#**Codename: THE KILLING WALL

[soullessdianthus]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠) 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑

Summary: A heated confrontation between Ghost and König occurs just before the takeoff. The colonel tests the boundries of sanity and good taste, when he finds Ghost on a battlefield alone. Displayed for him to take down with a single pull of the trigger.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

A/N: Apologise for the delay as I mentioned I was on vacations and now I'm trying to catch up with the requests. Thanks for your patience! ( ˘ ³˘) Y/C ━ Your Codename Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: reader is eastern european coded, desc. of blood/injuries/unalive bodies, smut (very brief desc., slow and gentle sex, p in v, voyeurism)

Word count: 3.7k

YALL I RAN OUT OF KONIG'S GIFS WHAT THE HECK

The armory was bursting at the seams, when many KorTac soldiers came in and out, preparing for the upcoming takeoff. The racks usually filled with rifles were emptied, gear sets laying on the shelfs mostly gone. 

The tall figure of the lieutenant obscured the privates dressed all in black. The yellow light dangling from the ceiling casted a shadow inside of the skull’s eye sockets. Black irises merged with the pupils of his eyes.

Ghost hadn’t put his vest nor the gun holster on yet. He left the room in which he and his lover slept in, then headed straight to the magazine. The man needed to clean his gun and sharpen the knives before the departure. It was a part of his routine, almost becoming a ritual of sorts. A brilliant soldier.

Ghost walked into the narrow alley. To his dismay there was already another person sitting on the metal bench against the wall. But not just simply another person, no. It was him, the king.

König sat with his legs spread open, casually. An assault rifle was held firmly, when his opposite hand cleaned the barrel precisely and slowly. The colonel wasn’t in a rush. Ghost could feel the man's cold, blue eyes following him until the Britishman stopped near one of the shelves with gear. 

Simon took a gun holster in his hand and swiftly wrapped it around his massive thigh. With a quick movement, he secured the strap, before moving to putting on a tactical vest. Everything went according to Ghost’s liking, the cocky Austrian man kept his mouth shut. 

Until he didn’t.

━ Your medic is a treasure, leutnant [ger.: lieutenant]. Would kill to have one this skilled on my team. And equally pretty too. ━ König chuckled under his black hood, his shoulders slightly shaking. Some would say it was a nervous laugh, but Ghost’s experience told him it was not. The colonel had a filthy mouth, that’s all. 

A silence followed his blunt provocations as Ghost kept adjusting the vest’s straps over his jacket. Simon Riley was not easy to provoke with such jokes. However, his mannerism exposed his annoyance a little too much. 

━ You know ━ the colonel continued pushing Simon’s buttons, checking his boundaries. Especially those regarding his girlfriend ━ you should be more careful with spreading such vulnerable pictures like the one you sent me yesterday. 

━ Thought I made it clear she’s off your limits, no? 

The tone of Ghost’s voice was firm and almost menacing, when he reloaded the handgun and put it into the holster. 

━  Nicht wirklich [ger.: Not really] ━ König set aside prepared rifle and leaned over his own thighs, one forearm resting upon his lap. ━ Besides, isn’t your little union… ━ he paused, searching for a descriptive word, circling his wrist in the air ━ prohibited? It would be a pity to destroy a career in the army, ja? 

━ Are you threatening us? 

━ Do you feel threatened?

Ghost turned around to face the cocky bastard, now standing to his full height. Even then, the man with a skull mask kept his emotions in check. He knew better.

━ No.

━ Then it’s clear. ━ The colonel of KorTac said in a calm manner, grabbing the rifle, before slowly heading towards the armory’s exit. He didn’t turn around, not once. ━ I’m actually looking for more of those pictures. 

With a steady pace König left the room, leaving the lieutenant behind. Alone this time. 

The sound of clamped gloves could be heard, man’s veins on his palm popped out. Ghost gritted his teeth silently, trying to ignore that bloody moron. Lieutenant knew perfectly well that you were his. Only Simon could touch you, kiss you, protect you. But something about the Austrian man not giving up made him annoyed. 

Especially because he was just fucking around with Simon, pushing him, testing his limits, joking about his girl. 

It was you. You were Ghost’s weak point and König abused that recognition. 

The knowledge that if the mission went smoothly, the Task Force would pack up and move was reassuring. So therefore Ghost would do everything in his power to make it happen. He wanted to leave Austria as soon as possible. 

Not so long after the encounter in the magazine, the two cooperative groups were loading into the off-road, military cars resembling a van. They were really spacious. 

When Ghost left the building of KorTac base and his eyes got used to the sunlight, he managed to locate you near one of the vans alongside… well, Colonel König. You were casually talking with him. 

Gaz couldn’t go with you this time, even though he insisted he would be fine, he just got a little burnt here and there, that’s all. But Captain Price wasn’t having it and gave Kyle Garrick an order to stay in the hospital wing for that day. 

You didn’t like the sight of fresh wounds forming on Gaz’s skin – burns were quite serious injuries, even blisters popping out. Perhaps the scars were not life threatening and won’t stay forever, but he had to give it a rest. He would heal eventually. 

The lieutenant would rather have Gaz or Soap jumping around you than this stubborn Austrian man, who happened to behave or think… quite indecent. 

Simon Riley knew how some men are and it wasn’t really hard to deduce what kind of man König was. If he only got the chance, he would lay his sticky hands all over you. Ghost couldn’t let it happen. 

By the time the man with the skull mask approached the vehicle, you were already sitting on the bench next to him. God, why were you so casual about the colonel? The Britishman’s blood was on the edge of boiling.

“Fuckin’ hell”, he thought to himself. 

━ How’s your leg, sir? ━ You asked, continuing a chit chat. All of the memories of last night’s ambush came back, your body shuffling in one place, trying to adjust in a tight space of the van. 

━ Wunderbar [ger.: Wonderful]. Such skillful hands make wonders, Y/C. 

The Austrian man was towering over you even in the sitting position. He was indeed a giant. König’s legs were far too close to yours, trying to to rub against Riley’s girlfriend. 

That motherfucker was bold. 

With a loud thud of his steps Ghost got in the van and walked all the way to the talking duet. He forced his way between the colonel and his teammate. Ghost sat letting out a loud sigh.

━ Thought you’re stayin’ with Gaz. ━ The grumpy lieutenant said, his dark eyes looking directly at you, completely ignoring the presence of a man on his right. 

At this time, Simon felt an urge to place his gloved hand over your thigh – to feel your flesh, your heat, just that you’re real and his. A simple act of tenderness that he had to suppress. For now. 

━ Negative. Captain’s orders.

You explained to Ghost that you were not supposed to go into the battlefield that day. Well, not directly at least. Every pair of medic hands would be useful after the mission has ended. The KorTac and Task Force had a stronghold to conquer. It was a tough one. 

Tougher than they estimated at the very beginning. 

And even though some would feel anxious with taking their loved ones to such dangerous places, Ghost knew you could handle it. You were a tough woman after all, not some fragile porcelain doll. 

━ How copy?

One of his colleagues’ voices resounded from the radio on his broad shoulder.

━ Almost there. 

König moved swiftly, yet quietly along the staircase leading to the rooftop. He heard clearly the sounds of machine guns and the yelping of dying soldiers nearby. The colonel moved smoothly in the darkness of the night, his black hood blending within the surroundings. 

He was so intoxicated with the smell of gore, he didn’t even feel the pulsating pain, radiating from his freshly sewed wound. A little reminder of someone. 

When he leaned over the corner of the hallway, he managed to take down three of the enemy's troopers, putting holes in their vulnerable necks, blood splashing around. König acted fast and effectively. 

The Austrian man finally reached the rooftop and noticed the laid out sniper’s rifle and a bloodied corpse near the station. It looked like someone took the previous sniper by surprise and ended his miserable life.  

Man with a covered face clicked with his tongue, disappointed. König made sure the area was safe for him to take the position, checking the other rooftops. He set aside his own rifle and laid down on the gravel ground. 

━ In a position. Any other problems? ━ The colonel checked in the radio channel, waiting for the soldier’s confirmation. 

━ No, sir. 

━ Gut [ger.: Good]. Over and out. 

König crawled closer over the rough texture beneath him and positioned himself near the rifle’s scope (and the still warm corpse). He had a perfect observing spot for the whole accommodation. 

Turning the weapon gently he took a look over the main building’s third floor – he saw KorTac soldiers making their way to the ground floor after checking for the potential hiding spots of their enemy.

All of the shootings were dying out. 

Then, moving to the smaller structure nearby, König noticed Captain Price securing the target in one of the rooms. Few seconds later an announcement echoed in his earpiece, breaking the short lasting silence.

━ This is Bravo 0-6, target secured. I repeat, target secured. 

━ Kinderspiel [ger.: Piece of cake]. ━ Colonel smirked under his hood.

He decided to stay at the sniper’s position for a little longer, making sure that the area was safe to move around with a captured target. König moved the rifle’s scope towards the courtyard in the middle of the buildings. For a moment he couldn’t believe he was so lucky. 

There he was – a ghost surrounded by the enemy, cornered at the square. All alone.

König pointed the cross to the man’s chest. If only the Austrian soldier pulled the trigger on the sniper rifle, he would eliminate the obstacle standing between him and his latest obsession. 

But was he actually capable of doing it? 

The thought alone of you crying in König’s arms, mourning your lover, sent shivers down his spine. His heart skipped a beat and his blood ran cold. Could he really make you suffer this much? At the end of the day, he was a heartless executioner. 

The colonel inhaled through his teeth, trying not to move in the slightest and cleared his head. He pointed the rifle at his current target and held his breath in. 

Steady. 

In a matter of seconds, everything went so silent, he was able to hear the owl in the nearest forest. 

Until there was a gunshot, scaring the birds away from the tree crowns. König pulled the trigger. And then another time.

The hired mercenary incoming from Ghost’s left collapsed onto the tile floor with a thud. 

The colonel shifted the aim and hit the other two men coming out from the building, securing a lieutenant of TF 141. He observed through the little glass piece, how Ghost stabbed his opponent with a knife and then swiftly turned around to throw another one to the enemy guard.

When the area was cleansed, König swore that for a brief moment Ghost soul-consuming eyes were locked on him. Or at the sniper position at least.

He knew.

Needless to say, the man with a black hood liked to poke the bear with a stick, curiously waiting to find out – what would the bear do. Because at the end of the day, there was no one that could defeat the king. 

Was he a depraved, rotten to the bone’s marrow person? No, natürlich [ger.: naturally]. A little twisted, but not a psychopath. Therefore he could not damage nor terminate the lieutenant from Great Britain. As far as his weird fascination with you went, he would not want to make you suffer by murdering your lover, ja?

When all of the enemies were gone (one way or another – by greeting the reaper or running away) the team gathered in the meeting point, a few klicks away from the fortress they just stormed. A couple of helos landed on the forest grounds.

From one of which you walked out.

━ Everyone in one piece? ━ You jokingly said, acknowledging most of the team being unharmed. 

━ Apart from the Austrian bastards bitin’ the dust, we’re more than good. ━ Price told you, placing one of him palms over your shoulder. Only then he noticed the presence of KorTac colonel and apologized quickly. ━ No offense.

━ None taken, Captain. What is important is that we’ve a target in custody. Gute arbeit. 

König slowly moved past the three Task Force operators and went inside of the helicopter. Side by side with other KorTac soldiers. One in particular patted the colonel's back. The operator had a patch with callsign “Horangi”. 

They seemed to be good friends. 

━ The fuck he just said? ━ Ghost seemed to be a bit offended that he didn’t understand what König said in his native language. 

━ Good job. ━ You explained, eyes following the gigantic man who taught you this phrase. 

The voyages by helos were definitely not your favorite. Sudden changes of pressure, turbulence and the dim lighting – it all made you so sleepy. Normally, if the flight was less crowded, you’d lay your head on Ghost’s shoulder and let yourself slightly drift off. 

Hilariously not professional of you, but hey – since childhood you were able to fall asleep almost everywhere: in a bus, standing, half sitting, on bloody weddings even. And then, when woken up, you immediately came back “to the living”. 

Thank God the flight back to the base wasn’t long and you didn’t take a nap in front of so many professionals.

Although not many soldiers needed medical attention, you went straight to the infirmary, while rolling the sleeves of your shirt up. Most of them needed to get their scratches cleaned. A piece of cake, right?

Well, not so easy nor calming with hyped up Gaz talking all the time behind your shoulder, playfully asking about the operation. The pain relieving medication was still in his bloodstream, providing him with too much energy. Really, he should have been asleep by now.

“Gosh, did they inject him with dosage for a horse?”, you wondered. 

Normally, you liked him talking. You were a good listener and Kyle could talk to you for hours as you sat there in silence, taking every story he came up with. 

But sometimes, after the long lasting missions you needed to clear your head. To ease the constantly running thoughts and just… calm down. And today was that day. You needed silence, but didn’t have enough resolution to tell your teammate to politely shut up. 

So he kept bothering you, while you took care of the soldiers.

Captain was on a call with Laswell and Shepherd, meanwhile Ghost put the captured target in confinement. At least until the Golden Eagle decides what to do next with the man responsible for the latest terrorism in Austria. 

Task Force 141 job was done, all that was left were formalities. 

When you finally left the infirmary’s cleaned station and said your goodnights with Gaz, you returned to the room you and Ghost were sleeping in. Well, technically it was his room, but no one dared to check if the lieutenant was sleeping there alone. 

It was still better than sleeping in barracks. 

You weren’t surprised when you found the dormitory empty with no trace of your boyfriend there. He had to be busy. The vision of a warm shower was tempting, especially that probably most if not all of the other operatives were sleeping soundly by now. 

You left everything that wasn’t necessary in “the dorm” and headed through the narrow hallways, your mind already imagining the streams of clear water running down your skin. 

But the lit lamp in the common room on your right caught your attention. There shouldn’t be anyone there by this time.

You took a curious look through the door frame and saw the bulky man hunched over the paper splayed on the table.

━ Simon? What are you doing? ━ A simple question left your mouth as you entered the small room and left the doors slightly opened. Not on purpose, of course. It was a habit. A bad one. 

━ Price dozed off after the call. Someone has to fill those papers. Fuckin’ ol’ man. 

Ghost smirked under his balaclava and solid mask, when he stood up from the chair and moved towards his girlfriend. The two of you met halfway. 

━ And he can’t do this in the morning?

━ We’re leavin’ by then ━ he stepped closer, his figure towering over you. By now, the lieutenant has taken off his gear too. When he placed his palms on your hips, a quiet laugh slipped through your lips. ━ What’s so funny? 

━ You’re kind of old too.

━ Yeah? You think so? ━ Ghost teased you softly, before rapidly grabbing a firm hold onto your thighs, his bare hand squeezing the flesh just under your ass. Only a thin layer of clothes separated his coarse digits and your smooth skin. 

With a quick lift, he hoisted you over his hips and came closer to the wall behind you. When your body was squeezed between your lieutenant and the wall, you caressed Ghost’s biceps and shoulders, soothing his muscles after a long day. 

━ You think an ol’ man can do this? 

He asked you, before burying his now exposed jaw into your neck, placing light kisses. Ghost’s movements followed the tendon up, licking a stripe with his warm tongue from time to time. 

━ Fuck, Simon… ━ You practically whimpered, when he latched onto sweet spot on your neck. ━ Not here.

━ We’re alone, they’re all sleepin’, luv ━ Simon tried to reassure you, starting to work on undoing your zipper and button. ━ Come on, you’re so fuckin’ tensed. 

He let you slide down the wall to stand by your own strength, it was easier to slip your trousers down this way. 

That night you let him do all the work. Not like you had much to do, he was just faster than you. Eager, longing for intimacy. 

Ghost slid down the hem of your trousers and underwear down, just a little and lifted you up by the wall again. But this time, you could clearly feel his hardening member underneath your own crotch.

Your cheeks were flustered and heart pounding fast. The closeness with Simon Riley made you excited every time you were this exposed to each other.   

His hand sneaked down to release himself from his confinements, brown eyes kept on you and your beautiful features. Always. 

Ghost’s left hand was grippind the plush of your thigh firmly, almost like he was holding onto his own dear life. Meanwhile, while Simon was unbuckling his belt and cargo pants, you snuck the hand under the black balaclava and brushed through his blonde hair. The tough man groaned into your face. He fucking loved when you played with his hair.

And vice versa. 

You smacked your lips against his scarred ones, moments before he finally pushed himself into you, causing his precious girlfriend to moan straight into his mouth. 

A sudden wave of heat overflowed your muscles, making you almost limp in his hold. Your arms entangled around his shoulders, when he kept rocking you upwards. 

Ghost held you firmly by your thighs wrapped around his waist, bucking his hips into you in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t rushing anywhere, the lieutenant had a fucking eternity if needed to spend with you. 

The pleasant feeling of your body around him and the sound of your voice was all he needed after such an intense mission. It was the best type of treatment for his wounds – the physical and emotional ones. He knew this from the experience. 

You were his remedy. The cure.

━ Oh, Simon ━ you sweetly muttered, resting your burning hot cheek against his broad shoulder. ━ Like this. Please.

How could he deny this pretty request? 

Ghost kept lulling you into the dreamy state, bouncing you on his length. When you managed to keep your eyes open, you remembered the slight gap you left between the doors and its frame. 

It didn’t matter at the time, as you were keeping it fairly quiet. Only soft whimpers and a few guttural moans from time to time left the lovers’ lips.

━ There you go ━ Simon whispered next to your ear in a praising manner ━ all better, yeah? 

He was right and you nodded with your head, rubbing against Simon’s clothes. You finally managed to relax.

And when your glossy eyes opened again, facing those opened doors, you saw the colonel peeping at the two of you. His black hood with bleached stripes were distinct in the lighting of the room. 

He wasn’t even trying to be sneaky about it. The Austrian man was halfway standing in the common room and devouring the show you two put for him. Only his growing bulge made him uncomfortable with his own pants. 

König’s gaze drilled into your vulnerable form and all strength you had left, was to stare at him in this dreamy fucked out state, your boyfriend put you in. 

Your body was held by Ghost against a wall, securely. Limbs going numb from pleasure, tears of joy gathering in the corners of your eyes, under the fluttering eyelashes. 

And all you could do was just clinging to Simon’s strong arm.

You considered a version of events, where all of this was only a hallucination. That the colonel wasn’t really there, standing in the doorframe. God, at least he wasn’t doing anything indecent. 

But if this was all true, if König was watching you two fuck, it was the most beautiful day in his pathetic life.

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[yutaholic]

codename: monster (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: your life is nothing short of idyllic. you have a perfect house, a beautiful daughter and a loving husband. there’s just one rule - never ask Jeno what he does for a living...

WARNINGS: mild language; recurring dialogue related to pregnancy and baby making; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 11k words; this is part of my villain series, beast mode

You were not a curious person. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Growing up in Hel, you knew the best way to survive in the world’s most dangerous city was to keep your head down and never make waves.

It also helped to have a powerful husband.

Living in a penthouse apartment high above, you often watched the sunset from the wall of windows in your living room. Hel, despite its penchant for evil and debauchery, was stunning when transitioning from day into night.

But when night fell, you were not to leave the house. Ever. Though she was at her most beautiful, Hel was deadly in the shroud of darkness.

The baby in your arms cooed. You bounced her a little, turning to her with a smile and kissing her cute nose. The two of you watched the city come alive as you did each night, millions of lights of vast colors filling the skyline. You loved how they sparkled in your daughter’s eyes.

A familiar set of beeps - that of someone entering the access code and disabling the security system - made you turn on your heels. Work had kept him later than usual tonight.

“Who is that?” you asked cutely. Juno was already wriggling in your arms. She knew that sound too.

The front door opened and Jeno walked in, locking up behind him before setting his keys and briefcase on the table. The buttons of his suit were open and his normally perfect tie was gone, no doubt tucked into his pocket because he couldn’t stand the damn thing for another second.

You gasped dramatically and said, “Is that Daddy?”

Your daughter was unglued, making a dizzying array of excited noises and jumping in your arms. It was only a matter of time before she was able to rush over to him on her own two feet. Your baby was growing so fast.

Jeno grinned the moment he laid eyes on his girls and marched over to you, taking Juno in his big hands and covering her face in kisses.

You smiled as he lifted her over his head with ease and brought her down to kiss her chubby cheeks over and over again. She was giggling and squealing all the while.

Jeno gave her another kiss before cradling her to his chest and meeting your eyes. He looped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, greeting, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome,” you said, leaning into your husband as he kissed you.

“How was your day?” Jeno asked, stealing another kiss.

“Perfect. How was yours?”

He grimaced a little. “Hard.”

You weren’t surprised given the late hour he had finally come home. “Oh…,” you hummed softly. Then, a wry smirk played at your lips. “I’ll make it better.”

Jeno chuckled darkly. “I’m sure you will.”

You practically melted when he kissed the corner of your mouth.

Jeno carried the baby into the kitchen and set her carefully into the high chair. You had dinner hot and ready, as you always did. It was the least you could do, considering how hard he worked. Jeno would try to feed Juno whilst eating his own meal, only for you to fuss at him that his food was getting cold because he was so distracted by every little cute thing she did. 

Juno loved when he pretended the spoon was an airplane and Jeno loved spending every spare minute with her. You would find yourself staring at them, wondering how you had been so lucky to find a man that was not only a great husband, but an amazing father.

Since you spent the days with Juno, you were happy to let them have the evenings together. Jeno, despite working all day, had plenty of energy left for his baby girl (and for you after she went to sleep). He cleaned her up after dinner, read her a story or two, and tucked her into bed with one final kiss to her brow, not leaving her side until his daughter was sound asleep.

After tidying up the kitchen, you took a seat on the couch and relaxed until Jeno finally joined you. He sat down and grabbed your legs, draping them over his lap, and said, “Thank you.”

You tilted your head. “For what?”

His eyes were full of stars. “She’s a wonder.”

You smiled from ear to ear, warmth spilling into your chest from your heart. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”

“The best.”

You took his hand from your thigh and brought it to your lips to kiss across his knuckles, affectionate. “Thank you for giving her to me,” you told him softly. “And for giving us this life.”

Jeno leaned in to kiss you. “You’re welcome.”

You slipped your arms around his shoulders, tugging him close as you met him the rest of the way, sealing your lips to his. After all these years, he was still the only person you desired in the whole world. The only one who ever made your heart flutter and race.

Jeno could kiss you for hours. His hands kneaded at your hips and roamed around your waist. You were so warm and soft beneath his fingertips, fitting perfectly against him. A tiny groan rumbled in his chest when you darted your tongue into his mouth.

You broke from the kiss, blinking to clear the daze in your eyes, and giggled at the distant look on Jeno’s face like he was just shy of heaven. “I’ve been thinking,” you started.

“About what?”

“She’ll be a year old soon.”

Jeno pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he’d just gotten a sudden headache, and whined, “God, she’s growing so fast.”

You nestled deeper into his lap. “I think maybe it’s time we…,” you trailed, biting your lip. “Gave her a little brother.”

Jeno’s gaze flickered and he arched a brow. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Fire and lust consumed him in the blink of an eye. You could see the familiar change in his expression and it made your pulse pick up speed. Jeno glanced down at your body in his lap and brushed his fingers over your bare knee.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded again. “I am.”

Jeno tightened his arms around you and brushed his lips over your jaw. “Are you asking me to fuck you raw?”

You sucked in a breath when he kissed over your racing pulse. “Yes.”

His voice dropped to a husky growl. “Are you asking me to come inside you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tipping your head back as he nibbled the base of your throat.

Jeno gathered you in his arms and hoisted you up with him, popping your legs around his waist. You clung to his shoulders and trailed impatient kisses up his thick neck, winding your fingers into his hair.

Your heartbeat traveled down between your legs. He made you feel like a creature of need and passion, like it was all you were capable of when you were with him.

Jeno lowered you to the bed and draped himself over you. He kissed you deeply, touching the most intimate parts of you with his rough hands. He parted from your lips just long enough to groan, “Fuck, I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby again.”

You hummed, because your voice wouldn’t work. Your face was hot and your mouth watered. He turned you on to the point of madness. Especially when he took off his shirt and you got to feast your eyes on his perfect form, running your fingers over his chiseled abs and chest.

Jeno kissed his way down your body, over your clothes, and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He hurriedly stripped you out of your pants, kissing and nibbling at your sex over your underwear before finally taking them off and tonguing between your folds.

There was something about such a powerful man getting on his knees for you that made you lose what was left of your goddamn mind.

You moaned and pressed your hands into his bulging biceps, his arms hooked around your thighs. Your breaths came faster and louder as he swept his tongue in circles around your clit, stopping only to pump his tongue into your dripping cunt.

Jeno met your eyes and said, “Get naked,” before burying his face back in your pussy.

You tugged off your shirt, but you hesitated at your bra, ever reminded of your breasts that were big and swollen with milk.

“Bra off,” Jeno commanded, biting the inside of your thigh for effect. He was all too familiar with your hesitation. Your husband had loved watching your body change to grow and nurture his baby, and absolutely despised society for telling you to be insecure about it.

Jeno never told you, but he was surrounded by men that openly bragged about fucking their side pieces after their wives had given them children, and he loathed them for it. He’d been there through every minute of your pregnancy, was at your side for the birth of your beautiful baby girl, and knew he would love no woman but you for as long as he lived.

The disrespect made his blood boil and he converted that rage into fuel where you were concerned. If he had to worship your body every single night until you loved yourself as much as he loved you, then that’s exactly what Jeno was going to do.

You hummed when Jeno took your hands in his, lacing his fingers through yours, and brought them to your breasts. He kissed and sucked at your clit, smirking when you clamped your thighs on his head. You started making more noise, turning your head and trying to keep the sounds at bay.

Jeno flicked his tongue over your bundle of nerves, still gripping your hands and your breasts, anchoring you to him and him to you. He smirked at your body undulating beneath him, hips bucking into his mouth then shying away when the stimulation on your clit became too much.

“Jeno,” you stammered out breathlessly, lifting your head before dropping it back on the mattress. “I don’t wanna come yet. Please, baby.”

“Hm?” Jeno mumbled, lapping at your perfect pussy. He fucking loved the taste of you. His and only his. “You don’t wanna come?”

“Not until you’re inside me,” you told him, squeezing his hands. “I wanna come with you.”

Jeno chuckled against your folds, pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh in reward. “That’s my good girl,” he growled, sinking his teeth into your flesh. “Only wants to come on my cock when I put a baby in her.”

You nodded, a whine escaping you when he kept tonguing at your folds. Then, you breathed out in relief when he released your hands and stood up at the edge of the bed between your raised legs.

The relief was short-lived, because Jeno teased his hands over your sensitive breasts before reaching between your thighs, two fingers slipping into your cunt while his other hand focused on your clit.

Your eyes widened and you gaped at him, lips parted.

Jeno cocked his head innocently, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy and rubbing your clit with his thumb. He had your body down to a science and he was very much an expert. “Tell me when you’re right there, baby,” he crooned.

“Fuck,” you moaned, fisting your hands in the blankets beneath you and arching back into the mattress. He was so good at dragging you to the edge and throwing you into one hard orgasm after another. Your pleasure was his pleasure and Jeno wasn’t satisfied unless you were making the neighbors very familiar with his name.

Of course, with the addition of your baby girl, you’d learned to be quiet. And the neighbors were eternally grateful. Though hearing people have sex was the least of one’s worries when living in a city filled to the brim with villains.

Regardless, Jeno would settle for nothing less than your toes curling and your body shaking with what he could do to you.

You always caught yourself wondering how you had been so lucky to find a man that loved you with every inch of his soul. A man that would move heaven and earth to make sure you and your daughter never went without. When asked about his life by others, Jeno never said, “I.” He always said, “We.” And you would just smile at him.

There was no him without you. You were his everything. And he was yours.

“I love you,” you rasped, moaning his name as Jeno worked you to orgasm with his hands.

“I love you more,” Jeno said, withdrawing his fingers when he recognized you at the edge of climax. He propped himself over you and crashed his lips on yours, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him.

Things were a little different since having the baby. Jeno had to prep you more because you were still nursing. Your husband had known the weeks of recovery without sex were harder for you than him, because you missed the intimacy of being entangled with him. And he rewarded your patience with his tongue between your legs every time.

Since then, he’d been wearing condoms until you decided if you wanted another baby or to go on birth control again. Jeno licked his lips at the thought. This would be the first time he could take you without any barriers between your bodies since you were pregnant with Juno. And the memory, no matter how brief it was, of gently making love to you while you were swollen with his baby made Jeno’s cock twitch.

Was it possible to become more in love with someone? Jeno could never wrap his head around it. He fell in love with you all over again when Juno was born, but there were days he felt his love for you grow even more at the smallest of gestures. Like when you soothed him back to sleep after a nightmare. Or the times you nursed him back to health.

Who was Jeno kidding? There were days the mere sight of you smiling at him with that beautiful baby in your arms made him head over heels again.

“Hands and knees,” Jeno ordered, shoving his pants and boxers down around his ankles before kicking them off the rest of the way. His hard cock twitched again at the glistening of your folds and how badly he wanted to slide inside you, raw for the first time in months.

