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boolger · 4 months ago

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link ~ next chapter-> I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?”

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name.

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear.

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?”

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive.

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl.

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention.

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room.

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little.

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite.

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again.

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men.

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed.

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s- you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?”

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.”

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table.

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them.

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions.

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you.

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house.

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall.

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid.

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips.

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.”

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting.

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.”

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house.

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion.

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?”

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

637 notes · View notes

whalyrae · 9 months ago

Text

THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 4

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : After months of struggling with life, health, mental health issues... I can FINALLY POST AGAIN !! This chapter was really hard to write (I cried a little at the end ngl :D), I have constant writer block, constant impostor syndrome... I have the perfectionnism trait but in a toxic way really TT.TT Don't hesitate to like and reblog !! Also don't be afraid to leave a little comment or if you have any questions, here or in anon in my inbox !! they are really really welcomed, I love reading all your impressions and thoughts !!

Also thank you so much !! I was inactive for a very long time and I still got daily alerts with people who liked/kudos the chapters and the story :(( I can't express (yeah i'm an author and i can't express through words LOL) how much i'm grateful :(( ♥♥

ps : ah and sorry if there is any mistakes or anything it's almost 2:30am when I post this and I had an really emotionnal day fgkfdhlfk LOVE YALL MUAH ♥

Playlist link : The Old Guard Playlist

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

She was wondering whether it would be better to ask Handong to stay with her. She had assured her that she would handle the situation and that Handong could go home. She knew that Gahyeon would need her at their coffee shop.

However, now that she was in the living room of the seven boys, her soulmates’, after bringing one of them in an utterly unconscious state for a reason as unknown to them as it was to her, she was starting to regret this decision.

She couldn't understand what had happened with Jin the moment their eyes met. She couldn't say anything, the words were stuck in her throat as they stared at each other without a word. He parted his lips as if he wanted to say something, but just like her, nothing came out.

He'd known she was his soul mate, of course he could feel it. Just like her. But had he recognized her? Did he know that the two of them were the firsts of their soulmate bond to meet, long before any of the other six were born? She couldn't be sure and didn't have time to find out.

She had seen his features contort in pain, and without a word, he had collapsed. Luckily, Handong, who had seen them, was able to catch him in time, preventing him from falling to the ground and potentially injuring himself.

Thanks to a spell that increased her strength tenfold, she could carry him without Handong’s help and any difficulty to the place where he lived with his mates. But she couldn't stop herself from hurrying, worried sick about him.

And that's where she is now. Jungkook helped her carry Jin to the living room, laying him on the sofa. While Yoongi woke up Taehyung and Namjoon. Jimin and Hoseok hurried to get a damp cloth on Jin's forehead.

Namjoon and Taehyung stormed into the room, not hiding their surprise at seeing her there in total panic.

However, they didn't ask any questions. Yoongi probably had to explain to them what happened and what was going on.

She was standing in front of the sofa where Jin was lying, staring at the unconscious demon, his features distorted by pain. The sight of him was enough to make her stomach twist with soreness.

"Hey, Noona..." Jimin's soft voice startled her. He was standing next to her, a comforting smile on his lips, "Everything’s going to be fine, don't worry..."

She didn't even know what to say. She didn't dare to look him in the eye, or any of the other boys. The guilt she'd been carrying around with her all these centuries was only getting stronger.

She could hear voices behind her, probably the boys talking amongst themselves, or maybe they were trying to talk to her. She didn't know. Nothing around her was clear and precise. Her vision was blurring, her heart rate had been racing for a while and she was getting worse.

She gasped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round abruptly, facing Namjoon. The other boys were behind him, except for Yoongi who was next to Jin.

"Hey," he greeted her with a gentle smile, "don't worry, everything's going to be fine,” he repeated Jimin’s words, “You're having a panic attack, I'm gonna help you, okay? Look at me."

His voice was soft and reassuring, it had a calming effect on her. His presence and warmth invaded her whole being, despite the anxiety attack she was having.

She raised her eyes to meet him. Slowly, he tells her to take long, deep breaths. The first time, she breathed in and breathed out. Then a second time. And a third.

Finally, her breathing returned to normal and her heart rate calmed. Seeing this, Namjoon gave her another smile, his fingers caressing her shoulder to calm her down.

She had the strange impression that Namjoon probably possessed some kind of power capable of influencing the emotions, feelings, or even bodily reactions of the people he touched. Or maybe it was just the soulmate effect.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes... Thank you..." She replied with a small smile, seeing Hoseok approach her with a glass of water. "Thanks… and sorry, I wish we'd met under different circumstances..."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm enchanted to meet you."

Hoseok gave her a big, bright smile, which he succeeded in communicating to her.

"I guess you guys have questions... and why did I show up with Jin in this state..."

She turned her attention to Jin. A wave of emotion suddenly washed over her as she realized that yes, he was there, in the same room as her. Her soul mate, the first to cross her way, the one she'd lost so suddenly and brutally centuries ago. A mixture of joy, sadness, guilt, and apprehension.

"Do you know what's going on with him? And why is he in this condition?" Hoseok asked curiously, taking back the glass she'd just drunk in one long sip.

She bit her lower lip nervously. She had to tell them. Jin was their soulmate, just like he was hers.

But where to start?

"Come on, settle down here."

Yoongi straightened up to install her on the sofa, right next to Jin still unconscious. He'd then sat down next to her, while the others had taken seats in front of her, Namjoon and Hoseok on the low table, the maknae on the floor, clinging to each other.

The sight made her smile gently. But quickly the smile disappeared, replaced by apprehension. The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She knew that the moment had come, that once she'd told them everything, they'd hate her, reject her, and she’d lose the people she'd waited for all her life.

"Noona... I can smell your fear all the way up here..." murmured Jimin, her eyes landing on him with surprise, "I'm an empath, by the way..." he explained with a shrug.

"You don't have to be an empath to sense the fear radiating from her." chuckled Taehyung, teasing his companion who gave him a nudge on the shoulder, "Oops, sorry sweetie."

"I know that from the moment you will know the whole story, you'll never want to hear from me again and I... argh that's the last thing I want," she admitted with a sad smile. The events of the last few days had paralyzed and overwhelmed her in some ways when it came to making the right decisions, and she was extremely upset with herself about this.

"But I think I need to stop being scared, and selfish like I have been."

"We could never hate you," Hoseok said firmly, the others all giving signs of approval, "no matter what you've done."

"Tell us all the horrible things you ever did, and let us love you anyway."

She recognized Namjoon's words. And she wasn’t surprised that he could quote Edgard Allan Poe, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

She couldn't deny that his words made her feel a tinge of comfort, because he was sincere, and every one of the other boys thought so.

But they didn't know the whole story yet, so the chances of them thinking differently once they knew the whole truth were pretty high.

"Where to start..." she took a long breath, "Jin... I met him before I even knew I was immortal. That was... uh... it seems like an eternity now, at the beginning of the 15th century."

She expected the exclamations of surprise that followed.

"Wait... you mean you and Jin hyung..." Jungkook fell silent to think.

"Why didn't he ever tell us about you then? And why have we never met you before ?” asked Yoongi skeptically, "You're our soulmate, his soulmate, how could he..."

"It's more complicated than it sounds..." she sighed, scratching the back of her head nervously. "I always knew I was a witch, my mother was a witch herself. I lived in a village in France during the period when the witch hunts began. It was also during this period that the Malleus Maleficarum was written."

"I know this book," Hoseok sighed loudly as he shook his head, visibly annoyed, "this pile of garbage written in the late 15th century, which supposedly explains what a witch is, how to recognize one, interrogate them, and kill them."

"A load of bullshit yeah," Namjoon added with a chuckle, "I rarely waste my time reading books, but this one..."

"Tell me more !" Jimin exclaimed, "I read it too, well, not all of it, it's so... misogynistic and sexist!"

"I... was one of the witches who had to go through all the torture and experimentation to write this... book or whatever it is. And most of the women who suffered all that crap were just ordinary mortals," she admitted with a little restraint.

Horrified exclamations were heard from the maknaes and Hoseok. Yoongi and Namjoon closed their eyes for a few seconds, repressing the anger rising within them.

Talking about these events did not leave her indifferent; these memories were among the worst she had ever known, and she still sometimes had nightmares about them.

She remained silent for a few moments, before finally speaking up.

"That's not the point. Jin is the point. When I met him, he was a merchant passing through the village." A small smile appeared mechanically as she recalled this memory, "It was love at first sight. Of course, it was. He knew I was his soul mate, but I... I didn't even know what a soulmate was. He taught me. He taught me so many things..."

She turned her head towards Jin, still unconscious beside her. Oh, how she'd missed him. He hadn't changed a bit.

"I immediately sensed that he wasn't human, just as he'd guessed that I was a witch. So much better in a way, it made things easier."

Delicately, she let her fingers stroke his forehead, brushing aside a few strands of hair, a tender smile on her face.

"He stayed in the village after that. I had taken over the bakery from my parents who had passed away from an illness a few months before I met him. We weren't the richest, but we were happy.”

The other boys couldn't contain the grins on their faces. Of course, this story was beautiful and worthy of a fairy tale. But they all knew that fairy tales were only fantasy stories. The reality was not nearly as lovely.

"We lived... two years like that before everything went to hell."

She felt her hands tremble as she recalled what she was about to say.

Jimin sensed her nervousness, fear, and sadness. He left Taehyung and Jungkook's embrace to kneel before her, gently taking her hands in his for comfort.

Her gaze met his, and he offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. But she couldn't relax.

"The witch-hunt had begun and was becoming increasingly virulent and violent. The villagers had always thought it was strange that I hadn't suffered the same illness as my parents. I knew the rumors about Jin and I. But until now, we'd managed to keep a discreet, almost unnoticed presence. Until she came along."

Jimin squeezed her hands a little tighter as he felt her anger rising.

"That demoness... came to our village, supposedly a cloth merchant. She fell for Jin. Was it love, or just a physical attraction? I don’t know. She succumbed to his devastating charm, like so many others before her." She chuckled, imitated by Yoongi.

"As you would expect, Jin did nothing but ignore her and rebuff her advances. She didn't appreciate it at all… I learned later that this half-succubus demoness was renowned for finding prey and not letting go until she got what she wanted."

"A real nasty leech..." muttered Jungkook.

She noticed, however, that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok expressions had changed. They had exchanged glances, seeming to pass a message to each other that she didn't understand. She decided to ignore it for the moment.

"Things got worse after she arrived, after Jin's rejection." She took a long breath. "She's the one who delivered me to the villagers, who exposed me. When we realized her plan, that she was planning to take Jin with her by force, by any means necessary, we wanted to run away. We'd go to Asia, or America, or wherever, to another continent, away from her, away from all of this. But that demoness had planned everything… We were young, unaware, and inexperienced, unlike her. I was barely 25, and he was 23... we just wanted to..."

She paused to calm herself, her heartbeat quickening again. Fortunately, Jimin was able to calm her, just by being here, his soft hands on hers, and she was grateful for that. She thanked him with a small smile, which he returned by stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. How could a demon be so angelic?

"She specialized in memory magic..."

"Oh, I'm getting the hang of it..." muttered Namjoon, clenching his jaw.

"That bitch…" added Yoongi, making her huff.

"The villagers arrived in the middle of the night. We didn't see it coming. The demoness took advantage of this moment to attack Jin and cast a spell to erase me from his memory. The last time I saw Jin was before they put a bag over my head when he was unconscious in her arms."

She lowered her head, and it was only when she felt Jimin's soft hand on her cheek that she noticed a tear had rolled down.

She knew what the demoness had done, she knew that she'd erased Jin's memory, simply because she'd come to see her a few days later in the cell where she was being held captive. She explained everything, adding that she had offered to give her over to the Catholic order of Dominicans who wrote the Malleus Maleficarum. Which happened, the day after she came.

"When I finally escaped... After several months," she continued anyway, her voice trembling, "I looked for him, I... crossed France from top to bottom, and Europe... I looked for him everywhere, for many years... I never found him... until now..."

Jimin's hands gripped hers a little tighter. She looked up at him, then at Yoongi, who had moved a little closer to her. Their shoulders were touching, his way of showing her some comfort.

"So that's what happened..." muttered Namjoon, who had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed, looking thoughtful.

"I hate humans..." blurted Jungkook as he hugged Taehyung tightly, his companion nodding in agreement.

"And so, you thought we'd hate you, or I don't know what other nonsense might go through your little head when we know the truth?" Yoongi asked, holding back a laugh. “I don’t see why. I mean. It’s genuine, really.”

She arched her eyebrows in confusion. She thought that it seemed logical. She hadn't been able to protect Jin, she’d left him in the clutches of this demoness who'd probably done a thousand and one things to him that she didn't even want to think about. She hated herself for it.

"Hyung." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head, "stop."

"I failed to protect him, he's my soulmate and... I abandoned him and..."

"You didn't do any of that, Y/N."

Namjoon approached her. He took Jimin’s place and knelt down facing her, placing his hands on hers.

"You're both the victims. You've met someone stronger, older, more experienced than you and she took advantage of it. You did everything you could. You did your best. You could never be blamed for that. We could never blame you for that. ."

"And Jin hyung won't blame you either, I'm sure," Hoseok added with a small smile. "When he will regain his memory, when we will give him back what that demoness stole from him, he'll be the happiest man in the world to have you back with him, with us. Believe me."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to cry, not yet.

Yoongi wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"It's over now," he whispered against her hair, "you're not alone anymore, you won't be. We've found you, you've found us."

She couldn't hold back the few tears that had started to fall. How could she not break down, after all those centuries spent alone, thinking that her soulmates didn't want her, living with the guilt of having abandoned the only soulmate she’d ever known.

They said the same things as her friends when she told them everything a few days ago.

None of them thought for a second that what happened to Jin and her was her fault.

That feeling of being understood, of not being judged, of being accepted despite her past mistakes and scars.

That feeling of being in the presence of her soul-mates.

She hadn't felt so at peace in what seemed like an eternity. Ever since Jin and her were separated.

°°°

"Noona... I have a few questions..."

"Here we go... the kid and his questions. Wait, I'll get you an aspirin and a big glass of water."

Jungkook glared at Yoongi, who had gotten up to go into the kitchen, a sneer on his lips.

Jin still hadn't woken up, but after a simple soothing spell and an herbal ointment she’d carefully placed on his temples, he was calmer, his body more relaxed.

She hadn't wanted to stay, not wanting to risk another attack if Jin woke up again. She learned through Yoongi about the migraine attacks he'd had since the day she met Namjoon.

But the boys convinced her to stay. Namjoon and Hoseok had disappeared into their library, explaining that they were going to rummage through their books after a potential counter-spell. She wanted to go with them, but they insisted she stay with Jin and rest.

It didn't take long to realize that Jin's seizures had a direct link with her.

As her soul mate, and despite his forced amnesia, his subconscious knew who she was. But it wasn't strong enough to bring back the memories the demoness had made disappear. Well, they hadn't disappeared, technically; she'd just hidden them very well somewhere in his psyche.

her scent on the clothes of Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook had been the trigger for his subconscious to awaken, for his memories to struggle, to resurface and make Jin realize that yes, he did know her, as his intuition suggested. Yes, the person on the hill was her, yes every memory he thought belonged to someone else was his, and that the blurry person sharing them with him was none other than her.

The migraines, the loss of consciousness... were only signs that his body, mind, and soul were fighting to bring his memories back to where they belonged, to finally give him back what that demoness had stolen from him.

Or at least, that's what she’d come to conclude on hearing Yoongi's explanations.

"Ask me anything Jungkook, don't worry," she replied with a small smile, still sitting next to Jin.

Yoongi had returned with some drinks (no aspirin, to Junkook's great relief) which he gave to the three maknae, still sitting opposite her, and to her, then sat down on the coffee table.

"I was wondering, how did you find out that you were... immortal? I mean, what does that actually mean?"

She'd been expecting this question. Even for demons, immortality was still a rather vague concept. Nobody is immortal. Demons and vampires aged slowly, very much more slowly than human beings. But they weren't really immortal.

