian blue turtleneck sweater, brown baggy pants, and a small belt. His hair is much longer than before, and the side facing towards us is shaved off. He is wearing makeup.] The only look I remembered the makeup on since most of these were wholly ripped off of real world punks (who I then lost the photos of by the time I was coloring them) almost all of who had some sort of makeup. This specific look was completely stolen from a photo of a Belin punk from the early 1990s. It’s probably the farthest from how he’s actually drawn but I like the vibes.

[Two more drawing from the waist up. One depicts a slouched over Chamber, hair half pushed back as lightning like bolts escape out. He is wearing two shirts, a tan Sex Pistols shirt and a dull brown shirt underneath it. Both shirts have been tucked into a pair of high waisted pants. Over top is a torn up and burnt sweater. The second outfit depicts Chamber, hair slicked back in a leather jacket. This time the crop top and tartan scarf are long enough that no energy leaks out. His red suspenders connect to dull blue jeans. Both hands have one finger (the pointer) extended and he is spinning them away from himself, the British sign for fireworks. Both drawings give him earrings.] It doesn’t happen often but I really enjoy when his energy-fire-thing looks like lightning. What can I say, it’s neat! Also, it’s dumb that he doesn’t actually know any sort of sign language. Like, how do you just figure out you can speak to people telepathically? Not read their minds (usually), but talk to them. Plus it really feels like the author just slapped it on because he couldn’t think of anything better.

[A small semi-comic. The first panel depicts Chamber, staring down at a knife which has been plunged into his chest. He wears a navy coat over a pinstripe button down and a high neck sweater. His hair has all been swept to one side. Next to him is a telepathic speech bubble. It is quoting British People Be Like and reads: “Oi there mate. But rude to put that knoife in me chest” the text is interrupted by an onomatopoeic “FLOOSH” and then continues “innit?” Below that is a final panel, depicting Chamber, hair floating upwards as his face is obscured by fire and the knife melts, still in his chest.] All of generation X is bi. I don’t know what else you want me to say. According to my Marvel Encyclopedia, he’s 5’9”, same height as me.

[ A series of small drawings of Chamber. He is wearing a red suit over a black cherry pattern shirt and a plain red scarf. He wears several small earrings. In the first drawing, he circles two finger guns around each other and away from him. In the second and third he draws two downward lines with both hands, then brings up one hand and draws boxes along it. Finally, he slams his left arm down.] His outfit is FULLY stolen from Green Day. A very paraphrased version of Chamber’s best speech. In order, it reads (or is at least supposed to read) “Always” “Bigots” “Smash.” I tried to use proper BSL grammar, but I struggled to find an accurate sign for “bigot.”