You rolled over eagerly and propped into position, wiggling your ass from side to side in the hopes of enticing him. With the idea of him putting another baby in you, you could feel your walls tightening on nothing, desperate to be filled again.

Jeno slapped his hand on your perfect ass, sending a loud smack through the room followed by a squeak of surprise from you. Though you weren’t totally surprised given your current position. Your husband smoothed his palm over the sting, then teased his fingers between your slit.

“Jeno, please,” you whined like a bitch in heat. “Fuck me, baby.”

Jeno reeled his hand back and gave your sex a firm slap. “Don’t speak again until spoken to.”

You nodded your compliance, shuddering. His dominance did unspeakable things to you.

Jeno grabbed your hips and raked his big cock between your folds, gathering your juices. You fought back a moan until it was a pitiful whine in the back of your throat. He had all the patience in the world while you had none. Jeno let saliva spill from his lips and land on his length, slicking himself up even more.

You gripped the blanket in your fists and cried out when he finally penetrated you, working himself inside until you opened up for him.

“Mm, fuck. That’s my good girl,” Jeno rasped, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Goddamn. How does it feel?”

The sound you made was pure pleasure. “I missed this.”

Jeno bent over you, caressing your breasts, and whispered, “You missed that raw dick. Didn’t you, baby?”

You arched into his chest, lilting your hips back to take more of him in. And that was answer enough. Your husband smirked at you so eagerly working yourself on his cock.

Jeno pinched your hips and brought you down to meet his thrusts, stroking into you at a pace that had you reeling. The bed creaked with his motions and Jeno toned it down only a little, mindful of the sleeping baby in the next room.

“Fuck,” you cried out, stammering your husband’s name. He was deep in the pit of your stomach. And the things he said while he pounded into you were absolutely filthy.

“Mm,” Jeno hissed, drawing you up, his chest against your shoulders. He coiled his arms around you and cupped your breasts in his hands, kissing his way up the side of your neck. “I’m not gonna last long in this tight pussy.”

You chuckled smugly. “Then, don’t.” He’d brought you so close to orgasm with his tongue and fingers. It was obvious why.

The wet clap of your bodies meeting echoed in the bedroom. Jeno shoved you back to the mattress, pinning his hand to the nape of your neck and slamming his hips into your ass. His eyes rolled back. You were so warm and wet, your walls fluttering around him snug each time he thrust in like your body couldn't get enough of his big cock stuffing you full.

“I’m coming,” you whimpered, lips parted. A moan followed your every breath. “Jeno, please. Don’t stop.”

Jeno had no intention of stopping or even slowing down. His body was running on instinct and need. You kept your hips raised in the air, taking every last inch of him, begging him to fuck you like only he could.

Only he fit inside you so perfectly. You were made for each other.

Jeno clenched his jaw, holding his climax at bay, and got a solid grip on your hips to throttle his cock inside you. He could feel you tensing and squirming, on the verge. “Come for me," he said, and it was not a request.

Your entire body spasmed and clenched. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out as orgasm ripped violently through you. Through the ringing in your ears, you could hear your husband coaxing you down, praising you as he always did.

It wasn't until you went slack that Jeno stopped, keeping himself deep inside you and smoothing his hands over your waist. Your cunt kneaded his cock, dripping with your release.

You turned your head and met his kisses, whispering, "Please. Come in me." Reaching back, you grabbed your husband's hands and grinded yourself onto his stiff cock. "Make me take all of it."

Jeno steered you onto your back and hooked your legs in his arms, pressing you into the mattress beneath his weight. “Fuck, baby," he hissed through his teeth. Your body was too much. "You get me so fucking hard.”

You moaned. He didn’t let up for a second, snapping his hips into yours, plunging his cock into your swollen cunt.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned, voice strained.

Fisting a handful of his hair, you purred, “And you’re gonna give me a baby.”

That got him. Jeno released into you with a mangled groan, body shuddering against yours as he painted your insides with his load.

You smoothed your hands down his chest and across his back, coaxing him through it. Arching your hips a little to milk every last drop and prolong his ecstasy, you bit your lip to fight a grin that you and only you got to see him like this.

Jeno slumped onto you, burying his face in your neck. You owned him.

You were content to just lay there with him on top of you, still inside you, and ran your fingers up and down his back, feeling the stress and tension leave him with every passing second in your arms.

Eventually, the two of you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Jeno tucked his body around yours after stealing a scalding hot kiss. “Did I hurt you?” he asked a little worriedly.

You shook your head, lashes fluttering. You could barely keep your eyes open, because both your body and your heart were satisfied. Your husband flexed his arm around you and pressed one last kiss to your temple before settling down at last and drifting off.

Needless to say, you slept like a baby, as you always did in Jeno’s arms. It was hard to explain, but you felt like a princess in the lap of a fire-breathing dragon. And there was no safer place in the world than in a dragon’s clutches.

The next morning, you woke to the usual routine. You nursed your daughter (ever grateful that she had reached the stage where she slept through the night) and prepared coffee and breakfast for Jeno. Though you offered to make him lunch to take with him, Jeno insisted on eating at work, saying you already had your hands full with the baby.

Cooking homemade meals for your husband was your love language and he always showered you with appreciation and gratitude for it. He had a voracious appetite - in more ways than one - and you loved satisfying them all.

As you balanced Juno on your hip, you fought a smirk at the ache between your thighs still lingering. You wondered how long before your stomach started to swell. The thought of being pregnant again excited you. Both you and Jeno had siblings, and you wanted the same for your daughter.

Juno was a little disheveled from such a good night’s rest and a full belly of milk, and clung to you with her head on your shoulder, which did nothing but melt you on the spot. She watched you make breakfast and you narrated everything you were doing to her in your softest voice.

Jeno walked out of the bedroom, tying his tie and mumbling under his breath the list of things he needed to get done at the office.

You licked your lips. Seeing that man in his tailored suits made you want to jump him then and there. For the sake of the baby on your hip and the big plate of breakfast that would get cold, you did not. “Hi, Daddy,” you greeted playfully.

Jeno shot you a knowing look with a smirk and pressed a kiss to your lips before stealing the baby from your arms. “Good morning, Juno. Did you sleep well?”

Juno, at this stage, could only make her adorable baby sounds. And the occasional Mama or Dada.

Jeno always pretended to understand her perfectly and responded, “That’s good. Are you helping Mama make breakfast?”

You handed Jeno his mug of hot coffee, which he took with a thank you.

“Alright, my girls,” Jeno said after finishing his breakfast, leaving kisses on you and your daughter’s cheeks. “I’m off to work. Behave yourselves.”

You giggled when his hand reached down to give your ass a squeeze.

Jeno turned and met your eyes, speaking for your ears only, “Don’t worry over last night. It will happen when it happens.”

You nodded. He knew you too well. “I’m excited,” you whispered with a smile.

“Me, too. You’re an amazing mom.”

You flushed, rising to your tiptoes to kiss him one more time.

Jeno left and you carried Juno into the bedroom so the two of you could get dressed to go to the store. It was errands day and you liked to get started early in the morning while most of the villains caught up on sleep from a night of chaos.

At the supermarket, you kept your baby girl in a koala carrier tucked closely to your chest. It may have seemed excessive to everyone else, but not to you. She was your whole world.

“Alright, Juno,” you said, pushing the cart in front of you. “What should we make Daddy for dinner tonight?”

She peered up at you curiously, as if she really wanted to help.

“How about stew? You both love that.”

Juno made no sound of agreement, but kept looking around at the endless items on the racks.

You weren’t surprised she didn’t sound off on the suggestion. Though for the past few months she’d been showing more interest in foods, your daughter preferred milk for the most part. Jeno was making a point of letting her taste almost everything he had to eat. Her favorite snack was mashed up bananas thus far.

With that in mind, you stopped and grabbed a few more jars of baby food, wanting her to at least try every flavor. She didn’t like baby food much, with most of it rolling down her chin as she subtly pushed it out of her mouth with her tongue. Still, you were fixated on making sure your daughter got all the nutrition she needed.

Juno cooed loudly and stared up at you with her big beautiful eyes. Her father’s eyes. You leaned your head down to nuzzle her nose with your own, making her squeal with delight. It was unreal how much love you had for this tiny human.

Your trek through the supermarket continued, mundane as ever. Until things kept appearing in your cart that you hadn’t grabbed.

Brows furrowed, you walked around to the side of the cart and grabbed a box of fruit snacks. Weird, you thought, circling a few steps to put them back. There was no way you had thrown those into the cart. Neither you or Jeno liked fruit snacks and Juno couldn’t properly chew them yet.

Down the next aisle, you grabbed a loaf of bread and when you turned around, a box of pastries was in the cart. Okay, you definitely didn’t get those. Returning them to the empty space on the shelf, you glanced around, your arms cradling the baby tucked to your chest.

“That’s enough shopping for today,” you told your daughter.

She simply looked up at you, having no clue as to what was going on.

You paid for your groceries and loaded them into the back of your SUV. Then, you buckled your baby into her carseat and headed home.

For whatever reason, you couldn’t shake the thought from your head that maybe you were imagining things or possibly going crazy. Thanks to your husband, you didn’t exactly get a full night’s sleep, but you weren’t complaining in the least about that.

Maybe you were overtired. Exhaustion was obviously common among parents with babies.

Back in the safety of your penthouse apartment, you went about your day as normal. When you got pregnant with your daughter, Jeno offered to be the sole breadwinner and let you be a stay at home mom for as long as you wanted, and you eagerly took him up on the offer. You loved being a mom and raising your baby.

Though she was still very young, you spent an hour or so every day working with her on the alphabet. You could tell Juno was smart; she already tried to follow along when you or Jeno read to her.

“J-U-N-O,” you spelled aloud, moving the letter blocks in front of her. “That spells Juno.”

Juno made her cute little noises, her chunky hands grabbing at the blocks.

You left her there on the living room floor for just a moment, stepping into the kitchen to turn off the beeping toaster oven. You’d almost forgotten you were making yourself a bagel. She was such a precious distraction.

When you walked back over to your daughter, you dropped your plate and it shattered into pieces on the floor.

Juno was looking aloft and the four blocks that spelled her name were hovering in a perfect crescent in the air. Then, the moment your plate crashed to the floor, your daughter turned abruptly and the blocks fell before her.

You blinked rapidly. Had you really just seen that?

No, no, no. Your heart sank deeper into your chest. Absolutely not. Your daughter couldn’t have powers. Neither you or Jeno had powers and it took at least one parent to pass them on.

Tears gathered in your eyes. Villains would come looking. Even worse, heroes would come knocking, trying to recruit her.

Or wanting to steal her.

You rushed over and scooped up your baby, the tears running down your cheeks. Juno was unnerved to say the least and she started whimpering, face tensing with sadness and fear at your reaction.

“It’s okay, baby,” you told her soothingly, pulling your phone from your pocket. “I’m gonna call Daddy.”

The phone rang twice and your husband answered with a bemused, “Hello?”

You never called him at work. Not unless it was an emergency, and to date, you hadn't had one before. “Jeno, come home.”

“Baby, I’m working,” he told you a little curtly. Probably because he assumed you were in the mood to try and make a baby with him again.

“Now,” you snapped.

Jeno paused. Never had you taken a tone like that with him and he was downright shocked. “I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.

You sat on the couch with your daughter in your lap, bouncing your legs up and down with anxiety. Juno seemed none the wiser, content to crawl on you like you were her personal playground.

When you heard the front door beeping, you set your daughter down between her blocks and stood over her, eyes on the door.

Jeno came in and marched over briskly. His eyes were full of panic as he searched you and his child for distress. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your daughter,” you started, pinching your lips together before turning back to the baby sitting at your feet. When she looked up and met your eyes with a little smile, you said, “Juno, baby, show Daddy your trick.”

Your child glanced between you and her father. You could see the gears turning in her head. Then, one by one, she made the blocks hover in the air. This time, she even gave them a little spin.

Jeno watched with no expression on his face as she juggled the blocks with her mind, making them turn in a perfect circle above her head. Growing bored, Juno ultimately commanded the blocks back down to the floor and gave her father an excited giggle, proud of what she had done as if it was the most normal achievement in the world.

You inched toward Jeno, hiding the sheer wrath and terror coursing through your body, and spoke quietly, “She’s a year old and moving blocks without lifting a finger. What will she be controlling at five or ten?”

Jeno said nothing. His eyes were locked to his daughter and she was staring back at him just as fiercely. A silent understanding passed between them. Power recognized power.

You were tearing apart at the seams and the silence only expedited the process. “Jeno…,” you called.

“I heard you.”

“Then, fucking say something,” you hissed at him under your breath. Anger was slowly but surely working its way up your spine.

Jeno said the last thing you expected. “She’s gifted.”

“That’s not a gift. It’s a curse.”

Jeno recoiled like he’d been slapped and rounded on you, stern. “Don’t say that in front of my daughter.”

You braced a hand on his chest and moved him a few feet away with you, making your lowered voices harder to hear for your child. “Do you know what kind of people will target her for this? People will try to take her from us!"

Jeno realized that was what you were worried about and replied levelly, “They would never get past me and you know it.”

You bit your lip. “Jeno,” you started, hesitating. “Are you…”

He visibly tensed before you. “We made a promise. You swore you would never ask me.”

There was only one rule in your relationship with Jeno - never ask what he did for work. Because, as he said, he would tell you. He was honest and couldn’t lie to you. So he chose to lie by omission. If you asked and he told you, you would have dangerous knowledge and in this city, knowledge could get anyone killed.

Shivering with tears, you whimpered, “What am I supposed to do?”

Jeno studied his daughter from the across the room, his chest filling with pride. “Nothing. Life will go on as normal. I will teach her to control it.”

You devolved into tears, hiding your face in your hands. It hurt that you were scared out of your mind and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. You felt alone and vulnerable, like only you saw and feared the danger.

Jeno softened and gathered you in his arms. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Come here. It’s alright.”

You choked on a sob. “Don’t let anyone hurt my baby.”

Jeno held you flush against him tightly, kissing your temple and soothing his hands down your back. “I won’t.”

“I don’t care what you are. Just don’t let anyone take her from me.”

That had your husband’s attention. You needed some consolation and reassurance. Jeno took your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Look at me,” he said firmly. “Look me in the eyes.”

You did.

Jeno’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Whatever monster you can imagine in your head, I am much, much worse. Do you understand?”

You blinked, making more tears cascade down your cheeks, and nodded slowly. A shiver coursed through you. You would remember those words for as long as you lived.

That night, you stood before the mirror in the bathroom and brushed your hair. Having slipped into your favorite oversized tee of Jeno’s to sleep in, you cleaned off your makeup and washed your face.

Jeno was putting Juno to bed, reading her a story no doubt. You wondered what was going through his mind. He stayed home the rest of the afternoon, calling out of work and citing family issues. Juno didn’t exert any of her power again, almost like she sensed the watchful gazes on her.

There was nothing else to be done in this situation. Your daughter had powers, like so many in this city. They went on to become villains or heroes, ever in a duel for control of Hel.

That was a lie. Everyone knew villains were the true masters of the land.

Giving yourself one last scan in the mirror, you weren’t surprised when Jeno came up behind you, smirking like the devil himself, and smoothed his hands around your waist.

“You wanna make a baby?” Jeno asked softly, his breath hot on your neck. He hiked up your shirt, recognizing it as one of his, and palmed your bare skin.

You frowned and turned in his arms to face him. “You could have told me.”

Jeno sighed. “I know.”

“Any baby I give you will have powers. Won’t they?”

Jeno bobbed his head and then shrugged, quipping, “I guess my gene is dominant.”

You smarted, “Just like the rest of you.”

Jeno chuckled.

Damn it, you could never stay mad at him. Leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, you watched him raking his eyes down your body and kneading your hips in his big, powerful hands. No one ever made you feel wanted and loved like Jeno. You would give him your body, your heart and your soul.

At this point, you already had.

Jeno felt your anger dissipating, no matter how warranted it was, and leaned in to trail his lips up your neck. “Tell me what you want,” Jeno whispered, nipping beneath your ear. “I’ll do whatever you want. All you have to do is ask me.”

That sent a shudder through you. You knew he would give you the moon if you asked. Draping your arms across his shoulders, you told him, “I want to have another baby.”

“Alright. I’ll give you one.”

Jeno fucked you there, right over the bathroom sink. He slapped his hips into your ass from behind, keeping a hand around your throat to make sure you never looked away from your reflection in the mirror as he told you again and again how beautiful you were to him. How he would never love anyone but you for as long as he lived.

Release made your knees buckle and Jeno carried you through it, whispering the sweetest nothings in your ear and holding you to him as you shuddered and cried out his name.

There was one last loud slap of your bodies meeting when Jeno stopped and filled you with his seed, his breaths staggering at the way your walls kneaded his cock through orgasm.

Satisfied, your husband slipped his length from your folds, scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bed. When he set you down on your back, you carded your fingers into his hair and made him look at you.

“You have to promise me,” you whispered, staring up at him with unshed tears in your eyes. “Swear on any gods you or I believe in that you will protect them.”

Jeno spoke like he was committing the most sacred of vows, “The only god I believe in is you and I swear to you, our children will never know fear.”

You blinked. The weight that had been sitting on your shoulders fled at that moment. You could breathe again. “I don’t care what side you are on. Hero or villain, I don’t care. Just as long as you use whatever gift you have to protect my babies.”

“And you.”

You smiled faintly. “And me.”

Jeno propped himself over you and brushed his lips against yours. “Do you trust me?”

“You are the only person I trust in the whole world,” you replied without missing a beat.

“Till the day I die, I belong only to you. I will burn this city to the ground if it ever crosses you.”

You brought him down for a kiss, tightening your legs around his waist.

Jeno took the next day off from work and told you to sleep in. There were bottles of milk in the fridge that you had pumped and knew Juno was in his perfectly capable hands. You stayed in bed until noon, resting your body and your mind in the hopes of conceiving another baby with him.

And for your own sake, you definitely needed that rest.

When you stepped out into the living room, you were surprised to see a person you didn’t recognize sitting on the couch, but your attention flew to Juno.

Jeno glanced up, noticing you come out, and exclaimed, “Mama, are you watching?”

Your heart was about to burst.

Juno was walking. Well, more or less, she was walking with Jeno’s hands gripping her sides to keep her stable. Juno looked to you, her mouth open with the biggest grin she could make.

“We’ve been practicing all morning to show you,” Jeno said, sweeping Juno into his arms and drowning her in kisses all over her face, making your daughter giggle loudly.

You approached them, taking Juno when your husband held her out to you. He knew you would want to hold her the moment you woke up.

“This is Yuta,” he said, motioning to the man sitting on the couch, who had been watching with a smile.

You acknowledged him. “Hi, Yuta.”

“He has experience with… gifted offspring.”

That had your attention. You raised a brow. “Does he?”

Yuta got to his feet and nodded. “Your daughter is very special.”

You looked at Juno in wonder and kissed her cheek. “I know she is.”

Both Yuta and Jeno chortled.

You sombered, turning back to them, and asked, “What do I need to know?”

“Allow her to express her power,” Yuta replied, surprising you. “The more you stifle it, the more it can grow out of her control. But also set boundaries. She needs to know there are consequences for destructive behaviors. For a normal child, the consequences are less serious, but for children like ours, they can be life and death.”

You looked to your baby, who seemed particularly thrilled at being the center of attention if her wide beaming smile was any indication. Jeno was staring at her with nothing short of adoration and reached over to stroke his finger across her cheek.

“Seems so simple and yet so impossible at the same time,” you droned, mostly to yourself.

Yuta continued, “As for the whole hero versus villain argument, let your kid decide for herself which path she wishes to follow. You may find that trying to force her down one road will drive her into the other.”

Those words rang out in your chest and you took them to heart. Your baby deserved freedom to choose and you would make sure of that. Nodding, you gave him a grateful smile and said, “Thank you, Yuta.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jeno walked him out, leaving you with your daughter. You pressed a reassuring kiss to her face and then another, making her coo and grab at you with her hands. Sighing contentedly, you let Juno hold your cheeks between her palms and press a cute kiss to your nose.

Things were a little tense between you and your husband. Understandably so. You could already sense there would be some disagreement. You avoided him a bit, tucking your daughter in for her nap before you decided to talk to him. That way she would be out of earshot.

Jeno came into the nursery, leaning against the doorway as he watched you rub Juno’s back, speaking in that soothing voice of yours, lulling her to sleep.

The moment you closed the door quietly behind you, you asked, “You called in an expert?”

Jeno nodded. “I needed advice and he’s someone I trust completely.”

If Jeno trusted him, then you did too. He never brought people around your daughter except family, which meant Yuta would really have to be held in high regard to be allowed anywhere near your child.

You followed Jeno out to the living room, noting how heavily he dropped onto the couch like the weight of the world sat squarely on his broad shoulders. It was a heavy responsibility, having such a powerful child.

Taking the spot next to him, you molded yourself to his side and brushed his dark hair back with your fingers. “What’s on your mind? Tell me what you’re thinking. Please,” you whispered softly.

Jeno exhaled loudly through his nose. He stared off into the distance. “I’ve tried very hard to hide that part of my life from you.”

“I know and I’m grateful to you for that.”

Jeno ran a hand down his face and said, “Ignorance is bliss. That is what I wanted for you, for our family. I’d hoped and prayed she wouldn’t be like me, but she is.”

You couldn’t resist anymore and so you asked, “You’re a villain. Aren’t you?”

Jeno slowly nodded.

You leaned even more into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and comforted when he drew you in and smoothed his hand over your thigh. “Deep down, I always knew.”

“I can’t hide her forever,” Jeno said firmly, finding his resolve. “I have to train her in our ways.”

You blinked in surprise, flinching at the thought. “You want to train her to be a villain?”

“Yes.”

“But… Yuta said to let her choose her own path. She could be a hero,” you reminded him, pulling back a little.

Jeno clenched his jaw and snapped, “My daughter will never be a hero. There is no future for them in this place. They either die as martyrs for a corrupt, abusive system or they die for their selfish sense of justice or savior complex.”

“Jeno…,” you began. This conversation was unnerving you. All your hopes and dreams for a normal life for your daughter - the life you never got to have - were crushed. You imagined a powerful being ruling Hel with an iron fist. Constantly pursued. Endlessly challenged.

So many would want her dead.

Your husband locked his eyes with yours, staring you down. “I won’t allow it. My daughter will never be a pawn in someone else’s games.”

Your lips quivered and your voice shook, because you were on the verge of tears again. “Why can’t she just be a child?”

“She’s too powerful,” Jeno said, then he hung his head. “Like me.”

You clambered out of his lap and turned away, covering your face as tears ran down your cheeks. For a moment, you hated the love of your life, hated him for giving your baby girl his curse and condemning her to a life of villainy and destruction.

It didn’t matter if she became a hero or a villain, she was still your child and you would defend her with your life. Even if she became the most hated enemy of the entire world, the world would have to get through you to reach her.

But your daughter’s childhood was being stolen away right in front of your eyes. She wouldn’t be able to play with other children at risk of hurting them. Would she even be able to go to preschool when the time came or would that be too dangerous?

All that isolation and fear would warp her into something she was never meant to be. Juno was a smiley, happy baby. The day you watched her joy turn to hate would be the day your heart died.

You could never let her become like you.

Jeno reached for you worriedly. He had to remind himself that while he saw his daughter as a perfect, powerful creature, you viewed her as the most fragile glass that could crack at even the slightest touch.

“This won’t happen for many years,” Jeno consoled, wiping your cheeks with his gentle hands. “Of course, she’s a child now. She will have a happy childhood, unlike us, but one day, she will understand what she is capable of and I want her to be strong. I want no one to be able to manipulate her.”

That last part, you could hear a bite in his tone. Something bitter and pained. Sniffling, you asked, “Is that what happened to you?”

Jeno startled. “What?”

“Did someone manipulate you, Jeno?”

Your husband was blank. There was something churning beneath the surface of him, something he had gone to great lengths to hide and keep buried. He stood abruptly, shaken, and said, “I need to go.”

You could hardly believe your eyes, leaping up and watching him stomp for the front door. “Where are you going?” you called after him.

“Out!”

You jolted in place as he slammed the door behind him with enough force it came clean off the hinges and clattered to the floor in pieces.

To say you were furious would be an understatement. Clearly, you had struck a nerve, but you were going to pick that chord until you learned what song it made. The song that could ultimately decide your daughter’s future.

Ignoring the broken door, you went into the nursery and packed Juno’s bag. You gathered your sleeping baby in your arms, apologizing for waking her when she fussed, but the moment she was in the carseat with your SUV cruising smoothly down the streets, she fell right back to sleep.

It was the first time you had ever gone to Jeno’s work. You were under strict instructions never to go there. Nevertheless, Jeno had pointed the building out to you before. Just in case.

The place was rather unassuming, not like the massive skyscrapers that reached the clouds. Whatever type of business was run there, you didn’t know. All you knew was Jeno made substantial money and was a top employee, able to take time off whenever he desired.

You almost laughed. This was the last place you expected to serve as a den for villains. But everywhere you looked in Hel, villains made their mark. Some preferred to work in the dark or where you least expected. Easier to avoid heroes that way perhaps, but most villains didn’t give a damn about fighting it out with heroes. The news was always abuzz with a new battle and the damage that followed.

Ignorance is bliss. You kept hearing those words in your husband’s voice in your head. You weren’t naïve. You had known the safe, luxurious life your husband provided for you and your child came at a cost. But you never questioned it.

You had been through hell. You were willing to overlook things so long as your daughter never had to walk in your shoes.

Today, you would pry. Juno would have what you couldn’t. She would be all that you weren’t. You would make any sacrifice for that without hesitation.

“Mr. Lee, your wife is here,” said the assistant nervously.

Jeno gawked when you walked into his office and exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

After locking the door behind you, you took off your coat nonchalantly and hung it up on the rack in the corner before answering, “I followed you.”

“Where is Juno?” Jeno asked. One of the few times you had seen him truly afraid.

You marched over to him and said, “She’s with your mother. I’m assuming one or both of your parents have powers to protect her with.”

Jeno nodded, shutting his mouth at that.

You put your hands on your hips and glanced around. The office was dark and minimal. There were no windows to be seen. Jeno was sitting on a brown leather sofa with his legs stretched out. His jacket was thrown carelessly to the floor and he sported only a white tee with his jeans. You could see every bit of the tension in his body.

He was at a breaking point.

You narrowed your eyes in a glare. “God, I’m so angry with you.”

Jeno’s gaze was on your legs. He refused to meet your eyes and that was very telling. “I know.”

“You made me forget who I am.”

Jeno blinked in surprise.

You chewed over your words before finally spitting them out, “Ever since I fell in love with you, I surrendered all of myself to you. It was easier that way. I gave you all the power, because you knew what to do with it.”

“Baby…,” Jeno started, peeking up at you. He couldn’t handle the fury on your beautiful face. It was a searing reminder that he’d failed. He failed at everything he’d set out to do.

To keep you safe. And to keep his baby from turning out like him.

You braced your hands on his shoulders and straddled his lap, earning your husband’s undivided attention. “I don’t have gifts like you or Juno, but I have a strength of my own. I’m a survivor, by any means necessary.”

Jeno forbade himself from getting aroused while this was a very serious and heavy moment, but the weight and warmth of you on his clothed cock was already too much. He figured that was intentional and why you had fucking mounted him the way you had. There was no choice but to submit himself to your mercy.

“You never have to worry about that,” he said roughly, resting his hands on your thighs. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers over his jaw and lips. “I know. That’s my point. I handed you my reins, but now I’m taking them back.”

Jeno’s brows stitched. “What do you mean?”

You grabbed him by the throat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jeno rasped, wrapping his hand around your wrist. He could very easily pry you loose, but he didn’t. He liked how your fingers felt digging into his neck.

“You may rule this city, but I rule you,” you hissed, breath hot on his face.

Jeno groaned lowly in the back of his throat, resonating in his chest. His cock was half hard in his pants now, pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Goddamnit.

You smirked at his pulse racing beneath your thumb and told him roughly, “You may have put her inside me, but I breathed life into her. She’s mine. And you will never raise her to be a villain.”

“It’s for her own safety.”

“No,” you shot back. “It’s for your own trauma and your own need for control.”

Jeno grit his teeth and shifted uncomfortably beneath you. You had figured him out easily.

Maybe because you recognized the same signs within yourself.

You released his throat and carded your fingers into his hair, tugging on the strands and making him meet your eyes. “She’s not us,” you whispered, softening. “She will make her own choices, her own mistakes. It is our job to guide her and protect her, not choose her paths for her.”

Something broke inside Jeno then. He loved you and that little girl so much it made his heart hurt. Tears threatened and he pursed his lips with contempt and emotion. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do. I know there are things in your past that shaped you. Things you can’t even speak of. I have demons like that in my past too. They tried to kill me, but I’m still here.”

Jeno whimpered, “I can’t let her ever go through what I did.”