"I died for the first time after the Malleus Maleficarum experiments, they sentenced me to be hanged to death, like all the witches at that time."

She heard the exclamations of surprise from the maknaes. Yoongi remained silent, listening to her attentively.

"I actually died that day. Except... except a few seconds after I took my last breath, my heart started beating again, and I came back to life."

None of them could believe their ears. Yoongi couldn't hide his surprise either, and she knew that a thousand questions were forming in their heads.

"The second time was a few days later. At a bonfire." she continued, bowing her head, "The thing is… I feel all the pain, all the way to death. But for some reason, I live again and again. No matter how people try to kill me, no matter how I die, my wounds heal themselves, my organs reform."

"Is it due to a spell?" finally asked Yoongi with his eyebrows furrowed, "or maybe some kind of witch, a hybrid with a phoenix..."

"I think you're going a bit far, hyung..." Taehyung chuckled slightly.

"Hey, every proposition can be plausible, gamin."

She couldn't hold back a smile. It was obvious that they'd known each other for several decades now, that they'd been through a lot together. In a way, she was relieved that at least they hadn't had to go through all that alone.

"I've never known the reason, or why I became like that," she finally continued, scratching the back of her neck, "I just am. Several times I thought I wouldn't get up this time from certain injuries, especially during the wars, but I always got up again. And just like that, more than 600 years have gone by."

"Maybe it's just that fate didn't want you to die before you met your soul mates, who knows." Yoongi chuckled, shrugging.

"If you think the universe and destiny are that kind of romantic..." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"I'm tempted to believe that theory, it's much sweeter and more romantic than a curse put on you..." added Jimin with a little pout.

"Sometimes things just happen, and they're impossible to explain. Even for creatures like us." she let go with a sigh and an embarrassed smile, "In any case, I've stopped looking and obsessing over it, I've just accepted it."

"Still, it must be painful to die, over and over again..." Jimin cocked his head to the side, feeling a wave of sadness as he thought of all she'd had to go through in her long life. As an empath, his reaction hardly surprised her.

If they knew. She didn't want to dwell on how some humans and even other creatures had taken advantage of her immortality to put her through the many horrors she’d experienced. This wasn't the time to talk about all those things.

“Our pretty soulmate is strong and courageous.” Yoongi finally broke the silence after a few seconds, “She’ll talk about it when she feels ready.”

She bites her lips. She wanted to tell him to not call her pretty, but she felt that it was destined to fail. Yoongi seemed to be stubborn, maybe a little too much.

“Do you guys think Joonie and Hobi will find something ?” Asked Jungkook, looking at Jin with worry.

“For sure they will!” exclaimed Jimin, “Namjoon has books that are centuries old and unique, Hobi and him are the most intelligent demons ever! They’ll find something, surely!”

Jimin was passionate, his trust in his partners was blind and absolute. It was probably the same for all of them, she was sure about it, but Jimin was the one who showed it the most.

“In the worst case…”

“Taehyung don’t start…” mumbled Jungkook, as the others sighed.

“Let me finish! In the worst case, if we don’t find anything for Jin hyung, the solution is simple, very simple. We’ll create new memories, so many new happy memories all together!”

“If something was robbed from you without your consent, I think you'd like to have it back. Don't you think so?" Yoongi asked, his voice softened as he ruffled Taehyung’s hair who nodded with a sad pout.

He was just as worried as the others. There were so many unanswered questions, so many theories without explanations, so many problems without solutions yet.

“Namjoon and Hoseok always find a way to resolve problems, you should be used to it now.”

That voice startled all of them. All five heads turned to the sofa beside Yoongi and her. To everyone's surprise, Jin was staring at them, or rather, at her.

“Jin you’re awake !”

While the younger hurried towards their eldest, their faces racked with worry and relief, she reflexively stepped back.

She couldn't get very far, as her back bumped into a chest. She turned to face Yoongi, who placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He could read the stress and apprehension on her face. He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling right now, coming face to face with the one she'd lost centuries ago.

"Where are you going like this?" he asked at first in a slightly teasing tone, before he leaned towards her and whispered, his voice softening, "Relax, everything's fine."

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. She'd spent her whole life looking for Jin and his other soulmates. Now they were all here. They were all in the same house. Everything still seemed so unreal that she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

“Y/N ?”

She froze when she heard her name coming from Jin's lips. The others in the room gave him a surprised, confused look.

"Hyung, do you..."

"Remember her? Us? Unfortunately not, I don’t. But I heard you guys talking earlier, I wasn't totally unconscious. Thanks for the herbs, by the way, they really appeased my headache."

Her eyes widened at his words. Had he heard everything? Did he know the whole story, just like his other soulmates? In a way, she didn't know if she could handle a new explanation, which was a bit of a relief. On the other, she was concerned about his reaction, since he was the one who was affected.

Jin straightened up to sit on the sofa, helped by Jimin. Yoongi was still standing behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, so that she didn't push herself aside.

Jin's eyes landed on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her. She could feel the stress twisting her stomach, her legs going limp as cotton. She felt weaker than she had ever felt before.

"Can you come a little closer, please?"

Jin's voice was soft; she perceived no anger, no resentment on his side. He had kept his comforting aura, the same one she'd known so long ago, the same one that had reassured her countless times.

She soon faced him and lowered herself slightly to be at the same height as him.

How was someone supposed to react to finding their soulmate and youthful amnesiac love, lost in tragic circumstances centuries ago?

She was torn between tears of joy and relief, but the guilt that consumed her seemed to be the most dominant feeling at the moment.

"Jin I..."

She pursed her lips. Her voice trembled. For sure her body would betray her right now.

Jin offered him a tender smile and shook his head.

"Shht, it's all right." he murmured his words as he gently grasped her hand, "come here."

Without waiting for a response from her, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

At first, her eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her arms followed and she hugged his waist as if her life depended on it.

"I know what you're thinking," he began, his hand running gently through her hair, "I'm not angry or anything, how could I be? It was never your fault, nor mine." He paused before letting out a small sigh, she could hear all the pain, the sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry you've had to carry this burden all alone all this time…"

Her whole body was shaking. His voice was shaking, as if he were holding back his own tears. She was fighting inside. She was fighting herself not to break down. But her traitorous body still betrayed her, and she couldn't even control her tears, which had started to flow uncontrollably.

But his words. His words resonated not only in her heart but in her entire soul. She didn't know how much she needed to hear those words from him until now.

"We'll find a way, and everything will go back to normal, it will be even better, I promise."

After all these years, these centuries of living with the weight of guilt, the weight of regret, the feeling that she'd never be able to meet her soul mates... she felt all this weight recede, making way for a quietude and lightness like she'd never known before.

An eternity of torment, torture, and pain was finally over.

It was as if she'd been deprived of oxygen all her life, until now, as if her breathing had been cut off, and now she was finally getting it back.

And even though she was currently crying her heart out in Jin's arms, she could also feel Taehyung's warm, reassuring hand on her back, Jimin's, Jungkook's, and Yoongi's presence in the room, Namjoon's and Hoseok's, even if they weren't in the same room with them.

Her cries were no longer cries of sadness. There was only relief, and it was becoming more of an evacuation from all that time of pain and isolation.

All those smells, all that warmth that invaded her body at that moment, brought her calm and relief she'd never be able to explain, not even in a day, a year, ten years, or even a hundred years.

The reunion with Jin that day, feeling him against her again, as well as having the presence of her soul mates around them, those who were destined for her. After all this time where her heart and soul had been crying out for help, she had finally been heard.

The darkness was finally disappearing, as the clouds and obscurity finally allowed the sun a chance to shine.

And despite her tears, she couldn't help smiling, because at last, she knew that happiness really was within her grasp.

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batfan-01 · 2 years ago

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So I was watching panda redd and I came across a video on legacy characters and whether or not average citizens know legacy characters are legacy characters. It got me thinking about an AU idea I've had for a while. In this AU gothamites know there are different Robins and each Robin is known for something different. Like Jason Todd would be called the Robin of Crime Alley because in this AU Jason would patrol around crime alley a lot and would befriend the street kids and protect them (sorta like in that ao3 fic Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw). So here's some headcanons:

(Jason's 12 years old when he's picked up by Bruce)

On school nights Jason wasn't allowed to patrol, but Jason would sneak out anyways and have a secret patrol of his own

At first, he just ventured where ever, but after while, he started hanging around crime alley more and more until he just stopped going anywhere else

Jason would play basketball with the street kids and all of them would want him on their team and get really competitive about it.

He'd get to know everyone on the block pretty well (including the street kids, the sex workers, bodega owners, etc)

He'd tell street kids the best places to sleep to avoid the rain and all the warmest places to go during the winter

When he catches one of them stealing instead of stopping them he'd whisper "hey, if you keep that up your going to get caught" and they'd spin around to face Jason who was perching on the fire escape and Jason would then procede to school them on the ways to steal without getting caught

He'd never turn street kids over to the cops, knowing how bad the foster system was, so he'd always try to find them safe places to sleep, protect them as much as he can, and keep them out of gangs and gang violence

Whenever he'd encounter a kid caught up in a gang during patrol, during his secret patrol, or on a mission he'd would always try to talk them out of it and share some of his own experiences.

Bruce found that Jason, having been a street kid, was great on missions with gangs that mostly recruited street kids or human trafficking rings that take street kids, because he understood them and could gain there trust easily

Jason, while he was living on the streets fending for himself always felt like no one cared if he lived or died, if he was safe or not, or if he was healthy or happy. He saw as adults who were supposed to help him (like cops, social workers, foster parents, etc) instead beat him up, ignored him, and just got him out of the way as soon as possible.

Jason found the most rewarding part of being Robin, was being able to assure kids once like himself that they are seen and cared for, like no one did for him (until Bruce)

Jason would dramatically recite stories from patrol to the kids

He Definitely brags about how he stole the tires off the Batmobile

"I would have gotten away with it if I hadn't come back for the last one" - Jason

Jason is also known by the sex workers which all think is the cutest kid ever and have practically adopted him

He makes sure that nobody disrespects them and beats up any perv that tries to hurt them

During Jason's run, crime alley became a sort of safe haven for street kids after word got out on the streets that the new Robin was protecting street kids there

One night, Jason catches a bunch of no-good cops beating the crap of a street kid he knew and he loses his crap on the cops and beats them into the ground. After a few events similar to this one, Jason starts to gain a bad reputation around the GCPD (mostly just around the corrupt ones)

Each of the Robins have a style to them that sets them a part from the rest, they wear more or less of one color, they rely more heavily on one weapon, and have different hair types/styles. This is what cues gothamites into the fact that there are different Robins.

Jason's suit was red and black with a touch of gold. He would rely more on his fists and a batarang he used more like a switch blade since he got used to having to fight with one when he lived on the streets, and he had very curly hair he'd keep medium/short and messily parted in the middle

He was also a pretty dirty fighter, as slick as a alley cat (also got that from his time on the streets)

While Dick Grayson's was known for making puns and witty remarks to make fun of the rogues during fights, Jason was just a straight up asshole.

He had a ✨talent✨ for pissing the rogues off

Bruce supposed it was useful because it tends to throw them off their game

Dick and Barbara found it hilarious

Gothamites found it hilarious

Few videos of Jason's time as Robin existed on the web, but the ones that did were comedy gold.

Batman catches Jason on his "secret" patrol one night and they have a huge fight about it. Bruce doesn't want Jason out on patrol by himself because it's dangerous (and he has school in the morning which he needs to be awake for) and Jason argues his grades are fine (more than fine actually) and he's been out on his own enough times and can take care of himself.

But Jason is still grounded and benched for two weeks.

Incidentally, after Jason got caught, a post starts to circulate online with images of Jason playing basketball with street kids, talking and hanging out with them, and even of Jason casually leaning on a counter while making small talk with a cashier at a bodega. The post is captioned "Robin in crime alley" it goes viral and the Gotham Gazette even writes a story about it. The article calls Jason "The Robin of Crime Alley" Soon media outlets start to refer to Jason as "The Robin of Crime Alley" whenever there's a story on Batman and Robin

Part two:

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd #batman #robin #dick n jason #robin!jason #batfam headcanons #headcanons #jason todd headcanon #bruce wayne #bruce and jason #batman and robin #dick grayson #barbara gordon #red hood #Robin of Crime Alley AU #park row #crime alley

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

Who Made Me a Villain (5)

To the ppl who read my fics only on tumblr, I am sorry. I have been posting a lot on ao3 and I keep forgetting that I have a tumblr acc. I will try to be more mindful in the future.

--------

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Here) (Part 6)

-----

“B, what’s all this?” Dick asked during one of his visits to Gotham. He was here for Alfred’s cooking.

Upon seeing the eye bags on Bruce, Dick was understandably worried. “Have you slept at all, Bruce?”

“A few days ago, Rebel brought something serious to my attention.”

Bruce had spent days working on the case Rebel had dropped into his lap. He felt that she had summarised the situation too simply. Or she was unaware of what the full extent of the situation was due to her lack of experience and knowledge.

John Constantine was unhelpful in getting more information on the Miraculous but did confirm their presence in Paris in the same period Rebel had given. Rebel had given more information than him.

Zatanna said that she would sort through her father’s journals to give him a definite answer but told him that it was likely Rebel was telling the truth about Paris. There were surges of the magical equivalent of earthquakes from Paris which her father had gone to check out a few years ago.

Diana had overheard their conversation and talked about how her mother used to wield the Ladybug Miraculous. She promised to talk to her mother for more information. Bruce decided to ask Doctor Fate later if his research wasn’t enough.

However, the thing that had Bruce tearing apart his training dummies like they were paper was the good-for-nothing, sham of a man that Paris had for a mayor.

Mayor André Bourgeois had blocked all news about the akuma from getting out of the city. He didn’t report about it to the Justice League European branch and blocked all attempts to prevent others from reporting it. His reasoning was that the child heroes were enough. That was just the political side of things.

To further make things worse, the heroes who were stationed in France all claimed to have been told to be relocated to other cities by the Justice League Headquarters. They did as they were told under the assumption that someone else would be filling in for them. Just before Hawkmoth struck.

Bruce investigated that lead and it appears that someone had sent out that order but Bruce hadn’t figured out who it was yet or whether it really was sent by one of the Justice League. Either they had a mole or the JL Headquarters needed a new update to their systems.

Then, one of Zatanna’s contacts in Paris had informed her that magic helped in preventing news of akuma reaching outside of Paris.

By the time Dick came to the Manor, Bruce was hours deep into the many footage he had spent the most of the day collecting from the internet. He started with the first akuma where Ladybug and Chat Noir were practically strangers shoved together and forced to rely on each other. He didn’t like that the Parisians were forcing the love narrative between the two of them. Ladybug had the sense to focus on her job and remain professional while Chat Noir tried to enforce the love story. He was not pleased with that interview.

The Ladyblog that was run by a very dedicated teenager was very helpful in getting raw footage of most fights, albeit a bit shaky and blurry. He was currently watching the blog owner’s interview with Ladybug. How she got an interview with the very elusive heroine Batman doesn’t know. There was something about the heroine that caught his attention. It felt like he had met Ladybug before.

Dick skimmed over the notes Batman had taken. He whistled. “This is pretty crazy.”

“Why are you doing all of this research?” Dick asked.

“Hawkmoth. I am trying to track him down.”

“Wait, you are telling me that there is a powerful supervillain in Paris and these kids are heroes? They look like babies. They don’t even know how to properly fight.”

“We are already too late. Hawkmoth has been defeated and stripped of his powers.”

“So what’s the problem? Is he coming back?”

Bruce sighed heavily and showed off his days of research to Dick.

“Rebel had been planning something for months. Something big. I asked the reason behind it all. She asked me to bring him to justice and she would call it all off. Apparently, the leader of the hero team, Ladybug, gave Hawkmoth the equivalent of the slap on the wrist and Rebel doesn’t agree with him being off the hook that easily. He got his wife in exchange for giving back the Miraculous under his possession and didn’t face consequences for his little foray into villainy.”

“How does she know what happened to Hawkmoth?” Dick asked, “It just says that no akumas was seen for a month and then, Ladybug announced that Hawkmoth was defeated before disappearing forever.”