You smiled at him affectionately, your chest burning at the pain he was in. “Me neither. She will break both of our curses, Jeno. This pain ends with us.”

Jeno’s tears escaped and he wiped at them roughly with his hands.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling Jeno embrace you jarringly fast, like he craved the connection with you to soothe his aching soul. “I love you,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Jeno said your name. “I love you more than anything in the world,” he breathed, then chuckled. “Except Juno. I’m sorry. She’s the only one that outranks you in my heart.”

You laughed, happy to see his humor breaking through all the tension, and assured him, “The feeling is mutual. And if we do happen to make another baby, they will outrank you as well.”

Jeno smirked, kneading your hips in his hands and looking down at your precarious position in his lap. He could feel the warmth of your folds on his cock despite the clothes in the way and he knew you were undoubtedly aware of the hard dick underneath you.

There was something to be said about the two of you airing out your worries and your pain. Jeno felt lighter, like he didn’t need to be carrying this anvil on his chest everywhere. You had broken it down with a few well-placed jabs. Sure, talking about his trauma and his fear was agonizing, but the pain was a necessary evil to healing.

“I kept thinking,” Jeno spoke up, smile fading. “If I locked you and her away, nothing could ever hurt you both.”

“I know. And I went along with it, because I had the same thought.”

Jeno let his head fall back. Validating his feelings sent a wave of relief crashing through him. He stared up at you in reverence, wondering what he had done to deserve someone that made him whole again. “What happened to you?” he asked gently.

You tilted your head, cradling his face and kissing him deeply. Then, you said, “I’ll never tell you, baby. Just like you’ll never tell me how you got your scars. I don’t want you to ever carry that knowledge.”

“If you tell me who hurt you, I will kill them.”

“I know that, because I would do the same for you.”

Jeno smiled.

You coaxed, “Let’s move on and heal together, Jeno. You and me.”

Your husband relaxed. He could never describe what your words and promises had done for him. Hope filled his chest. The thought that his daughter could go through life without being touched and shaped by evil like he had made more tears prick at his eyes.

Fighting them back so he could focus on you, Jeno said, “I’m sorry I broke the door.”

You snickered. “I forgive you.”

“I called the landlord. He’s fixing it.”

You nodded. At this point, you didn’t care. All you could think about was how badly you wanted him, because you loved him so much it was all-consuming.

Jeno licked his lips and asked coyly, “Should I book us a hotel room for the night?”

“Don’t bother,” you taunted, bracing your hands on his abs. “I’m gonna have you right here.”

Jeno’s eyes flickered, widening. His pupils dilated to bottomless wells of arousal.

You slotted your lips to his and kissed him hard, grinding down on his cock underneath you.

Jeno sucked in a breath between kisses, the warmth and weight of you was too much. He palmed at your hips before grabbing handfuls of your ass, squeezing.

You finally broke from the kiss and met your husband’s eyes, smirking at him with mischief written all over your face. You shivered at how he was looking at you; a mix of enraptured and cocky. The little smile tugging on his lips was like a challenge.

A challenge to replace it with something more... carnal.

You clambered off your husband’s lap and stood between his legs, pulling your shirt up and over your head. Jeno eyed your breasts barely held in the bra and leaned in, running his hands up and down your sides and kissing across your ribs. You were quick to shove him back by the shoulders and drop down to your knees.

Jeno took off his shirt as you started unfastening his pants, growling when you teased your lips and tongue down his happy trail. Your every touch was intoxicating, sending a shudder through his body.

You weren’t satisfied until his pants and boxers were wrapped around his ankles, and you fisted his hard cock in your hand the moment it sprang free. You held his shaft and teased your tongue along the veins, giggling when your husband let out a frustrated groan.

“Fuck,” he hissed, throwing his head back into the couch when you engulfed him in your warmth mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking mercilessly on his sensitive tip.

You held him at the base and worked him up with your saliva, peering up at Jeno and feeling your walls clench at the rapture on his face. If you had your way, you would reduce him to nothing in a matter of minutes.

Jeno gathered your hair in his hand, steering you gently up and down his cock. With his other hand, he stroked his fingers over your cheek affectionately and said, “I would die for you.”

You drew back and replied coyly, “I know.” Then, you wrapped your lips around his length again and pressed forward until you’d taken every last inch of him.

Jeno tried to keep eye contact and pinched his lips together in restraint. The gagging, choking sounds leaving your throat each time he sank in were too much and your husband tipped his head back and staggered out a breath.

There was a tightening between your legs and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties. Satisfied that he was extra slick with your saliva, you pulled his cock from your mouth with a pop and clambered to your feet.

Jeno let his hand fall from your hair and reached for your waist, holding onto you whilst you stripped out of your pants and straddled his hips. He watched with bated breath as you steered him into your entrance.

You sank down on him, moaning at the stretch, eyes winched closed. All you could do was rasp his name as your body adjusted around his hard length.

Jeno stared up at you in reverence, a grunt escaping him as he said, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You had some idea given how hard he was for you, but you still liked hearing it.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you rolled your hips back and forth. There was a wet squelch every time he bottomed out inside you, your walls clamping down on him with your movements.

“Fuck me,” Jeno groaned, reeling his hands back and slapping them on your ass. “Just like that.”

With him goading you, you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your ass colliding loudly with the tops of his thighs. It was unreal how good he felt and you made yourself bite your lip to keep your cries trapped in your throat, because you knew you undoubtedly had an unsuspecting audience on the other side of the wall.

“God fucking damn,” Jeno groaned, the air whooshing out of his lungs. You were riding him so hard it downright shocked him.

You were taking pleasure from his body, using his cock to get yourself off, and nothing made Jeno want to come more than that. His hands were heavy on your hips, fingers sinking into your flesh to the point of bruising. You were going to milk every last drop out of him at this pace.

And you did.

The moment you tipped over the edge, riding him wildly at the height of your orgasm, Jeno crushed you in his arms and trapped you to him, emptying inside you with a guttural groan that made you shiver and swear even more.

Jeno was shaking like a leaf below you and you carded your fingers into his hair, his breath hot on your neck. You collapsed on top of him, a tiny noise escaping you when his soft length slipped from your folds. Jeno grasped your knee, hooking your thigh across his waist as he settled back into the couch.

“I know I promised never to ask,” you said shyly, making senseless patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “But please allow me one question.”

“You waited until after draining my balls to ask. I see you,” Jeno smarted, chuckling.

You snorted back a laugh. Then, your face turned somber. “Have you ever used your power on me?”

“No.”

You arched a brow. “You promise?”

He nodded. “It takes all of my strength every second you’re in my arms not to use my power on you,” your husband whispered and you absolutely believed him.

“Restraint is the hardest part of being a villain?”

Jeno looked down, marveling just how good your naked body looked on his. He smoothed his hands down your waist and landed on your thigh hooked over his hips. “I could destroy this city with my bare hands, baby,” he whispered darkly.

You shivered a little.

“You know, I used to look at my hands and see only death. Then, when you gave birth to Juno and I held her, everything changed for me.”

You melted into him. Just the thought of the baby you had made together caused your heart to take off and soar inside your chest.

“I couldn’t believe something so beautiful came from someone as evil as me.”

You cupped his cheek in your hand, turning him to face you, your lips brushing his. “I don’t care what you’ve done. I will always love you.”

“You saved my life,” Jeno confessed in a whisper. “You and that baby girl saved me from my demons. And from myself.”

You smiled.

Jeno kissed the corner of your mouth and said, “She may have my power, but she has your heart.”

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[h0rnyauth0r]

having no thoughts, head empty, just thinking about ghost fucking you while you have your radio tuned into graves’ station, who has a thing for you <333

if you’re not at least 16 pls dni, idc if you read but i don’t want you interacting!

tws: choking, outdoor sex, technically phone sex i suppose?, unprotected sex, cumming inside, reader has a vagina and is called a girl

the tension between the two of you had snapped like a rubberband. so quickly, and yet at the same time agonizingly slow. while everyone else spends their time worrying about the mission at hand and killing the bastard, ghost has his hand grasping onto your throat in a deathgrip as his hips slam into your ass.

he has you bent over on a slab of concrete out in the open, radio pressed and against your mouth as you let out struggled  gasps and moans. he’s smirking underneath his mask as your walls clench around his cock, knowing that graves is likely fuming in jealousy.

his little crush on you was embarrassing, and hearing you cream on his enemy’s dick makes it worse. that sends ghost into a frenzy as his hand on your throat moves down to your clit, rubbing fast and hard circles into it.

he notices that you’re stifling noises the slightest bit, anger bubbling up as he stops moving. “go on then, scream. make him know who fucks you this good.” he growls out, thrusting particularly hard against you.

you feel so close to cumming, but it all crashes down when his fingers leave your throbbing bud. you cry out in annoyance. “p-please!” you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“please what? what should i do? go on.” he says smugly, moving his hips the slightest amount in an attempt to tease you.

you clench your eyes shut, “fuck me. god, ghost. i want you to make me cum on your cock.” you feel your face heat up knowing that there’s more than just a few men who can hear you.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, quickly returning to his previous movements. this time, however, he pushes you deeper into the concrete and his fingers abuse at your clit harder than before.

your orgasm approaches rather quickly, loud moans and occasional screeches of pleasure escaping your sore throat as he fucks into you so good.

you feel his hand that grasps onto the radio also grab at your throat, squeezing and pulling your head back for his eyes to meet yours. his eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to close your eyes to look away from him.

he knows he’s ruining you when your eyes roll back and your pussy clenches around him tightly and you gasp out his codename with nails digging into the concrete.

your orgasm feels euphoric as he keeps rubbing your clit well past the end, his choking making the pleasure almost dizzying as you forget where you are and what’s happening.

your walls keep spasming around him as his thrust become sloppier, indication that he’s going to cum soon. in this moment, you want his cum inside of you so badly that it’s making you drool.

he almost cums just from the lewd sight, tits out and bouncing and your eyes watery as you stare at him like you’re about to pass out. he allows his fingers to squeeze a bit harder, an odd choking and moaning sound struggling to escape your throat.

he lets out what sounds like a mix of a grunt and a groan as you feel his cum fill your pussy up, and the feeling alone makes you cum for the second time against him.

his thrusts slowly stop and he releases your throat, noticing how hot you look with his fingerprints bruising your neck. he doesn’t pull out for a minute as he catches his breath but once he does the radio picks up with sound.

“ghost, you’re a dead man.” it’s graves talking, and he simply shuts the radio off.

your legs feel like jelly in the moment as you turn around and sit on the rough concrete, having your pants as a blanket so your ass doesn’t rub on it. you look at the large man in front of you, watching as he tucks his cock away into his pants.

he looks back up at you and moves closer to you, ducking down to your height and staring into your eyes. “you’re okay?” he asks gruffly.

you nod slowly, grabbing onto your panties and sliding them onto your sore body. “that was interesting.” is all you say, feeling him lift you and help you put on your gear.

after you’re dressed, you get ready to head back to where everyone else is but he grabs onto your wrist and stops you. “wait.” he says to you quietly, the sound of fabric moving filling your ears..

you turn towards him and feel his lips on yours, kissing you roughly as his hands dig into your hips. after he pulls away from you, he pushes his mask back down and smacks your ass roughly.

“be careful. we have a lot ahead of us, yeah?”

it’s not much, but it makes you smile. he doesn’t need to say he cares about you, but he shows it in such an obvious manner.

***

note: i haven’t written smut in a while so i’m sorry if it’s not good <3 thanks for reading!

[phantoms-lair]

80

Danny Phantom x Video Game

"Condor you will be assigned a partner for this mission. Code name Potoo. He's from another agency, he'll meet you in Spain." To be honest, he was expecting someone like Krauser. What he wasn't expecting was... "Condor to Roost. That is a child." "Come again, Condor?" "Code Name Potoo is literally a child." There was no visuals on over the ear pieces, but he could imagine Hunnigan's pursed lips. "Our other branch indicated the despite his appearance, Codename Potoo wasn't a child." Our other branch was trying to get out of some shit. Because that was a child. "I don't supposed they'd be willing to offer said agents files?" "They're...classified beyond our clearance?" Hunnnigan sounded puzzled, as well she should be. They were a mission to rescue the President's daughter. Nothing should be beyond their clearance. "I think a closer look is due at our other agency. Condor out." Leon took another look at the black haired teenager who was glaring at him. Mostly looking at the shape not quite hidden under his turtleneck. Leon's money was on some kind of control collar or bomb to ensure complicity. Mission one, save Ashley. Mission two, save Codename Potoo

~

Leon had been a cop for all of one day. And maybe it was egotistical, but he felt he'd been a better cop in that one day than those two were in their entire career. They didn't question the boy on the investigation. They didn't notice the collar he was wearing. They seemed very unconcerned that people had been disappeared here lately. And when one didn't come back in a timely manner from his pee break, he'd sent Leon and the kid. If it was just Leon he'd hoped it was because they HAD noticed things were wrong and this was all contrived to separate Leon and the kid so they could make sure he was okay. But no, they were just lazy. Any attempt at communication with the kid had been met with glares and Leon wasn't entirely sure he could talk. But he couldn't blame him. Look what the government had done to him, why would he trust one of it's agents?

But the further they got into the woods, the worse a feeling he had. This place felt wrong in way he couldn't put into words. He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse wen they found the house. Leon called out several times, but didn't get an answer. He apologized when they found the old man who lived there, but the kid tensed. And good instincts as he noticed the missing officers bloody id on the ground. The old man might have taken him by surprise if the kid hadn't throw a bowl off the table surprising him. Leon leapt to his feet with a spin kick that knocked the man into a wall, his neck hitting at an odd angle. The kids hands flew to his mouth. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Leon felt no regrets about killing a man who'd come after him with an ax, but doing so in front of kid was a different matter. No matter what that kid may have been forced to see prior. "It looks like one of our guides is hurt an might need medical attention. I'm going to look for him, okay?" The kid nodded, pale but still in the game. A scream lead them to the basement. Leon took lead on the search and couldn't help but draw his gun when they found him. It was the one bad habit he hadn't been able to break from Raccoon City. No matter how much it had been drilled into him that when he saw a bloody corpse that the corpse itself was not a threat, that's where his gun automatically trained. Thankfully the corpse stayed where it was. He had to get the kid out of there. "We need to stay quiet." Leon instructed. "Let's get back to the car and report this. The kid nodded, all signs of defiance gone. They moved back to the stairs, only to have the man form earlier be blocking their path. Broken neck and all. "Not again," Leon griped, earning a confused look from the kid. Still, it wasn't hard to put the dead man down again, and grab the kid to head for the car. Their path was interrupted though, by a door smashing open ,and two men leaving the previously locked off area and right down their escape route. Okay, new plan. Gesturing to be quiet, he headed down the hall towards the new area. He had to look back a few times to make sure the kid was following him, he moved so quietly. his stealth skill must have been why he was put on the mission. Sadly the new area didn't have an exit, so they went up the stairs to a small room. Leon quietly locked the door behind them. "If anyone tries to get in, barricade the door with that bookshelf." The kid nodded. Leon looked around and a small planning area caught his eye. On it were pictures of Ashley and a map of Valdelobos, with a lake marked. "Condor to Roost. I've found evidence that our target, Baby Eagle, is in the village." "Our intel was correct." Hunnigan sounded pleased. "Continue your search and I'll find what I can about the area." "Anything on the other agency." "Need to know only," Hunnigan said with an amount of frustration that mean like him, she apparently didn't need to know. "Right, Condor out." Leon shut off his comm right as there was a thud of an ax against the door. The kid was good to his instruction and slammed the bookcase down, far more easily than Leon thought he would. "We need to get out of here." Leon explained. "Follow me." He kicked out the window and dove through it. He turned to catch the kid only to find him landing by his side. He pulled them out of sight before the attackers could finish breaking down the door and see where they went. "Kid, is it going to hurt you if I take that collar off?" The kid recoiled, eyes full of fear. "I won't if it will hurt you," Leon assured. "But...I knew this girl named Sherry. She'd be about your age now. She was infected with a deadly virus and received a cure. The government wanted to take her, to make her into a weapon. And the only way they'd agree to leave her alone was if someone else took her place. Me." The kids eyes widened. "I wouldn't let them do that to Sherry. And if there's anything I can do to get you out of here, I will."

He could see hope and fear warring in his eyes until finally the kid pulled his turtleneck down, careful not to touch the medical monstrosity around his neck. Leon gulped at the sheer amount of trust he was being shown. The metal sent what felt like small shocks through his fingers as he worked on it. But the mechanism wasn't complicated and soon gave a satisfying 'clunk' as the lock unlatched.

The kid grabbed the collar flung it away as far as he could. Leon couldn't help but wince as his flesh hissed upon touching it. What had seemed like a minor irritant to him seemed to be caustic to the kid. The boy gasped for breath and made the first vocal sound Leon had ever heard him make. A sob. He collapsed to his knees and Leon caught him, holding him gently and telling him it would be okay, he's free, the government will never touch him again. The moment was broken by a cry of "¡Agarradlo!" "I'll hold them off." Leon said. "You get back to the car. Tell the officer there we were attacked and his partner is dead. When he goes to get back up flee." He lined up his shot but was interrupted by a blast of green whizzing past him and hitting the villager in the face. "I don't have to take orders anymore." The kid said shakily. "And...I want to help that girl." "This is going to be really dangerous, kid." Leon warned, trying to be nonchalant about the glowing green fire in the kids hands and eyes.. "Believe me. It's a step up from the experiments." The kid said dryly. "They were planning to torture and experiment on me till there was nothing left. They just thought using the control collar to force me on this mission would get them more funding. And my name's not kid. It's Danny." "Okay Danny. If you want to bail at any point, I'll get you out of here." "No need, I can escape just fine on my own - once Ashley's safe."

He didn't exactly plan on taking Danny's word for it, but the green fire definitely upped his survivability odds. Hopefully together they could save Ashely too.

[tange-my-rine]

find yourself (and me) || Tangerine x trans male!reader

Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans.

Request by @random-thoughts-004.

TW: mention of deadname (it's like your codename but like still), fake death, grief, blood, wounds, murder, guns, knives, scars, cursing (it's Tangerine), and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: Thanks for my first request !!! I hope I did it justice! Enjoy this slowburn and kinda angst riddled oneshot. Reader's first codename is Butterfly. Second is Beetle. (You work with Ladybug's agency.) ]]

The first time you met Tangerine was one of your first jobs ever. You remember it so well because well, the twins made it memorable. They made everything memorable, you'd come to realize but not now.

It was a gala, and you were dressed well -fancy even, with hair perfectly in place and shiny fabric cascading.

The job was an easy one, getting your feet wet and whatnot; not that you hadn't wanted the harder ones, it was just like a test run for your agency -seeing if you could do it. Which, with your experience, was kind of ridiculous but you didn't want to get into it right now.

All you needed was information from a man, some sort of billionaire -you weren't honestly sure. The location of someone else, his brother... cousin? You knew his name and that was all that mattered.

You finished your drink, and with a walk that could kill, you made your way to the floor. He was talking to some men (tall with bleached tips, and another one broad shoulders with a mustache), but you simply pushed yourself through.

His eyes, naturally, rested on you, and you used it toward your advantage.

"Hi," you smiled over the rim of your glass, fluttering your eyelashes for good measure, "-do you mind if I interrupt? I've been dying to talk to you all day."

The man, Richard you remembered, smiled smoothly, "'Course, honey. We can always pick up this conversation later."

With a glance toward the men, you pushed your arm into his and began walking away.

You had felt the eyes boring into your back at the time, but you didn't think anything of it. You probably should have, but to be fair this was a test run, was it not?

The man guided you to a balcony, empty with the night sky and stars twinkling. You would've thought it was pretty, if you didn't have an objective.

"Name's Richard," he spoke, still close by your side, "-what's yours, sweetheart?"

Swallowing the bile in your mouth (he really wasn't your type), you smirked -playfully, trailing your fingers onto his upper arm, "I prefer to be a mystery to the men I meet, Richard."

He grinned, it was working well, "I'm not the first then?"

The rest of your conversation was much of the same, low chats about things that didn't really matter -hobbies, jobs, etc. And when you casually mentioned family, it was smooth sailing.

"Got a cousin visiting one of my houses down in Miami, but I haven't seen the rest in years."

You weaseled out the name, and with a cunning smile, went to refill your drink. He'd said he'd have someone do it for you, but you said something about 'clingy already?' and his masculinity came in check.

Your job was done. You were 30 minutes from getting home, out of these heels, and watching your favorite show with the emptiness of your apartment. These kinds of crowds were exhausting, you needed it.

That was until hands shot out of a closet and pulled you in so fast you couldn't even scream-

"What the hell?"

The light was on, thank god, as you took in the man. He was broad shoulders from before, dressed in a fancy suit -three piece, with curly gelled back hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the mustache. He was your type.

You shimmied out of his grip, pushing yourself to the farthest wall, "What are you doing?! You can't just pull women into closets-"

"Who fuckin' sent you?" He uttered out, harsh and brash -british accent, your mind noted.

"Sent me?" You played dumb, "-This is a gala, I was invited, prick."

"Don't fuckin' lie to me," he hissed, pulling out a gun and suddenly, this was all very real.

"Jesus Christ," you raised your hands, "-why the hell does it matter?"

"You're after my hit," he clarified, like it was fact -pushing the gun further into your face.

"Yeah, no," you laughed, "-my job here was information. I literally just talked to him, if you paid any attention to your surroundings-"

"Awfully snappy for someone with a fuckin' gun in your face," he retorted, but you could tell that his frustration had significantly lessened.

"Shoot me then," you egged on, "-lose your cover, and your target, and shoot me."

His mouth flattened, eyes hardening, as the realization slipped over his features; you loved being right.

Gotcha.

With the speed of a snail, he lowered his gun -jaw muscle flexing. You could tell he was pissed that you were right. This was fun, you would've stayed all night to get on his nerves, if this dress didn't make you feel like your skin was peeling off.

In very different circumstances, you would've been glad to be trapped in a closet with him. But, we can't always get what we want, can we?

Without another word, you slipped out of the closet and made your way to the door. And when you got home you scrubbed your skin clean until the flowery scent of your perfume went away (it made you sick), but that was nobody's business but your own.

The second time you met him was very different. Your job was a hit, a CEO of some fancy business -you didn't really care. You'd posed as some meeting for him -after hours, it was actually really simple to get this guy alone.

Anyway, you had just shot a bullet through his head when the door came crashing open -easily, you switched targets.

Instead of some innocent, however, it was the man -still wearing a three piece suit and the same mustache. He wore it well though, so you couldn't blame him.

"Not you again," you groaned.

"What the hell are you doin' 'ere?" He replied eyes scrunched and eyebrow raised.

"My job?" You answered, still pointing the gun at him without hesitation.

He raised his hands, begrudgingly, and looked you over, "You 'ere for a hit?"

You kicked the body at your feet, sarcastically, "Ya think?"

His eyes flicked down to the man, before back up to you, "Lucky for you, I'm just 'ere for a drive. You let me go, we call it even?"

You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side -thinking on it, "Fine, but if I see you again it's fair game."

"Can't fuckin' wait, love," he remarked, and you honestly weren't sure if it was all sarcasm. Huh.

"Butterfly," you said as an introduction.

He furrowed his brows for a moment before a wave of understanding crossed over his face, "Tangerine."

Needless to say, you left that building laughing your ass off.

The next time after that you met Lemon, and then suddenly you were a trio. You switched agencies and were constantly partnered for missions, and even when you weren't, they'd follow you and keep an eye out for you. Even when you told them that you could handle it, they still showed up (Lemon always blamed Tangerine).

You don't know when Tangerine started shifting in your head -from friend to... something else. A scary something else. But you think it started here.

You were in a safe house, one you'd crashed in a lot actually. An apartment in the city with three bedrooms and a fancy kitchen, you could picture it as a home if you thought about it long enough. Couldn't see it without Tangerine and Lemon anymore though.

It was late, and you were watching some late-night reruns of a show you'd never seen -it was some sort of love triangle, and you somehow already had a favorite actually. You couldn't sleep, it was just something in your head -nightmares. You had close calls before and tonight was one of them; you wanted to be alive a little bit longer because of it.

"Hey," the voice interrupted your haze, drawing your attention to your right.

It was Tangerine, he was wearing normal clothes -baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt with his hair ungelled (you were still getting used to it). Blue eyes flickered across you, he could read you really well -you hated it.

He didn't ask if you were okay, didn't have to he knew, just sat by your side on the couch -you offered him some blanket. He took it, closer into your side than he was before -it made your head spin just a little. You figured because you hadn't been so close to someone in so long.

Before you could stop yourself, you started talking, "You ever think about what your life would be like if we didn't do what we do?"

It was sleepy coming out of your mouth, slightly slurred, but still genuine. You always got a little talkative around him, you weren't sure entirely why.

Tangerine deflected, blue eyes fuzzy over your face (you weren't looking at him), "Do you?"

"Yeah," you muttered, low and quiet, "-all the time."

"What would you do?" he asked, and he was genuine -you could always tell when he wanted to listen.

"I think..." you started, trying to decide your words, "- I think I'd want to be married. Is that stupid?"

"'s not stupid, love," he spoke, soft with his gruff sleep voice.

"It'd be nice, I think," you hummed, perhaps saying too much but you didn't care then, "-forever with one person. With this job, you're always alone. Jumping from place to place, partner to partner. I think it'd be nice to have somebody who was always there."

Tangerine didn't say a word.

"The real question is if I'm marriable," you laughed, "-do you think I have enough positive characteristics for someone to marry me, Tan?"

It was kind of a joke, and you expected him to respond that way. He didn't.

"Yeah," he whispered, dead serious, "-I do."

You were taken aback a little bit, something unfurling in your chest that you hadn't quite named yet but you knew it now, "You think so?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer -your head settling on his shoulder without hesitation. You stayed that way for a few moments, breathing in his cologne and shampoo -he smelt so good, how?

"Someone would marry you," he finally responded -something there in his voice but you couldn't name it, "-'d be fuckin' stupid not to."

It was going great, really great. Until it wasn't.

You can't even remember the mission now, but it was one that the twins followed you in on. You convinced them to wait out in the car, you could handle this.

And while you were, your earcon went off -static voice in your ear. You had to strain to hear it, but once you did, you wished you hadn't. It was Maria, your previous handler -you had no idea how she got your connection, actually. It didn't matter then, the voice echoing through your head.

"Butterfly, listen to me, you have to get out of there."

"Maria?" you questioned, slamming a guy's head into a wall, "-'Would love to catch up but I'm a little busy right now-"

"Butterfly, listen. You are in danger."

"Aren't I always?" you laughed, sliding a blade across another guy's neck -he sunk to the floor.

"I got intel on a manhunt for you, the White Death is looking for you. You are not safe, listen to me."

You stalled in place, your heart dropping to your stomach, breathless, "What?"

"He's been surveying your safe house. He knows what job you're on, you have to get out of there now."

One of them rushed you from behind, you promptly elbowed his throat and he let you go -you spun on your heel and shot him square in the head. It was on instinct, your brain was running a thousand miles a minute.

"I can't hide from a guy like him, Maria," you spoke, a sort of shake in your tone, "-he'll find me. He'll find the twins-"

"Listen to me," she repeated, "-we have a plan, but it's not going to be easy."

"Yeah," you sighed, "-okay. I've got nothing to lose, right?"

"There's a car on the westside of the building, you need to head that way and-"

"Maria," you thought of the twins, "-I already have a ride."

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"Jesus," you laughed, "-have a little faith in me-"

"Butterfly, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"I am," you replied, "-I don't know what you're thinking but I'm perfectly capable."

"You, Butterfly, are not making it out of this building alive. Are you listening?"

"I don't-"

"As far as anyone knows, you are dead. As far as the White Death knows, you are dead."

"Oh," you responded, softly, "-this is... I'm... What about the twins?"

"They can't know. The White Death will be surveying them for months after, if they don't play the part-"

"They would," you ushered out, tears burning at the backs of your eyes, "-they... They could not see me for awhile but they would know-"

"I'm sorry, but if you're actually going to stay alive, they can't know. The White Death is smart, he knows how close the three of you are. If they know, he'll know."

"Please," you whispered, you felt like you couldn't breathe, "-without them... You don't know what it'll put them through, Maria, I can't-"

"I'm sorry."

Tears fell before you could stop them, heavy and your throat felt like it was closing up (good god, you couldn't breathe). You stumbled to the window, eyes catching on the car that waited for you by the entrance -if you squinted you could see them, you just wanted to see them again. Even if it was the last time-

"Butterfly, breathe, I need you to focus, okay? For them and you."

"Will you tell them first, before... before anyone else? They deserve to-" your voice cracked, "-They deserve to know first."

"Of course."

You swallowed, gasping for a breath and desperately wiping at your eyes -it felt like you were suffocating. Even still, you righted yourself -for the twins.

"What do you need from me?"

"Leave your phone and something they would know you wouldn't leave behind. They have to... They have to believe it."