“According to her, Rebel used to be one of the heroes going against Hawkmoth.” Bruce told him.

Dick nearly fumbled the file in his hand due to the surprise.

“Oh. Um. That- That explained a few things. The experience in fighting. Those acrobatic stunts. Former hero, huh.”

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of somebody who was once a hero turning to the dark side.

Dick changed the subject. “Any luck finding him?”

“I have one suspect. He’s the one that fits the profile.”

Bruce handed Dick a file.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Dick looked through it. “He’s a fashion designer. That doesn’t exactly scream evil to me.”

“Even without Rebel’s hints. He’s still suspicious.” Bruce said. “I am meeting him in a month to get a feel for him.”

Dick closed the file. “Even if he is Hawkmoth, it’s been a few years since his defeat. We can’t just take him in.”

Bruce suddenly looked very tired.

Tim popped up from where the pile of blankets besides the Batcomputer that Dick hadn’t noticed. Dick’s and Bruce’s voices have woken him up.

Dick definitely did not scream.

“Tim! How long were you there?” Dick asked, putting his escrima sticks away.

“A few hours I think.” Tim replied and yawned.

“Anyhoo,” Tim started, “Rebel had already taken care of that part. She had been using different accounts to sow seeds of conspiracy theories and rumours for people online to find Hawkmoth’s true identity. No mention of Gabriel being Hawkmoth or it won’t be taken seriously if the truth comes out. I think she is trying to spread the idea that Hawkmoth must be taken in to face the legal system.”

“Why is she going that far?”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Hawkmoth was part of the reason she was framed for murder.”

“Framed? Why do you think that she was framed? Her father is the Joker. The Joker. The one who killed Jason.”

Bruce stiffened. Jason had left Gotham after their last showdown. Last Bruce heard of him, Jason had teamed up with Roy Harper to form his own mercenary team.

“I know. But children are not their parents.”

Bruce handed Dick another file.

“Her case file and the transcript of her trial. Read it and draw your own conclusions.” Bruce instructed.

Dick took it.

“You are not going to like it, Dick.” Tim said.

—--

A day later, Dick came back, storming into the Batcave.

He slammed the file in front of Bruce.

“What the fuck is wrong with people? How did something like this get past you?” Dick demanded furiously.

There was the last thing that was cherry on the icing of the cake that was this whole situation.

Rebel was not supposed to be in Arkham Asylum. She was not supposed to get a life sentence. She was not supposed to have fourteen charges of first-degree homicide to her name.

Dick read the trial proceeding.

It was way over exaggerated and very dramatised. He thought that he was reading the script for a courtroom soap opera drama. Dick even went as far as to hack into the French government to get the untranslated copy of the files and it was just as bad but in French. It didn’t take him long to find the blatant amount of bribes that were tossed around. The very obvious abuse of power. Every odds was stacked against Rebel. The unnecessary DNA test that unfortunately brought her to Gotham.

No wonder Marinette Dupain-Cheng turned to a life of crime. Everyone was dead set on labelling her the bad guy.

Then, he read Gabriel Agreste’s involvement in the case. His son was part of Rebel’s old class. Their classmates spoke about Rebel’s stalker tendencies towards him. But Dick kept an open mind, knowing how exaggerated everything was. Gabriel had blacklisted Rebel from every company in the fashion industry he had connections with. That move confused Dick until he found out that Rebel was trying to be an aspiring designer. It was essentially salt in her wounds.

Dick simply couldn’t understand the witch hunt against Rebel.

“Bruce, we have to do something about this.” Dick said.

“The only thing we can do right now is bring Hawkmoth in before Rebel takes it into her own hands.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asked.

Tim injected. “You already know that Rebel had been acting suspicious for the past few months. She had been meeting up with several different villains and secret projects we couldn’t figure out until now.”

“We found a warehouse in Washington connected to her that contained these strange stone statues.”

Bruce pulled up a picture of the stone statues in the warehouse.

“Now look at the clip of the first akuma attack.”

Bruce played a clip of Stoneheart attack. The monster looked similar to the stone statues in the photo.

“Going through the akuma fights and her movements in the past few months. It is obvious what she is trying to plan.”

Picture of Rebel talking to many different ice villains with a powerpoint presentation and a clip of the Glaciator attack.

Picture of a machine that could create floods that the Teen Titan had managed to shut down a few years back and picture of Paris being flooded.

Picture of Weather Wizard, next to a picture of Stormy Weather.

“She’s trying to recreate akuma fights.” Dick concluded. “And making it seem like Hawkmoth was back.”

Bruce nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t have figured it out if Rebel didn’t deliberately let me in on her plans. She exposed a great problem we had missed. She is giving us, the League, a chance to rectify our mistake.”

Rebel was not counting on the legal justice system to bring Hawkmoth to justice. She was counting on him as Batman to make sure that Hawkmoth ended up with the same fate as her. His reputation torn apart and dragged through mud. Behind bars for the rest of his life with the supervillain mark following him everywhere.

Or she will forcefully do it by bringing the whole world down to force the Justice League in carrying it out.

“Without Ladybug’s miraculous power, it would be disastrous for us and we would have a lot of civilian casualties.”

“I don’t think she would do that, Bruce.” Tim argued.

“Then, lock her up.” Dick suggested.

“Arkham is currently in no position to take her in.” Bruce said. He looked resigned.

Dick looked at Tim for an explanation which he helpfully provided. “It was being renovated a few months ago to put in a new security system. In the chaos, her records were wiped out from the system and her physical reports went missing. Every copy was gone. So even if we arrest her now, we have to find a pretty good justification to keep her there legally. We only have these copies because Bruce regularly back-ups the Arkham database onto the Batcomputer and the Bat-net.”

Dick cursed. While they could just put it back, it wasn’t worth the headache if it was erased again.

“What about the police? Won’t they have her records?”

“Same thing. We think she did it when Clayface attacked the police a while back.”

“How about her original case that sent her to Arkham?”

“It was erased too. We need to get to Paris in order to access their database or if she erased her case, then we need to get the physical copy and we would have to go through so much legal bullshit to get it. That will take months.”

“She covered everything.” Dick said, amazed.

“She thought of all the possibilities and covered all of her bases. She had been staying under the radar and not getting caught.” Bruce said.

“He means that he got caught in her traps if we try to catch her.” Tim said with a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce grumbled.

“You? How did you even get caught?” Dick asked.

“Rube Goldberg machines.” Tim answered.

“Rube what?”

“Here.” Tim opened up Youtube and showed Dick a video of a marble rolling down a pipe and then knocking down a row of dominoes in a spiral which continued to set off a chain of reactions that ended with a ball going neatly through a hoop and triggering a banner that said ‘WOW!’ to pop up.

“So that’s what it is called.” Dick commented. “Aren’t these like super complicated to do? She couldn’t have set them up that quick …unless she had them set up beforehand.”

“According to my research, she has at least 50 of these set up in different locations around Gotham. There are videos of people setting these off on purpose. Rebel is always making more. They usually have victims stuck in a net or a hole. Or have water, paint or liquids splashed onto them.”

“She did that? That picture you sent me where Bruce had yellow pain all over him?”

Bruce glared at Tim.

A derisive snort came from the entrance of the Bat cave.

They all turned to look at the newest addition to the house.

Damian Al Ghul. Well, Damian Al Ghul Wayne now.

“I find it hard to believe that this one petty criminal got the better of all of you.” He said mockingly.

“Damian.” Bruce said. “Even if she is just a petty criminal, she cannot be underestimated. You must never underestimate your opponent, no matter how deceiving they look.”

“Perhaps Father, you and Drake aren’t good at doing your jobs.”

“Like you would be any better catching her.” Tim said under his breath.

“If it was up to me, she would be killed on sight.” Damian continued.

“Damian, we do not kill here. People deserve another chance to redeem themselves.” Bruce explained like he had a thousand times before.

Damian scowled. “I don’t need to kill. I have brought in targets alive before.”

The way he said it implied that those targets were in a state where their hearts were the only things that could still move.

“Do you really believe that you can catch Rebel?” Tim asked.

“I don’t have to believe. I know I can.” Damian answered, disdain in his voice that Tim dared to doubt his skills.

“I bet you can’t.” Tim taunted.

Damian lunged but was stopped by Dick who grabbed his shoulder.

“Boys!” Bruce shouted. “Tim, stop antagonising him. Damian, you know you aren’t allowed to go out on patrol.”

“No!” Damian demanded. “Drake has issued me a challenge. I will not back down. I will prove to him and you that I can catch that petty criminal that goes by Rebel.”

His declaration was filled with the determination and stubbornness that all eleven year olds seemed to possess.

Bruce rubbed his head at the oncoming headache.

He knew that despite whatever he gave, Damian would go behind his back and against his orders to fulfil his self-assigned mission of capturing Rebel.

“Tim, this is all your fault. I am blaming you for this. You will be washing the Batmobile for a month.” Bruce said after some thinking.

“Bruce!” Tim complained. “What did I do?”

“You started it. And Damian, I will let you go after Rebel.”

Damian gave Tim a smug grin.

“However,” Bruce continued. “There will be a few conditions.”

Damian stood up straighter and paid attention. “One, Nightwing will be with you.”

“What? Why, Bruce?” It was Dick.

“I am busy with the Hawkmoth case. Tim and Damian shouldn’t be together. Cass and Steph are busy with their own things. I don’t think Jason wants anything to do with me and he’s out of town. Babara has no desire to watch Damian.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” Oracle’s voice came from the Batcomputer.

“Tch. Grayson is an acceptable choice.” Damian said with a sniff.

“Fine. I can stay for a week or two. Give me a few hours to sort some things out.” Dick threw up his hands in defeat.

“However, he will not be helping you. He is going to be monitoring your every move and he will intervene if it was a life and death situation.” Bruce added.

“Fine.” Damian replied.

“Two, when you bring Rebel in, she should not have sustained any life-threatening and fatal injuries. She should also possess all of her limbs intact.”

Damian scowled harder. “I know my limits. Anything else?”

“Three, do not kill anyone to achieve your goals.”

“Got it.”

“Your deadline to bring her in is in three months. You will report to me on your progress every morning. That’s all. Any questions?”

“No. I will not fail you, Father.” Damian said seriously.

“Does anyone else find this funny?” said Dick. “Son of Batman hunting down daughter of Joker. Children of two arch-enemies repeating history.”

“That only means that I am destined to bring her in.” Damian further solidified his mission.

—--

Forty-eight hours later, found Damian, currently going by Redbird, tied up, covered in green paint and dangled upside-down over a vat of something that smelled utterly foul.

Rebel landed near Nightwing and asked, “So what’s the deal with the new kid?”

Nightwing extended a hand dramatically towards Damian, “That’s Batman’s blood son.”

Rebel frowned. “Is this going to be a thing now? Child of Batman versus child of Joker. Because I really don’t want to hurt the kid that much.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD.” Redbird yelled as he struggled against his restraint. “Nightwing, help me get untied and catch the villain!”

“Would a dip in that kill him?” Nightwing asked, pointing at the vat of whatever that was. He wanted to stay more than 20 feet away due to the smell alone.

Rebel shrugged.

“Probably not. It’s just water from the Gotham River with the contents of the nearest dumpster emptied into it.”

Nightwing shivered. He had taken a dip in the icy cold waters of Gotham River before. It was not pleasant. And the amount of showers he had to take to finally get rid of the smell.

“Good news, Redbird.” Nightwing shouted back. “You won’t die if you fall.”

Redbird threw some words in Arabic that sounded a lot like swears.

“So… I ask again. What’s up with the kid?”

“He thinks that Batman would accept him as the one true heir of the Batman title if he catches you.” Nightwing explained. “It has nothing to do with the blood rivalry thing. He’s trying to prove Batman wrong by trying to succeed in catching you when Batman and Robin - especially Robin - couldn’t catch you.”

“It’s there like a deadline for this? Because I really don’t want to play cats and dogs forever with the gremlin.”

“Oh yeah. There is.”

Rebel smirked. “That means I just have to up my game then. Thanks for the heads up, Bluey.”

Nightwing’s smile faded as he realised his slip-up. “Damn it. Baby Bat is going to kill me.”

“Hey, can I use that nickname?”

“Does it matter if I say no?” Nightwing said.

“Nope.” Rebel said with a laugh as she slipped away into the shadows.

—--

A Bat signal shone in the night sky. Calling Batman to action.

However, it was not Commissioner Gordon who met Batman on the rooftop that night.

“Commissioner-” Batman immediately went on guard as a petite figure of Rebel greeted him instead of the broad shoulders of the Commissioner.

“What did you do to him, Rebel?” Batman growled out.

“Chill, Mister Bat, he’s dealing with an anonymous tip off for his latest case at the other side of the city. I just flipped the switch to your nightlight to get your attention. Less messy than other methods, don’t you agree?” Rebel explained as she switched the Bat-signal light off.

He glared at her. “What do you want?”

“A week is up. So what are you going to do?”

Batman gave a tired sigh. To be honest, he had forgotten about the deadline. There were so many things he had to take care of. Starting with the possible Justice League breach. An entire city being under attack and no one noticing until the problem was gone. The investigation into who Hawkmoth was. Finally, dealing with a testy Damian who didn’t take his loss against Rebel well.

“My conclusions showed me that you were telling the truth about akumas. I would like to apologise on the behalf of the Justice League for our massive oversight. You were a child that had to fight a war without support.”

“I won that damn war. Without your help.” Rebel said defensively.

“Yes. You did. I am not criticising your achievement, Rebel. I am just pointing out that you were a child fighting those monsters everyday and some of those monsters had been a family or a friend. You shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that on your shoulders. Even Nightwing had me to look after him until he could step out of my shadow to fly on his own.”

“We weren’t alone.”

“You weren’t. You had other people who were as clueless as you about what to do. No one taught you the basics. You had to learn how to fight all on your own. You had to learn to do it right on the first try because a mistake would cause you everything. I am sorry that we weren’t there to provide that guidance.”

“Why are you apologising for that? You didn’t know.”

Batman’s frown became deeper. “That is exactly the problem. Something this big slipped under our radar.”

He went on to explain about how the oversight occurred. If anything, Rebel looked surprised by the news.

“So you're telling me that I could have had help. I wouldn't have to do it all on my own if it wasn’t for a lot of people meddling.”

She sounded angry. The comment about her doing it all on her own confirmed a theory Batman entertained. There was a little evidence that pointed out otherwise but with magic there was no telling if the evidence wasn’t faked.

“We never realised until now. We have failed you.” Batman apologised.

“Kwami. All this time. I thought you were too busy with your own world-saving to pay attention to Paris. Fucking Mayor Bourgeois. Fuck Magic. Fuck whoever mess with your systems. Fuck Hawkmoth.” Rebel screamed. “What else? What else do I have to know that I didn’t know?”

“That’s mostly it. I am here to get your account of what exactly happened during those years.” Batman paused (Dramatic bitch) “I also need you to confirm the identity of Hawkmoth.”

“Well…” Rebel inclined her head for him to continue.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Rebel smiled from under her mask. “Bingo. As expected of the World’s Greatest Detective.”

She pulled out a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to Batman. “Here’s everything I wrote down from what I remembered.”

“How did you know I would ask for it?” Batman asked as he took it and put it away in his utility belt.

“I didn’t. I was going to send that to every news station when I start my Armengeddon plans.”

Batman stared at Rebel, waiting for her to hand over her Armengeddon plans she had given the other villains.

Rebel stared back at him defiantly.

“Hand them over.” Batman demanded.

“I already gave you what you needed.” Rebel said with a raised eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious about what Batman wanted.

“What about your Armengeddon plans?”

“Oh. Those plans. Yeah. Gimme a minute.” Rebel reached into her jacket inner pocket and took out a slim notebook. She tossed it to Batman who expertly caught it.

He flipped through it and noticed the jagged edges of pages torn out. He also noticed that none of the plans that involved other villains were in the book.

“Where are the missing plans?” Batman asked harshly.

“You thought it was going to be easy?” Rebel said amused. “I want definite proof that you are working on taking him in.”

“How long do I have to get you proof?” Batman asked cautiously.

“When is the deadline for your son to catch me?”