With a shaky breath, you threw your phone to the floor -it cracked, but you didn't care. You scanned over yourself, digging into your pockets for something -anything. And then you remembered, the scratching on the fabric -it was your bracelet.

It was a gift from the twins, a simple charm bracelet with one single charm: a butterfly.

You remembered when they gave it to you, you promising to keep it on every day. It was the best gift you'd ever been given-

Hands shaking, you unclasped it -watching as it clattered to the ground, butterfly looking up at you. With another breath, you pulled your knife out of your pocket -three initials carved into the handle. Something in you cracked then as you looked at it, a little shrine to you -this is what they'd see. When they were told you were dead, they'd see this. That was... That was it.

You couldn't stay here anymore.

"Maria," you swallowed, blinking back as many tears as you could, "-where's the car?"

The next 4 years were a lot. You'd finally become yourself, a man, and you lived out in a small little cabin in the woods. You lived next to a teeny-tiny town where everyone knew each other, and you made your life there.

It was a sunny day when a car pulled up to your home -a fancy, expensive one. You knew it well, it dropped you off here all that time ago. Maria.

She smiled when she saw you, skimming over you -she knew about the transition but she hadn't seen you since before, "You look good, happier."

"Thanks," you smiled, leading her into your home. She was well aware of your home, every few years, she visited. Told you things, about the twins -their successes, their failures. They were infamous now. Sometimes it felt like you were there again, you could close your eyes and smell Tangerine's cologne and see Lemon's smile-

"I have some news," Maria started leaning against your countertop -she was always so rigid, all business.

"Yeah?" you smiled, "-What did they do now?"

"The White Death is dead," she spoke -frank and direct.

Something in your shoulders lifted, tears burning the back of your eyes -it had been so long, "Did they...?"

You knew very little about what she told them then, but you do know it had to do with the White Death. You knew they'd try and avenge you one day, it was just in their blood. You hoped they had peace now.

"A few people did," she clarified, "-remember the bullet train I talked about last week?"

"Yeah, you had Ladybug on that one, right?" you asked, you knew of the guy -never met him.

"The twins were there," she hummed, "-Turned out to be planned by him. He was going to kill them all by the end of the line."

"But they survived?" you asked.

"They did," she assured, before pausing for a moment, "-I'm here to ask you something."

You pursed your lips, something catching in your chest, "I can't see them, Maria-"

"That's not-" she started, before clearing her throat, "-I want to ask if you want back in."

"Into... work again?" You asked, curious.

"Yes," she said, laying it all out, "-We have a spot open, you'd be under me. We can start out with small jobs-"

"Isn't this what we planned? All that time ago?"

"We did," Maria confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "-but, you've been here so long. Your plans can change, you know. You could live a normal life."

You thought back to that conversation that late night with Tangerine. You had wanted it then. At the time, you didn't know who you wanted it with but now... you did. And that... that wasn't happening.

But going back to work, that was familiar, that felt normal. You'd be yourself again. You hadn't felt that way fully since that day, but you could achieve it now. Mostly.

"Okay," you responded, "-I'm in."

That is what brought you here in some office building for a drive under the name, Beetle. Well, you weren't alone. A couple of months ago, you'd been at a meeting of the agency -Maria had requested you come. You'd said something a little bit snappy and from the back, a guy with blonde hair, glasses, and a huge smile, had yelled, "I like this guy!"

That was your introduction to Ladybug, and he'd immediately requested to be your partner to Maria. He even threw in some 'pretty-please's, you'd laughed really hard that day -you hadn't in a long time. And with a little hope of some normalcy, you agreed.

Now this was pretty run of the mill, you'd worked with Ladybug to know most of his quirks -like forgetting literally everything as soon as you stepped into the building, and not wanting to kill people on Wednesdays ('My therapist says I need to start taking care of myself, this is me doing that, Beetle.').

"Listen," you turned to him, "-just keep the guy distracted, I will find the drive."

"Hey," he mumbled, eating some kind of finger food, "-Aren't we supposed to be a team? What was it that Maria said-"

"Ladybug," you sighed, he could really annoy you, "-firstly, you know she never says anything in your favor-" he nodded at that in agreement, "-secondly, do you even remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

He paused, squinting his eyes.

"Exactly," you pointed out, "-so I will go find the drive, and you go... mingle."

"I don't wanna mingle," he nearly whined, "-I should've retired after the bullet train."

You froze for a moment, at the mention, before coming back down to earth, "You can do that after we do this, yeah?"

"Oh," he waved his hand with a grin, "-you know I could never leave you, Beetle."

You smiled then, "I know. Now, go, seriously-"

"Yeah, alright," he swatted you, "I'm going-"

With that, you slipped over to the elevator -squeezing past a few stray people and pressing the top floor. Luckily, it was some sort of company party, so every office was unattended. You, yourself, needed the top office, so out of respect for your knees -you'd decided to use the elevator.

You would later wildly regret this decision.

Around the fifth floor, it stopped. You fully prepped yourself for some stray office worker, probably holding a two-liter to bring downstairs and the awkward conversation that would ensue. Instead, it was much, much worse.

Because in front of that door stood Lemon, tips still bleached and dressed in a casual suit -the same kind he always used to wear. Your heart was in your throat, so you casually arranged your tie -trying not to let your voice come out squeaky.

"What floor?" You offered.

He didn't say a word, was just staring for a moment -brown eyes solid on you like he was reading you. You knew you looked different, and even sounded different but you still thought maybe-

"Seventh, thank you," he smiled, sauntering up to your side.

You smiled with a nod, and pressed the button.

The silence was unbearable, and you were certainly going to give Maria an earful when you got back because this. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen.

That was literally your one clause for this work-

"Do I know you?" Lemon asked, looking at you questioningly, "-I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. You're so familiar-"

Your tongue was quicker than your brain, "I'm Carl, Mr. Madison's assistant?"

He pursed his lips, like he was trying to believe it.

"I work on the third floor, mostly," you lied through your teeth -it was just keeping cover, "-maybe you saw me there?"

"Yeah," he settled, still eyeing you weirdly, "-probably."

The rest of the ride was silent, just before he stepped off, "Carl, if ya see an uptight guy in a suit with a mustache, tell 'im I'm on seventh, will ya?"

You instinctively nodded, and as the doors slipped shut -your brain started screaming. Of course, Tangerine was here. God, you could handle Lemon, but-

You pressed your com on, hissing out, "Maria-"

"Yeah, Beetle, what's going on? Everything okay?"

"The twins are here," you spoke -tone wavering, your breaths felt shallow like you weren't getting enough no matter how hard you tried.

"Oh shit."

"Wow," you came back to earth for a moment, "-that's the first time I've heard you lose your cool. Too bad I'm losing my mind-"

"Beetle, listen to me, okay? They don't know who you are. You look different, you sound different."

"I know," you let a breath out, "-I just. I never wanted to see them again. I don't... I don't deserve to."

"Beetle, we've talked about this."

"I know," you took a breath in, "-I know. It's just a lot."

"Is Ladybug there with you?"

"No," you spoke, like it was obvious, "-he can hardly remember his name sometimes, Maria-"

"I'll tell him there's an emergency. Send him up to you."

"But there isn't?" You countered, hand slipping up to run through your hair.

"If the twins are there for the same thing, there's about to be."

With that, you were on the top floor. You kept your eyes peeled -fancy shoes clopping along the tile. You'd always wanted a pair, but now you felt like a prick, honestly.

You figured if Tangerine was anywhere he was here, or shuffled into the party. That was if you had the same motivation.

Which was probably your best bet.

Somehow, you made it to the office in one piece. No peering blue eyes anywhere or accents melting into your ears, you were alone. Huh, maybe you were lucky.

You shuffled through some drawers, scattering paperwork and knocking a tin of paperclips over. It really didn't matter, the man would notice the USB gone anyway so no need for it to look like someone hadn't stolen it. With the drawers, you came up empty-handed.

You pursed your lips, before brushing your fingers along the top shelf of the bookshelf, maybe it was hidden? Nope.

You spun on your toes, before your eyes landed on the laptop. It was literally plugged into his laptop, out in the open.

"Idiots," you mumbled, before pocketing it with the slip of your hand.

Ready to go and fetch Ladybug, your job was done-

"Give me the fuckin' drive," his voice bounced around your head, and you very nearly cracked your neck spinning around to see him.

The first thing was the gun in your face, which was familiar, actually.

You raised your hands in surrender, instinctively muttering, "Jesus Christ."

He stalled for a minute when his eyes met your face like he was processing something -you thought out of anyone he would recognize you. The gun faltered in his hand as his eyebrows crept together into a furrow, confused.

You washed over him too, his hair was slightly longer and he was stronger -you could tell. His mustache was the same, and the suit too, just tighter. But along his neck, right at the collarbone was a nasty scar -it was new, fresh, you could tell. A couple of months at most.

"Look, I'm just Mr. Madison's assistant," you started, your voice shaking but it actually helped you here, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He countered, frustrated again, but there was still something skewed in his face, "-I saw you slip it in your pocket."

"Right," you swallowed, "-glass doors."

He leaned forward, the gun doing the same. And you heard the jingle of his necklace, the one he always wore -something from his childhood he said, but there was another sound, another noise. Before you could think any better, your eyes dipped to it.

The butterfly charm.

Your heart stalled in your chest.

He had the butterfly charm, your butterfly charm, around his neck. The silver was stark against the gold, so you really couldn't have missed it -how long has he been wearing that?

A sob trickled up the back of your throat, but you held it back -blinking away tears.

"Look," you echoed, voice heavy with wear -you wouldn't cry, not now, "-we can work this out."

"I said," he stepped forward, and you could smell his cologne -it was still the same, "-give me the fuckin' drive."

You didn't move.

"Do you want a fuckin' bullet in your head, love?" He asked, his face getting redder, but there was still something in his eyes -he was hesitating. He never hesitates.

Not... not at work. He pulls the trigger and is done but he's hesitating-

Your heart pounding in your chest, you stood your ground -digging your heels in, "Shoot me. You can take it off my corpse, just shoot me."

Tangerine frowned, something in his face flickering between your eyes -you knew he saw you, but you didn't know how he did. Did he think it was just a coincidence? Did he know? Did he think he was hallucinating?

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word -Lemon walked in with a gun pressed to his temple. Your eyes caught on Ladybug's and he visibly seemed to relax at the sight of you breathing.

"For old times sake," he spoke, "-you give me my guy, I give you yours."

"You almost fuckin' killed me," Tangerine seethed through his teeth, "-why should I 'ave any leniency?"

Oh, you thought, that scar was from Ladybug?

"He's got a point 'ere," Lemon replied, rather plainly. You wanted to laugh.

Ladybug paused, "I said I was sorry, I thought we were past that, guys! We killed the White Death together, remember?"

Both of them froze, tense and lips twitching. Was that... Was that because of you?

"Oh, right, sorry," Ladybug recanted, "-sensitive subject."

It was. Something in your chest panged, you'd never thought you'd see it firsthand. You never wanted to-

You stopped the train of thought, hissing to Ladybug, "You are not helping here, you know that?"

"I'm trying my best," he practically whined back, "-you try reasoning with these guys! It's like talking to two brick walls-"

"Ladybug," you chastised.

"Right, sorry," he repeated.

You sighed, leveling to look at them, "Look, I'll give you guys the drive, okay? Just let us go. I'll get him out of here."

Tangerine softened just a smidge -blue eyes matching yours, you may have looked different but your eyes stayed the same. You knew that, and you hoped somewhere in him, he recognized them or they reminded him or anything-

Because if they didn't, you weren't making it out of here alive.

Wordlessly, Tangerine put his gun down and held out his hand. So he did see it.

Ladybug's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, he was clearly not expecting him to relent. But then again, you weren't either.

You pulled it from your pocket, dropping it into his open hand -careful not to touch him, you couldn't do that to yourself.

"Ladybug," you spoke, motioning for him to follow, "-Let's go. We'll tell Maria on the way."

He did as such, giving the gun back to Lemon, and slowly following you out of the door -back turned to the outside, keeping watch.

"Did you-" Tangerine interrupted, stalling the two of you in your path -your heartbeat quickened in your chest, as he turned to look at you, only you, "-Did you know Butterfly?"

"Everyone knows Butterfly," Ladybug responded, "-she's a legend, even for our agency."

He didn't react to his response, only solidly looking at you, Lemon too. You felt like every move you made was outing you, revealing you. That they would realize and hate you and never understand-

"I never knew her personally," you answered, swallowing, "-Just... Just stories."

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked out the door -Ladybug following dutifully behind. You felt their eyes on you every step until you turned back around in the elevator.

You didn't do a job for quite awhile after that. Ladybug, following your lead, took a break too -said something about meditating. You didn't listen, you couldn't.

All you could see was that charm hanging on his necklace -right next to his heart. Did Lemon have your knife? Did they split them?

The next few months were boring, Maria kept calling you and you kept telling her you were okay, you just needed some time. She even sent Ladybug on you a couple of times, but even he could tell you weren't at your best. He just kept recommending things his therapist said, you appreciated it, really, even though it didn't help at all.

When you finally got back to work, Maria sent you as a solo -Ladybug was something you had to limit after a while. All you had to do was get a package before it was delivered, simple.

You didn't know why god seemed to hate you.

You were posed as a delivery truck driver, you even had the truck, the outfit, and the lift. It was something you genuinely enjoyed and everything should've gone perfectly.

It should have been as easy as walking in and walking back out.

That was not the case.

You arrived at the hotel lobby, dressed in the uniform and smiling at the front desk. Politely asking for the boxes you needed, something about office supplies or pillows or something. The hotel had too much of it. All you had to do, was get the package and sneak it in with the others.

"Can I run to your bathroom?" You asked with a smile -you had to get out of the lobby somehow.

"Of course," she smiled, bright and beautiful, "-There's one down that hallway and to the right."

You followed those directions, and then decisively took off into the bathroom -despite it not being a part of the plan. Somewhere in the back of your head, you noted that someone was definitely following you. It was a shadow in the back of your eye, but you still saw it.

So when the door opened behind you, you raised your fist and-

Stopped.

Tangerine stood there, eyes wide as your fist was mere inches from his face. He was wearing a coat, maybe like a trenchcoat, that was brown and gave his whole outfit something entirely different.

"What the hell?" You hissed out, lowering your fist, "-What are you doing here? Following me?"

Tangerine seemed to pause for a moment, before wiping his hand over his mouth, "I'm stayin' 'ere, saw ya out in the lobby. This isn't... It's not a job. I'm not 'ere to... to hurt you."

"Did you just want to say hi?!" You asked, sarcastically -this could not be happening again, "-Last time I saw you, you had a gun pointed at my head. Forgive me for being afraid."

He licked his lips, and you noticed it then, something was very off. He wasn't angry, no, he looked exhausted like he hadn't slept in days; his eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Had he been crying?

"Um," you started, trying to act normal, "-is everything okay...?"

"Tangerine," he finished for you.

"Beetle," you offered in response, before repeating, "-Seriously, is everything okay? Should I call your... your partner?"

"You knew 'er," he interrupted, voice worn.

"Knew who?" You questioned, squeezing your nails into your palm -you knew where this was going.

"Butterfly," he clarified, "-you fuckin' knew 'er, you had to."

"Look, Tangerine," you replied, "-I already told you-"

He interrupted you again, quietly letting out a wet sort of chuckle, "You even say it like 'er."

"Say what?"

"My name," he bit at his lip, gnawing at it, really, "-you say it the exact same way, and I... I fuckin' remember that, so you knew 'er."

You were speechless for a moment, before settling yourself -trying to stay away from this, "Do... Do you need to talk for a minute? Or?"

"Are you 'er brother?" He asked, something heavy in his gaze, "-It's the only solution I can think of, and it's drivin' me fuckin' mad. I have to know-"

"Why would I say I don't know her if I'm her brother?"

"I don't fuckin' know," he breathed out, hands running through his hair, "-are you afraid of the White Death? What he... he did to 'er? He's dead, very dead. You can say you know 'er-"

"But, I don't," you offered, a little weaker.

"You do," he replied simply, "-you fuckin' 'ave to, you look just like 'er. You can't- I can't... Just tell me the truth."

"I'm not her brother," you repeated, it was the only thing you could say.

"Did she ever say anythin' about me? About... About Lemon?" He continued, his voice scratchy and eyes blinking so fast you knew he was holding back tears -your stomach churned.

"Tangerine," you sighed out, "-I don't know what to-"

He interrupted you again, hand pulling on his necklace, the charm, "'s hers, you were starin' at it the other day. 'Was her bracelet, but I think ya know 'at."

"Look," you swallowed, heavily, "-I can't do this now, I'm on a job. We can talk later, though, if you need to."

You ended up finding the box in ten minutes and leaving without another word.

By the time, you were ready for missions again -you were half convinced you wanted to just go back to the cabin, and live your life there. Away from mustaches and feelings and fear, you could enjoy yourself -listen to birds, observe nature, even.

Maria even offered it, after the last trip, she'd smiled at you in the solemn way she did and offered you the home back, the life back.

You thoroughly debated it for a few days but wanted to feel like yourself again and this was the closest you'd get, ever.

You loved him, and this was the closest thing you'd get to him. It was all you had.

Even if he did love you, you were... different now and you couldn't imagine that would be okay with him. You didn't let yourself.

The next time you saw the twins, you decided to embrace it -try and be as close as you could. If they figured it out and left you in the dust, so be it. You wanted them in your life.

It was another solo mission, Ladybug was in one of those 'I'm going to quit and move to Costa Rico' phases of his career and you didn't exactly want to cozy up with anybody else.

Maria understood, and sent you alone.

It was a hit, some guy with a big life insurance policy -his wife hired you, apparently. He was a loner, and didn't go much of anywhere, so you were to stage a robbery and simply kill him in the kerfuffle. Or, at least make it look like that.

The job was so easy that you'd taken to the city afterward -you wanted to live a normal life for a minute, and after it all, you ended up in a bar. A sort of quiet one with a wooden bar and dim lights -the only people in there being men watching football games, and even they did say much of a word.

It was calm, peaceful.

You heard the door jingle, you knew the sound but assumed it was a normal person -sipping on your drink in your booth alone, away from prying eyes. You didn't exactly want any company, not really, but you ended up with some.

The steps of fancy shoes, it was ingrained in your brain, only getting louder -you thought maybe someone was going to sit close to you. Until they abruptly stopped at your side, you promptly turned your head -eyes peering over your drink.

Tangerine stood there in much better shape, blue eyes focused gently onto you (not red and puffy) and hair perfectly gelled back. He was wearing the blue suit that matched his eyes really well -you'd told him it was his best one once.

"Tangerine," you hummed, sipping your drink, "-weird seeing you here."

He paused, eyes flicking over you for a moment -maybe taking in your outfit, just the same as you did. Before muttering out, "'Ere's a safe house nearby, me and Lemon are stayin' 'ere."

You knew that one, the three of you stayed there a couple of times but then again, where hadn't the three of you stayed?

You pondered over that for a moment, before speaking, "You can sit down, you know, I won't bite."

He seemed to tense up.

"Unless you do," you clarified with a bit of a smile, "-in which I retract my statement."

His lips quirked for a second, as he slid into the booth across from you, "'M off the clock."

"Ah," you nodded your head, "-lucky for you, me too."

"Lucky for me?" He asked, it all seemed so natural -you knew he'd ask questions about it later.

"I'm a good fight," you shrugged, "-what can I say?"

"I imagine," he laughed, and something in your chest swirled -you missed that.

He sat in silence for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table, as you messed with the napkin you had. It wasn't uncomfortable, not really, (you didn't think it would ever be) but there was still something hanging over the two of you.

"Look," he said, suddenly, "-about the other day. I'm sorry, I was... I was in a really bad fuckin' place. Just brought up some memories... I didn't mean to-"

"Relax, Tangerine," you sighed, something bubbling up your throat, "-I know what it feels like when you've seen a ghost."

Something in you twisted, tired, and thinking you were lying. God, you were lying to him. But you couldn't chance losing him again, you didn't want him to hate you. Force himself out of your life, his choice.

Not yours. It was selfish, you knew that much.

"They treat ya well?" He asked, and you tilted your head, "-Your agency? I had a friend... switched over, so..."

"Very well," you hummed, "-My handler is... she understands my breaks."

"You had a break?"

"Long time ago," you spoke, vaguely -you couldn't be specific, "-stayed in a cabin, lived normal for awhile."

He leaned back into the booth, something in him curious, you could see it, "How was it?"

"Boring," you decided.

"Yeah," he murmured, "-always thought it fuckin' would be."

You took a leap then, even if the answer would hurt. You wanted to know.

"You ever thought about it?"

"Bein' normal?" He clarified -eyes smooth over your face.

You nodded, finishing your drink -he seemed to notice, and you half thought he'd offer you to get another.

"Yeah," he breathed out -not matching your eyes now, something heavy on his shoulders, "-once a long fuckin' time ago. But... things change."

You wondered if it was because of you -that one night. If he wanted that with you-

He wouldn't anymore, your mind chimed -stinging under your skin, you are different. So is he.

Timing would never be right, it made your lips snap shut anytime you thought of telling him. The idea that he had loved you then, and now... now he wouldn't. That was worse than him hating you for life, just not... just not loving you anymore.

You swallowed, thick -you wanted to know more, but you couldn't just say that, "That they do."

He paused for a moment, before sliding out of the booth, "I 've to go, Lemon's waitin' on me."

You nodded your head, toying with your glass -eyes slinking across the rim, something in you disappointed. Something in you wanted him to stay, but that wasn't going to happen. You couldn't have him.

Not now.

"Beetle," he spoke, slow and measured, "-'S nice talkin' to ya. Maybe we can catch up again when we aren't at each other's fuckin' throats, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, the tips of your mouth turning up just a little, "-I'd be alright with that."

You started seeing Tangerine every once in a while, strange little cafés and dimly lit bars. You didn't know how he always ended up in the area with you or close by, but it felt familiar. Like when the two of them would follow you into jobs, even when you said you'd be fine because they wanted you to be okay. Just in case. You supposed now that they actually had something to worry about.

That led you to now, you laid on the tile of a building -head pounding and the lights blinding. You had successfully cleared it and killed your hit, but someone had snuck up on you -gun drawn, they took a cheap shot.

"Maria," you breathed out, "-Maria, come in."

"Beetle? Everything alright?"

"They got a cheap shot in-" you hummed, "-I think in my chest? It hurts to breathe-"

"Okay, alright. I'll see who's around you, okay?"

"I think I can walk-"

"Don't move, keep your hands on the wound. What floor are you on?"

"Second," you faltered out a breath -a sting in your lungs, even still you shifted putting all your weight on your hands, "-shit, never get used to that."

"Never will."

You laughed, leaning your head back down against the tile -it was cold against your skin. You felt like you were burning alive, so it was actually a little refreshing.

The lights above you hurt your eyes, but it was easier to breathe this way. Inhale, exhale -a sting, inhale, exhale -a sting.

You imagined for a second this was years ago, that you were actually dying then. The twins would come rushing in, burst through the doors, and Lemon would be darting all over you -trying to figure it out. And Tangerine... Tangerine would grab your face and keep you awake -soft words but every once in a while shaking you to keep you awake. You wouldn't have been able to die then, not with them there -trying to help. You supposed you could die now, bleed out on a tile floor alone or with someone you didn't even know.

This dream of it being Tangerine and Lemon, that was something you could live for -you could almost see it in your head.

And then you heard it, a door busting open and fancy shoes clattering down the hallway -like yours that made you feel like a prick. You wondered if you got the idea of them from Tangerine, he surely owned so many pairs-

"Shit," there was a voice then, and your eyes snapped to the source.

Oh, I'm definitely hallucinating.

Tangerine stood over you before falling to his knees, mumbling -frustrated, "I just fuckin' knew it was you."

"Am I..." you spoke, breathlessly, "-Am I hallucinating?"

"What do you think I am? A fuckin' angel?" Something in your mind answered yes, "-Hate to break it to you, love, but it's just me."

"How the hell were you around here?"

"A job," he said, a little too quickly -it was suspicious.

"Lying-" you slurred out, "-I can tell you're lying."

Tangerine didn't say anything in response, ignoring it, "'S your chest, yeah?"

"Yeah," you hummed, "-where I'm holding."

"Alright," he breathed out, "-alright. Don't stop holdin' it, okay? Keep your hand 'ere."

"How am I gonna move?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can't give me an inch of fuckin' trust, can ya?"

"Sure, I can," you breathed out, flinching slightly, "-just tell me your plan."

He let out a chuckle, before without warning -slipping his arms under your knees and back. The movement jostled you a little and it hurt -you hissed out.

"Sorry, love," he echoed out, softer than you expected, "-'s the only way to get ya out of 'ere."

"I know," you exhaled, "-I know. Keep going."

It felt like you hadn't even blinked before he was pattering out of the building -he was going so fast. Your head was spinning now, but you were still conscious.

"Shit," you heard Lemon, as Tangerine slipped you into the backseat, laying you across the seats -head first, "-a bullet?"

"Fucking cheap shot," you breathed out, "-Killed a whole building full of people and some asshole came up behind me and shot me-"

Lemon seemed to laugh slightly at your frustration; it made you feel a little lighter.

Tangerine shut the door and you waited for him to slip into the passenger seat. You were getting tired, you just wanted to bandage it up and go to whatever hotel was open.

Instead, Tangerine slipped into the side with your head -carefully lifting it and setting you back down onto his lap. You froze -his cologne surrounding your head so much it made you woozy. Why had he done that?

"Stay awake, yeah?" He spoke, breaths raggedy -he really must've been going fast, "Beetle, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," you swallowed, the smooth cushion of his suit pants was tempting, but the situation you currently were in kept you awake. Your heart was pounding, your brain spinning, you were so close.

You'd been closer, but that was over 4 years ago. Even further when his hands made their way to your face and hair -trying to keep you awake. It worked very, very well.

Had he ever held your face before?

Something in you said no, but it could've happened. You were also so close and any time you got injured he'd always wanted to see it for himself. He usually refused to leave until he took care of it himself, with gentle hands. Whose to say you hadn't gotten a cut on your face?

Why did it feel so different now?

You looked up at him, just for a spare second -you saw his hand run through his hair, unveiling the curls by the second. You'd always liked his curls, when he'd shown you his natural hair -it was all soft and bouncy. It wasn't good for his image, you totally understood.

He's nervous, your mind chimed, does he care about you like this too?

You slapped away the thought and decidedly started staring up at the plush ceiling -this car was definitely expensive, you knew that much. The cushion on the seats, the detailing, the roof, the speed-

This thing had to be stolen.

"Ya alright, love?"

You swallowed and met his eyes, big blue blinking down at you and you could see it, the concern. Since when was he concerned for you? This you? Something had changed at some point and you didn't even notice.

"I've been shot," you retorted, obviously, "-I'm currently bleeding out on your fancy seats."

"That's not-" he huffed out, pinching the bridge of his nose -you couldn't hold back the grin on your lips.

Lemon laughed from the front, "'Give 'im a real run for his money, you know 'at, Beetle?"

"I try my best."

Lemon laughed again, and something in your chest felt lighter -you had missed them, so much. All those years at that fucking cabin, you had missed out on them, on knowing them, watching them, being with them.

God, you regretted everything then, but it was for the best. It kept them safe.

"Seriously," his voice was lower now but still so pointed, "-are you alright?"

You blinked away the fog of tears in your eyes, not now, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."

The ride was short after that, it was wordless. Even though you think Tangerine wanted to say more, he didn't pry. Which you thought was very strange because he's Tangerine (he prods and pokes until you're set on murdering him) but you were literally bleeding out, so maybe it was courtesy.

You didn't have the heart to think it was anything else.

The twins brought you up the stairs, each taking a shoulder, and although it wasn't as dizzying as before when Tangerine had physically held you... It still was overwhelming.

These guys were like your family. You hadn't been this close to them in years.

"Alright, I'm assumin' you got the wounds?" Lemon asked, directed at Tangerine.

With a succinct nod, Lemon spun back around in the doorway -talking as he walked out, "'M off to get some food, don't bite each other's heads off, yeah? I'd hate to clean up the mess, personally-"

And then he was gone. You were currently sitting on a stool, hand still pressed intently into your chest, as Tangerine gathered up what medical supplies they had. Which was a lot, actually.

You spoke before you could think about it, "You know I can do this myself, right?"

"God, you've got quite the fuckin' head, don't ya?"

"You're one to talk," you replied.

Tangerine pursed his lips, in a way you could tell he was hiding a smile, before his eyes drifted to the ground for a moment. He didn't respond immediately, thinking on it.

And even when he brought everything onto the counter, he didn't say anything. It wasn't until he stood in front of you, nearly in between your legs as you sat on the stool.

"Just let me help you, yeah?"

Your eyes flickered over him, trying to read him but all you could get was -please. Almost like a desperation to help you, like he'd wanted to do this not just offering it-

"Yeah, okay," you responded softly.

"Shirt off," he quickly spoke -right to business, reaching over to the counter to grab what he needed.