Batman knew that tone. He had heard that tone from the clown before Joker pulled out the punchline.

“In three months.” He answered.

“That’s around when the plan is supposed to start anyways. Then, if you don’t have it by the time Redbird catches me, you won’t get the plans. However, if he doesn’t catch me by the three month deadline, you will get the plans and I will tell the others that everything is called off.”

Batman had a feeling that if Rebel wasn’t wearing her mask, there would be a smile on her face identical to the one Joker would usually wear for his maniacal plans.

Children aren’t always their parents. But they sometimes inherit their parent's worst traits.

“Deal.”

What other options did he have but to play along with her games.

—-

After Rebel was gone, Redbird came out of the shadows.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” He demanded. Redbird had been hiding to unleash a surprise attack when Rebel proposed that inane condition to Batman.

Batman sighed. “We will talk more back at the Cave.”

“I want an explanation now.”

“Just hold off trying to catch her for at least a week, Redbird. I am not going to stop you from your task. Maybe use that time to observe her instead.”

Redbird huffed but nonetheless accepted the compromise.

“Fine. It gives me more time to make more well thought out plans.”

“Since she would mostly be at school, you won’t have to do much.”

Batman grappled off the roof and Redbird followed.

When they reached the Batmobile, Redbird turned to his father and said.

“Father, I have been thinking. Perhaps I should infiltrate her school in order to get closer and gain more information on her movements.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise, remembering the first time he suggested Damian going to school and being told that he was never going to step foot into a subpar teaching environment.

“Are you sure, Damian?”

“I am sure.” Damian said firmly.

“I will call the principal in the morning and arrange everything.”

—

“Come back here, you-” The insult was lost as Redbird comically stepped on the rake. The handle hit his face like those old cartoon gags.

A slew of Arabic curses were unleashed.

"Tick-tock, birdy." Rebel taunted as Redbird held his broken nose. "It's nearly midnight and I am not still not in chains or behind bars."

"I should have your tongue cut out for your insolence."

"That threat lost its charm about two months ago." Rebel replied in a bored tone.

"Be more creative. Like ‘I will slowly take a small piece of your tongue a day, roast it and force feed it to you’." Rebel declared with an imitation of Redbird’s voice but slightly higher pitch than it actually was.

“I will gladly do so.” The threat probably would have sounded more intimidating if Redbird wasn’t still holding his broken nose and didn’t sound like he had a very bad nasal problem.

Rebel covered her mask with her hand as if trying to hide a smirk.

“Well, little bird, if you are done with your threats, I will be off- WHAT THE FUCK!”

Rebel didn’t look where she was going and had fallen down the hole in the roof that was hidden with a tarp..

Redbird grinned as he peered over the hole where Rebel had fallen into a cage he had set up to work like a bear trap.

“You aren’t the only one skilled with traps in this city.” He boasted.

Nightwing landed, giving Redbird an appreciative whistle and applause.

“Good job, baby Bat.”

“Call the police, Nightwing. Tell them I have the fiend, Rebel, in custody.” Redbird said.

“Sure thing.”

Redbird turned to give Rebel a smug look at his sure victory. It immediately got wiped out as he saw Rebel dangling her legs over the hole she fell down a few minutes ago.

She gave him a cheeky wave.

“HOW?” Damian exploded. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE MY FOOLPROOF TRAP?!”

“It’s not foolproof if a fool like me could get out of it that easily. Nice setup though. Gave me a few ideas for my next project.”

Redbird growled and launched himself at her. Rebel rolled out of his way.

Landing nimbly, Redbird charged at her and threw a few attacks. Rebel effortlessly dodged every one of them.

Nightwing watched with a bored look on his face as Redbird chased Rebel around the rooftop.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk. I'm a woman's man, no time to talk ....”

Rebel took out her phone and turned off her alarm as she ducked a birdarang.

“It’s midnight! And you know what that means. You just failed your mission.” Rebel announced cheerfully.

Redbird yelled in anger and charged at her.

Nightwing stepped in between the two to restrain Redbird.

“Chill, baby bat. You need to calm down. She won, fair and square.”

“And just as promised, I will send over the plans I made for the other villain to the Big Guy.” Rebel continued as she walked backwards to the edge of the rooftop.

“See ya around, Birdies.” She said as she jumped back off the roof while giving them a finger salute.

Nightwing hurriedly let go of Damian and ran to look over the parapet wall. Rebel appeared to be perfectly fine after a five-storey drop and was calmly putting her helmet on. She got on her bike and drove off.

“Um… guys.” Oracle’s voice came over the comms. “There is actually fifteen minutes left until midnight. She lied.”

The two vigilantes looked at each other and cursed. They grappled off, trying their best to catch the cunning villain.

—

“I am sorry that I failed you, Father.” Damian reported.

Three months should have been more than sufficient for him to complete his assigned task successfully. He even had subjected himself to the establishment called a school in order to catch Rebel.

Each time, he thought that he was close to capturing the most slippery villain in all of Gotham. Something would interfere in his plans and Rebel continued to walk free.

Head down ashamed as he kneeled on the cold floor of the Batcave to receive his punishment. Damnit, why was his vision getting blurry?

The shadow from his father’s cape moved closer and blocked out the light. Damian braced for the pain.

Damian was confused when he felt his Father placed his hand on his head. It felt… odd and comforting.

“It’s alright. You did your best. Even with the restriction I placed on you.” Bruce said.

Damian’s confusion increased.

“But… I failed.”

It did hurt to admit his failure but he was more confused by his father’s actions. Grandfather would have given out some sort of punishment by now. Like going against some of the League’s Finest on his own.

The hand moved from his head to his shoulder.

“Look at me, Damian.”

Damian obeyed and met his father’s blue eyes. The colour reminded him of the flowers his mother would sometimes wear in her hair when Grandfather was out of Nanda Parbat.

“Even if you had failed in your task, you still had helped me.”

Damian was flabbergasted.

“How?”

“In order to capture her, you monitored her every move. Because of you and your reports, I knew her every move. Avoiding your attempts kept Rebel so busy that she wasn’t able to work on her plans as much. Which gives me more time to work on how to bring Hawkmoth in.”

“I still failed.”

“And I am telling you that you still did a good job. You can learn from this experience and learn how to do better.” Bruce said.

“Aren’t you going to punish me?”

“No. I am not going to punish you for this.”

The answer seemed to have shifted Damian’s worldview. It broke Bruce’s heart to know how Damian had been treated. Being punished for failure which made Damian scared to fail.

“How.. how can you…”

Damian didn’t seem to comprehend that there would be no punishments for failing.

“Damian.” Bruce said gently. “I know that this is hard for you to comprehend but we do things differently here. We do not kill. And we do not punish people for simply failing.”

“But Drake… Batmobile.”

Oh right, grounding.

“I will reiterate. I will not physically hurt you as punishment for failing your mission. I do not like raising my hand to people I call family. Yes, you are part of it now, Damian, no matter how unexpected your arrival was. I prefer giving you chores to do instead. Like washing the Batmobile. Giving Ace a bath. Organising the case files. Helping Alfred around the Manor. Even then, it’s only if you misbehave and go against the rules of the Manor. And you may see them as pointless but they were put in place to keep you safe. I don’t want to see any of you hurt. Yes, including you, Damian.”

Bruce hoped that he got through Damian. Made him see that things were different now but they were a good kind of different. Maybe now Damian would let him in and be the better person Bruce knew he could be.

Bruce thought all of this as he hugged the slightly shaking boy in his arms who hid his face with Bruce’s chest. ------ (Part 6) ----

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls, @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime, @maddiesupdates, @the-dumber-scaramouche,

#who made me a villain #biodad! joker #cue bruce being a good dad #introducing insufferable damian #morally grey marinette/rebel #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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janetbrown711 · 2 years ago

Text

The World is Not a Nice Place (to those of us who breathe)

Pigsy has a pretty good gig for himself: a nice little restaurant, a cute regular customer (who's name he keeps forgetting to ask), and a place to call his own. However, his life changes forever when two orphans hide out in his storage closet to hide from the police.

AKA Pigsy adopts MK and Mei as kids AU <333 This will be a whole series, so prepare for a lot of cute dadsy content and lil Mei and MK (as well as some divine intervention bc why not).

Part 1 Part 2

Ao3 Link

Pigsy was the proud owner of a little noodle shop his grandma helped him set up called “Pigsy’s Noodles'' and it was his pride and joy. He’d been running it alone for two years now after a teenage and young twenties-hood of running around, getting into fights, and getting severely traumatized with his best friend. It was his grandmother’s suggestion when Sandy threw in the towel leaving Pigsy aimless, and he couldn’t thank her enough for it.

It was different without her around, certainly not any easier, but being a local business in a city that was only being more commercialized by the second gave his place an identity and authenticity no chain restaurant could ever replicate, so business was stable.

Sure, he didn’t exactly live a life of luxury, but his studio apartment above the restaurant was all he needed. He was a pig of the simple life, according to his grandma anyways.

That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the chaos and Sandy, whom he hadn’t seen since… well.. a while, but that didn’t mean he was completely alone. He had this one regular who came in to work on his capstone for his masters and applications for doctorate programs who was kinda funny and cute and smart. Granted, he rarely ever paid his tab, but Pigsy liked listening to him ramble about the Legends of Sun Wukong, so that kind of made up for it.

If only Pigsy could ever remember to actually ask for his name.

Today was going to be a slow day, Pigsy knew that. Grey storm clouds covered the sky, giving the city an almost haunted feeling. It would probably rain soon enough too, so any hopes of foot traffic were dashed. His regular was still there, of course, but something was off with him too. He was quiet, reading something on his laptop with a worried brow, which worried Pigsy too.

“You– uh– readin’ the news?” Pigsy asked, drying a glass off with a towel to mask his concern.

“Yeah– there was a huge fire last night. You know that ancient ancestral home to the descendants of the White Horse Dragon?”

Pigsy nodded.

“It burned down, as well as an apartment complex nearby,” The regular turned his laptop around to show the chef. Pigsy got a good glance at it before cringing.

“Yeesh– is everyone okay?” He asked. The semi-stranger shook his head.

“The owners are both confirmed to have died, but no one can find their daughter, and there are at least ten dead from the apartment fire,” he turned his laptop back around.

“Dang, how old is she?” Pigsy asked, setting the glass down.

“Seven, I think.”

Goddamn.

“Hope the kid’s okay,” Pigsy looked out the window, staring at the neon glow of his sign against the dull gray sky.

He should probably close.

“Hey um– you got any more dissertation writing to do today? I’m thinkin’ about closing early” Pigsy asked.

The man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up as he did. “I don’t know if I can focus on that, but I know I can’t really go home– it reeks of smoke since I live a block down from all that.”

“O-oh, right, yeah– uhm… feel free to stay as long as you need then, I won’t close til you’re all good,” Pigsy blushed, thinking about how stupid that idea was.

The stranger gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“Ah, no problem– so long as you actually make a dent in that tab of yours,” Pigsy tried to tease but got something in his throat halfway through that made him cough and therefore sound like a flustered idiot.

The stranger laughed a little and went back to his laptop, while Pigsy went to clean the grill, desperate to scrape away his embarrassment.

Almost twenty eight and he was out here blushing like a piglet.

The pair were silent again for a while, except for the occasional siren or two as police drove down the street, which was hardly an unusual sound for Megapolis. However, after a bit of this, Pigsy and the customer both jumped when they heard pots and pans crash to the floor in the back.

“Was that a rat?” The man asked.

“No-! That’s ridiculous-!” Pigsy defended, his face red as a tomato. “I’ll go check it out– I swear this place is sanitary,” Pigsy quickly turned off the grill, grabbed a broom and prayed he was right.

He went back to the back of the restaurant, frowning when he saw the back door was open, though only a crack. With a sigh, he went and shut it, sure to click the lock this time and now really really praying there wasn’t a rat or any other pests.

“Anyone in here?” He called out. He wasn’t exactly shocked when there wasn’t a response, but as he got closer to the storage closet, he could swear he heard something shuffling– probably an animal like he suspected (he was usually so vigilant about the door dammit– this was so stupid). Now holding the broom like a weapon, he approached the closet door carefully and quietly, listening to more shuffling before quickly grabbing the doorknob and flinging the door open, causing two shrieks of children to ring out.

“Pleasepleaseplease dont’t hurt us-!”A little boy cried out, shielding his friend– a girl– with his arms and trembling.

Kids??? What the fuck were kids doing here???

Quickly, Pigsy flicked on the lightswitch and set the broom down.

“What’re you two doing here? This is a private business and I don’t–” Pigsy was going to lecture more but noticed the girl who was crying a lot and looked oddly familiar.

“S-sorry, Mister, w-we didn’t know– we’re sorry about the pot i-it’s just–” The boy apologized but the girl interrupted.

“I-i didn’t mean to do it, I-i was just trying to c-clean a-and– a-a-and n-n-now m-mom n’ d-dad are– a-a-are– a-and so we just– and then the cops– a-a-and–” The girl couldn’t get through her sentence before choking on her tears.

Wait a minute…

Holy shit.

“You’re the missing dragon girl, aren’t you?” Pigsy knelt down. The girl nodded her head as she hugged her knees close to her chest.

“D-don’t tell anyone, please,” The boy pleaded. “ ‘specially the cops, they’re spooky.”

Pigsy snorted. “Yeah I know that, but you can’t just hide here kiddo, people are looking for you– maybe even your family.”

“MK’s my family, I don’t have anyone else,” The girl sniffled. “A-and those guys are scary, th-their eyes are all red.”

“Red eyes? Kid, I know cops are bastards, but they don’t have–” Pigsy stopped to think for five seconds before suddenly getting very, very worried.

Demons.

“Look, I won’t tell anyone you’re here, but how’s about you move to the kitchen where I can keep a better eye on you two, okay?” He said, looking over his shoulder at the backdoor. As the kids nodded and slowly stood up, he grabbed the padlock on the high shelf and put it around the back door for extra security, before going back to the kids, who were watching nervously.

“Look uh– just keep your heads low and stay behind the bar, there should be some room for you two if I shift some boxes around,” Pigsy scratched his head and went out to the kitchen, but the kids didn’t follow him.

“Everything okay back there?” His regular asked, lowering the lid of his laptop.

“Y-yeah-! Yeah, just– um… keep studying,” He smiled nervously. The semi-stranger gave him a curious look before raising the lid and getting back to work. He quickly went back and found the kids still standing in the doorway of the storage closet looking down.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you two?” Pigsy asked softly. The girl pulled on her long black hair nervously and sniffled.

“I-i’m scared they’ll see us,” She confessed.

Pigsy immediately got on one knee and placed a hand on her and the boy– MK–’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you two, okay? You have my word.”

The kids exchanged weary glances before nodding. Pigsy gave them a weak smile before standing, reminding them to stay low before leading them out to the kitchen where they remained creeping low, but not before the regular saw them.

“Um… hi,” His customer gave a wave to MK and the girl, who froze.

“It’s okay kiddos, he’s a–” Pigsy glanced at him.

“A friend,” The man finished his sentence for him, which made Pigsy blush a little.

“Oh– hi-!” MK waved a little before getting on his knees and hiding under the bar like Pigsy instructed, which the girl shortly followed.

“Mind telling me why you have kids hiding under your bar?” The scholar teased a little.

“Ah– well uh–” he glanced down at the pair, who were having a silent conversation with hand signals he didn’t know.

“There’s some trouble stirring up right now and they needed somewhere safe to stay so I figured why not keep ‘em in my line of sight, you know?” He shrugged at the half-truth.

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you,” The man said with a smile, going back to his laptop so he didn’t notice Pigsy’s face turning dark red once more before he turned around and got back to cleaning.

After a while of casual silence, Pigsy heard the bell ring and muttered to himself when he heard them say “Megapolis Police, we’re here looking for a little girl, Mei Dragon. She’s long black hair and was last seen in a green jacket with white shorts and sneakers.”

“You see any kids here?” Pigsy scoffed as he scraped off the fond from a pot.

“Look here, wise guy, we’re gonna search this place whether you like it or not,” One of them snarled, but Pigsy just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, setting the pot down to dry while picking up an iron skillet. One of the cops– a slightly smaller but still plenty muscular one– eyed him.

“This’ll be quick anyways,” The officer said.

“Better be, or else you’re gonna scare off my customers,” He crossed his arms and stood in front of the cupboard where the kids were hiding. He glanced at his regular, who seemed just as annoyed at the presence of police as he was.

The officers huffed and began snooping around, looking under tables and in the bathrooms, getting huffier the more and more they didn’t find the girl– Mei.

Man, Pigsy was really bad about asking for names.

When the cops went to the back, Pigsy heard the girl start crying again. Pigsy bit his cheek before crouching down again and asking what the matter was.

"S-sorry, Mr. Piggy, I-I don't know why– I-i just keep–"

"Hey, it's okay kid, you just gotta be quiet for a little bit longer and then the scary guys will leave and we can find you somewhere a lot safer to be, okay?"

The girl rubbed her eyes with her jacket sleeve and nodded, which was when Pigsy noticed her eyes were glowing emerald green.

So uh… that was interesting.

"Does she normally…?" He turned to MK who nodded.

Alrighty then.

“Hey– there’s the dragon brat-!” One of the cops shouted from the doorway to the back.

Shit.

“Yeah well if you want her, you’re gonna have to go through me,” Pigsy huffed, gripping the pan and going into a fighting stance. Just like that, the cops shed their skins to reveal they were actually just a massive tiger and the larger one leapt towards Pigsy, who knocked him as hard as he could in the jaw with the skillet, sending him into the grill.

“Woah-!” The girl watched in awe, bringing Pigsy way back.

“Oh my stars– Are you okay-?!” The regular closed his laptop and shoved it into his bag frantically.

“You good at running?” Pigsy asked as the smaller one jumped to attack, but he whacked them away too.

“Can be under pressure-!” The man quickly slid his bag around his shoulder.

“Great– take the kids and run,” Pigsy said, taking MK’s arm and pulling him out of the hiding spot before placing him on top of the bar, then doing the same with Mei.

“Right uh– Let’s get going then-!” He said, helping the kids jump down as the bigger tiger demon got up and tried jumping towards Mei, but Pigsy got a hold of his neck and was able to hold him back and thankfully the kids and sexy customer were able to get out. However, he must not have hit the second guy hard enough because he was back and instantly tackled Pigsy to the ground and gave him a nasty gash in his shoulder with his claw, tearing through his chef’s shirt. Pigsy was able to kick the guy off of him, and when he saw the bigger guy was making a run for it, he grabbed the nearest bottle of rice vinegar and threw it at him, which shattered against his head on impact.

“Ha-! Take that ya bastard-!” Pigsy was pleasantly surprised his aim was still good, especially with his arm stinging severely from the previously mentioned gash.

“Alright, piggy, you wanna do this?” The tiger turned away from the entrance.

Ah, fuck– Where’s Sandy when you need him?

He hit the smaller in the face with the skillet again, before having to duck to avoid the bigger one leaping at him once again. Thankfully, his size and strength failed him when he overestimated how much power to put into that and he went crashing straight through the wall (which was not good for Pigsy’s bills, but priorities).

Jiangjun– we need the dragon, not the bacon,” The smaller tiger growled and stood.

“You were the ones pretending to be cops,” Pigsy growled and leaned against the bar, trying not to wince in pain.

“This is a mercy, Pig Man,” The big demon got up and snarled. “You can’t kill us, but we can kill you.”

Before Pigsy could protest again, the tigers bolted out of the restaurant, and Pigsy scrambled to keep up.

The street quickly turned into a mad panic as people bolted out of the way of the tiger demons, which was kind of good because there was a clear path for Pigsy to follow. Did he have a plan? No. Did his arm hurt with every attempt at running? Yes. Did he even know why he was sticking his neck this far out for these kids? Kind of– He wasn’t heartless– if kids are in danger he’ll protect them, that’s how normal people responded.

He also hoped his regular was okay– if they lived he was going to make sure he asked for his name.

When he caught sight of the trio, they were dashing around a corner, and the demons quickly followed. Pigsy was starting to fall behind and so said a quick prayer to whatever and picked up the pace, mortified when he turned that corner and found they got themselves backed into an alley.

“Nowhere to run, Little Dragon,” The bigger tiger licked his lips and got on all fours. Pigsy scrambled for something to grab, but the smaller tiger pounced on him and that quickly became a struggle of its own.

“Mr. Piggy!” Mei cried out, her eyes still glowing but flickering to a wine red. She balled her little hands into fists and stepped away from MK, who was forced to let go of her arm and so grabbed onto the man.

“Get away from him!” She shouted, and a rush of hot air flooded the alleyway, causing the tiger to stop fighting Pigsy, though he still had him pinned and with claws at his throat.

“B-boss, you said she was too young,” The small one said.

The bigger one growled, “She’s supposed to be, but something’s… different.”

“I saidget away!” She screamed, and Pigsy couldn’t believe his eyes– she was suddenly surrounded by an aura in the shape of a very, very large Jade Dragon, who’s eyes stared menacingly down at the two tiger demons. There was something else too– sparks of that red from before, but whatever that was it was clearly restrained, despite her anger.

“C-c’mon boss, let’s get out of here,” The small tiger let go of Pigsy and scrambled away. The larger remained, staring down the beast until it opened its massive jaws as if to spit fire or water, and then he ran.

“Wow-! That was so cool Mei-!” Her best friend cheered for her while Pigsy forced himself to stand.

“Yeah, not too bad– kid-!” In the middle of Pigsy’s compliment, all of the glow faded from Mei’s eyes and she passed out, thankfully caught by the regular.

“We should get you– you two– to a hospital,” The man said, his face going pale at Pigsy’s appearance.

“What? I’m not that roughed up,” Pigsy denied, despite feeling so dizzy from blood loss he had to rest a hand against the wall of the alley.

“C’mon, I’ll call a cab,” The man rolled his eyes playfully before calling the car and then they were off.

.o0o.

Once they were at the hospital, things quickly got awkward as it became more and more apparent to the staff that they had no relation to Mei and didn’t know any of her medical information. Thankfully her situation was a lot less serious and she was awake and had perfectly fine vitals in just a few minutes, whereas Pigsy had to get stitches and a blood transfusion, and was put under observation for a while.

The observation period was boring, of course, and it had him wondering just what the hell he was doing with his life. He didn’t know these kids– he didn’t even know that customer’s name– why was he out here destroying his very livelihood and fighting for them like they’re his own kids?

“Are you doing alright there? You're almost done” The nurse, “Ming-Hoa” according to his lotus-shaped name tag, suddenly spoke up. Pigsy blinked and shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, just… thoughts,” He shrugged.

“Getting into life threatening situations often does that to a person,” The nurse laughed a little, checking all of the monitors and writing something down on his clipboard. “What you did was very brave. That girl could very easily be dead, her family is indebted to you.”

Pigsy sighed and closed his eyes. “That’s the problem– the kid doesn’t have a family.”

The nurse nodded a little. “Well… I’m sure they’re happy wherever they are.”

“What’s– uh–” Pigsy looked down at his hands. “What’s going to happen to the kid now?”

The nurse had a small smile on his face. “Well, custody of her will be decided by her parent’s will and the boy will undergo a similar process, though if there’s no will, he’ll be placed into foster care.”

“Wait– him too?” Pigsy tried to sit up.

“Oh, you didn’t know? He was also orphaned in the fire the other night, though he was in the apartment buildings.”

“But they can’t split those two up, they’re practically siblings– joined at the hip and apparently all they have." An expression of sad realization washed over the chef's face.

"Yes, yes, but unfortunately that is how it goes unless the person taking in the girl was willing to take the boy too," Ming-Hoa explained.

"How could anyone not? I know I sure would," Pigsy huffed as the nurse checked the monitors once more and started unhooking all of the devices.

"Well that's what we like to hear," He said as he took off the heart monitor from Pigsy.

"Sure..?" Pigsy raised an eyebrow as he stretched. The nurse continued to type something into his computer as Pigsy stood and gathered his things, which was really just his torn up chef’s shirt.

“The Dragon Family Lawyer will meet you just outside to discuss a few things, Mr. Zhu,” He said. Why exactly the nurse knew about Mei’s lawyer when he wasn't even her nurse was something Pigsy didn’t have the energy to question.

“Uh… thanks,” He nodded, throwing on the torn shirt over his white tank top and bandages before heading out to the waiting area, which was strangely cleared out except for Mei, MK, his customer, and a woman wearing a white pantsuit and high heels with lotuses on them– the lawyer, most likely.

“Ah, Mr. Zhu, I’m Gatita, the lawyer for the Dragon Family Estate,” The woman stood, but before he could go to shake her hand, Mei jumped from her seat and gave Pigsy a hug.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Mr. Piggy,” She apologized profusely.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re okay kiddo,” Pigsy patted her back before she let go and joined MK back by the bead maze.

“I’m glad to see Miss Mei likes you already,” The woman smiled fondly before going once more to shake Pigsy’s hand, which he did before taking his seat next to the regular.

“So… what exactly do you need to talk to me about?” Pigsy asked.

The lawyer reached into her bag and pulled out a large manilla folder. “Well, there was a peculiarity in Mr. and Mrs. Dragon’s last will and testament, which says that if no one remains of her immediate family, then it would be up to The Dragon King of the East, and it appears he has chosen you,” she said, pulling out the document that stated just that.

Pigsy blinked.

“Mr. Zhu?”

“S-sorry there, i just– what???” Pigsy shook his head. “I-i’ve never met any Dragon King and I know damn– dang well that I am not better for her than any king in an actual castle would be.”

“Well, mystical beings often have their ways of looking around. Plus, Mei is merely a descendant of Ao Lie, she’s not as draconic as her great uncle and his family. It would be better for her to be raised in a more humanoid environment,” Gatita said, pointing to a specific paragraph of the paper Pigsy still couldn’t hope to read.

“You know I ain’t exactly human myself, right?” Pigsy snorted.

“I suppose you truly haven’t spent any time with dragons then,” The lawyer laughed to herself like Pigsy didn’t literally just say that.

“Well, either way, you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have my number for any emergencies, and plus your husband here will be of great help,” She smiled at the man next to Pigsy and both of their faces turned red.

“Woah– wait now– we’re– I’m not–” The man protested.

“Oh! My apologies, I just assumed because both of you were present– it doesn’t matter. Custody would primarily be given to Pigsy for both the boy and the girl–”

“Both of them? I didn’t think you were in charge of both of them,” Pigsy sat back in his seat, his head beginning to spin.

“Are you suggesting you’d want to split the two up?” The woman frowned a little, glancing back at the two seven-year-olds.

“N-no! I just–” Pigsy rubbed his forehead. “It’s… a lot. I’m not exactly rolling in money here and I just–”

“There is a sum of money set aside for Mei and the boy’s childcare, as well as Mei’s inheritance, but that won’t be available until she is eighteen for safekeeping, and as far the academy goes, her and the boys admission has been paid in full for the next eleven years already so that’s not a concern either,” She said, pulling out more documents and Pigsy was still not going to read any one of them– though it didn’t matter because it seemed like his customer was doing it for him (probably because he actually understood them because he was smart and stuff).

“I understand it’s a lot, Mr. Zhu, and if you truly feel uncomfortable, you can turn the offer down. However, if you do, they will without a doubt be separated and live very, very different lives,” The lawyer said with an earnestness the chef didn’t expect.

Pigsy glanced back at the kids, seeing how happy they were in each other's company, and then thinking back to how fiercely they protected each other and– hell, even him.

He’d have to be heartless to tear that apart.

“I… I’ll take them,” Pigsy said.

“Are you certain?” Gatita asked seriously. Pigsy nodded.

“I am.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” She smiled, taking out a pen from her bag and handing it over to the chef.

“Wait, that’s it? No evaluation, no checking bank accounts or backgrounds or anything?” Pigsy took the pen nervously.

Gatita laughed. “We did all of that beforehand; you’re all clear Mr. Zhu.”

Pigsy blinked again. He glanced at the man to his left.

“I’m no lawyer, but everything looks legit and–... and I can help a bit too, if you’d want that– like around the restaurant and stuff,” His customer said, his hands pulling on his scarf nervously.

Pigsy smiled a bit, probably like an idiot, before glancing at the lawyer and covering his mouth and mouthing “I don’t even know your name.”

His customer laughed a little before copying his motion and mouthing, “it’s Tang.”

Tang.

It was perfect for him.

“Right,” He smiled more, lowering his hand and turning back to the documents.

He had no idea what it took to raise a kid– let alone two.

Then again, he’d have to be an idiot to turn down what was probably a small fortune.

But he shouldn’t just be doing this for money.

And he wasn’t– he cared about those kids and couldn’t imagine forgiving himself for separating them.

Plus it was technically her family’s wants, and who was he to say he knew better than literal celestial dragons?

With a breath, Pigsy gripped the pen tighter and signed his name across every dashed line Gatita pointed to, and then it was official.

Pigsy just adopted two kids he barely knew, one who was a descendant of a literal dragon.

He hoped he had even a clue of what he just got himself into.

#my fics #lmk #lego monkie kid #pigsy #dadsy #freenoodles #spoiler free #mei lmk #mk lmk #mei dragon #adoption #whoops guess I'm a dad now #uhhhh #idk how to else to tag this thing #fjdakls;fjdaksl #it's cute stuff #so uh #read it #<333

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wizardingworldlibrary · 1 month ago

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Christmas Fluff (2) Masterlist

part one

And a Hedgehog in a Pine Tree (ao3) - eyra sirius/remus, james/lily T, 8k

Summary: The door swings shut behind them, blocking out the howling wind and the bitter chill and instead there’s a gently crackling fire and a patchwork sofa and layers and layers of tapestry rugs spread out over an old oak floor. The air is so toasty Sirius could weep, and he can smell chocolate and woodsmoke and something that might be peppermint, and then someone is taking his coat and grinning at him and he thinks, maybe, he did die out there on the icy roads. Maybe this is his own personal Elysium, and as he blinks stupidly at the man in front of him and takes in his freckles and his hat-flattened curls and the way his jumper has little knitted reindeer woven into the pattern, he thinks death maybe isn’t so bad, actually.

Remus is the owner of a Christmas tree farm deep in the New Forest. Sirius is a curmudgeonly writer who doesn’t believe in Christmas. It’s snowing, there’s a roaring fire, and we all know how this is going to go.

a pretty boy with a pretty voice (ao3) - hello_there_darcy regulus/james, sirius/remus M, 30k

Summary: "It was December 12th, just another Monday. But as with most unexpected circumstances, at the drop of a hat (or the ring of a bell), just another day can suddenly, without warning, and very magically so, transform into a day that changes the trajectory of one’s life. For James Fleamont Potter, Monday, December 12th turned out to not be “just another Monday” but rather the single most important day of his life."

James is so in love with Regulus that he forgets the alphabet even exists

baby, it's cold outside (ao3) - potterheading draco/harry M, 2k

Summary: in which harry just wants to go flying, and draco shows him the pros to being snowed in.

Golden Rings and Special Things (ao3) - emlohamora hermione/draco M, 14k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a personal goal to keep his wife as happy as she can be. He gives her everything, will always do anything to bring her more joy than she has at the present. This, unfortunately for him, includes going full out for her favourite time of year— the first, might he add, of which they are spending together while married.

They’re her special things.

They're his special things too.

Holiday Traditions (ao3) - MoonCat457 sirius/remus T, 23k

Summary: Thirty-one winter moments over the years between Remus and Sirius.

Mistletoe (ao3) - Merchling draco/harry E, 3k

Summary: Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco is invited to spend Christmas at the Burrow with Harry and the Weasleys, and Harry can’t seem to take his eyes off Draco.

Shooting Star (ao3) - Musyc hermione/draco G, 1k

Summary: Accidentally locked on a balcony. In winter. In Scotland. Sometimes you don’t need to see the shooting star to get your wish.

Sirius + Remus (ao3) - DemonBanisher sirius/remus T, 70k

Summary: Sirius, a holiday cynic, is spending the season alone this year with his friend away with his family. Remus, a Christmas fanatic, is looking for love. When Sirius finds the red notebook Remus has left in a bookstore, the two start writing to each other. Maybe this year, they won’t have to spend the holidays alone.