You swallowed, you still weren't used to that. Taking your shirt off in front of people, off the top of your head you couldn't think of anyone who had seen your scars. Your top surgery scars. They were very obvious, right in the middle of your chest, and unavoidable. Did you want him to see them?

"Can't I just..." you started, "-unbutton the bottom?"

Tangerine turned back to you then, furrowing his eyebrows, "The gunshots in the middle of your chest, love, it'd be fuckin' half on anyway. Just take it off."

You frowned.

"No judgment here," he put his hands in the air, "-I couldn't care fuckin' less what your chest looks like, personally."

You licked your teeth and swallowed, before unbuttoning the dress shirt, slowly, but keeping it solidly on your shoulders. Kind of like how the men in cologne ads looked, with their opened-up shirts and the epitome of masculinity-

He didn't say a word, but you saw his eyes flicker over them -almost like he was noting it in his head before he switched his attention to the wound. He promptly dabbed it with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and you nearly bit through your lip.

"Warn a guy, will you?"

Tangerine didn't even look up, "If that hurt, you're gonna have a fuckin' problem later, love."

"I've been stitched up before," you clarified, "-I'm not a newbie."

"Might as well be, yeah?" He hummed, tossing the cotton ball in the trash -flawlessly making it in (how does he even exist?), "-With your break."

"How do you know it was a long one?"

"I've never fuckin' heard of you," Tangerine explained, "-Ladybug's never heard of you and you're a part of his agency-" he dabbed another one over your wound, "-Must've been a long break."

He had a good point.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" You asked, quirking a brow, "-Plus, there are other agencies, how do you know I didn't come from one of them?"

"You're too good to 'ave," he replied, simply.

You fell silent, something stirring in your stomach -was that the first time he'd ever complimented you? Beetle you? Huh.

"Wow," you hummed, "-you can be nice. Who knew?"

"You're soundin' like fuckin' Lemon now," he groaned, before taking the needle from the counter.

"Lemon's smart then," you diverted your eyes -never could stand looking at being stitched up.

Tangerine rolled his eyes, and you looked back up to the ceiling -a smile ghosting onto your lips. Not that you'd ever let him see.

It went fairly smoothly, his hands made quick work of it and even quicker with the wound on your back (the bullet had gone right through your chest, luckily not hitting anything). Nothing happened, you were worried about nothing. He was Tangerine-

Just as you had started buttoning your shirt back up (you started from the bottom to the top), Tangerine froze.

Without a word, he walked closer to you -tilting your chin up with the ease of a finger and looking under it on your chest. You froze, his skin on yours was still something you couldn't deal with.

"Where'd you get 'at one?"

Fuck.

You knew what he was talking about immediately. It was a scar, just above your heart. You'd been stabbed on the job, and Lemon had fucked up your stitches so it had healed weird -came out curved somehow.

And then Tangerine was so paranoid that you showed him because he needed to know you were okay -it was so close to your heart.

"You almost fuckin' died, Butterfly. One inch down and..."

It was a one-of-a-kind scar. At the time, it didn't matter but now? You knew Tangerine could recognize that scar anywhere.

"Tangerine," you spoke out, measured. You tried to keep your voice calm, maybe you could save this-

He stepped back, eyes making contact with yours -they darted between them for a moment and then back to the scar, and then to your top surgery scars. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and everything in your body was screaming-

"Tangerine, listen-"

That was enough, something in him stiffened and he grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.

"Tangerine," you echoed out, but you knew it was no use now.

He didn't say a word, slipping it on and with the fastest steps you'd ever seen in your life, he disappeared out the door and slammed it shut.

The walls shook after.

You swallowed dryly, tears pricking at your eyes -this was never supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen-

Your hand was on your com before you could even think about it, breaths shuddering out of your chest -sobs breaking in the back of your throat. You tried to stop it, hold it all back-

"Beetle? Hello? I see your com is on, everything alright?"

"They know," you whispered, nearly silent -tears streaming down your face.

"Who knows what?"

"The twins, they were... they were the ones nearby," you started, and your voice cracked, "-Tangerine offered to stitch me up and I have a scar-"

"Beetle, slow down. I can't understand you."

"They know who I am, Maria," you breathed out, tears catching in your throat, "-Tangerine knows and he's going to tell Lemon, and I don't know what the hell to do-"

"Beetle, breathe."

"He left," you echoed out, and you were crying -god it had been so long since you cried, "-he left, Maria. He didn't even say anything-"

"It's a lot to take in. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's gone," you swallowed, "-I know it, Maria."

"You know him. Do you really think he's gone?"

You thought back to the pendant on his necklace -the butterfly, your butterfly.

"I don't..." you started, "-I don't know."

"Just wait, if nobody comes back... Give me a call, alright? I'll send a car your way."

So, you did.

You waited, buttoned your shirt back up, tried to wash the stain, and waited. You ended up flicking through TV shows, and smushed into the couch, waiting. Even thought about ordering your own food, but a part of you wanted to be sure that Lemon wasn't coming back.

After about two hours of waiting, you swallowed down the tears -eyes all red and puffy, and started gathering up your stuff. You accepted it now, you'd never see them again.

It was your decision, you would regret it for as long as you lived. Something in your chest heavy and exhausted, you readied yourself to call Maria back.

Just as your finger was about to touch the com, there was a jingle of some keys outside the door. You froze in place, slipping on one of your shoes without another thought -ready to leave. You knew he'd ask you.

The door slowly opened, and Tangerine peered inside -he looked worse for wear and you think if you focused hard enough you could see blood on his knuckles. You wouldn't ask, not now.

His blue eyes flicked over you, to your shoes and your coat all gathered up on your arms, he gnawed at his lip for a moment.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?

It was all harsh edges and sharp points, it made you bring up your own barriers.

"I'm leaving," you answered, straightening your posture and putting on your other shoe.

Tangerine didn't move for a moment, as you slowly made your way to the door -footsteps echoing in the heaviest silence you'd ever experienced in your life.

Just before you got there, Tangerine stepped in front of the door -something in his eyes heavy.

"Tangerine," you sighed, "-let me go."

"No," he answered simply, eyes meeting yours and you saw now, they were red and puffy too, "-hell no."

"Look, I really don't want to-" you started before briefly rubbing your temples, "-you want me to leave, just let me leave."

"Who the fuck said 'at?"

You tilted your head.

"Why would I want you to leave?" He furrowed his eyebrows, still angry, "-You... I just got you back, why the fuck would I want you to leave?"

"I lied to you, Tan," you breathed out, and something caught in your throat, "-I lied to you for years."

"You're fuckin' alive-" Tangerine exhaled, chuckling a little in disbelief, "-I have so many questions, yeah? That is far, so fuckin' far, from wantin' you to leave."

"Tangerine," you spoke, voice shaky, you just wanted to go. It would be so much easier if you just left-

He paused for a second, "Are you fuckin' listenin' to me?"

"I am," you replied, tears rising to the backs of your eyes, "-I just can't..."

"Love," he grabbed your wrist, something softer, gentler, "-Love, look at me, please."

You swallowed your tears and with a big breath, you looked at him. His eyes were always so very blue, but something about them then was vulnerable. Broken wide open, Tangerine sat in front of you.

"I want ya to stay, yeah?" He breathed out, wiping over his mouth, "-I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, trying so hard not to cry -you shouldn't be the one crying, "Okay."

"Now," he sighed out, a little lighter, "-fuckin' sit down, you shouldn't aggravate the wound."

You wordlessly sat down on the far edge of the couch, closest to the door. Your hands were shaking, so you laid them flat on your lap -trying to calm down.

He wants you to stay.

"You said-" he started, his voice getting caught up in his mouth, "-You said you were in a cabin, yeah? Where?"

You opened your mouth, confused, "Why does that matter? You have... I lied to you for years and that’s your first question?"

He was standing up, pacing, and then suddenly stopped. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment blinking.

"You know, when they told us you were... dead," he echoed out -something caught in his throat, "-they didn't have a body? All we had was-"

His hand went to his necklace putting the pendant in between his fingers, "All we had was your things, there was no fuckin' body-"

"What does this have to do with-"

"I looked for you," he finally said, "-everywhere I went for a job, I fuckin' looked for you. Because if there wasn't a body, you could still be-"

He fell silent, for a moment -swallowing, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't believe it, "...alive."

"So," he continued, clearing his throat, "-I want to know where the fuck you were. 'At fair?"

Your mouth snapped shut - he looked for you? For how long? That wasn't important now though.

"Alaska," you answered, wiping at your eyes, "-small town, in the middle of nowhere. I had... I had an alias."

"Fuckin' Alaska," he muttered, under his breath.

"It was cold all the time," you added -a bit awkwardly, "-snowed nearly everyday."

Tangerine scanned over your face, maybe like he was trying to imagine you there, alone in the cabin. Or maybe, you out in the snow.

"That day..." he started slow, "-did you fight it? When you were told what you... what you had to do, did you fight it?"

"What are you asking?"

"Did you even think about telling us? Or, or-" he swallowed and his voice was husky and his eyes were bleary, "-coming back to us?"

"Tangerine," you echoed out, emotionless -trying to reign it in, "-I didn't have a choice. You know that."

"I know," he agreed, "-but did you fuckin' try?"

"You think-" you exhaled out, tears gathering in your eyes now, "-You think I didn't try to say goodbye? That I didn't beg Maria to change her mind? That I didn't tell her you guys would keep the secret-"

"Beetle-"

"-just so I could stay?"

"Beetle, I didn't..."

"I did," you swallowed, "-I did beg. It didn't work. If I... If you would've known, we both would've been in too much danger. I couldn't risk it."

"The White Death, yeah?" He clarified, and he was closer to you then he was before. His fingers kept twitching like he wanted to do something.

"He was after me," you hummed, "-knew where I was, where you were, where Lemon was."

"I just-" he started, "-I don't fuckin' get why... after you- After the White Death was killed, why didn't you- why didn't you come back? Tell us?"

"It's... complicated."

"Why?" he stressed out, "Why was it complicated? You were alive, and I don't know about Lemon, but, personally, I would've loved to fuckin' know 'at."

"Tangerine," you started, "-I'm different now, and you guys... you grieved me. How was I supposed to come back from that?"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck 'at you're a man," he interrupted, "-I just wish you would've felt comfortable enough to tell me- tell us earlier."

"Tangerine," you could feel the tears in your eyes.

"And we grieved you, yeah, but-" he explained, messing with his hands for a moment, "-knowing you're alive? That you were fuckin' breathin'? The grieving... It wouldn't 'ave fuckin' mattered, love."

"It would have," you stopped him, "-you thought I was dead-"

"Love," he suddenly sat by your side, gently holding your wrists in place, "-listen to me for once, yeah?"

You nodded, wordlessly, tears slipping down your face, this was guilt you were holding onto for years.

Without hesitating, Tangerine gently started swiping them away with his thumbs, "I thought I was in a world without fuckin' you. Lovely, annoying, beautiful fuckin' you."

You opened your mouth, but he merely continued.

"I couldn't imagine my life without ya in it, and then suddenly it was the fuckin' life I was livin'," he sighed out, eyes matching yours and hands cradling your jaw, "-you being alive changes fuckin' everythin'."

"Why?" You offered, eyes scattering between his -looking for an answer.

He paused for a moment, before dropping his hands, pushing his hair back for a moment, and swallowing. It was like he was readying himself.

"Lemon used to tell me that I was stupid," he finally said.

"Doesn't he always?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

He smiled a little bit, before grabbing one of your hands with his and fidgeting with your fingers -kind of like he just needed to be close to you, "Right, yeah. But this... He told me 'at one day I would regret not tellin' you."

"Telling me what?"

"When you... when you died, I realized the idiot was fuckin' right," he hummed out, a sob catching in his throat but he just kept talking, "-and then, I met a fuckin' self-righteous bloke who had the nerve to dare me to shoot 'im. Looked me right in the eyes."

"Tangerine-"

"And then the guy kept showin' up, and I kept seein' 'im and it was the always same back and forth," he continued, tracing along the creases of your palm, "-but at some point I started thinkin' that I wouldn't shoot 'im, even if he asked."

You laughed.

A smile flickered across his face at the noise, but he kept his eyes downward, "And then, I see 'im bloody and hurtin'. And I think back to the first time, when I didn't say it and if now I wasn't gonna be fuckin' able to-"

You raised an eyebrow.

"And then they dared to be the same fuckin' person."

"Tangerine," you asked, "-what the hell are you talking about?"

It was then that he finally looked up, and then you realized how close his face was to yours. You feel the puffs of his breath against your skin, and it made your head fuzzy. Your thoughts became blurry and all you could see was him-

Tangerine. Tangerine. Tangerine-

"I really don't give a fuck 'at you're a man," he repeated, blue eyes laser focused on yours.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell does that-"

His eyes dipped down to your lips.

Oh.

"Really?"

"Not a flyin' fuck," he echoed out.

You smiled, before letting your own eyes drift -just for a second. It was like a confirmation, a consent.

Before you could say another word, his hands reached up to grab your face and bring your lips to his. It was all force, desperate, like you were oxygen and he just wanted to breathe-

But somehow still gentle, holding you -fingers rubbing along your face like he was reminding himself you were there. That you were alive. That you were sitting there beside him breathing. It made sense now, all of it.

The grieving didn't matter because you were alive.

He finally separated, keeping his forehead on yours for a split second -staring into your eyes and huffing out breaths.

He kept you there, until it felt like you couldn't breathe -he stole all of it away.

When there was a knock on the door.

Then, there was another knock.

He groaned, throwing his head back -decidedly not letting you go.

"What do you fuckin' want, Lemon?"

"No way to treat someone who got you food," he chastised, "-you 'ave the keys, let me in."

"Come back in ten minutes," Tangerine answered -eyes solidly on yours, you felt frozen in your seat.

"The food's gonna get cold, mate," Lemon retorted, "-don't ya want it warm? I worked hard to get it, ya know? The closest restaurant was like a fuckin' block away-"

"Ten minutes," Tangerine repeated.

"I'm not fuckin' leaving," Lemon started again, "-it's cold out 'ere. You gonna leave your brother out in the fuckin' cold-"

"Fuckin' go, Lemon," Tangerine groaned out.

"Fine," he breathed out, "-keep snoggin', but don't fuckin' complain if I eat some of your food."

Yeah, you really missed this.

"We won't," you chimed in with a smile.

Tangerine smiled at you like you held the sun.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Three

Sunday sits you down in a room that you can only compare to a conference space. You had walked through a long corridors littered with sparkling windows, golden statues. There was a room with a mini city in the centre. You didn't get a chance to look around though, Sunday was insistent that you follow close to him.

The room was round with an evenly round table, place eerily perfect in the center. Tall bookshelves that reach the ceiling cover the walls, some having library ladders next to them.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sunday says casually, running his finger tips across the top of the table as he makes his way to his seat, "We might be here for a while."

You uncomfortably shift within your seat, the cushion beneath you not as comfortable as you'd expect. Your poor ass.

"Now," Sunday interlaces his fingers, "Where should we begin, hmm? We already had polite introductions, what should we do next?"

You can't help but feel a bit uneasy; his casual demeaner is so off putting. You leg begins to bounce rapidly, a nervous tick you picked up.

You attempt to clear your throat.

"Well... let's go over what we already know," you say, trying to regain control over yourself.

You scoot a little in your chair, straightening your back and folding your hands.

"I am (Y/n), codename: Lamplight. I am a combat specialist and medical researcher in Oripathy. Uh... I'm from the region of Laterano, species: Sankta. I currently work under the association 'Rhodes Island' under the direction of Doctor Kal'tsit, Doctor Loriann, and Amiya. Uh... there's nothing really else that comes to mind... Oh! I am also highly dangerous as I am infected with Oripathy."

Sunday sits quietly, his lips lightly pursed, eyes closed as he takes in all this sudden information. All of these things... he's never heard of a single one of them. Sunday takes a deep breath before letting it go through his nose.

"Alright. Thank you for your introduction. Let us first go deeper into these statements. In return, I will explain as much and equally about me and the world around you. Does that seem fair, Lamplight?"

You nod your head, eyes slightly wide at him referring to you by your codename.

"Good. Then let's start with this 'Oripathy' you speak of. You say you're a researcher in this field while also being... infected?"

Your hands fiddle with one another, once again shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You clear your throat again.

"You just had to start there, huh...?" you say with a somber tone, "Alright, I'll tell you everything I know."

You begin to explain your home, how a powerful and dangerous material, 'Originium.' You explain the usages it has... and the horrible, deadly effects it has on the human body. You even roll up the pant sleeve to show a small collection of black crystals forming on the side of your shin. You even told him how you became infected.

"I was on a mission with Doctor Loriann when I got pierced by a Originium lump. Luckily, The Doctor was right there and was able to immediately slow and contain the growth of the Oripathy. I'm glad that I don't use Arts, or the growth would be a lot faster. You don't know just how lucky I am to have my Oripathy growth so slow. Other infected would kill to have theirs infection be so well maintained. I just hope it gives me enough time to live a somewhat fulfilling life."

Sunday's gaze during the whole time never left your form, and once you showed your leg, his eyes never stayed from the crystallin chunks that speckle your skin. He attempted at one point to touch, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

"I wouldn't, not unless you want to be infected too."

It was more of a warning than anything, of course, but you could never be too sure. You would never forgive yourself if you got an innocent person infected.

"I see... Well, let's continue our conversation, shall we?"

[kemistre]

εïз┊𝐎𝐍𝐄 — codename: fox

synopsis. in order to retrieve evidence against the mafia, he finds himself in a populated office building

— content warnings. violence, descriptions of blood, mafia themes, knives, (if there's anymore please lmk!!) — word count. 1,876

εïз┊author's note. wow this is crazy, i'm actually writing! i haven't in a while so bear with me if it's awful! there are definitely some typos and whatnot in here but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! here's the masterlist for this series too! <3

"kazuki please hear me out!" he placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder as they entered the elevator, music playing softly in the background. a ding ringed throughout the box as the door closed.

"absolutely not shinya, i can't listen to another conspiracy theory today," kazuki sighed as he ran his hands through his soft, brown hair. "you've already told me ten this week alone." he shoved his best friend to the side, grinning and rolling his eyes.

"it's not just another theory, i have solid proof!" shinya smirked, placing proud hands on his hips before stepping in front of his friend. "you'll wanna hear about this one, i swear!"

shinya had always been interested in theories about anything and everything, it was what he lived for. he loved researching to see if the theories he'd seen were really true. so far, none of the theories he'd looked into were true, but this one, this one was real.

kazuki raised a brow. "oh yeah? that's a first for you." he always complained to shinya about the theories he'd gush about, but he never meant it. he adored seeing shinya so excited, it gave him life, something to look forward to everyday.

they made a promise years ago, that no matter what, they would always be together. so, the pair decided to get the same job in the same office building. it was a well established building, many different kinds of people worked there. But nevertheless, the two always enjoyed every coworker they'd had.

"just listen, okay?" kazuki leaned against the elevator wall, watching as shinya fumbled to get his phone out of his pant pockets. he admired shinya for being so clumsy even at work when they had to act perfect and professional, going as far as to wear full suits to work. "so, you heard about the massacre that happened last night, right?"

kazuki's smiled faded, the atmosphere in the elevator getting heavier than he'd like. "yeah, the news said there were a ton of people dead." his brows furrowed, crossing his arms in confusion. "good thing that king wasn't there, that would've been horrible if he died."

"2,500 casualties, no survivors, but just before the king arrived," shinya scrolled on his phone, seemingly reading from an article. "the police couldn't figure out who did it despite the first death being approximately one hour before they arrived."

"they were all diplomats, weren't they?"

"yeah," shinya was so focused, his eyes glued to the device he had in his grasp. "here, take a look at this." he handed his phone to kazuki before taking a step beside him. it was a video. kazuki tapped his finger on the screen, making the video start.

the screen showed five different men, each different heights behind what he assumed was the building where the diplomats were killed. kazuki's eyes widened as he realized who the shortest man was. the chief of the police department. he began talking first.

"please, i'm begging you kita-" his voice cracked as he pleaded. the silver haired man in the video grabbed the chief's arm, twisting it harshly and making him fall to his knees. he whispered something the video couldn't capture. "sir! sir! i'm so sorry!"

"good boy, now which one of your heathens knows about us?" the silver haired man's voice was deep, menacing, filled with malice as he spoke. it made kazuki's stomach turn just by watching a video. the man grabbed the chief by his hair, pulling him back. "answer me."

"kaito, akimatsu, minato..." the chief was so quick to give the names of his comrades, the man letting go of his hair and throwing his head forward, making the chief leave his head hanging.

"twins," the man hissed. "kill 'em."

"yes boss!" two of the men behind the silver haired man spoke, playfulness in there voice before they ran into the building once more.

the silver haired man walked towards the last man standing, once again whispering something the video couldn't pick up as the last man grabbed the police chief by the collar, beginning to drag him away. "yessir."

"what?! we had an agreement! i tell no one about the mafia's whereabouts and you let me live! please!" the chief cried, being slightly choked as he was being pulled away.

"well, how did your men figure us out then?" the silver haired man's eyes seemed to glow a bright yellow in the darkness, shining and boring into the police chief. he cried, whining, begging and pleading to survive, all the while the silver haired man, the leader, smirked. "aran, make him writhe in agony."

the video cut out after those last words. kazuki felt his hand tremble as the phone shook in his grasp. "shinya, these people...are the mafia..?"

"yeah, just hearing the screams of that guy make me sick no matter how many times i watch it." shinya sighed, taking a step back, giving his friend room to breath. "but, i do know that this is true, it's not just a theory this time."

"shinya." kazuki's voice was deep, serious. "did you record this?" shinya grinned, nodding his head before hearing a thud on the ground as kazuki grabbed his shoulders. "you need to stop this!" his voice raised, his eyes wide with a mixture of worry and anger. "stop doing dangerous things, you're going to get yourself killed."

"i can't stop, this is what i live for kazuki. i can't just stop now! i would happily die if it meant those bullies get justice." kazuki scoffed, shoving shinya against the wall before turning towards the front of the elevator.

"you're such an idiot, shinya." he shoved him hands into his pockets, his mind fuzzy with frustration. he couldn't stop himself from speaking. "what about me? if you die, i have nothing." there was no response, only the painfully joyful elevator music filling his ears.

he sighed. "okay i'm sorry, no need for the silent tr- shinya?" he turned, his face filling with confusion as he glanced around. he was alone, shinya was gone? he looked up in his panic, not being able to register the large hole in the corner of the elevator.

kazuki's forehead wrinkled, his eyes becoming watery as his face lost all the color he'd had mere seconds ago. with a large thud, shinya's bloodied body fell from the hole in the elevator. splashes of warm, red liquid appeared before kazuki's very eyes.

his scream was raw, painful as veins appeared on his tense neck. sweat dripped down his forehead as he fell to the ground, crawling over to shinya. his eyes were lifeless, staring into kazuki with no remorse. "shin.." the elevator ding mimicked his cries as the door split in two.

kazuki held his cold, dead friend in his arms as he felt a pit in his stomach, anxiety creeping into his blood. his mouth hung open at the sight of the first floor of his office building.

crimson red was all he could see.

he stood, gently setting shinya down as he stumbled towards the scene. "no..." he couldn't help but stare at all the innocent and lifeless faces he recognized in the sea of bodies. "how did this happen..?" he whispered, unable to speak any louder.

his question was answered by a sharp pain in his abdomen. the sharp point of the knife stuck out of him, letting his fingers dance around the blade as another wave of immense pain washed over him, his scream echoed throughout the building, the bodies absorbing his sound.

his body gave in to the strained muscles that were keeping him up. he fell flat, giving the knife room to move by itself. his blood intertwined with the puddle of blood from his best friend as the knife ripped him open little by little. a stream of red flowed from his lips as the only thing he could think about was shinya.

he felt the rumble of a footstep near his head, making him turn to see the cause. a man. a hooded man wearing the color of death, step out of the elevator. "you..." his hoarse voice made the figure turn. "the mafia...right?" the hooded figure did not reply, instead he leaned down taking shinya's unlocked phone that kazuki had dropped what seemed like hours ago.

kazuki laughed, a crooked smile on his lips as the blood continued to spill from him. "the mafia killed us.." he coughed. "i guess we'll stay together forever now...shin."

the hooded figure watched the video of the mafia briefly before pocketing the device. he let out a sign as he turned fully glaring down at the manic character before him. "goin' up." his voice was hoarse, but deep. it would make anyone tremble before him just like the man in the video.

kazuki used the last of his strength to pull himself slightly out of the elevator and stare up at the man as he heard the click of a button. his jagged smile quickly turned into a horrified frown as the elevator doors began to close with a loud ding.

"no..." he whispered.

"no.." the doors were getting closer.

"NO!" he shrieked.

the doors were on either side of his body, determined to close and get the man to his destination. his screams were filled with agony of his bones began to bend and break, shattering anything in its path. the hooded man watched, his foxlike eyes boring into the man being broken before him.

he cleared his throat as he turned on his heel, stepping over the dozens of bloodied bodies on his way to the front door. he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, steadily turning the corner before the crowds could appear.

a sigh fell from his lips as his hood fell from the wind, revealing his black hair in a messy bun on the back of his head, his baby hairs swayed as they tickled his forehead. with a few swift movements, he tore off the large, baggy hoodie, revealing a black suit that fit him almost too perfectly.

he rolled his shoulders back, flexing his sore muscles as he reached into his pocket. as he did, he threw his blood spattered clothes behind him and into the air, pulling the lighter he’d taken from one of the men in the elevator from his pocket. with a quick flick of his wrist, the flame of the lighter caught his clothes, lighting them ablaze. 

the flame caught the side of the office building, setting it ablaze as he walked down the civilian ridden path. shouts and cries were all he could hear as the building collapsed, sirens nearing their destination from blocks away.

it wasn’t long before he arrived at the place he’d been looking for. he stopped, opening the glass door to the red telephone booth that sat on one of the back alleys. he grabbed the phone, his slender fingers tapping at the numbers as he dialed the contact he’d been given. he held the phone to his ear as it rang, soon to be picked up on the other end.

"codename: fox."

"nicely done fox, we're sending a car to your coordinates."

taglist :: @rukia-uchiha-98 @snowggvk @saiewithakatana @sunarots @sapphicshav @memosa @alienvarmint @kitsunekanojo (these were from a while ago, if you want to be removed just get in touch w/ me <3)

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (9) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst city babyyyy

Summary: Zemo has a revelation in store for the Stark siblings, and suffice it to say neither of them takes very kindly to being betrayed by someone they had once trusted with their life.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Canon Typical Violence, Accident?

a/n: My writing speed is that of a fucking turtle.

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (8) | Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (10) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself,” she hears Tony’s voice ring out somewhere ahead.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” she can hear Steve’s desperation for truce in his response. 

Y/n can glitch in right now. She’s at the end of the corridor, a couple of steps and she’ll be with them. But not yet. She’s desperate for there to be a solid sign of the truce. She isn’t sure she can watch her brother and the man she loves with her body and soul fight any more. It’s been tearing her apart. 

The truce—even a temporary one—is all she can hope for. And apparently good things come to those who wait.

“It's good to see you, Tony.” Steve adds finally.

“You too, Cap.” Tony responds. A smile breaks out on her face. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop the…” she hears Tony say and she knows that is the right moment.

Sergeant Barnes lowers his weapon and the moment he does, she miscalculates by an inch and glitches in just behind him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The progression of Sergeant Barnes’ gun changes instantly. It’s aimed at her within the second. The response time on the man is beyond absurd. She’d go as far as to say it’s impressive if she weren’t, you know? Whatever, you get it.

Her hands fly up. “Easy there, Sergeant!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony asks from where he’s standing down the stairs, in front of Steve.

Slowly, with her hands still up, she descends down the stairs to stand between the two most important men in her life. “What the fuck does that even mean? You thought I was going to leave you two alone after the shit you’ve been pulling in the last 72 hours?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve adds, with a hint of hope in his words. If she were looking his way, she’s sure she could spot the curve of his lips forming the most subtle smile. She absolutely loves seeing that smile… but she doesn’t really wanna look his way, in the general direction of the man right behind Steve.

“I wish I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a gun pointed at me,” she retorts, eyes straight ahead, staring at the slimy gray walls of the HYDRA facility.

“Are you—” Tony takes a step closer to her, “Are you trying not to make eye-contact with Barnes?”

Her hands are still up as she’s facing Tony, “Yeah, no. I’m trying not to even look in his general direction. I’m still pretty scared of him.” She turns to the Sergeant but her eyes are locked on a spot on the floor that seems particularly interesting right now. “I’m extremely sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I mean no offense by this,” she looks to Steve, “but can you please make him put the gun down, it’s really not helping.”

“Bucky,” is all Steve has to say and instantly the gun’s down. It’s like whatever trance the Sergeant was in has broken. .

“I really am sorry,” she tries to tell him, looking vaguely in his direction. “It’s purely instinctual. It’ll fade… eventually. But for now…”

“I—” Sergeant Barnes tries but she cuts him off.