The Coldest of Days (ao3) - Anonymous draco/harry, hermione/ron E, 54k

Summary: At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup (ao3) - eyra sirius/remus M, 32k

Summary: There's something blazingly incongruous about Remus in the wintertime. He's golden: sunshine and honeybees, caramel curls and freckles like dappled sunlight. Even his clothes seem borrowed, and temporary, as if he might've just thrown on an extra layer for a moment in the knowledge that his own innate aestival nature would be quite enough to stave off the worst of the chill. Something at home in long balmy nights, and mornings when the gardens teem with life and song. Wonderfully out of place in the winter: a happy visitor to the season, an ember in the frost.

Christmastime in the Cotswolds: cold hands, crackling fires, and Remus's indefatigable quest for parsnips.

#wizardingworldlibrary #harry potter fanfiction #masterlists #christmas #christmas fluff #christmas fluff masterlist #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #regulus black #draco malfoy #harry potter #hermione granger

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slytherhys · 2 years ago

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Beautiful Boy

AO3

Prompt: Nyx's first birthday party.

A/N: I tried to write some feysandnyx x ic fluff but I'm not sure I like this

Early spring in Velaris was a sight to see. The days were still cold, the nights colder still, but the sun already shone bright in the sky, clearly lifting the spirits of the people. The entire city was still cleaning up after Starfall a few days earlier, but flowers already bloomed in front of the shops and marble and red stone townhouses, the Sira river already returning to its deep sapphire sparkle as it flowed through the city. People greeted Feyre as she crossed the bridge from the Rainbow to her house, where the party had already begun.

The great manor greeted her as she reached the end of the bridge, the marble façade covered in beautiful, lush ivy as well as a few different blossoming flowers that covered her front garden – all Elain’s doing, of course. Opening the front door, Feyre was immediately greeted by the warmth of her home as well as the accompanying sound of laughter and chatter coming from the sitting room. Her friends were already there, sitting and standing around the fireplace as soft music played in the background, but the laughter of her baby boy was the only thing she could focus on.

Nyx was in Cassian’s lap, being repeatedly thrown in the air. His little wings would flex for 2 seconds before he fell again into the awaiting hands of his uncle, who watched him with a proud glint in his eyes. Nesta was smiling as she watched them both, scolding Cassian whenever Nyx reached too high. Azriel stood by the wooden table as he watched Elain sort all the presents, a soft smile on his lips as she got more and more flustered at the ridiculous amount of gifts Nyx had received for his first birthday. Feyre felt her heart warm at the sight of her family.

“There you are,” she heard him before she felt his arms wrap around her waist. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Feyre turned swiftly, her hands immediately cupping Rhys’ face as she rose to her toes and kissed him softly. Twice, just because.

Rhys grinned. “Did you get it?” She nodded and held up the paper bag in her hand, unable to keep her own grin out of her face.

They had gone to the Rainbow a few weeks earlier to a small shop just a few blocks away from Feyre’s painting studio to buy Nyx a custom gift. Ressina had been the one to speak about it, having known the owner, and knowing Nyx was about to turn one. They had already bought a series of presents for their boy, but this one just felt…right.

Feyre groaned, dropping her head against Rhys’ chest. “We’re going to spoil him rotten.”

Rhys chuckled. “It’s nothing he doesn’t deserve.” He said, turning Feyre around so she could see how Nyx now crawled around the floor, still too scared to stand for long periods of time. Feyre pulled away, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. She was feeling entirely too emotional. Today was for happiness and celebration, no one needed her crying over gifts and cake.

Rhys pulled her in again, kissing her softly. “We’re okay.” He said gently, a promise between the two. Feyre nodded once, finding comfort in his presence. A day didn’t go by that Rhys didn’t promise her the exact same thing. She couldn’t be more grateful for it.

She gently settled the paper bag at a little side table, saving Elain from yet another colourful package to sort. Az was trying to coax her away from the mess, since there was really no need to do such a thing, but Elain kept glaring at him whenever he grabbed her hand. Feyre pressed her lips together to fight a laugh– there was something amusing about the shadowsinger bending to another’s will.

“Thank you for coming.” Feyre said as she reached the back of the couch, pulling both Cassian and Nesta for a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nesta replied softly, her eyes on Nyx as she squeezed Feyre’s hand once before letting it go. Feyre felt her lip turn up at the small display of affection. They still had a long way to go but having Nesta by her side as she raised Nyx was a gift she would forever appreciate. Having both her sisters after everything that happened last year gave Feyre a sense of comfort, one she didn’t even realize she had been missing all her life.

Rhys swept Nyx to his arms, taking him to the overflowing table as he kicked out Elain and Azriel back to the couch.

Cassian watched Nyx over the table, his little arms flapping around as he tried to reach for his presents. “I can’t believe the amount of shit people sent.” He snorted, yelping when Nesta slapped his hand, chiding him for his foul mouth. He looked chagrined before his face turned into something else. Feyre quickly looked away.

“He doesn’t need all this stuff, it’s ridiculous.” Feyre sighed, sitting on the armchair by the fireplace.

“It’s a good sign, love.” Rhys said as he made his way back towards her, sitting on the arm of the chair. “Helion, it appears, has sent at least 4 different gifts. Tarquin and Kallias also seemed to spare no expenses. I’d say our little man is quite popular.” He said, blowing a raspberry on Nyx’ cheek, making him chuckle loudly, squirming away from his dad. His chubby little arms reached for Feyre instead, who didn’t even hesitate before grabbing him. Rhys had a look of feigned outrage on his face, muttering a small traitor before he leaned back, his face pure adoration as he watched them both.

“Well, at least you guys didn’t get him anything.” Feyre sighed, her hands holding Nyx as he played with her necklace. However, when her statement was only met with silence, she looked. Why wasn’t anyone agreeing with her? “You didn’t get him anything.” She was a bit alarmed now. “Right?”

They had agreed there would be no gifts for Nyx. Rhys and Feyre had only wanted a small celebration between their family with dinner and cake, maybe a few drinks after Nyx had fallen asleep. Small, yet meaningful.

But as everyone in that room avoided her gaze, she knew they had all ignored her request. Big time. “Cass?” She called, making the male flinch. He reluctantly looked over at her and Rhys who, much to Feyre’s annoyance, was watching the entire interaction with entirely too much amusement.

“I wasn’t going to get him anything, I swear. But then I just saw the perfect gift and I couldn’t help myself. And then-”

“He got him a onesie that says uncle’s nº1 babybat.” Nesta deadpanned, her face neutral even if she was trying to fight a smile. Cassian frowned at her. “And a baby winger, whatever that is.” She added, a smirk on her lips.

“Wait, you got him the baby winger set?” Azriel’s low voice interrupted Cassian’s mumbles. “I told you I was buying him that.” Az crossed his arms, looking as intimidating as he intended. Elain simply rolled her eyes as she reached for a glass of wine.

“It’s fine, we also bought that-” She started, stopping when her eyes found Feyre’s with an apologist smile.

“Elain.” Azriel snapped. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“For whom?” Nesta raised an eyebrow, nodding her head towards Nyx who was now drooling all over Feyre’s necklace. Feyre gently removed it from his mouth, reaching for the bat plushie Mor had offered him last year so he could play with that instead.

“Wait a minute,” Rhys said, a furrow to his brow. “Why are you guys offering my son a baby winger?” Cassian fully grinned while Azriel had the decency to look a bit sheepish. Feyre wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about, but Rhys didn’t seem fond of the idea.

“By the Cauldron.” Feyre muttered. “What is a baby winger?” She asked the three Illyrian babies fighting over presents. They all looked at her like she was insane. Was she missing something? Elain was fighting a smirk, but Nesta seemed as lost as she was.

“It’s only the best thing you can have to teach your son how to fly.” Cassian leaned forward, an excited gleam in his eyes. He looked like a kid on Solstice. “This one even comes with a security system so that he gets to ground safely.”

“You’re not teaching my son how to fly, Cassian.” Rhys rumbled, before looking at Azriel with a raised brow. “And neither are you.”

Both men started complaining as soon as the words were out of her mate’s mouth, Nyx becoming immediately enthralled by their loud voices going back and forth. She was just about to scold them when both Cass and Az went still at the exact same time. Feyre looked at Rhys, knowing he was telling them something through their minds – something that made both warriors pause, blushing furiously. Cassian started coughing, muttering something about water under his breath before leaving the room to the kitchen. Feyre raised an eyebrow at her mate, who was already smiling devilishly at her. She’d have to ask about that later.

“Where’s Mor?” Elain asked. “Isn’t she coming?”

Rhys frowned. “I think-”

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Mor’s soft voice sounded through the sitting room followed by the sound of the entrance door being closed. She appeared as swiftly as one could be, as if summoned by Elain. Wearing a long jacket over her usual casual attire and…carrying a giant bat plushie with a purple bow on its neck.

Feyre could only stare at her best friend, her mouth hanging open. Rhys was already rubbing his eyes and groaning about headaches. Nyx, however, seemed delighted by Mor’s gift.

“I said no gifts.” Feyre groaned, throwing her head back as she watched Mor set her gigantic gift on the floor before stealing Nyx from her arms. She couldn’t exactly say it bothered her how loved her son was among his family, but this was too much. It had to be too much. Right?

She wanted to give him everything she never had growing up, but she didn’t want to overcompensate. She knew Rhys would be careful too, even if he had to be reminded to pace himself. Frequently.

Rhys grabbed Feyre by the waist, sitting under her with such ease she didn’t even notice until she was already sitting on his lap, his lips pressing against her temple.

It’s his first birthday, love. Rhys’ soft timbre sounded inside her mind, startling her slightly. He held out his hand and Feyre happily intertwined her fingers with his. Let him be loved by his family.

He won’t even care for most of these things, Feyre said, watching as Nyx threw himself towards Mor’s gift, bouncing back and giggling as he fell on his butt.

And when the time comes, we’ll teach him to care for all things. Rhys pressed his lips against her hand. You’re his mom, Feyre. There’s not a single thing in this world that could make him anything other than kind and caring.

Feyre looked back at him; her vision blurry as she looked at the man she loved. It wasn’t a secret Rhys adored her, but most days he still couldn’t fully understand the type of man that he was. The amazing, loving father he was to Nyx. “There’s no doubt in my mind, Rhys, that he will be gentle and selfless. He’s half of the man who saved me and loved me on my darkest days. How could he be anything less?” She spoke softly, for these were words he needed to hear – the man who had given himself to protect the people he loved; the man who had saved her, over and over again and had wanted nothing in return. No, she didn’t need to be worried, not when Nyx was surrounded by the incredible people she had the pleasure to call family.

He was going to be okay.

“You think this is a bad time to tell them we also got him a toy dagger?” Cassian asked Azriel.

…

Their bedroom was glowing with the light of the night sky, glowing stars held by magic as they swirled softly around the room. Every once in a while, the shape of a little boy would fly by, followed by his parents as their twirled with the stars. It was like living inside a dream, one where things were simple and calm and only love mattered.

It had been a good gift, Feyre concluded once she saw how Nyx’s eyes followed the boy with wonder and curiosity.

Rhysand was sprawled on their bed, his hair longer and curlier than usual, a lazy smile on his lips as he read a book to Nyx – a tale about Nephelle, gifted to him by Elain and Azriel. The baby eyed both his dad and the stars surrounding him with adoring amazement, fighting hard not fall fast asleep.

Feyre felt herself settle, a smile on her lips as she watched the men of her life read a tiny book. Had it really been a year since her baby boy had been born? She simply couldn’t wrap her head around it. How they had gone from frantic nights and painful recoveries to gentle smiles and peaceful living. Just a year ago everything seemed so fragile, and now Nyx was starting to flex his wings, walking all around the house as he tried to follow his dad around, his little legs clumsy even when Rhys slowed down his pace.

Time had gone by too fast.

Everyone had left moments ago, just a few hours after dinner. They were all chatting over drinks when the baby monitor came alive, and Nyx’s cries filled the living room. Everyone had taken that as their sign to retreat back to their own homes, leaving with tipsy smiles and happy memories. Feyre had been retreating every single toy to Nyx’s room while Rhys tried to put the baby back to sleep – to no avail, apparently.

Rhys looked up, smiling as he spotted Feyre making her way to bed. “Did you enjoy the day, love?” Rhys asked in a soft voice, his large hand holding Nyx close to his chest as the baby sucked on his pacified, his little head resting against his dad’s chest. Feyre kissed his soft cheek, making him smile as he fought to keep his eyes open. She lied on her side, settling against Rhys as she played with Nyx’s dark hair. She couldn’t help but smile at the picture they painted – both sleepy, a lazy smile on their lips as they stared at her. She would paint it tomorrow and hang it someplace where she could see it every day for the rest of her life.

“He’s okay.” Feyre whispered, watching as Nyx finally succumbed to sleep. Understanding flashed through Rhys’ face. He smiled at her, his hand softly stroking Nyx’s back.

“He’s okay.” His voice was soft. “We’re all okay, love.”

#pro feysand #domestic feysand #feysand fic #feyre archeron #rhys x nyx #pro rhysand #rhys acotar #rhys x feyre #high lord rhysand #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #feysand fluff

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tootiredmotel · 3 years ago

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a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

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lvnatiq · 3 years ago

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Modern!au Felix Escellun x tattoo artist!gn!reader | Headcanons

a/n: Hey!!! I’m back at it again with my beautifully fucked up request fill. I’m still working on three other things, while I make you wait I took it upon myself to not starve this fandom. So here you have it. Please reblog or comment so that I have a crumb of motivation to keep up.

Should I do a smutty pt. 2 ? Who knows lmao.

Your hand slipped through the pile of designs that your colleague (and your close friend) had sent you to choose and pick apart from.

Unfortunately you were spending the night at the beautiful library of your uni, trying to balance off your school work with your actual work.

You didn’t mind spending your time under the faint scent of books and the mere sound of wood beneath you feet, but what you ‘do’ mind is the fact that the library is way colder than you thought it would be after the midnight.

Good thing that the yearning for finishing your work and leaving as soon as possible made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand.

It also made it easier for you to not notice the presence of an unexpected company.

That was until you felt the warm floral yet musky scent invade your senses as you felt the weight of cotton drape around your shoulders.

You slowly turn your head towards the owner of the coat who’s already making their way out. Desperately trying to find a way to make them stop but failing to raise your voice because of the circumstances.

The last picture of the person buried in your head was their hair caressed by the wind and their quick steps.

Fast forward to a week later, going completely out of luck with finding a place to stay you decide to ask help from your friend whom interestingly has a lot to offer.

With things going a lot smoother than you expected you stopped by the tattoo shop to finish your appointments with couple of customers before you left to meet up with your possible candidate.

“Don’t bother I’ll just call him here so you could talk comfortably.”

Your work seemed to take a lot longer than usual. So you kindly accepted your friends offer as you wrapped up the leftover stuff, finishing up the last customer.

“Hey, oh-“

The sight of your guest tickled your memories as you kept glaring at the glorious figure in front of you.

Felix, completely avoiding eye contact, placed the fallen hair strand behind his ear as he kept his eyes on the table of the tattoo equipments.

You quickly got up as you grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked back where you left him.

“Thank you for the coat, you really saved me back there.”

“Oh- no problem.”

That day you two chatted and melted the ice in between. Deciding to rent the close by apartment and start your roommate era.

Your friend smiled to themselves knowing all too well that felix was completely crazy about you.

Your encounter at the library wasn’t a coincidence either, well don’t think of him as a stalker now, he just dumped a couple of coins in the fountain wishing that you would be there that night. That’s all.

As you two moved in together you realized that there were a lot of things to be ‘caught off guard’ about him but you were most baffled by the tremendous amount of books felix owned.

“Hey Lover boy ! Would you mind recommending me some of them ?”

Felix blushes terribly and you love it so much that you constantly bother him in order to catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

Unbeknownst to you, the pile that felix left on the doorstep of your room was consisted of the books that he thought of you as he read.

Felix, abandoning his night owl habit, decided to fix his sleeping schedule for the better. Definitely not because he wanted to see you at morning before you got off to the work.

Insisting on offering you a ride on your way back home with his nice car.

Nearly every single day.

He knows that it may annoy you but he knows how much you are devoted to your responsibilities so he at least wants for you to save a bit of energy before you dive into the work.

Speaking of his nice car, it tickled your curiosity so you decided to check the price tag on the web and... well...

“Felix... you don’t so some sketchy illegal shit for a living right ?”

“It’s nearly impossible for me to work at the moment because of my studies. Why did you ask ?”

“Your car costs more than the apartment we are living in right now.”

With that, you discover that Felix’s father owns one of the most prominent chains of pharmaceutical companies and that he basically flee from his fathers mansion because he was pressuring Felix to take over his position in the future.

Being his puppet was not a thing to be tolerated in Felix’s book.

That being said, your domestic life with felix was pretty soft to say the least.

Cleaning together, cooking while talking about how your day went or getting to enjoy his expressions while he spilled his frustration against authors that didn’t affect him well.

Occasionally noticing the new cooking books appearing out of nowhere

and the delicious smell of food welcoming you after work, quite often than you expect.

Finally, more skinship.

One day whilst you two got through the gates of your apartment block you noticed the open doors of the elevator so instinctively you held Felix by the hand and ran into the mirrored box.

What you didn’t notice was the fact that you didn’t let go of his hand as you two went up.

From that day on Felix used every single opportunity to sneak his hand into yours.

Don’t blame him, it’s just that your hands are warm and the feeling of security that radiates from your fingertips is his medicine.

You absolutely avoided to tease or point it out to him because you knew that he would never do it again so you went with the flow.

You really enjoyed it though.

Snaking your arms around his waist while he is organizing the bookshelf. Feeling him shutter into your arms.

Nights became more and more enjoyable once he started to accompany you.

Everytime you caught him slacking on the sofa, you used his lap as a pillow.

Felix is extremely easy to figure out, mainly because he can’t hide anything.

Also, well

He is ticklish and you use his weakness against him, a lot.

Diving your fingers down to the sides of his tummy you started to tickle every possible sensitive spot you could catch on.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I wan’t you to- give me my first tattoo.”

Telling his words apart from his adorable giggles, needless to say you were ecstatic.

“Alright. What do I get in return ?”

“Name your price.”

You thoughtfully stared at the ceiling, humming as you blurted out your very obviously well thought out response.

“I want you to show me what keeps you up all night.”

You can’t be serious.

If you asked for an organ, he would’ve been more compliant.

You didn’t know what you got yourself into.

You basically asked for him to show you his ‘masterpieces’ that he showcases on AO3. Something that you were already well aware of.

“Deal ?”

“No !”

“Good ! Let’s see what you got.”

Felix anonymously contributed to the community by writing some of the most famous slow-burn stories on the web.

Just so you know, his author persona blew up thanks to the mind blowing, earth shattering smuts he wrote.

Yeah you heard that right

Smuts

Well he is fucking panicking now.

Nonetheless days kept on going as felix prayed each night to every single deity that you forgot your ‘deal’.

The days go on even if his worries don’t.

Did I say that Felix is a whimpering, whiny mess ? he struggles to stay in one position as the needle drags upon his skin.

“If you plan to keep on moving, I might as well strap you down felix. 5 more minutes and then we are done. Please behave.”

When you put it like that how can he refuse I mean you made things worse he is internally screaming at what you just said but he is not going to refuse a command when it’s given by you.

In exchange for giving him a tattoo you decide to let him give you one even though he’s inexperienced.

He’s terrified because he thinks that something would go wrong, his hand would slip or something and he would scratch that pretty skin of yours with a horrendous tattoo.

But you assured him nevertheless and offered him to draw something very minimal and easy. He accepted eventually.

As it turns out Felix is a natural. His hand is extremely steady and the tattoo turns out great.

Throughout the process he’s constantly asking if you’re hurt because he thinks that he’s doing something wrong but in fact he’s very delicate and gentle with the strokes and his touch.

You decide to be evil and use it against him. After you touch up your tattoo you lean in very closely and turn your cheek towards him.

“What are you doing ?” He stutters.

“I can’t possibly ask you to kiss my freshly made tattoo, so won’t you give me a kiss so that it heals faster.”

If his hands were steady before they weren’t now.

As soon as his lips left your cheek you held him by his wrist and pull him back close again so that you can lean in onto his ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal. I am excited to see what you have in store for me tonight.” You winked.

Then the worst thing happened

The “tonight” came.

Felix was running in circles around the living room with one hand on his forehead wondering what could get worse after this.

Maybe you’ll be disgusted or scared hell if he knows.

He wanted to do nothing to harm your relationship in anyway because you and what you two have is all he ever wanted.

...and he believes that he has a tendency to ruin things.

But what happened was beyond his expectations.

Your eyes followed every single sentence throughout the screen, the white light traced your expressions as your eyebrows raised up and down and the corners of your lips inched closer to your ears. Your lower lip became a victim of your teeth’s assault.

He was so confused. Still waiting for you to lash out or make fun of him, at least.

“I used to think ‘what am I gonna do with you’ when it comes to you. Mostly out of frustration.”

Yet here you were with the laptop closed shut and your arms behind your head as you closed your eyes and groaned.

Slowly the smile plastered on your face grew.

”Now I know what to with you.”

#felix escellun #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #felix fictif #nyx hydra #fictif #mc

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day.

It was hardly dawn.

Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did.

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you.

When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move.

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

“On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink.

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

Keigo was a bit stunned by you.

You were cute, one.

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter.

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work.

You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside.

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk.

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments.

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop.

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him.

Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you.

“You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost.

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself.

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted.

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored.

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body.

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe.

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider.

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin.

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw.

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you.

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could.

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time.

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you.

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?”

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying.

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again.

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands.

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold.

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this.

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten. He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings.

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #reader insert #mha x reader #my hero x reader #mha smut #hawks reader insert #my hero academia #bnha x reader #takami x reader #mha lemon

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khneltea · 4 years ago

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Jasonette headcannon #1 section b.

Woah, so apparently y'all like this stuff. Uhm, takes inspiration from @mochegato and @SquareBrain on AO3

↬ Jason will never admit that he felt scared out of his wits as he rocked up to the shop

↬ nope, nuh-uh, never

↬ the store owner who stood a head shorter than him wasn't scary in the slightest

↬ so, dressed up in his best leather jacket and jeans, plus that old red shirt that may or may not have a bullet hole in it somewhere but was the best one he could find, he opened the door to the shop

↬ only to tremble in his boots at who was in the shop (whether it was anger or sheer fear, he will not admit to either and will deny all allegations of said trembling)

↬ inside was 2 of the biggest crime lords in Gotham, the one from the docks and the one from the underground, notorious for trying to tear each other's throats out, sitting peacefully on pretty pink cushions and enjoying pastries and tea out of tiny dainty tea cups

↬ what.the.actual.fuck.

↬ the glaringly pink (he supposed that was the theme) door to the right suddenly burst open and out comes the lady of the hour, and behind her was a very hot teenage girl (about 15 years old), but for some reason, he didn't really pay attention to her

↬ all eyes were on the two ladies, the hot one giggling away about a quinceañera while the owner of the shop smiled serenely, surveying the surroundings (probably checking if there was a gang war)

↬ her bluebell eyes popped out when they saw him (he says it was because he was handsome, but don't listen to him-)

↬ "hello! Welcome to my boutique, would you like to take a seat while checking our ready-made garments? Or are you here for a commision?"

↬ "uhhhhhhh..." Jason didn't think that far ahead. And it's hard going impromptu when there was a beautiful lady devoting all her attention on him

↬ she smiled like she knew exactly what he was thinking

↬ "why don't you take a seat, monsieur, and I'll help you out dans juste un instant (oh gosh, I'm sorry all you people who speak french who are going to call me out for using Google translate-)"

↬ so he's just sitting there, a tiny tea cup with little black cats and ladybugs on the sides held in his hands as he sees her negotiating a purchase with one of the mobster groups

↬ he nearly sighed in relief when the crime lord by the docks left with the gorgeous girl (probably his daughter now that he thought about it) after leaving a heavy briefcase and a business card in exchange for a beautiful sleek gown and matching accessories

↬ kinda scared him how friendly they both seemed to the store owner and how...warm that look in both the father and daughter's eyes were

↬ and he couldn't help but flinch when the crime lord from Gotham underground (is this a thing-) grins while the blue eyed woman started taking his measurements

↬ "doll, you're always welcome to come over anytime. You're good at business, I need more people like that."

↬ she has the fucking audacity to laugh. Laugh, I tell you

↬ "non, non, monsieur. I am quite happy with my little shop over here. Besides, the young ones would miss my pastries too much if I moved."

↬ he waved a hand. "Those street rats? If that's all that it takes to get you on my side, then consider them to be in better protection and care than those kids Wayne adopts every 5 seconds."

↬ got to say, his heart went thump when he pieced together that she took care of the street kids

↬ she grins "well, you're already giving them protection for living in my block, so that's all I need. Don't worry about the rest, I've got it covered."

↬ the crime lord shrugs. "Eh, I don't really care about the brats. But you, you're the one that needs protecting. Where else will I be getting these good suits that don't tear all the goddamn time from knives and guns? Plus, what's another 5 or 6 men patrolling this area to keep my favourite designer safe? If it makes you happy that they're inadvertently looking out for the kids, then better for me."

↬ wait those suits protected him from knives and guns????? Who the hell was this woman???

↬ smiling in response, but not as brightly anymore, she stood up, jotting down some notes in her book

↬ "alright, monsieur, you'll have to come in to a fitting on Saturday, presumably before your interaction with Monsieur Falcone at 1pm, so would it be presumptuous to ask if you come in at 10:30?"

↬ "not at all, my dear! it's a pleasure of doing business with you"

↬ "also, preferably, don't wear the flashy red suit you have, might i recommend the blue one from the fitting before last week's? Monsieur Falcone would gladly appreciate the red suit blaring in his eyes after the concussion he received recently"

↬ wait

↬ how the fuck did she know that

↬ falcone got that last night (he should know, he gave it to him)

↬ and the only ones who should know about it right now are him, Falcone, and no one else

↬ either this kid was magic, or she was Alfred level shit (he's still not convinced that Alfred is fully human)

↬ "thanks doll" and the crime lord leaves

↬ she turns to him, smiles and everything

↬ "alright, monsieur hood, what would you like to purchase today? or are you still having difficulty choosing?"

↬ uhm fuck ok

↬ how the hell do you talk to pretty, badass women that can probably take over the entirety of Gotham in a day

↬ "uhhhhhh got anything in red that doesn't make me look like a fucking period stain?"

↬ she giggled in a way that you know it's not flirting but just generally found it funny, and he thought it was the creation of the universe

↬ "i'm sure we can find you something, monsieur hood."

↬ proceeds to pull him up (what the fuck she was so strong for such a tiny girl) and lead him to the back room

↬ fabrics upon fabrics upon fabrics lay everywhere in chaos, but he felt like if he moved something, the balance of the room would be upset

↬ finally comes to a bar that ran from one end of a rack to the other, thin fabrics lining it

↬ the blue-eyed girl takes a beautiful black silk cravat with red embroidery that boldly stood out (yes, he knows what a cravat is, sue him for wanting to know what Mr Knightley, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy wore in the books) and drapes it over his neck, critically eyeing it

↬ in the process, pulling him down by the neck to look at it and being very close to her pink plump lips

↬ uhm fuck what do i do what do i say who am i what is life what the fuck austen you didn't prepare me for this-

↬ "as i thought", she says, "this is a good colour scheme for you, but probably more of a black with a tinge of brown and a more muted red colour scheme for everyday use."

↬ she walks away and comes back with a measuring tape and measures his neck, shoulders, arms, and starts measuring around the torso

↬ he doesn't even register this because of how efficient she is and because he was used to it from living with Bruce fucking Wayne (he won't admit that he was just too distracted by the way her dainty little fingers brushed against the back of his ears as she leaned forward to check the measurements, nor when they fluttered against his biceps and chest)

↬ when she's done, she starts writing measurements and mumbling under her breath, which snaps him out of his stupor

↬ "why did you take my measurements?"

↬ "a good cravat needs a good suit, and what better than for me to make a matching one when I have the time and resources to do it?"

↬ she fucking grinned at him like a devious minx who knew more about him than she should and he melted a bit.

↬ just a little bit.

↬ turning around, she stuck her hand out, still smiling like a fucking seductress

↬ "I'll be making your suit and cravats, let's hope to a wonderful relationship, it's going to be a pleasure working with you."

↬ he tried to match her smile, but ended up feeling like a dork with his heart beating 200 times a second. and he felt like an even bigger dork when he took her hand and gave her a small kiss on the knuckles. "believe me, the pleasure is all mine, dove. might i dare, i fain would ask, for your sweet name? that while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, i feel that yours would double in so."

↬ she smiled back at him.

↬ "why, good sir, it is a good show of faith in the honey to the flower of life, as Hugo quotes, but I wish you would take me to dinner first before such matters. My name, you ask? It is Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

↬ He smirked. "My name is Jason Todd."

↬ "I know, Monsieur Hood."

↬ "Wait, how the fuck do you know-"

#what the fuck was this #ok this was way longer than planned #designer mari #jasonette #mari is alfred #mari can be overlord #didn't plan for this but it happened #maribat #ml x dc #miraculous ladybug #dc comics #prompt?#headcannon?#what is my life #jason todd #red hood #marinette dupain cheng #jason x marinette #jason thinks she's hot

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years ago

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Tropetember Day 2: Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlor / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU

Coffee and other ways to heal the soul.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Valhalla arc (mentioned), coffee, NCIS cameo

AN: Day 2 of @tropetember. I was really struggling with the coffee shop AU but once I got going, really got way too into it and could probably pad this out into a short series. Is that something people would be interested in?

Also, not really sure if I managed to capture Spencer but remember this is an AU and that's my excuse!

Enjoy!

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 2.4k

One of the biggest advantages of owning one of the few coffee shops in Quantico that wasn't part of a massive chain, was the constant stream of senior FBI and Navy personnel desperate for high quality, well made coffee. It had become such a lucrative venture in fact that you could afford to hire enough staff to rarely even have to be behind the counter at all.

The surge in popularity has even allowed you to convert one of the spare upstairs rooms into a meeting room. In hindsight, you should have converted more because once your regulars found out about it, there had been outright war between the Navy and FBI to try and get meetings booked in. A couple of your regulars had even managed to get both institutions to hardwire connections so they could host even more briefings and meetings in the friendly, comfortable space.

Today's winners were a Unit from the FBI, who had booked it out for a whole day. Aaron Hotchner, the BAU chief, came in most mornings and was a real sweetheart. You'd been trying to get him to drink something other than his normal americano since his return from Afghanistan a few months ago, but had not been successful so far. You were excited to meet the rest of the legendary team. He always spoke fondly of them when he bought extra coffees to boost morale.

With that in mind, you quickly throw together the pastries and beverages he'd preordered for the start of their session and head in to do a quick check that everything was ready.

Like any meeting room, there was a large table in the center but you'd made sure to surround it with comfy and artfully mismatched chairs. The floor was a deep walnut colour and matched the numerous floating shelves which were covered in plants and books. The place was homey and extended the cosy chic look you had been trying to achieve throughout the shop.

After a little bit of organising, including making sure the FBI cables were accessible and tidying any of the Navy’s equipment, you head downstairs to the main space.

Charlotte and Jessica were behind the tills this morning, making quick work of the line and exuding friendly helpfulness out of every pore. They were both grad students and you were already dreading them graduating. Their natural effervescence would be impossible to replace.

To pass the time until your booking arrives, you catch up with NCIS Agent McGee who is on the coffee run, trying not to hold him up too long in case he ends up getting in more trouble with his big bad boss. Apparently Agent DiNozzo had knocked over Gibbs coffee but McGee had then slipped in it and done some minor damage to some of the equipment. He told you he much preferred coffee run to door knocking duty round a 6 block radius like DiNozzo.