“We’ll talk about this, but not here and definitely not now.” Sergeant Barnes just nods slowly. Satisfied, she looks back at her brother and her boyfriend, “Let’s focus on stopping Zemo for now, rest we can figure out when time comes.”

With that sorted, all four of them begin making their way slowly down the corridor.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony comments.

“How many?” Steve asks.

“Uh, one,” Tony offers after a moment of consideration.

That makes Y/n halt her steps. Something’s off. She can feel something off. There’s a presence she can’t put her finger on. Not Zemo. Something else.

“What’s wrong?” Sergeant Barnes asks her.

She thinks it over for a second and then, “Nothing.”

As they walk into the vast chamber the lights come on. There are capsules in front of them, attached to the wall each one containing an enhanced soldier from the 1991 experiments. Hazy, yellow mist descends within the capsules. However, the bullet holes on the glass enclosures is what scares the shit out of her.

“They’re… They’re dead,” Y/n notes.

There’s a short crackle and a voice sounds out from the speakers. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” It’s Zemo. Her eyes fly from Tony to Steve who seem to be having the same realization. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell?” Sergeant Barnes questions under her breath.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” Zemo appears in a control room.

Before Y/n can warn him against it, Steve hurls his shield at him but it ricochets easily against the chamber and comes flying back to Steve. 

“Please, Captain,” Zemo’s voice is laced with a smirk. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorts, walking closer.

“Oh, I’m sure you could Mr. Stark… Given time,” Zemo taunts. “But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questions Zemo from across the glass window of the chamber.

Zemo, fucking, smirks.

It should terrify her, and to some extent it does. But there’s something in his eyes, something so familiar to her that she can’t believe she’s seeing it reflected back. She’s seen that look in her own eyes in the mirror for decades.

It’s fire. It’s fire and it’s rage and it’s as personal as it can get.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” Zemo notes, and fuck if that doesn’t creep the shit out of her. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve notes. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No.” Zemo dismisses the assessment so easily, so carelessly, it’s making all the damn alarm bells go off in her system. “I'm here because I made a promise.”

Steve studies Zemo for a second and then,, “You lost someone?” 

His eyes darken.

Y/n knows that feeling, this feeling. She knows it through and through.

Zemo clicks his tongue, then, “I lose everyone. And so will you.” He presses something on the console to his right. Instantly the computer on Steve’s right lights up. Something flashes on screen, Y/n can’t help herself, getting more curious by every passing word of the conversation, she walks over to Steve, to the computer. 

16 Декабрь 1991

She… she’s not sure how to…

What’s happening?

This isn’t—this isn’t…

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead…” Zemo’s words are dangerous.

“Anthony,” is all that Y/n can choke out. It’s probably her tone, and the use of his full name that brings Tony rushing over to her side.

She reaches for his hand. Instinctually, Tony disassembles his armor from his hand so he can hold hers.

When Tony looks at the freeze frame of a secluded road and the date on the tape, December 16 1991, his eyes rove with anxiety. “I know that road. What is this?”

As the tape begins to play, the horror unfolds in front of her eyes. She watches unable to breathe with an iron grip on the Iron Man. 

She watches the car crash, she watches Howard Stark plead only to be shocked at the face of his assailant. She watches as her bloodied-up best friend, the person who saved her, the person who gave her a home—the person who gave her a family—is struck in the head with a metal arm. She watches on as Howard’s body slumps, falling to the ground lifelessly. His corpse is then dragged back and placed in the driver’s seat of the car.

Then the assailant moves on to the next target, the collateral damage, Maria. He walks over to the passenger seat of the car where Maria is calling for Howard. She watches Maria plead for help but help doesn’t arrive. Instead, expressionless, the assailant chokes the life out of her. Maria Stark dies. The kindest woman she’s ever known in her life is drained of her life and left like trash at the corner of an unnamed road.

The Winter Soldier then walks up and aims the gun at the surveillance camera and shoots it.

The screen goes black.

Y/n had some semblance of an idea that perhaps yes, Howard and Maria Stark’s death wasn’t an ordinary accident. She’d desperately begged Peggy to look into it, with Thompson and Souza. They had and gave it the all clear.

But in this moment, she thinks—she realizes, perhaps she always knew the truth and was too afraid to look into it. Because if not then, why didn’t she investigate it herself? Back then she’d given herself the excuse that Tony needed her more than the investigation. She’d told herself that she’d be too biased to conduct a sound inquiry. Her feelings would’ve gotten the entire thing too muddled up and messy. She told herself it was the smarter thing to maintain distance. 

That was all horseshit.

She was a scared little kid on the streets of Madripoor once again. She’d lost her family and was walking around without a place to call home and the thought of having to fight HYDRA on top of that would’ve been too much. She’d looked the other way, let things slide, let the murder of her only family slide on account of being a fucking pussy.

And now, she has to confront the truth.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve somewhere behind her.

She can’t take her eyes off the now black screen.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Steve answers.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?” 

There’s silence for a few seconds, a long, long few seconds, and then, “Yes.”

That—now that makes Y/n turn.

She only catches Steve’s eyes for a second, before Tony’s punching Steve and reengaging the Iron Man helmet. 

More things happen, the fight’s broken out, she’s sure more shit goes down but something just pricked her in the back of her neck and she’s feeling a little dizzy. Everything feels… so fucking heavy. 

Y/n can still hear the commotion from the fight between the men but it seems distant.

“My apologies, Miss Stark, you imbalance the scales too much,” Zemo’s voice rings out on the speaker. “You’ll be back in the game in just a little while.”

“You ever plan on opening your eyes, sleeping beauty?

“What have you got against my happiness, you cruel, cruel man?”

“I’m not the one who wanted to do this, remember?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?” She dragged herself out of the passenger seat of the car. Stretching to unfold her joints, she shoved the man next to her just for the fun of it. 

“I’ve got a list of ‘em under my bed, you want to be the latest addition?” He threw back with a smile. Say what you will about the man, but no one can ever deny that Howard Stark had a killed smile. 

“Smart ass,” she chided him without much heat.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new,” he retorted, hand waved in dismissal. “You ever gonna tell me why we’re here? As far as I recall, I was promised the best bachelor party known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t promise jackshit, dickwad. I told you we were going to Atlantic City, the rest you made up all in your head, all by your lonesome.”

“What’s a man supposed to think when his best friend tells him that the bachelor party road trip is going to be to Atlantic City?” He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

They were leaning on their broken down car, parked on the beach—parked, however would be a generous term. They’d pushed it off the highway onto the beach as a makeshift camp site. The sun was setting ahead of them, slowly being swallowed up by the waves. The wind blew in their faces, as the cars passed by behind them. It made the shit-show of a road trip seem almost worth it… if you didn’t include their car breaking down in the middle and having to push it for a couple miles. Yeah, pretty worth it apart from that one slight glitch.

“I’m your best friend?” She asked, absolutely confused.

Howard just looked at her once before breaking out in maniac laughter. “What sorta question is that?”

“A genuine one,” she told him, serious as ever. “Howie, you serious? I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, Stark! Obviously you’re my best friend, who else?” He replied, still laughing his ass off. 

“Any fucking body, man. Even Jarvis seems like a more likely option than… me,” she answered.

“That’s some horse shit, Stark and you know it! We live together, we work together, we shit together, eat together. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone’s face as much as I’ve seen yours in the last couple years. You’ve got my last name, damn it. Who the fuck else would be my best friend?” He was looking at her then, genuinely concerned. He seemed like she was asking him if the moon truly revolved around the Earth.

“I… I thought all that—all that’s shit you have to live through cause Peggy dumped me on you,” she provided meekly.

That apparently irked him some. “You think I do all that shit with you cause of Peggy?” He asked. 

She nodded in a simple reply.

That apparently was not the right move. 

He threw the cigarette to the ground, quite angry now, “Why the fuck would I? I’m not a saint and you know it. I never have been. You could count all my good deeds on one hand and all of them had a selfish reason behind it.” He began to pace.

“What was the reason behind this one?”

He looked at her, eyes wide in astonished fury. “The reason behind letting you into my life was that you are by far the only person who understands me. You are the only person I have ever met who’s never asked me to mold myself into something I’m not, while simultaneously encouraging me to be better. You’ve been in my corner, without hesitation and you’ve ripped me a new one when I’ve been wrong. You, Stark, are the only person I’ve ever met who is able to make me believe I am a good man, and understand that I can be better!” He seemed like he was about to blow a gasket. “People see me, see an ass and let me be. You are probably the only person who looks at me and sees the complexities, the entire picture of me as a man. No one gets me, Stark, not even me… Not like you do. 

“At the end of the day, sharing a beer with you, working on cars with you, bitching about S.H.I.E.L.D. with you, that shit keeps me sane. Part of me’s so fucking glad you quit, cause now you’re not gone for days on end for stupid fucking missions. Cause then I get to sit with you and chat about absolutely nothing.” He was still pacing. “You really thought I did all that out of the goodness of my heart? You think I gave you my name cause Peggy asked me to?”

She nodded again, which again was apparently not the right call.

“FUCK, Stark! If I were such a giver I would’ve joined the fucking Red Cross! I gave you my name cause you are my family, damn it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh?!” He raged, not pacing anymore. Facing her, he asked, “That’s all you got?”

She thought for a second, looked over at the man who was standing in front of her, wearing a t-shirt and jeans like any normal dude. The last time she saw the man without a suit and tie was a long time ago, he looked much less of a dick this way. 

“We came here for, i don’t know, for something like a… a last hurrah. I found a place downtown. That and—” she was cut off.

“What?” Howard Stark looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. 

“I found a place downtown,” she told him. “Gimme a week or so, I’ll be out before the wedding.”

“What?”

She hesitated, “I’d be out sooner but I don’t really own… furniture?”

“WHAT?”

She didn’t know how to respond to this line of questioning anymore. “What do you mean what?”

“Is this about what happened? If you’re mad at me, which you have every right to be, let’s fight it out. Punch me if you want, Stark. I’ll take it!” He looked so desperate, it threw her for a spin.

“No! No, this isn’t about that,” she told him, because it’s not.

“Then why else would you talk about moving out?” He didn’t let her answer. He took a couple steps towards her. He fumbled with his words, going back and forth before he looked at her and said, “Look, I understand what I did… I wa—I was way out of line. But I am truly sorry, Stark. I promise you, it will never happen again. I… My head wasn’t in the right place. I thought if I found something—no I don’t know. I thought I could help. You were struggling with controlling your powers, so I thought maybe I could find something to help you with it. I thought I’d tell you if I found something, and if I didn’t then… Then no harm done, right?” He seemed beyond desperate.

“It’s not about that, Howie.”

“Come on! I know you’re pissed at me! Just say it!”

She walked past him, with her back to him and her face to the ocean ahead, she replied, “I am not pissed at you, Howie…”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m hurt, not pissed.”

“Is that why you want to move out?” He asked, his voice small.

She turned to him then, “What? No! You’re my best friend, dickwad. I ain’t ditching you cause you did something profoundly stupid?” 

“I’m your best friend?” Howard asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, asshat.”

He took a step towards her. “No, seriously. I thought, after what I pulled…”

“You were an ass, yes. It was a breach of trust and like I said, I am… I’m pretty hurt… But that’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Then?”

“You’re getting married, man. I can’t keep crashing on your couch once your wife’s around,” she explained. “How is she gonna feel?”

“Elated,” he answered easily. Before she could argue, continued, “I think Maria is more excited about sharing the place with you than me. Something about you being a better cook or whatever.” He leaned on the car again, pulling out a fresh cigarette, he lit it.

“Oh so it’ll be you, your wife and the freeloader on the couch? One big happy family?” She was frankly really confused about the entire arrangement.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never bought groceries a day in my life, and yet the fridge is always stocked. You’re the farthest thing from a freeloader, Stark. And besides, I’m not as big a dumbass as you think I am, you know? I’m not gonna make her move into my room that shares a wall with yours.”

“Then?” She asked, motioning him to pass the cigarette to her. She took a drag.

“I live in a mansion, you idiot. We’ll move into the master-bedroom, like God fucking intended I’ll turn my old room into my lab, which let’s be honest is already my lab, and we’ll be fine and dandy!” He took the offered cigarette from her hand and took a drag himself.

“Oh…”

“You really didn’t think I had a plan?” He asked with the smirk audible in his words.

She shook her head, “I thought moving out would be the kinder, smarter thing to do.”

“How?”

“I’d be done burdening you and it’d be less humiliating than you finding me a place as a way of politely telling me to fuck off,” she offered.

He looked at her again, “If after all these years you don’t already know that place is your home, then I have been doing something seriously wrong.” 

Somewhere behind them, up the hill on the road, a car was parked as the two passengers were yelling out their names from inside it. It was Jarvis and Maria, calling out to them. She and Howard had called them asking for help once they knew their car couldn’t be saved even with the joint acumen of both friends. 

They both turned at their names being yelled out. Looking back at the site of Maria waving at them, Howard’s head fell. “I really have been doing it wrong, haven’t I?”

She motioned for both of them to park the car and join them on the beach before turning to Howard. “You’ve been doing just fine.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you about the experiments,” he stood up straighter. “If you want to move out because of all that shit, I understand. I’ll get you a place in New York, not too close but not too far either. And you don’t gotta worry about any furniture or any of that shit. I’ll get it sorted.” He turned over to Jarvis and Maria who were walking down the hill to them. “Hey Jarvis, what was the name of my realtor?” He shouted.

She punched him on the shoulder, hard.

“OWW! What was that for?”

“For betraying my trust and conducting experiments on my blood without my consent,” she told him, his face sobered instantly. So she punched him again.

“FUCK ME! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

“Thinking I cared for you so little that betraying me would change the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“What in God’s name are the two of you doing?” Maria asked as she and Jarvis finally came to stand in front of them.

“Oh I was just about to ask Stark if I can punch for thinking you and I were going to kick her out,” Howard told Maria while looking at her with a smirk.

“You’re welcome to try.” She told him.

But Maria intervened, “What kind of nonsense is that? Why the hell would you move out?” Her tone is so stern it throws her off. “You’re family.”

And just like that, it was settled.

Y/n was a Stark.

When she wakes up, all she can hear is Steve’s voice ringing in her ears.

‘Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?’

‘Yes’

Her eyes couldn’t focus. Try as she might, her head is too heavy for her vision to be anything but blurry. Everything’s too heavy. She tries to stand, but the weight of her bones seem so foreign, she can barely flip herself onto her stomach.

But then, she hears something. The sound of a metal clashing into metal.

And a yelp. Tony’s yelp.

That’s a war cry. 

With whatever little strength she can muster up, she pushes herself off the ground. Stumbling across the hall, struggling to make her way through the  broken pieces of concrete, she gets to the end of the corridor, to the sight of her brother, on his knees, being tag teamed by Sergeant Barnes and Steve Rogers.

Suffice it, all hell breaks loose.

Her armor is up within the second.

Instantly she glitches in front of Tony, between the two super soldiers. Punching Barnes in the throat, her focus lands on Steve.

“Y/n,” Steve tries, stumbling back.

“Steve,” she speaks evenly, as she takes a step towards him.

“Y/n, he didn’t know,” his words are haphazard, confused. He keeps stepping back, trying to put distance between himself and her.

She’s not going to let him go that easily. “Uh-huh.”

“HYDRA had brainwashed him,” Steve says.

Her fists clench. 

“You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

And that—well, he shouldn’t have said that.

The first punch she throws lands straight on his jaw. She even hears it crack.

“Y/n,” he tries again, stumbling back.

“Talking part’s over, Rogers.” The second hit lands directly to his gut. He falls to his knees, she grabs his collar, dragging him upright, she hits him, and then hits him again, and again. As she’s going for another hit, a metal arm wraps around her wrist—halting her in the process.

Turning she faces Barnes. Knees him in the side, waits for him to recoil, for the hurt and lands a gorgeous uppercut. She grabs him by his shirt to keep him from falling. Pulling him back, she knees his other side, elbows him right to the face, once, twice, thrice before he blocks her.

He tries to land a hit to her side but she dodges easily. He’s using his right arm, instead of the metal one. It’s Barnes fighting her right now, not The Winter Soldier. She aims a kick to his temple but is blocked by Steve before she can land it. He pulls her by her leg, ready to throw her to the other side of the room only to get her off Barnes. He thinks she’s targeting him, that Barnes is her focus, the main subject of her anger.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Mid motion of Steve yanking her off, she glitches out of his hand easily. She glitches in, less than a second later, only a couple steps ahead of him.

He yelps, shaking off his hand. The contact of his hand on her leg sent a bolt of electricity through his hand. She’s brimming with so much power right now, she’s kind of impressed with him still standing. He eyes her. She can see a confusion of determination and.. Fear.

It makes her a little cocky.

With a clenched jaw and a slight tilt of her head, she challenges both men to do their worst.

Steve attacks her from the left side, while Barnes takes her on from the right. It’s hubris at its best. Steve Rogers is holding back because he believes he’s stronger, he believes he might hurt her. Sergeant Barnes is afraid to even have the fight, he’s only fighting to protect his best friend. But otherwise, he’s ridden with guilt—guilt of killing Howard and Maria, guilt of all the people he killed when he was brainwashed by HYDRA, the guilt of torturing her relentlessly under HYDRA’s mind control. Barnes is fighting with his heart, not his head.

Both men have made the crucial and substantial error of pissing her off.

She reads their attacks easily, dodging most and letting Barnes hit Steve by just moving out of the way or using Steve’s momentum to land a punch on Barnes. Their fight pattern is old and boring, just like them. Barnes manages to land a hit to her leg, she gives it back to him two folds by wrapping her thighs around his throat and throwing him through the ground. Steve on the other hand barely manages to land a hit to her gut.

“Ugh!” She yells out, and the man halts instantly.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, more out of habit than anything else.

Fucking idiot, she thinks, before kicking him straight in the chest. He stumbles back and falls on his ass. Furious at his naivete, he’s back on his feat instantly. With Barnes in toe, they jump back in on her.

But she sees them coming a mile away every single time—that’s the curse of fighting with your heart. It makes you predictable… if you know the person you’re up against.

There’s a hold, Steve’s shield against her punches, while the other hand’s occupied dodging attacks from Barnes. Steve looks at her then, right in the eyes before speaking between her punches, “Never thought you’d use it against me when I taught it to you.”

Belatedly, and only once the words leave Steve’s mouth does she realize that the move was his, he taught it to her on a sweet summery evening. They were covered in sweat and it felt sweeter than sin when one thing led to another and he’d tackled her to the ground for a completely different purpose altogether. She can practically feel her blood run cold.

The irony is, she would look back on this moment later and realise, that right now she’s doing the same fucking thing as the boys—fighting with her heart, with all the fire that’s burning inside of that small fragile little organ that her head doesn’t have a fucking chance against it. And unfortunately she doesn’t realize it until she makes the mistake of ignoring Barnes’ left arm. The metal arm.

Barnes lands blow right to her chest, the force of his super strength along with the metal fucking arm courtesy of HYDRA, sends her flying across the room. Her head hits the wall before she falls to the ground.

Her consciousness comes and goes, but she can swear she can hear Tony cursing at what she presumes are the offending party, Barnes and Rogers. But she can’t be too sure, the world seems to be slipping from her, like sand through her fingers.

“I know you always do, but I’ll say it just for my peace of mind—look out for Tony, will you?” Maria asked with such trepidation that one would think she genuinely was afraid the answer could ever possibly be anything except yes… AS IF. 

But Y/n just nodded.

Maria nodded as well and then looking back she placed a kiss on Tony’s cheek.  

“We’ll back by Monday morning,” Howard informed her, a little hesitant.

“Enjoy the fucking Bahamas,” Y/n had replied with a substantial amount of bitterness. She never appreciated it when they—more pointedly Howard—left Tony behind, so the bitterness came quite easily. And somehow it became the last thing she ever said to the two people who (along with Tony) constituted her entire family.

Her eyes open because of the sheer brightness of it. Her concussed brain cannot fathom what could possibly be radiating so much light. Until her eyes focus, then she sees it. Tony’s blast against Steve’s shield.

It breaks her heart. 

Then they’re fighting again. Steve’s falling heavy on Tony. With emotions running so high, she’s sure Tony’s not quite focused on his training. He’s probably relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y. to examine his fight patterns. She wants to help, but her head feels heavy, like there’s a leak in it. Stretching a hand with all her might, she touches the offending leak on the back of her head and apparently it really is a leak, because when she brings her hand back in front of her, it’s covered in red.

She looks around for Barnes then, suddenly very worried for Tony’s safety. She can’t protect him from both of them if she’s injured. But when she spots him lying on the ground, left shoulder armless and in ruins, all her fear fades away and she’s only left with pity.

When she looks back at Tony, he’s turned the tides. Steve’s on the floor on his knees in front of him.

“He's my friend,” she hears Steve say in between heavy breaths. But even on his feet with Tony looming over him, Steve Rogers sounds nothing but determined.

“So was I,” Tony replies… heartbroken.

Tony punches him again, then again and then throws him off to the side. “Stay down. Final warning,” he warns, blasters pointed at Steve.

Steve struggles to his feet, his face bloody and his gate weary. He raises his fists and stares Tony down, “I can do this all day.”

Iron man raises his left palm ready to fire. Bucky grabs his leg and Tony spins, kicking him in the face. Steve grabs Iron Man and lifts him over his head, then throws him down, punches him and bashes his mask off with his shield before striking down hard on the suit's core.Tony looks horrified and glowers fearfully at Steve who pants for breath. Both have blood spattered across their faces. Steve looks back at Tony then shuts his eyes and slumps down.

Later, much much later she’ll realize Steve had slammed the shield onto the arc reactor at the center of Tony’s suit on purpose. She doesn’t know that right now. Right now it’s too late, she sees red.

Slowly and then all at once the ground begins to shake. All three men are confused for a second until it clicks, for Barnes before either of her two favorite men in her life. Barnes is the one who looks to her for an explanation for what could very easily be a natural calamity. The other two follow eventually.

“Y/n,” Steve tries.

But like she’s already pointed out, it’s too fucking late. She’s radiating power, too much of it. Only when the men begin covering their eyes does she realize she’s radiating light, too much of it. She’s on her feet, levitating, inches above the ground.

“Doll,” Steve tries again. He shouldn’t have.

Her hands clench and the building begins shaking.

Steve takes a few steps towards her, with something akin to love in his eyes perhaps but she doesn’t much care for it now. “Doll, you gotta hear me out.”

“No…” she thinks aloud, “No I don’t.” She lets her hands go free, there’s a wave of energy that explodes from her, it's bright and it’s pink and it’s pure unadulterated power. The walls begin to crack, pieces of the structure begin to fall and all she can do is relish the horror in Steve’s eyes as the realization of her strength dawns on him.

The sky above them becomes more visible as the building and its miscellaneous parts fall away, and the sky is a soft shade of pink. She’s moving each and every part of their surroundings, even the clouds. They’re rubbing against each other, thunder crackling above them. There’s heat in her power, just as much as there is inside her. She’s burning with it, she wants to burn Steve with it as well.

How fucking dare he raise that shield against Tony? Against Howard’s son? After everything he did for Steve? After everything Tony did for Steve? After everything she did for him… after all her love?

How fucking dare he?

Her armor is up in a second and she hits the ground. Before Steve can even comprehend what’s happening, she manifests her blade, before he can register it, she’s shoving away Barnes who had stepped in to protect his best friend, before he can even react, her blade is glowing bright and pink inches from his eyes, already at his throat.

“Y/n,” Tony calls out, and his voice is the only thing between her and the death of Captain America at her hands.

It takes everything in her to not give in, to not slide her blade a little further, it’s already cutting in, drawing a drop of blood. She watches it trickle down onto his uniform. It breaks her heart, it breaks her apart. She loved this man, she loves this man, body and soul. She is his, even now. She doesn’t know how to not be his. She doesn’t know how to stop loving him, she is not sure she wants to, even now. But this is the cost of betrayal.

Barnes tries to step in, but he’s quite broken already. Moreover, he’s not her sinner. She glitches away with Steve only a couple steps away. Barnes is about to try again when she presses the blade further in, only by a millimeter but it draws more blood and Barnes backs down immediately. He looks to Tony, hopelessly.

“Y/n,” Tony begins. “Let him go.” His voice is broken and strained as it takes everything in him to get back on his feet. 

“Why?” She challenges. She’s raging, there’s so much inside her, so much brimming just under her skin, she’s electrified by it. The ground beneath her feet is shaking well enough that it’s cracking. They should be running, all of them should be running. Outside they can hear the structure crumbling to the ground, pieces of the building are falling all around them too.

“Because you love him, Y/n,” he tells her easily. There is no urgency in his voice, there is no fear either. He’s not worried about getting buried under the rubble, he’s not particularly worried about Steve either, she thinks. He’s speaking as if he’s just stating a fact, and a fact it is. “You love him so damn much.”

“So?” She watches Steve wince at her response, which wouldn’t throw her off all that much but he hadn’t even flinched when she’d first placed the blade against his throat. 

“So?” Tony throws back, his voice rumbling alongside the thundering clouds. It’ll begin raining any second now. “So it’ll kill you to kill him.”

“He deserves it,” she tells Tony, because he fucking does.

“I know,” Tony acquiesce. “But you don’t. It’ll break you, Y/n. And I can’t… I can’t lose you too….”

She knows he’s right. If she kills him right here, right now, and she could, she really fucking could, Tony would lose her because she well and truly loves this man more than she needs air to breathe. Because with every one of her responses she watches his heart break and while it felt like vengeance, her heart is aching knowing that she caused it.

What the fuck does that even mean? She wants him to hurt, like he’s hurt her but causing him pain hurts her more than it harms him so what even is the fucking point?

What in the fuck is the motherfucking point?

“Fuck!” She curses. 

She looks at Tony, covered in wounds and blood, who, just like her, is raging with anger only kept at bay out of reverence for her. He shakes his head. 

“FUCK!” She yells out, another wave of power pulsing out of her, breaking the entire foundation of the building at once. And then swiftly, she pushes Steve away and rushes over to her brother, shouldering his weight. 

Behind her, she hears Steve take a step towards her, but is stopped in his tracks when an entire staircase falls in front of him, blocking his path. It’s for the best. “Get out,” Tony tells him. “Get the fuck out of our lives, Rogers.” She doesn’t turn to look at Steve’s face at his words. She doesn’t want to know. 

Steve begins leaving, helping Barnes up and shouldering his weight. 

There’s rubble falling all around them when Tony calls out one last time. “That shield doesn't belong to you. My father made that shield!”

“You don't deserve it,” she says it only as a whisper but she knows he can hear it clear as day. 

Steve stops, raises his chin, then drops the shield and walks away with Bucky's arm around his shoulder.

Before the entire thing can collapse on their heads, Y/n glitches Tony and herself outside, near his jet.

It begins raining. It’s not supposed to rain this time of year in Siberia, but with the amount of energy Y/n has let escape into the sky, the clouds had very little say on the matter.

They sit there on the snow, under the rain and watch as the building crumbles to the ground. It’s a fucking mess. 

It’s silent but the animosity in the air is clear.

She knows he hates her right now and she can’t blame him all that much to be honest.

“You should have let me kill him,” she tells him.

Tony scoffs. “You should have let me kill Barnes.”

“Wasn’t his fucking fault he was brainwashed. He probably didn’t even remember till Zemo showed him the fucking tape. But Steve… he knew, and he lied to us.”

“You got great taste in men.”

Her jaw clenched, “You should have let me kill him then.”

“What would be the point?”

She doesn’t know the answer. But the terse tone of his voice is proof enough that a part of him blames her for it too. And well, he should. She could’ve done so much more about it all but instead she chose to fall for the man who lied to them about the death of their family. Of course he hates her. She hates herself.

Her phone chimes. Reluctantly she checks it. “Fuck,” she curses.

“Let me guess, in another 5 minutes I’m about to get a text from dear old Theadore about how he’s on his way ready to rain down hellfire?” Tony questions, clearly rhetorically. When she doesn’t respond, Tony clenches his jaw and says, “Get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony,” she tries.

“Get out of here, Y/n!” Is all he says as he gets up and begins making his way inside his jet.

She stands there for a second, soaking in the rain, letting the snow beneath her feet burn her cold. And then she glitches away.

Read the next part here, Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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[mutantthedark]

COD BLACK OPS COLD WAR OC: KENDRA SMITH

GENERAL

Name: Kendra Smith

Age: 28 (1981)

Alias(es): Smith, Owl

Gender: Female

Birthday: May 10th, 1953

Nationality: British

Place of birth: Manchester, UK

Languages: English, French

Affiliation: MI6, CIA and NATO

APPEARANCE

Hair color: Blonde (dyed)

Eye color: Green

Scars: A few on her arms and wrists

Piercings: None

Face claim: Florence Pugh

Height: 5’4 (162 cm)

Weight: 124 lbs (56 kg)

Build: Slim

Blood type: A+

Family: [REDACTED]

Siblings: [REDACTED]

Personality: INTJ

Kendra has a serious demeanour, expressing very little emotion. Due to this aura, she often comes off as intimidating. She is neither impolite nor an antisocial person, but she has a kind and warm heart. She spends most of her time with Helen Park. Which shows a sensible and respectful attitude toward others, often being discouraged by discourteous behaviour.