As you wrap it up, a group of people enter the shop, led by a woman in colourful clothes and a sunshine demeanour. It's not until you see Agent Hotchner's suited and booted presence bringing up the rear that you realise this is the infamous BAU.

Donning your friendliest persona, you politely excuse yourself from McGee and head to greet them, calling Aaron's name across the way.

The profilers seem surprised by your use of their bosses name but quickly shake it off as introductions are made. You receive hand shakes off most of them with the exception of Penelope, who gives you a hug because of course she does, and Dr Spencer Reid who gives you a shy wave and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

It didn't take a profiler to see the physical distance between the genius and the rest of the group. He was always a step away from the nearest person and automatically avoided any physical contact from them.

How strange.

Brushing it off you lead them upstairs and get them settled, letting them know that they're welcome to come and go in the shop as need and that all their drinks would be added to the discounted tab and left them too it, all the while trying not to puzzle over the handsome loner and his cute sweater vest.

-----

If there was one thing Spencer Reid hated more than anything, it was team building.

Normally, back before everything happened, he would just grit his teeth and bear it. That's been a lot harder after finding out that Emily was alive.

Processing the joy at her being alive and the rage at being led to believe she was dead in the first place, particularly by the people he trusted the most, was not easy. He was trying to forgive them. He was trying to let it go, to accept the damage but move forward.

It was still a work in progress.

That's why, when Hotch announced a team building/meeting day, he had momentarily considered resigning. Though there was no longer outright hostility between himself and Jennifer, things weren’t exactly comfortable between himself and half of the team. The only bright side to this whole endeavour was the location. No coffee shop lasted long in Quantico unless the coffee was actually good. It was a small mercy.

He followed the rest of the team into the coffee shop, eyeing the surroundings and taking note of the other visitors. As the rest of the team joked about, he stayed back, simply waving at the nice owner of the shop when Hotch introduced them.

They appeared to be about his age which was very impressive considering the success of the café. And there were a couple of sci-fi references hidden in the décor that he would have loved to ask about, but he doubted they’d appreciate him going off about Star Trek this early in the morning. Instead he just gave a tight-lipped smile and followed the team upstairs.

Spencer tried his best to concentrate throughout the morning but to say he was relieved when they were left to their own devices for lunch would be an understatement.

-----

After a productive morning in the office, you wander back out to the main part of the shop to check on things. The lunch rush can be unforgiving but the girls seem to have it in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday lunchtime.

What you didn’t expect to see was Spencer Reid hidden away at one of the back tables with a ginormous book in front of him, a small scowl on his face and the rest of his team nowhere in sight.

You agonise silently with yourself for a few moments before you decide to head over. You figure if he doesn’t want company he’ll let you know but you feel drawn to him. It was strange. Maybe it was just your instinctive need to collect strays.

You smile gently at him when you reach his table, indicating the seat opposite him in question. He gives a quick nod but doesn’t fully look at you.

“Everything ok?” you ask.

He takes a moment and seems to be considering his options. He looks at you with a little tilt of his head, likely questioning your motives.

Finally, he seems to decide you have no sinister intention and quietly replies “I just wish things could go back to how they were”.

You had heard about the events involving the BAU in the last year or so. It had been a hot topic of gossip in the shop numerous times. Aaron also occasionally talked about his guilt at what he put his team through when he stopped by, needing a friend to talk to. It’s the first time, however, that you think in depth about how faking a close friend's death likely affected the team members who were unaware.

This isn’t to say you didn’t care or didn’t think that it must have been terrible for them. You did, but had agreed with the justification that it was for Agent Prentiss’ safety, that finding out she was alive would make up for it. It’s apparent in the sadness of Dr Reid’s expression that that isn’t the case.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes shoot up in surprise and he hesitantly nods. You gently grasp his hands, wrapping your fingers around his.

“I can’t even imagine,” you begin slowly, “how difficult this must be. But if you ever need to talk to someone, you’re always welcome here”

He gives a short, sharp nod and squeezes your fingers which you take to mean thank you.

“Also, this is totally not my place but, a therapist, one outside the Bureau? Might not be such a bad idea?” You give a sardonic grin and admit ” It worked for me”

After you give his hands another quick squeeze, you leave him to ponder your statement and head back to your office. Paperwork doesn’t do it self after all.

You hope Spencer manages to find some support though and decide that if he wants it, you’d be more than willing to help him.

---------------

It was a few weeks before Spencer Reid showed up in the coffee shop again.

It was early evening and you only had a few people in. You’d opted to close up tonight to ensure Jessica, who had been on the afternoon shift, had time to work on her assignment for class. She’d been complaining about it for the last few days.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your thoughts and you glance up to see who has entered. When you realise who it is you can’t help but smile.

“Fancy seeing you here Dr Reid” you say in greeting. He gives you a small smile in return.

“Well, it’s good coffee and, erm, the company’s good?”

You understand the question implicit in that comment and glance around at the few remaining patrons. They all have a beverage and it’s a quiet night so you can afford to take a step out behind the counter between orders.

“Sure, let me make us both a drink and then I’m all yours.”

You take his order (how much sugar?!?!) and get you both sorted out and settled into a small booth. You look at him, taking in the nervous expression on his face and let him settle in and start the conversation.

“I, erm, I took your advice”.

“That’s good. Are you finding it’s helping? Having someone outside of work to talk things through with?”

He nods his head.

“One of the things she pointed out was that so much of my life is wrapped up in work, that when things go wrong I don't have an external support system. Not that I didn't know that already but, someone else pointing it out made me realise how much if an impact it has.”

You bob your head thoughtfully, acknowledging his comment but not forcing him to say more.

“She suggested I try to find people outside of work to talk to. I was... I was wondering if you could be one?”

His nerves seem to have failed him slightly as he can’t look you in the eye, but you give him a big grin. Of course you want to spend time with this lovely man.

“I’d love to” you say, which gets him to look up and give you a smile in response.

You spend nearly an hour, with occasional breaks to serve customers, chatting to him before it becomes necessary to close up. He starts gathering his things but you’ve been enjoying his company so much you can’t bear to let him go. Instead, you check if he’s in a rush and, after confirming he has nothing else planned, invite him to hang around and grab something to eat from the diner down the street.

By the end of the night, you’re glad the diner is 24hr. You completely lose track of time, fascinated by the sheer amount of information he can provide and the passion with which he infodumps. It’s extremely endearing.

“I had a lovely time tonight” you tell him as you walk towards your apartment. You don’t live too far from the coffee shop and he had very gallantly offered to walk you home. “I’d love to do it again some time?”

He smiles and nods in agreement before asking for your phone number.

“I don't really like technology that much so I don’t have a smartphone and I don’t really check it that much and prefer speaking to texting…”

“Spence” you say, a little laugh in your voice as you interrupt. “Whatever works best for you. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you, promise.”

You seem to have hit his worries a little too closely as he sways a little awkwardly, gaze wandering down to his feet.

“Can I hug you?” you check. His answer is to wrap his arms around you and you gently sway the both of you side to side.

He lets go and turns to head back out into the night as you call out “If you’re ever missing me, I know a place you can get great coffee. I can get you a good discount.” A laugh stutters from his lips and he wishes you a good night.

Leaning against your door you sigh happily to yourself. It’s always a good feeling making a new friend.

--------------

It had been over a year since the last time the BAU had booked (and managed to attend the booking). In that time, you’d converted another room upstairs into a meeting room, as well as setting up a shared work/study space in a room out the back.

You grin as you see them all enter, fascinated by the way this family of agents interact with each other. There’s even a tall, handsome genius who stands within the group, laughing and joking along with the rest.

Spencer greets you with a gentle kiss to your lips and it causes uproar from his colleagues. You don’t react much, you just turn to them and shrug.

“Do you know how many germs are passed in a handshake? It’s much safer to kiss.”

Your genius just laughs and wraps an arm around you, guiding the whole group upstairs, his friends playfully demanding details the whole way.

#Trope: Coffee Shop AU #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #tropetember #fanfiction #unbeta'd

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puppetsoftomorrow · 4 years ago

Text

the avalance news reader au

hey who said peer pressure doesn't work. anyway i made this post and y'all seemed to like it so here we go!! might post to ao3 later on idk...

It had been a truly terrible day.

Ava considered, in the moment that her coffee machine spluttered coughed up coffee grounds over her last clean shirt, that maybe she'd just had a truly terrible year. All her dreams about finally moving to television after being stuck in the doldrums of local news media for six years had been slashed when she'd been placed on the graveyard shift - sure, Ava was finally reading the news, but her shift was from 1AM until 4AM, so her only audience was long-distance truck drivers and new parents.

Still, she persevered, with the slightly foolish belief that if she worked hard enough, she could be promoted to a primetime slot. Or at least a slot that didn't require her to be making coffee at 10:45PM.

Her day had started off badly - she'd barely slept, as the sound from the construction work three blocks away rattled her windows, and she’d woken to find that her cat, Merlin, had kicked his litter halfway across the house in a fit of pique. Ava couldn't even have her normal oatmeal, as she was out of oat milk, and now she was having to drink her coffee black.

After changing her shirt to a dark dress and grimacing as she choked down the coffee, there was a knock on the door, and Ava groaned as she realised she was running late.

"Hey, Sara." She sighed.

Sara stood in the doorway, hair wavy over her shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie - the same grey hoodie she wore every day, branded with their news station's logo.

"Woah, a dress?" Sara said, eyebrows raised appreciatively, as Ava grabbed her coat and bag and they moved to go down the stairs.

"Don't mention it." Ava grumbled, pulling the coat around her shoulders.

"It looks good on you." Sara said, and Ava shot her a look. Sara mimed zipping her lips. "Do we have to time for Starbucks? I had to have black coffee; my mouth tastes like something died in it." Ava muttered, and Sara shrugged.

"I mean, we've arrived half an hour early for every shift for the past year -"

"Do you want to go back to taking the bus?" Ava said, looking over at her as they reached the lobby. They'd discovered they lived in the same building almost accidentally in Ava's first week, awkwardly meeting across the hall in the early morning, until Sara had realised that Ava had a car and they'd started riding in together.

"Fine, if you're happy with having bad angles." Sara said, holding the door open for her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying I have bad angles?"

"Oh, I'll find one." Sara muttered, and Ava snorted with laughter and unlocked the car. One of the benefits to giving her camera operator a ride every day was always having excellent angles.

After a stop at Starbucks, Ava rolled along the dark, quiet roads, sighing deeply.

"What's up?" Sara asked, sipping her drink - black coffee, which she somehow enjoyed.

"Nothing." Ava muttered, but it only took one look at Sara for her to come out with the story of her crappy day. Sara laughed.

"So that's why you're wearing the dress."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Ava said, focusing on the road with a small smile on her face. "I have to go back to my apartment at 5AM and clean up kitty litter and coffee grounds."

"Not to mention getting coffee out of your shirt." Sara snorted, and Ava groaned, loud and over the top.

///

They always split when they got to the studio, Ava marching off to make-up to get ready, and Sara taking the elevator to the studio floor to set up her camera. The studio was always dead past midnight, just a skeleton crew left, which Sara found she enjoyed - it was easier to know everyone that way. She waved at Nate, distracting him from where he was running through the weather, muttering under his breath and checking his perfectly coiffed hair in the camera. He waved back, a bright smile on his face.

Careful not to trip over any of the wires on the floor, Sara made her way up to the box above the studio, the cramped room filled from head to toe with blinking lights and buttons, with a large window so they could look down on the studio. The techs – Behrad and Charlie - were sat with headphones on, running through sound checks, so Sara just waved to them as she found who she was looking for.

Zari, the studio runner, was running through her clipboard, muttering under her breath. When she saw Sara coming, she rolled her eyes. "Back again?"

"What have you got for her today?" Sara asked, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"The usual. Some city councilor has been embezzling funds, Star City is readying to bid for the 2028 Olympics, and former mayor Queen is opening a patisserie down-town. It's been a quiet week."

"Exactly." Sara said, her grin widening. "You've got to add the cat one."

Ray, their head writer, had found a story a week ago about a fat cat attending the Star City pet spa to lose weight, and Sara had been tracking down clips of the poor thing, bribing the editor, Nora, to pull them together. She'd even written a script. Zari looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I have a bet going with Mick - if I can get Ava to break on camera by the end of the month, he's got to give me $50." Sara said. It was ridiculous, she'd started the bet - truthfully, she found it endearing how Ava read the news with the same abject sternness whether she was covering a political scandal or a dog who'd learnt to surf in Star City Bay. She'd only broken her composure once - a smile creeping on her face when reporting on the 5th birthday of a crocodile at Star City Zoo named Snaps. From that day on, Sara had vowed to make her laugh, properly, live on air.

"I don't have any time to make up." Zari said, and Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but you know Ava reads quick enough. Please? For me?"

Zari seemed immune to the puppy eyes, so Sara sighed. "And I'll give you $20."

Zari snorted. "Do you have $20?"

"I'll have $50 when I win the bet." Sara countered, and Zari sighed.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"Z, you're the best." Sara said with a grin, and turned to return to the studio floor.

///

The program went smoothly, like always. Sara liked her job, the focus of filming and the pride she got when she saw her own work on TV, but she liked it better when she was filming Ava, who had pretty much insisted from day one that Sara be her primary operator.

Ava looked especially pretty today, someone in make-up evidently having convinced her that she didn't need the bun today, and instead curled her hair over both shoulders, which didn't completely cover Ava's defined arms, visible in her sleeveless dress.

The night ran the same as most others, Ava transitioning smoothly between topics and engaging in light, courteous banter with Nate before he presented the weather. Sara looked at Ava during these moments, the five minutes she was off camera, where she looked down at her notes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Okay, so maybe Sara wanted to make Ava laugh because she looked so pretty doing it. Sue her.

They were coming near the end, and Sara was losing hope that the story would be included, until she heard the segue.

"Now, in lighter news," Ava started, her eyebrows suddenly shooting up as she read the prompter. Sara grinned; Zari had obviously left this out of Ava's notes to inspire more of a reaction.

"Cats," Ava blurted out, steadying herself before continuing, "they're not normally known for their love of swimming, but one feline in Star City is hitting the water instead of the gym in a bid to lose weight. Mr. Snuggles -" Ava bit her lip as the pictures played on the monitor - a black and white cat in a life vest, looking absolutely terrified, and Sara grinned. "Mr. Snuggles is a thirteen-year-old cat who - dislikes the outdoors and other physical activities."

Sara's grin widened as Ava lost it, barely making it through her lines through her giggles. Her face was flushing pink and she bit her lip to try and compose herself. "But with encouragement from his owner -" Ava pressed on, trying to hold herself together, "Mr. Snuggles had lost one pound in six months."

That was the final straw, as Ava descended into a full-on laugh, barely making it through her sign off. Sara was so distracted by the sound she nearly missed Zari's voice in her ear. "Camera 1 to Camera 3 in 3, 2, 1 -"

Sara switched off, but not before Ava snorted, flushing even deeper and covering her face with her hands at the sound, not disguised by the jingle from the lottery numbers playing across the screen.

///

Ava had bolted from the set, and Sara packed up her equipment as quickly as possible, ducking out just in time to catch Ava as she walked down the corridor to the lobby. Her face was now free of make-up, her hair tied up in a messy bun, but she was still in the dress that left Sara's mouth a little dry. She looked at Sara, blushing again.

"I can't believe you did that." She groaned, and Sara put on her most innocent face on.

"Did what?"

"Bribed Zari to put the cat story in! John in make-up said that Charlie had told him that you'd bribed Zari."

"To win $50!" Sara said, grinning. "And you have a really cute laugh."

Ava looked up; eyebrow furrowed. "Really?"

"Yep." Sara said, trying to play it cool. "Look, do you want half? I feel bad now."

Ava sighed. "No, it's okay."

"I could buy you dinner." Sara said, almost blurting it out, and Ava looked at her. "To make up for it."

Ava's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Uh - yeah, okay. I can do dinner."

~the end~

okay so this was fun to write and i kind of want to write more so uhh send me where u think this story should go. or ideas for a part 2 maybe. thanks for reading!!

#phoebe lifeblogs #avalance #legends of tomorrow #my writing #this is almost Too cute lmao

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