FAVOURITES

Color: Green

Season: Spring

Food: Healthy Chicken curry

Drink: Tea

Dessert: -

ABILITIES

Has excellent intelligence and can communicate well.

MI6 training

Weapon skills (Mostly pistols)

TRIVIA

Kendra's name means "Knowing". Other potential meanings of this ancient name include “royal power,” “bold power,” and “chief hero.” It can also mean "Owl".

Kendra tries to cover her scars with tattoos as much as she can.

Most of her friends called her "Owl" because of her thinking and intelligence. The Wise Owl represents the logical thinker.

Clothing she choose is polo shirts.

Kendra wears glasses, only for reading and working on paperworks, but she can see far.

TATTOO DESIGNS

Drawn by me.

BACKGROUND

Kendra was born and raised in Manchester, UK. There is no information about her parents, but she had a strict relationship with them. After her parents had to move to another city to work, Kendra went to University of Oxford, her dream was to be an analyst. One day, when she graduated, a few agents went to visit her and offered to join MI6 because of her intelligence and communications skills. Kendra, being a kind hearted young woman, agreed.

A few months later, she met Helen Park. They had been working together non-stop for international assignments and met Adler Russell during the CIA’s sponsored project. During career, Kendra met another fellow MI6 named “Madam Shell” who was really close with Park before. An intuition happened of Park’s suspicions, Madam attempted to kill Park, but Kendra protected her and earned a few scars from her on her wrists and arms, after failing to curse the inconsequential words, Madam pushed her out of the way and she left the scar on Park’s neck as a parting gift. Hovewer, Kendra didn't renouce, she smashed Madam's head to the wall with great force, which cracked her skull and caused her to kill her. She had to lie to the agents that Madam's been through the "Serious accident."

In 1981, Kendra joined Russel's team in CIA's safehouse E9, tasking to stop the infamous spy named "Perseus". Until then, she met a new teammate with a codename "Bell".

(I'll add more when Black ops 6 will release)

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Eight

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eight: Long Wait

Summary: Reunited and back to working together, the Holmes and Watson families get back to solving cases.

            “What you’re about to see is classified beyond top secret,” said Mycroft. “Is that quite clear?”

            He stood behind (Y/N) and Sherlock and in front of a group of higherups in the British government. Before all of them, a TV was displaying (Y/N), Sherlock, and John’s final confrontation with Magnussen. The cameras of the snipers and helicopters had captured everything.

            “Don’t minute any of this.” The secretary stopped moving. “Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room, codenames Antarctica, Langdale, Lolly, Porlock, and Love, will ever know the truth. As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus—” Mycroft looked sharply at Sherlock. “Are you tweeting?”

            “No,” said Sherlock. “I’m ordering lollipops for (Y/N). I think they earned them as this point.”

            (Y/N) perked up at the idea of sweets.

            Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “Will you take these matters seriously, Sherlock?”

            “I am taking it seriously. What makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?” said Sherlock. His eyes landed on the table. “Are those ginger nuts? Love ginger nuts.” He took a handful.

            “Our doctor said you were clean,” said Love.

            “I had a misstep,” said Sherlock. “No need for stimulants now, though. I have work to do.”

            “You’re high as a kite,” said Porlock.

            “Natural high, I assure you,” said Sherlock. “I’m just glad to be alive and back with tolerable people.” He grinned at (Y/N), who nodded. He looked back at the group. “What shall we do next?” He pointed at the secretary. “What’s your name?”

            “Vivian,” she said.

            “What would you do, Vivian?” said Sherlock.

            “Pardon?” said Vivian.

            “Oh, whatever. (Y/N), what should we do?” said Sherlock.

            “Pick up my lollipops,” said (Y/N), a fairly self-serving request but they wanted their snacks.

            “Excellent, efficient answer,” said Sherlock.

            “Mr. Holmes,” said Love sharply.

            “Yes?” said Sherlock.

            “We do need to get on,” said Love.

            “Yes, of course,” said Mycroft, turning the recording on again.

            On the TV, there was a clear view of (Y/N) standing before Magnussen with the gun in their hand. “And I’m (Y/N) Holmes,” said (Y/N) on the recording. Bang! There was a shot, but it was into Magnussen’s leg, not his head.

            So they edited it, thought (Y/N). “Who shot him, then?”

            “Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that’s who,” said Porlock.

            “That’s not what happened at all,” said Sherlock.

            “It is now,” said Mycroft.

            “For the record, which apparently doesn’t exist here, I don’t regret what I did,” said (Y/N), voice even with complete truth. They hadn;t taken pleasure in killing, but they didn’t feel bad about it, either.

            “Remarkable. How did you do it?” said Love.

            “We have some very talented people working here,” said Porlock. “If James Moriarty can hack every TV screen in the land, rest assured, we have the tech to doctor a bit of security footage. That is now the official version, the version anyone we want to will see.”

            “No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon,” said Love. “You and (Y/N) (L/N)—”

            “Holmes,” said Sherlock and (Y/N).

            “Holmes are off the hook,” finished Love.

            “Okay, cheers,” said Sherlock, rising from his seat. (Y/N) followed suit.

            “Obviously, there’s unfinished business,” said Love. “Moriarty.”

            “Moriarty is dead,” said Sherlock.

            “You believe he filmed the video before his death?” said Love.

            “Yes,” said Sherlock.

            “You also say you know what he’s going to do next,” said Love. “What does that mean?”

            “Perhaps that’s all there was to it. Perhaps he was just trying to frighten you both,” said Porlock.

            “That would be wishful thinking,” said (Y/N). “But no. Moriarty is the type of man to set up a trap for his opponents after his own death.”

            Sherlock nodded. “He’s planned something long term. Posthumous revenge. Posthumous game.”

            “We brought you back to deal with this,” said Love. “What are you going to do?”

            “Wait,” said (Y/N).

            “Wait?” repeated Love.

            “We’re the targets,” said (Y/N). “So we wait until the next part of the game begins.”

            “We’ll know when the game begins,” said Sherlock. “We always know when the game is on.” He and (Y/N) stepped out the door into freedom.

            As they walked for a cab, (Y/N) glanced at Sherlock. “What is his endgame for a game after his death? What does he win if he’s dead?”

            “Satisfaction at knowing he had us beat in some way,” said Sherlock. He glanced down and saw that (Y/N) was facing forward again. He looked forward as a cab pulled up, and his gaze hardened. What did Moriarty stand to gain if he was dead? He couldn’t get to (Y/N)—which was the reason Sherlock would never regret killing Moriarty (protecting (Y/N)), and he couldn’t know that Sherlock was losing. So what more was going on?

            As ever, (Y/N) was seeing that there had to be more.

            Sherlock just hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t hurt them. However, it was that—hope. Sherlock knew that whatever was coming was dangerous. He squared his shoulders.

            He would protect (Y/N).

l

            Wham! Sherlock stabbed through the stack of papers, happily attaching them to the mantel. “If this gets any better, we’re gonna get two knives.”

            “It pays to advertise,” said John, typing up a blog post to say they were back to solving casing.

            “So, what about Moriarty, then?” said Mary.

            “Oh, I have a plan,” said Sherlock. “I’m going to monitor the underworld, every quiver of the web will tell me the spider’s moves.”

            “I’ll just wait to be kidnapped. That seems to happen frequently when Moriarty is involved,” said (Y/N), twirling a lollipop around.

            “It’s concerning that that’s a fact and not a joke,” said Mary, frowning. (Y/N) shrugged.

            “Sherlock, your plan is to basically just sit there solving crimes like you and (Y/N) always do,” said John.

            “Awesome, isn’t it?” said Sherlock, pleased with himself.

            “Would you rather we do nothing?” said (Y/N).

            John sighed.

l

Over the next nine months…

            “He drowned. That’s what we thought. But when they opened up his lungs…”

            “Yes?” said Mary (another addition to the Holmes household and detective agency).

            “Sand,” said the client.

            “Superficial,” said Sherlock.

Another time…

            (Y/N) looking through the magnifying glass. “Come back, it’s the wrong thumb.”

And another…

            “But—” said John.

            “It’s never twins,” said (Y/N) and Sherlock.

And another…

            “Hawkins, arrest Wilson,” said Sherlock on one video call.

            “Dimmock, look in the lymph nodes,” said (Y/N) on another call.

            “Wilson?” said Hawkins.

            “Lymph nodes?” said Dimmock.

            “You have a limbless torso, and there’ll be traces of ink left in the lymph nodes under the armpit,” said (Y/N). “If your corpse had tattoos, you’ll be able to tell there.”

            “Bloody hell. Is that a guess?” said Dimmock.

            “I don’t guess,” said (Y/N), closing the computer.

            “So, he’s the killer,” said Hawkins to Sherlock.

            “The canary trainer?” Sherlock scoffed. “Of course he’s the killer.”

            “Didn’t see that coming,” said Hawkins.

            “Naturally.” Sherlock closed the call.

            “Sherlock, (Y/N),” said John sternly. “You can’t go on spinning plates like this.”

            “We’re not. We’re solving cases,” said (Y/N). “Why would we spin plates?”

            John groaned, and Mary tutted.

And some more…

            “The heart medication you are taking is known to cause bouts of amnesia,” said Sherlock.

            “Yes, I think so,” said the client. “Why?”

            “Because the fingerprints on your brother’s neck were your own,” said (Y/N).

And even more…

            “A jellyfish!” laughed John.

            “Not our usual culprit,” remarked (Y/N).

            “I know,” chuckled Sherlock.

            “You can’t arrest a jellyfish,” said John, shaking his head.

            “We could try,” said Sherlock.

            “We did,” said (Y/N).

            John’s phone vibrated, and he took it out with a frown before his eyes widened. “Oh, god.”

            “Mary?” said Sherlock and (Y/N).

            “Fifty-nine missed calls,” said John.

            “We’re in a lot of trouble,” said Sherlock.

            A few minutes later (with a lot of running and shouting), Mary was in the backseat of a cab, John and Sherlock were in the front, and (Y/N) was sitting beside her. Mary was in labor.

            “Ow! Oh my god!” screamed Mary. “Oh, my god!”

            “Relax. It’s got two syllables,” said John, trying to use the techniques they’d learned in classes.

            “I’m a nurse, darling. I think I know what to do!” said Mary, gritting her teeth and trying to breathe.

            “Re…lax,” said John.

            “Oh, just drive! Please go. Just drive, god, driiiiive!” shouted Mary.

            “Sherlock, (Y/N). Mary.” John glared at them.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat. “Breathe?” they said hesitantly to Mary.

            “Relax?” said Sherlock.

            “Don’t you two start!” said Mary. Her head whipped towards John. “John, I think you have to pull over.”

            “Mary, Mary—” began John.

            “Pull over!” snapped Mary.

            Baby Watson was born at seven minutes past one in the morning just below a road sign, next to a car.

And more time passed…

            John and Mary smiled as they held the baby close. Mrs. Hudson took a thousand photos of them and cooed over the baby just as much as they did.

            “So, what’s her name?” said Mrs. Hudson.

            “Catherine,” said John.

            “Oh, no, we’ve gone off that,” said Mary.

            “Have we?” said John.

            “Yeah,” said Mary, smiling.

            “Oh.” John was smiling, too.

            “Well, you know what I think,” said Sherlock, amused.

            “Your name isn’t a girl’s name, and we already have one (Y/N),” said John.

            (Y/N) smiled slightly. “I don’t think we need more.”

            John looked at Mrs. Hudson. “Mrs. H, we would be honored to have you as a godparent if you’d be willing to.”

            Mrs. Hudson smiled. “Really? Oh, that would be lovely.”

            “And, uh…” John cleared his throat as he walked towards Sherlock and (Y/N). “You, too, Sherlock.”

            "You too, what?” said Sherlock.

            “Godfather. We’d like you to be godfather,” said John.

            “God is a ludicrous fiction dreamt up by inadequates who abnegate all responsibility to an invisible magic friend,” said Sherlock.

            “Yeah, but there’ll be cake. Will you do it?” said John.

            “I’ll get back to you,” said Sherlock, but John just rolled his eyes fondly. He knew that Sherlock—who, despite it all, had fatherly instincts—would say yes.

            Soon enough, Rosamund Mary was baptized, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson were godparents. And (Y/N), to the surprise of everyone (including Sherlock), turned out to be a surprisingly good babysitter. Rosie loved them pretty much instantly, much to the chagrin of Mary and John who had to try to get her to bed.

            Despite all that had happened, for a few short months, everything was as it should be. The Holmes and Watson families were together and whole.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

@roo024

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

@snowy-violet

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Meeting #2. - OC Backstory

pairing: OC!Whiskey x MootOC!Valkyrie (platonic) words: 2.4K~ cw: canon-typical violence/talk, use of weapons, attempt at military accuracy(?? idk), humour/jokes

June 18th, 2019.

2317 hours.

St. Petersburg, Russia

Whiskey is lying by the window with her rifle, eyes locked on the building across from her, the green hue of the night vision scope allowing her to keep track of her target as he moves about his apartment.

The night is clear, the air is still, the window’s open, the curtains not drawn… She has the perfect opportunity to eliminate the target. Hell, it won’t get more perfect than this.

“Whiskey to Watcher-1, I have a clear shot on the target. Ready to engage.”

“Copy that, Whiskey. Hold your fire.”

Hold her fire? Whiskey cocks a brow and grimaces at the command.

She's dedicated weeks of her time tracking down and stalking Volkov, getting evidence of his deals to report back to the CIA and the UN and... what? Now Laswell isn't giving her execute authority?

“I have a clear shot, Watcher. It's now or never, I have less than a minute to engage.”

“I’m not a fan of repeating myself, Whiskey. Hold your fire, you do NOT have execute authority.” 

Gritting her teeth, Whiskey insisted, finger already curling around the trigger of the rifle, eyes glued to the target.

“Laswell, I’ve been after this motherfucker for three weeks, I have a CLEAR SHOT.”

“Do not fucking argue with me, Lieutenant. I cannot sanction an American operative to conduct an execution in Russian soil. Hold your fucking fire.”

Grunting and pulling her finger away from the trigger, Whiskey murmurs a “Copy that.” to her mic.

She had never been denied a kill. Not since she began this arrangement with the Agency. With Laswell.

“I’ll be sending an operator to your location."

Great. So someone is coming to sweep another number that she could add to her tally, from under her nose.

"Roger. Where's the meeting point?"

"Your safehouse."

Yippee. Someone she'd have to share her shitty, dingy studio apartment with?

"Should I continue tracking the target?"

"Affirmative."

"Copy that. Codename?"

"Valkyrie."

Whiskey's brow twitched and she grunted another 'Copy. Whiskey out.' comm before she turned off her PTT.

-

June 19th, 2018.

2132 hours.

The door to the safehouse swings open, causing Whiskey to throw a knife at the door, which Valkyrie just narrowly dodged, the blade ending up embedded on the door frame beside their head.

"What the fuck?! Is this how you treat guests?" Valkyrie complains loudly as she glances up at the knife beside her head, and then across the room, at Whiskey, by the windows.

Then, both Whiskey and Valkyrie draw their pistols and point them at one another, in the near pitch darkness of the studio apartment, only broken up by a table lamp by the pull-out sofa-bed.

"Lower your damn weapon before I fucking stab you myself." The bleach blonde spoke up as he closed the door behind himself, eyes still locked on Whiskey.

They were short. Shorter than Whiskey, wearing light tactical gear, and, especially, a vest that left their arms on display, per lack of a shirt underneath, but rather a tanktop.

Their extremely light hair nearly blends with their pale complexion, if not for the bright red strands strewn through it. They were no soldier. No soldier would look as ridiculous as that.

"Who the fuck are you?" Whiskey grunts as she glares at them, fingers gripping her pistol tight.

"Valkyrie. And you're Whiskey. Now that we're introduced, will you put your gun down or not?" Valkyrie asks sarcastically with raised eyebrows and wide eyes

Whiskey huffed and lowered her weapon, Valkyrie following suit, and both of them holstering them swiftly.

"Didn't Watcher tell you to knock?" Whiskey grunts as she pushes up from her squatted position against the wall, next to her mounted sniper rifle.

"She did. But what do I look like? Who the fuck knocks on the door of a CIA safehouse?" Valkyrie complains.

Whiskey rolls her eyes. "Don't fuckin' give me lip. There's a system." She murmurs, her southern accent a bit more prominent as she glares at the other operator.

Valkyrie crosses the room and sets her rucksack down on the 2-seater dining table, beginning to grab their gear from inside. "This is why I hate working with the damn government. System this, protocols that-" She grunts.

Whiskey crosses the room and rolls her eyes, pulling her knife out from the doorframe. "Well, maybe if you obeyed them..." She trails off as she sheathes the blade again on her thigh holder.

"Look, I'm here to kill the Russian, not to play the obedient little soldier, alright?" Valkyrie complains and rolls her eyes. "That's your job."

Whiskey scoffs as she takes her spot by the window again, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her foot on the wall behind her, scuffing up the wallpaper.

"Don't get too fuckin' big for your breeches now. I'm still in charge here." Whiskey reminde him.

"Yeah, yeah-" Valkyrie waves their hand dismissively, gesturing vaguely in the air. "It's 'your' mission or whatever."

"It is and if I were you, I'd lose the fuckin' attitude." Whiskey warns them.

They both go quiet for a moment, before Whiskey turns away and lays prone behind her rifle again, eyes locked on the target's apartment.

-

June 20th, 2019.

0154 hours.

The mission went tits up. Not anyone's fault. Not really.

A stealth drop-in, execution, and pull out... and yet the target's security guards were more alert than expected...

Long story short, the target made off, while Valkyrie was busy dealing with more bodyguards than expected.

As they returned to safehouse, Whiskey immediately began packing her gear.

"It took me three fucking weeks." She murmurs under her breath, disassembling her sniper.

"I can hear you, you know?" Valkyrie replies from the corner while wrapping her bicep in gauze after having been slashed through by a knife.

"Oh you can? Can you?!" Whiskey turns her head sharply to glare at Valkyrie. "That's real interestin' considerin' you didn't fuckin' listen when I fuckin' told you to WAIT." She scolds the other operator.

"Oh fuck you. There were too many of them. That's not my fault. You're the one that has been keeping watch for three weeks! If you did your job, we'd know he had a bigger protection detail than we thought." Valkyrie argues.

That causes Whiskey to drop the parts of her rifle and stand up sharply, glaring at Valkyrie from across the room.

"You wanna talk about fuckin' up my job?! You went in about as discreetly as a bull in a fuckin' china shop!" Whiskey raises her voice, which causes Valkyrie to rise to their feet as well.

"And you didn't hit a single shot while covering me!" Valkyrie gets closer and gets in Whiskey's face, their dark brown eyes locked on Whiskey's hazel ones.

"I don't have execute authority, Valkyrie! You know what that fuckin' means, don't you?! Oh, wait, no, you're not a fuckin' soldier, right?" The older operator asks with widened, angry eyes.

"That's exactly right, so why the fuck are you asking like I need to fuckin' listen to you in the first place? Who do you think you are?" Valkyrie lunged their head up a couple of times in an act of challenge.

"I'm the one representing the fuckin' CIA here, you're just a shitty mercenary. You have no goddamn authority!" Whiskey raises her voice as she leans into Valkyrie, using her height to her advantage.

"Now pack your goddamn gear. You're going to help me find the damn weasel that you let escape. And I don't want another fucking peep out of you." Whiskey adds with vitriol spitting from her voice, a finger pointing in Valkyrie's face.

-

June 25th, 2019.

1137 hours.

"Alors? (So?)" Valkyrie asks as she looks at Whiskey with a raised brow while she takes her seat across from her at the table.

They've been on the road for a few days, getting intel from both Watcher's informants and Whiskey's own previous research.

"C'est l'endroit idéal. La dame a dit qu'elle avait vu quelques « voyous » correspondant à la description que nous lui avions donnée, s'installer de l'autre côté de la rue. Il dit qu'ils viennent souvent chercher de la nourriture. (This is the spot. The old lady said she saw some thugs set up shop across the street. They come here to buy food every day.) " Whiskey tells her.

"Comment as-tu fait ça ? (How'd you do that?)" Valkyrie ends up asking in a murmur as she watches Whiskey spoon some soup into her mouth.

Whiskey cocks a brow, confused, as she glances at Valkyrie from across the table, popping a pelmeni between her teeth and huffing a bit at the explosion of warm meat in her mouth.

"Pour qu'elle s'ouvre à toi ? (Get her to open up to you?)" The blonde insists before she takes a sip of her own spoon of Russian soup.

She's noticed by now that Whiskey is a surprisingly resourceful woman. She drives well, knows how to speak and read Russian, is observant and detail-oriented...

Plus, she's paranoid as all hell, and demands they speak French and wear civvy clothes while out in public... Not to mention having Val conceal their hair under a baseball cap.

"Je parle russe comme un natif. Et lui a dit qu'ils faisaient du mal aux petites filles. (I speak Russian like a native. And I told her they've been hurting little girls.)" Whiskey replies and shrugs.

Valkyrie stiffens up a bit, his jaw clenching lightly after Whiskey explained how she got the intel she needed.

Whiskey catches the look in their eye and snaps her fingers in their face, drawing Valkyrie back from whatever thought they got lost in.

"Mange. Tu auras besoin de toute l’énergie pour les foutre en l’air. (Eat. You'll need all the energy you can get to fuck them up.)" Whiskey tells them... but her voice is just a bit warmer, before she looks away to her own bowl.

-

June 26th, 2019

0348 hours

"HOLD THE CAR STEADY!" Valkyrie shouts as they hold half of their body out of the window, a leg wrapped around their clipped seat belt to secure them in place, as they shoot their rifle at the van in front of them.

"I CAN'T, THEY'RE FUCKIN' SWERVING SIDE TO SIDE, VAL!" Whiskey shouts in response from behind the wheel, attempting to control the car while also dodging the shots the enemies were aiming back at her behind the wheel.

"WELL I CAN'T HIT THEM IF YOU KEEP SWERVING!"

"AND I CAN'T FOLLOW THEM IF I DON'T SWERVE!"

It's as they're arguing, that it happens. A Russian police car suddenly starts giving chase to them through the streets of the small city.

"GREAT, NOW WE'RE BEING CHASED."

"JUST SHUT UP AND KEEP DRIVING, I'VE GOT THIS." Valkyrie shouts as he swivels back and starts opening fire on the cruiser behind them.

"SHOOT THE RUSSIANS, GOD DAMN YOU."

"THEY'RE ALL RUSSIAN."

"NOT THE COPS, VAL, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"HOW ABOUT I SHOOT YOU?!"

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Whiskey grunts and pulls out her pistol, then takes a couple shots at the van before them and, somehow, they land.

The van's back tire pops and spins out, causing the van to swerve and, in a desperate attempt from the driver to regain control, crashes against a tree on the sidewalk, while Whiskey brings their own car to a stop.

A few bystanders start screaming, chaos taking over the street, more so than it had already, cars skidding to a stop and crashing behind them and around them to escape the crash and gunshots.

Whiskey immediately pops open the door, using it for cover so she can aim a few shots at the Russians who are already slipping out of the van to return fire.

Vallyrie is on the other side, trading fire with the Russians as well. The cops that bad been chasing them now lying on the street after she had taken care of them.

"Fuck I'm out!" They called out through the open doors of the car.

"What do you mean you're out?!" Whiskey shouts back.

"I'm out! No more bullets. Do you need me to say it in Spanish? Finito!"

"That's Italian!"

"Really?! Right now is not the time?!"

With a long sigh, Whiskey mutters a "Fuck it.", then tosses her pistol at Valkyrie. "USE THEM WISELY AND COVER ME."

Before Val can even process what Whiskey said, she's gone, slipping behind a crashed car beside theirs and rushing across toward the Russians.

Valkyrie's eyes widen when she notices Whiskey using a garrote to choke one of the bodyguards from behind, slinging an arm around his own rifle, and using it to shoot at his teammates while actively choking him out with the other.

This provides Valkyrie some time to approach as well and change spots herself, perching over the hood of the car to land a shot on another of the bodyguards.

Once Valkyrie makes enough headway into the van, she pops open the door, and with one clean shot and a couple of stab wounds, disposes of the last bodyguard and the HVT.

Whiskey rounds the car and approaches Val, rifle held at the ready and looking around as more sirens sound and echo from the nearby streets.

Val tosses the body of the HVT out with a thud at Victoria's feet, and takes a picture as a 'job done' security protocol for Laswell.

"We need to leave. Now." Whiskey murmurs as she looks around.

"It's done. It's done." Val murmurs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his vest. "We don't make that bad of a team. This was actually pretty cool."

Whiskey's hazel eyes lock onto Val's dark brown ones, then, she rolls her eyes. "Just get in the damn car." She grunts and nudges her along with her borrowed rifle. "Pretty cool my ass." Whiskey murmurs as she runs to the driver's seat.

"You should let me drive this time, you know?" Valkyrie goads as Whiskey puts the car in reverse and looks over her shoulder.

"That sounds like a terrible fucking idea. Why the fuck would I do that?" Whiskey shoots the car forward and swerves into a side street.

"Because your driving is about as bad as your aim with knives."

"Will you let that go? I wasn't aiming for your head."

"Even if you were, you'd have missed."

"You know, Watcher said I can't kill Russians on Russian soil... but didn't say anything about Canadians."

The Look™️ in question:

For @superhero-landing aka @/🔪 anon

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #005

a/n: My original idea for this didn’t quite work out how I wanted but what’s new with this project. Anyway please enjoy some insane!Scaramouche because why not lol

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Yandere!Prisoner!Scaramouche x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Violence towards the reader, Scratching, Intimidation, Threads, Insults, Cornering and intruding on personal space, Mentioning of a hit-and-run, Mentioning of murder), Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction | Pinterest Moodboard]

You always tried to live your life in a way you wouldn't regret it.

That was, until the accident.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your brain forced back memories of it as if it was happening right that second. The feeling of a body colliding with the hood of your car. The shock and surprise that tensed every muscle in your body when a person suddenly jumped in view of your headlights. The sound of bones breaking against the metal and the way crimson blood smeared all over your windshield. Logically you knew back then what to do—call an ambulance, explain yourself to the police, and say it was an accident.

So why did you bail? Swerved your car around and drove home in a panic, the alcohol in your blood screaming at you like a drill sergeant to get a move on. That alone should have been enough regret to carry for the rest of your life, but one evil always followed another.

You had never heard of the Fatui before, something they quite appreciated as they didn't want their identity to be known. But when two people rang your doorbell the next day, intruding in your home and sitting you down for a 'talk', you knew it was over for you.

Now, you were wondering why you ever accepted their 'deal'. They blackmailed you—sure, threatening to go to the police about the car accident if you didn't do as they said. They took care of your car, destroying all that linked you to the accident, but you got caught doing their dirty work anyway. Now it wasn't just one person dead and one in regret. Now it were two dead, and your life was effectively ruined. You'd not see the light of day anymore outside prison walls until you were too old to do anything with your life. If that wasn't bad enough, you were sent to the shittiest prison in the country, so you'd never forget you belonged to the scum of the earth for your doings.

Part of you really wanted to get a grip on yourself and stop the tears from falling endlessly. But no one would have believed the pain you were in. After all, you weren't the two people you killed and the many more families you left behind to mourn them. Still, after all you've been through, you had always held on to the hope that things would get better. That somehow, your life would turn around, and you could at least continue to live out your regrets in peace.

Scaramouche's hand slammed into the cemented wall next to your head, and you flinched—hard. "Stop crying!" he spat in your face, his voice like a jackhammer to your eardrums with how close he was standing. You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down on your lip to restrain your sobs. That was when you realized things would never calm down as long as you lived. You'd never have the peace you were desperate to achieve.

"I can't stand people like you! Spineless, worthless vermin being so sorry about what they did out there!"

His words, as sarcastic and true as they were, felt like blades to your skin, cutting and stabbing away at your vulnerable heart. You tried so hard to hold back your emotions, your body shaking from the strain to keep your tears contained and the bitter, metallic taste on your tongue revealing you were drawing blood while biting down your fear.

Scaramouche was only a codename; you knew that much. He was from the same organization that forced you to do the unspeakable things, and perhaps out of pity, they convinced the guards to room you with him. At first, you had been glad to have someone who shared your experiences, but by now, you weren't sure if it wasn't a cruel joke. He, at least, couldn't be more displeased with you.

Drawing his hand back, he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as he cursed the Fatui under his breath. "Man, couldn't they have sent anyone more competent for this job? What am I going to do with someone like you? You're as useful here as you were out there! You didn't even kill that guy."

What?

"He's not dead?" you whimpered, sobs cascading off your tongue when you opened your mouth. You didn't try to hold them back as you looked at your cellmate in surprise. No one had given you any information about your victims since your conviction.

"You didn't know?" Scaramouche asked, his expression as condescending as if you were a child he needed to explain this to. "They found him in time, and he made it. Woke up from the coma today. You're looking really pathetic now. Failed and busted, who even hires people like you?"

His words reached your ears, but it was as if he spoke through noise-canceling headphones. The tears brimming your eyelids finally spilled over as a sudden and chilling relief settled inside you. You had no idea what that person you were sent to kill had done to upset the Fatui, but regardless, you were just so glad he made it. Faintly aware of the change on Scaramouche's face as he watched you realize all of this, lost in your own thoughts, you put a hand over your mouth, sobbing into your palm as you slid down the wall at your back.

Knowing that this person would be okay, that you didn't kill them, made everything fate had in petto endurable. You could go through the bullying and violence awaiting you at this prison, knowing you didn't kill this guy, whoever he was.

"What. The. Fuck."

Unfortunately, the things that made you feel relieved and hopeful only upset Scaramouche more. He made one step forward before squatting down right in front of you, his eyes narrowing in anger as he studied your expression, catching on to the little spark of relief in your eyes. "You're happy, aren't you? Ain't it great that you didn't do your fucking job."

Knowing you were treading on dangerous territory, the despair you felt returned, but you were terrible at hiding your feelings even when fear crept up your body again. "I thought I killed him..." you mumbled, not sounding apologetic at all. Your shoulders sagged as the corners of your mouth jerked upwards, clearly showing how you felt. "I really did."

When you let out your breath, you finally mustered the strength to look into his eyes. Fury glazed his gaze, but for some reason, it was warring with another emotion. Strange as it may be, while Scaramouche studied your body, sagging in relief, hopefulness rejuvenating you, he looked more and more... confused.

When he raised his hand, you flinched but quickly regained your composure and closed your eyes. Whatever he was going to do, you probably deserved it. Even if it hurt and you'd regret not fighting against it later, you'd endure your punishment. That was the resolution you came to as you waited for the inevitable pain.

But it never came.

Instead, a thumb, cold and chapped, pressed to your cheekbone, swiping along the bone even when you scrunched up your face in confused preparation for a strike. "Then why do you still cry?" he asked you, his voice an exasperated breath of incomprehension.

Squeezing your eyelids together, you slowly, hesitantly opened one to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and a disgruntled expression was edged into his face. But a child-like curiosity flared up ever so often in his gaze as he studied you as if he could not understand why you felt this way. For a moment, he didn't look so scary anymore. Nothing did. And perhaps, that made you bold.

"Because I'm glad," you explained, reaching up to wipe your eyes, turning your head, so his finger slipped off your skin. "I'm really glad he didn't die. I didn't kill him. Isn't that great?"

When you looked up at Scaramouche, he was staring at his thumb, dampened by the tears he touched. You could see the gears turning in his head as if he had a hard time following your emotional response, and eventually, his glare returned, fixating on you.

"You're so fucking weird. You took a job and didn't finish it. What's so great about that?" he hissed, rising into a stand suddenly. Swinging his foot over you, and for a moment, you expected him to kick you. You closed your eyes, preparing for an impact that didn't come. You heard his steps rather than noticed him walking away, and now it was your turn to be confused by his actions as you watched his back disappear in the distance, the cell door being slammed shut as Scaramouche stalked away angrily, holding his thumb in front of him, separate from his other fingers as if it was offending him.

"Fucking useless... Can't do anything right," he muttered as he departed, looking severely annoyed but never looking back.

Leaving you behind all alone for the first and last time ever since you were brought to this personal hell of yours.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Peace never came.

Scaramouche made himself a bit rarer, sneering and cursing you out when he did acknowledge your presence. However, there were still enough other prisoners and guards to make your life hell. As much as you tried to avoid conflict, it was impossible to tiptoe around every angry person in this prison. Being the newbie didn't help. Things often escalated above the typical bullying that you tried to endure quietly. You could never catch your breath between incidents. Every day you woke up to a new challenge emerging for you. Strangely enough, though, you ended up fine every time, aside from the stress and fear permanently induced into you.

The reason for that? The very same cellmate that tried to avoid you like the plague.

You didn't realize it at first, but whenever a situation grew violent, he'd show up and put people into their place. You never saw someone break bones without weapons, but Scaramouche didn't seem to care that he wasn't as tall or bulky as others, bones breaking under his feet as he stomped down on every finger with glee after he brought the prisoners to their knees. He'd always turn around and bark at you, call you useless and pathetic, but saved you in the end regardless, no one coming near you after that.

Even when others began approaching you with seemingly good intentions, Scaramouche showed up. One person—another prisoner named Childe—seemed to take pleasure in interacting with you, asking you to hang out or do favors that you never got to accept or decline because Scaramouche would immediately show up and pick a fight while yelling at you to screw off now. It took a while to find out that Childe was also from the Fatui and the two of them had some shady business going on in which Childe tried to rope you in, given your connection to the organization. He swore it was just petty things like doing errands, but Scaramouche would undoubtedly shoo you away if he caught you two talking. Every. Single. Time.

Just like this, things could have been good. At least you weren't in constant pain or strung into things that would worsen your sentence. But despite having your cellmate looking out for you, you still felt lonely and scared every day. When someone wasn't activating your flight instinct or raised your blood pressure as they bullied and humiliated you, you usually withdrew yourself from prison life. You didn't fit in, and it was almost impossible to make acquaintances with Scaramouche watching over you like a hawk. No one wanted to get close to you except if they meant harm or loved your scaredy-cat attitude. Even time didn't make things better.

While you knew you deserved this punishment for what you did, it still took its toll on you. Your nights were spent crying while you muffled yourself in your pillow, hiding from your cellmate's fury. You had come to terms with not being suited for this place. Still, Scaramouche hated any sign of vulnerability as if you were trying to harm him with it on purpose.

Unfortunately, your relationship never got better, and the scowl on his face whenever he saw you never disappeared. If not for him, maybe your life could have been a bit easier, but at the same time, it was unfair to blame him when he was protecting you—willingly or not—almost every day.

However, his barely existing patience with you ended abruptly and violently when he caught you crying one evening, only just returning from god-knows-what. "Why are you still crying?!" he asked, sounding absolutely void of sympathy. Then again, why should he have compassion for you? He didn't even think of you as a person worth living.

"Sorry," you mumbled, apologizing for reasons you didn't need to apologize for. "It just happened! I- I can't stop it."

You felt like on your first day when he cornered you in your cell, all ways out blocked off by the menacingly approaching anger he radiated. When you were backed against the wall, you felt a sense of deja vu. But this time, there would be no news that could give you hope, and you were pretty sure that after all you had witnessed, this was the day Scaramouche would snap.

Just like you always did, you turned your head, readying yourself for impact, convinced that your luck had run out now that his anger was directed back at you. But instead of a slap or the sound of your bones breaking, two hands wrapped around your face, cradling your cheeks as they turned your head to face forward.

"Who hurt you this time?" he asked, and you slowly began shaking your head in his hold, unable to answer. More and more tears dripped from your closed eyes, sliding along his hands that warmed against your skin.

"Just... stop! Please!" you heard Scaramouche plead, and your eyes fluttered open, staring at him in disbelief. Pain was edged in his youthful expression, and you couldn't trust your ears to hear this right. You stared into his eyes, trying to find the usual anger and annoyance in them, feeling almost desperate to see them instead of this woeful look he gave you.

"I've been trying so hard to make you stop crying! I forced everyone to leave you alone! Why can't you stop crying finally?!"

His voice started out as a tremble, turning into agonized yelling accompanied by his fingers curling on top of your face, nails raking over your skin like a cat's claws. However, as much as you should have hurt from his nails, his touch was too gentle to harm you. Scaramouche breathed out heavily, his head falling forward, staring at the floor for a moment.

Somehow, he succeeded in making you stop crying. The confusion you felt about his behavior was enough to override the dark thoughts you'd been dealing with before, causing you to sob in the first place. You were still scared and traumatized after everything, but seeing Scaramouche vulnerable for the first time instead of yourself made you want to help him instead.

Raising your hands to his face, he caught your wrists first, hands wrapping around them in a bone-crushing grip that you didn't dare to struggle out from. When he looked up, there was so much desperation edged into every inch of his being, it was hard to look back at him. But you forced yourself, reminding yourself that you caused this.

"I tried to fix it. They roped you into this life, and I tried to fix the mess they made of you. So I made it right. Ever since you came here, I've been questioning everything! I was constantly punished for failing, but you come here and behave like it's okay to fail. And then you cry and cry and cry, no matter what I do to help you! I don't understand you! You're driving me nuts!"

Scaramouche's voice was so brittle he sounded close to tears himself. Somehow, it felt like you had changed something in him. As if your display of guilt and relief had chipped away on his years of doing this awful, dirty work that must have made him into the monster he was. But all you knew for sure was that, all this time, he had actually tried to help you—unthankful as you had been for his interferences. Now, it was your turn. You owed him that.

"I'm sorry..." you mumbled. "I won't do it again."

You meant it more broadly, not just as an 'I won't cry again'. It didn't seem to be the core of Scaramouche's problems. Instead, his unresolved doubts about his loyalty to the organization seemed to plague him after you showed him it was okay to feel differently. But if it helped him, you'd try to be a bit stronger.

His hands slid up higher until they were gripping your upper arms. All of a sudden, Scaramouche tensed up, his head shaking as you heard the hints of laughter escape, the volume increasing as did the pressure on your body, forcing you down to your knees.

"No..." he chuckled, and as you slid down, you caught his gaze, a mischievous shine having returned to them as a crooked grin crept over his lips. He looked neither as hurt as he had moments ago nor was he the same angry cellmate you came to know. The look in his eyes told a very different story. The story of someone that was beyond saving.

"No, you will do it again. You will cry, and I can't let you continue to drive me absolutely insane. So you will cry. Always. Forever."

His palms resting around your face again, he pulled at your head. You had to crane your neck to accommodate the strain as he brought your foreheads together, with him still standing above you. It hurt, your muscles tensing and trying to wiggle out of his grip, but it was unyielding.

"What?! But--”

You wanted to argue, tell him he was contradicting himself, but you could only gurgle as he pulled you upwards towards him, not high enough for you to stand up, so your weight dangled from your neck as gravity dragged you down.

"I thought you hated me crying! I thought you were trying to make it stop."

"Yes," he purred, delight spreading over his expression. "And we know it didn't work."

Fingers digging back into your skin, there was no gentleness like before. You squirmed, closing your eyes only to snap them back open when you felt his breath on your skin, the panic bringing tears to your eyes again as you felt trapped. Scaramouche looked surprised as he saw the wetness welling up again, then his grin widened, showing teeth as a delighted chuckle fell off his lips.

Any doubts about his intentions faded as you heard this, your struggle ceasing as you stared at him with a feeling akin to betrayal. For a moment, you believed him when he said he was trying to help. You believed that he, too, wasn't as rotten as everyone was trying to make him out to be. That deep down, he knew it was wrong and regretted his actions.

But not anymore.

"Why?" you whispered, slowly giving up on any fantasy you had that you'd ever have the peace you desired to repent for your wrongdoings.

"If you need a reason to cry anyway..."

His smile grew diabolically as he took great pleasure in seeing the color drain from your face, any hope or contentment you had felt disappearing into the unknown darkness your mind was thrown into. One only filled with despair. The only thing you knew was that you would never get the life you wanted, and yet... you pitied Scaramouche, who was just another victim of yours. One, you drove insane without even noticing.

"I will be the reason," he revealed, and your body went limp in his grasp.

[childrenofthesun77]

Okay, this is like a continuation of two of my theories and I'm wondering if I'm onto something.

So I wondered if the count could have originally been a werewolf based on the fact that he seems to have always been immortal, gear saying that his kind has a technique to seperate a part of their spirit from them while pointing at his earing, that earing looking pretty similar to the pendants the count had on his necklace that seemed to contain the demons (probably sins he seperated from himself) and werewolves apparently being able to create descendants by sharing their life force with humans which apparently gives them and their human descendants special powers, just like the count letting humans drink his blood turned them into mages.

Now the only werewolf we've met so far is (neu)gear hatiwelt, a reference to the wolf hati in norse mythology who swallows the moon during ragnarok (doom of the gods). We even see gear use a technique that allowed him to temporarily swallow the red moon the antagonist have created to aid in the ritual:

In norse mythology hati also has a twin brother though, skalli, who swallows the sun during ragnarok. Could the count play the role of skalli? The preparations for the ritual to bring back the count did kind of block out the sun in tokyo, causing temperatures to drop and snow to fall in summer. Ragnarok too is preceded by a cruel winter:

The C3 tokyo branch uses characters from norse mythology for codenames, which makes it interesting to speculate if some characters in servamp will have a similar fate to their counterparts in ragnarok.

Ragnarok starts with the death of balder, a son of odin, caused by the deception of loki, the trickster.

Shuhei is called loki as a nickname by izuna, but shuhei is more like heimdall, the god of foreknowledge who has excellent eyes. Shuhei's ability to prepare for even unlikely situations is a recurring joke and his hawkeye ability allows him to see far and even through walls.

I think we can all agree that in reality the role of loki the trickster falls on mikuni. He lies, he cheats and tricks to get what he wants, he's charismatic and clever. Before he starts the ritual/ragnarok he kills tsurugi/balder:

This has already happened so the question is if the other characters will suffer a similar fate to their norse counterparts as well.

In ragnarok loki and heimdall end up killing each other, but while shuhei's and mikuni's relationship is complicated and at times antagonistic I don't really see them killing each other, but maybe shuhei will fight a mikuni clone and kill him and be injured by him.

Other important figures in ragnarok are odin and his son thor. We have no official character with the codename odin, but I think odin and touma might be linked.

Touma is currently wearing an eyepatch, meaning he's one-eyed like the wise allfather odin, who sacrificed one of his eyes for knowledge. Say what you want about touma, but he is smart and came close to figuring out how the ritual to create a servamp worked. Balder is odin's son and while they refer to each other as brothers touma and tsurugi's dynamic is somewhere between being father and son and brothers. Odin is also the father of thor and with both jun and tooru too injured to fight and mjölnir now in mahiru's hands I think mahiru can be counted as the new thor and unlike jun or tooru he is touma's/odin's son.

Odin and thor both die during ragnarok. Odin is swallowed by fenrir (a giant wolf and son of loki) while thor battles with jormungandre, a giant serpent, slaying the snake, but dying from the snake's poison only a few moments later.

So we don't know who fenrir could be. If he's not skalli maybe the count is fenrir? In some versions it's fenrir who swallows the sun, so I guess he could simply be both.

But maybe whatever I assume mikuni wants to do with tsurugi's corpse will turn him into fenrir? He did seem to want the corpse to be left as intact as possible:

and the corpse was gone when mikado woke up again, leaving only the blood behind. Tsurugi's character is also strongly linked to wolves, so turning him into fenris and having him fight/kill odin/touma would make narrative sense.

Mahiru on the other hand might end up fighting jeje/mikuni. Jeje is currently captured and mikuni was literally called a snake by higan in the most recent chapter so I guess mikuni counts as a snake alone too, but of course mikuni could go and free jeje and fight together with him against mahiru.

Mahiru is against killing, so I doubt he would slay mikuni on purpose, but there are also a bunch of mikuni clones running around right now that NEED to be killed so he could end up using lethal methods on the real mikuni by mistake I guess. Or he simply defeats him and/or jeje through other means. What I'm more worried about is that despite his victory thor dies from the snake's poison only a few moments later.

Thor is also not the only character mahiru has been linked to that dies at the end of the story from the poison of a snake. It's subtle, but both when mahiru was in kuro's mind the first time and later when mahiru and tsurugi's spirits talked with each after touma had shot mahiru he spent some time in a desert with a crashed airplane:

Which is a reference to "the little prince" by antoine de saint-exupéry, a novella that ends with the little prince getting bitten by a snake after the snake promised him it would bring him back to his home planet.

So...will mahiru win the fight, but still die? Hopefully he can be saved from that fate.

[vendetta-if]

Snippets and Sneak Peek (Chapter 6) Pt. 2

Hey guys 👋 Time for the second and last sneak peek at Chapter 6 Part 1 before the update. And just as a reminder, the Chapter 6 Part 1 update will drop on 22nd of April (GMT +8), which is around 22 hours or so from now (the time I posted this) 😁

So, I kinda mentioned how MC will hear again about what they did when they helped the mother and the kid in the alleyway. I'll show the news segment here and it'll vary in parts based on the options you chose.

For the sake of this sneak peek, we're going to assume that MC killed the guy with gravikinesis and that MC wears their mask but tells the kid their code name 😄 Oh, and also that MC is interested in becoming Vigilante first or only interested in becoming Vigilante.

Chapter 6 Part 1 Early Access demo is now up on both Patreon and Ko-fi!

* * * * *

The conversation tapers off and you reach forward to turn up the radio a bit to fill in the silence, just in time to catch the tail-end of the song that has been playing. A news jingle immediately follows it.

"Good afternoon, citizens of Elysium City! I hope all of you are having a wonderful day because today, we have some news fresh from the oven and no, it's not about the Superheroes or the Nemesis Project this time.

"Last night, the ECPD was met with another gruesome crime scene in the Lower South Acheron District after what seems to be an act of vigilante-ism was taken too far. The criminal killed was suspected to be the same one who had been terrorizing the area for months now.

"Right now in the studio, we have two direct eyewitnesses—well, no, they actually almost became the victims of this criminal last night. May I present to you, Miranda Martínez, a staff here in the Voice of Elysians radio station, and her ${mc_son}, Jules Martínez."

"Hey, Camille."

"So, Miranda, can you tell us a bit about what happened last night?"

"Uh, yeah. So, it was pretty late last night, and we were walking home. I was starting to regret my decision to not take a taxi instead, but we were getting pretty close to our apartment by that time, so I took ${mc_his} hand in mine and we basically power-walked to try to get home as fast as possible.

"But when we were only two blocks away, a man stopped us and pulled us into one of the alleyways. I was so scared, but I tried talking to him, to negotiate. He said he wanted everything I owned, so I handed him my purse; I didn't want to risk both Jules' life and mine. But still, he won't let us go. I'm still not sure what else he could've wanted—"

"And then I tried attacking the man so he would let go of Mama! But I was too small and he easily beat me… He threatened to burn my face, but I was not scared!"

It was undoubtedly the little kid you saved last night and they still sound as excitable as they were last night.

They continue, "It was then, ${mc_he} came to save us! $!{mc_he} came out of the darkness and then—and then, I don't know how, but ${mc_he} threw the bad guy to a wall without even touching him and then, a few seconds later, the bad guy's head popped like a balloon!"

"Jules—!" $!{mc_his} mother tries to scold ${mc_him} but is cut off by the host.

"Oh! Can you tell us more about this mysterious vigilante? Do you see what ${mc_he} looks like?"

"Yeah! $!{mc_he} told me ${mc_he} goes by the codename "$!{codename}"! Which is really cool!"

"How about ${mc_his} appearance? Did you catch anything?"

"No… $!{mc_he} was wearing a mask so we couldn't see ${mc_his} face at all. But the mask was very cool! It was like, pure black and it looked kinda alive!"

"Aww, that's too bad, but at least we know what to call our vigilante: "$!{codename}", which I'm pretty sure I haven't heard before, so watch out criminals and villains, because there is a new vigilante on the block and ${mc_he} @{mc_plural don't|doesn't} seem to be the type to play around. How about you, Miranda? Do you have anything else to add?"

"Nothing, really. Like Jules said, the vigilante was wearing a mask and we couldn't discern anything about ${mc_his} physical appearance. But, from what I've seen of the ability ${mc_he} used, ${mc_he} is probably a really powerful telekinetic."

"Really interesting… Well, how do you feel about ${mc_him} killing someone in front of you and your ${mc_son}? It must've been a traumatizing experience."

"Oh, yeah, yeah… It was really gruesome and I was just frozen in place in fear. I thought ${mc_he} was going to hurt me and Jules next, but ${mc_he} didn't. $!{mc_he} handed me my purse back and even gave us four hundred bucks to treat Jules' wounds…

"I wouldn't lie, I probably won't be able to scrub the image from my mind for the rest of my life, but in the end, I am really grateful to ${mc_him} for saving me and my ${mc_son}. Who knows what would've happened if ${mc_he} wasn't there to intervene. And the money ${mc_he} gave… It was such a blessing. It really covered the bill to get Jules treated."

"Yeah!" Little Jules chirps in again. "Thank you so much, $!{title} $!{codename}! You're my true hero and I wanna be like you when I grow up!"

You really try to keep your face straight, but a slight smile still tugs on your lips against your will after listening to the interview and the adorable thank you from Little Jules. To know that you have saved people from what could've been a disastrous life-changing event and helped them directly… It surprises you a bit on how good it feels.

You're really lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of what your future as a vigilante would be like and how it would make you feel, and you know you're making the right choice. This experience just makes you even more determined to become a vigilante, spending the nights patrolling the streets, saving innocent civilians, and protecting them from the criminals and villains infesting the city.

[nero-vanderwolf]

Ryuji Sakamoto fucking hates Goro Akechi.

Can’t stand the guy. The rest of the Phantom Thieves are wary of him, distrustful in Akira’s case, but Ryuji is the only one who harbours hatred for him.

But it’s fine. Akechi seems to feel the same towards him. Constant name-calling, casual insults thrown as though it’s nothing.

It’s no surprise they butt heads often. It’s gotten to the point where Ryuji almost enjoys it, almost likes finding out what clever insult the ‘ace detective’ can come up with, what witty retort he’ll have to Ryuji’s suggestions.

In turn, he irritates Akechi. Argues with him, actively voices his distaste for him within earshot, even calling him the Detective Prince instead of his codename. It’s risky, sparking Akechi’s ire, but it’s fun. Sometimes their bickering even draws smiles and laughs out of the others. When Akira had broken up their latest fight, he was obviously fighting back a smile.

What isn’t fun was when it turns physical. It isn’t fun when Akechi punches him in the stomach, it isn’t fun when Ryuji sees Akechi wince after accidentally putting more force behind his back-pat than he’d intended. What also isn’t fun is being dragged away under the pretense of ‘a secret scheme’, only to be on the receiving end of Akechi’s wrath again.

Ryuji stalks behind Akechi as they walk down a random hallway, hands stuffed into his pockets. He, of all people, had been chosen by the great Detective Prince to help him with whatever he was doing.

He thinks nothing of it, until Akechi suddenly whirls around, shoving him against a wall with his sabre drawn and pressed against Ryuji’s throat.

“Woah- what the hell, man-!?” Ryuji yelps, freezing. Akechi’s hand is strong against his chest, and he has a knee pressed into Ryuji’s gut. It isn’t the most comfortable position he’s ever found himself in.

“You, Skull, piss me off,” Akechi growls, ripping off his mask. He looks even more furious without it. Ryuji fights the chill that threatens to creep down his spine.

“Yeah? Mkay, can you tell me what the hell I did? Y’know, instead of pinnin’ me to a damn wall and threatenin’ me!?” Ryuji asks, desperately wishing he hadn’t left his bat with Haru. If only.

“I really ought to kill you instead. You know... I’ve never killed a Persona-user in the Metaverse. I wonder if you’d suffer a mental shutdown?” The sabre is pressed further into Ryuji’s skin, and he tries to escape the sudden wave of burning pain and nausea that washes over him. He hasn’t even done anything, and his knee is screaming. Everything hurts, and he’s helpless.

Akechi laughs. “All out of irritating banter already, Sakamoto? How disappointing. I was anticipating at least one pathetic retort from you.”

“Kinda- hard to talk... When ya’ve got- a damn blade to your throat-” Ryuji chokes out, going cold when he feels something warm and wet dribble down his throat. Blood. Akechi is drawing blood.

“...I really ought to kill you, yes... But I fear if you were to die after I employed your help, it would make the others far too suspicious of me,” Akechi laments, sounds almost sad.

Ryuji keeps his mouth firmly shut, refusing to make any sort of comment. He wants to scream that everyone already is suspicious of him, wants to fight back, wants to see Goro Akechi with a beautiful black eye and a few new bruises, but remains stubbornly silent. Goro Akechi doesn’t deserve a comment. He does, however, deserve to be punched solidly in the face. Just once.

Akechi studies his face, expression unreadable.

“...Why?” He asks eventually, and Ryuji immediately stares at him.

“What? Why what?” Ryuji asks, and Akechi grips his sabre tighter, but doesn’t press it any further into Ryuji’s skin. In fact, the pain alleviates a bit instead.

“Why do you get to live happily? Why do we share such similar stories, but you’re the one who gets to be happy? You’re disgustingly similar to me, but you get to live however you damn well please! It’s not fair!”

Rage is visible on every part of Akechi’s face, and his grip on the sabre is white-knuckled and tight.

“...Your words infuriate me. I wish you would hit me instead,” he mutters, then drops Ryuji, sheathing his bloodstained sabre.

“...We can talk about this later. Right now, we have to find whatever the hell it is you wanted to look for. After all this is over, I’ll give you the biggest black eye you’ve had in your damn life,” Ryuji promises, and Akechi pauses, and his shoulders begin to shake.

He’s laughing. When he looks back over his shoulder, his expression is nothing short of terrifying- but when he speaks, it’s three familiar words that Ryuji loves hearing from him.

“I hate you.”

the girls are fighting in a strangely homosexual way

its like their love language is violence. they might not realize it but they love each other's company just to fight each other. they both have violent tendancies and they let it out on each other. they're so similar in more ways than one. they both want attention and love, they both have a thirst for revenge and hatred... they're just so......

[anonymousmay22]

• SIMON GHOST RILEY.

xfem reader.

summary: Ghost and you were out in a mission, and it takes a turn.

read before you continue!!!

Reader wears a mask like Ghost does

mild language

codename is siren.

I inhaled the cold air, my gloves hands holding onto my pistol. Me, and Ghost on a mission to kill some guy that someone found out one of our names, we were never told who or how.

Siren, you there? copy.

Exhaling the cold air from my lungs, i coughed.

Yup, i’m here.

Come to my location, i’m just across the hall, alright?

I sighed. Of course he’s gonna do this.

Yes sir.

gripping my pistol with my right and making my way to Ghosts location, the wood floors freaking beneath my feet. I made my way towards the rusty door and into the room Ghost is in. “Hey.” he turned his head to watch my movements, nodding his head instead of responding. Placing my pistol in my buckle and taking off my sniper from my back, since we were on higher ground i set my sniper down. “You watch the ground, I’ll check out the rest of the building.” I nodded. The sound of him walking out was all I heard. The next few seconds was silence, turning to my sniper and looking around to make sure no one was on to us. We needed to get him without warning the others of our presence. I saw movement in the corner of my eye, except it wasn’t in my sniper view. Putting my sniper down and turning around to see a man that I had never seen before, “be quiet.” his gun rested between my eyebrows. I kept my poker face on, resisting the urge to smile as I noticed my favorite masked man behind him. “put your hands up” Instead of raising my hands, I waved at him. “I said, RAISE YOUR-“ he was quickly cut off by a bullet to his brain. Wincing at the blood puddle he had created I got up and held onto my gun. Thank god for Ghosts silencer. “Cmon we gotta get out of here.” my eyebrows furrowed “they know we’re here.” his cold grey eyes stared at me, waiting for my reaction. I nodded and we both silently made our way down. The sudden feeling of something fast passing me happened. I quickly looked around what was that? Ghost looked back, his cold eyes boring into my figure “Hm.” slowly looking back at him I shrugged “nothing.” he grunted, seeming unsatisfied with my response. I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

It all happened too fast. The loud sound of a bomb booming through the building, my body flung to the wall next to me. I couldn’t see anything, fuck. I let out a groan as I touched the back of my head, it felt..warm? Retracting my arm and watching my fingers drip with blood, MY blood.

Ghost are you there?

i was left with nothing but static, my heart beat spiking. Although me and Ghost weren’t really close, I had developed feelings for the quiet hard headed man. They’ve done nothing but developed even more when I’d try to keep my feelings in so I just gave up. Frantically looking around for his hopefully alive body I inhaled the smoke. My eyes landed on his body, and his face. he hadn’t notice me yet. His gloved hands attempting to fix his broken mask, I relaxed. “Ghost.” He looked up at me but quickly looked away remembering his mask was off. He felt naked, like he was stripped away from his power. “Fuck..” I sighed, hesitantly taking off my mask. “here.” placing my mask in front of him he quietly put it on, “wait Siren…isn’t this your mask?” he refused to look up. I took a step forward “yea but it’s fine, I can’t hide behind that mask forever anyway.” He slowly looked up. His eyes widened, I swear I saw his cheeks flush but my mask covered most of it. I chuckled “Like what you see?” He shook his head, “be quiet. We need to go.” I smiled and made my way towards him, “alright.” Walking past him Ghost quickly pinned me to the wall. I flushed “Ghost?“ “Shut up.” He stared into my eyes. And began to study my features. “You look nice, why do you wear that mask?” Before I could answer he cut me off “do me a favor and never wear it again. My eyes widened “But-“

“That’s an order.”