#I had never even crossed the street before and then I was alone in washington dc

[k2ulhu]

I was able to stop in dc on vacation about a month and a half ago and man I wish I could've spent more time there. it was 90° and I was wearing 3 layers of clothes I couldn't change out of for 4 and a half hours. but it was awesome

I'm trying to plan a longer trip with my friends for my birthday in december when it'll be colder

(I do have a vague worry I looked a bit too suspicious walking around the fbi building for an hour in the middle of the summer wearing 2 jackets, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, taking about 40 pictures from every angle I could get, but hopefully they know I just like the x files way too much)

I can't believe they made the building from the x files into a real thing wow. wow

[wouldnt-it-be-hilarious-if-i]

I was re-listening to this song earlier, thinking about the different lyrics that have defined my year this year. I thought back to how this one clearly defined February to early March for me but couldn't for the life of me remember the song. I couldn't find it in my search history either until I very suddenly remembered a rough version of the lyrics and beat.

So, why am I making a post about it?

I started listening to it to see if there were any hidden meanings or messages in it that I hadn't seen before when I first heard the cover of this song. I like doing this because whenever I feel called to study music closer, I always end up finding out something that absolutely shocks me.

This song was no different. I guess I was more focused on the vocals when I heard it because I didn't pay any attention to the actual lyrics because I didn't even realize she was talking about new york!! This would be a hundred times funnier if I could tell you anything about who I was showing this cover to at the time because I was probably the only one unaware of what this song was about lmao

As I was listening to the original song and reading the lyrics that I saw a video with the original singer, Suzanne Vega, talking about the meaning of the song. The video follows her around New York City as she discusses the story behind the lyrics. It took a minute for me to register what city she was in because the captions were in Dutch, so my brain assumed it was the Netherlands or something. But I recognized the areas she was walking through, and then I realized she was saying the entire song was based on an actual restaurant in New York. I've never been to that restaurant a day in my life, but as soon as I saw it, I was so certain that I'd been there. It could also have a small thing to do with the fact that my mom watched Seinfeld religiously when I was a child, but whatever.

Anyway, she also walked past this cathedral, which she mentioned in the song, and I immediately screamed because I was like I've been there! I've seen that cathedral! The above picture was taken one day after I turned thirteen in like August 2012. That same day, I walked to Washington Square Park, and took photos of the arch, and I don't have any idea where exactly this was, but I walked into the coolest costume shop ever and I think I bought a masquerade mask there (which I still have).

I remember seeing a man in a bunny costume just walking (or hopping?) down the street. I also remember seeing two people completely naked and going at it on a cardboard box in an alley in broad daylight, which I still find absolutely hilarious. I also almost got hit by a car (more than likely) on this day. And I don't mean that in a "a new york driver drove really fast past me and I worried I was going to get hit because no one actually seems to follow any pedestrian laws" sense, but more like in the sense that this man actually almost hit me because I was walking alone and I have a phobia of moving cars, so when he was coming at me, I just froze up and he looked freaked tf out too. (this was also why i wasn't allowed to walk around new york by myself, because i struggled to even cross the street unless someone was holding my hand)

It was actually on E 21st street, right next to Gramercy Park. I was on my way back home from the huge Barnes and Noble on 17th street. I had expected to meet my true love that day, instead I nearly met my untimely death!

For a long time, there was no city I wanted to visit less than New York City. My family lives there, and there are so many other reasons that made me not want to ever go again. But regardless of that fact, there's a moment when you first enter the city from out of state, right before the smell of hot, wet garbage absolutely knocks you out, where the air smells sweet and savory and like cinnamon, depending on where you come in at. There's the wonderfully thrilling moment when you enter the Lincoln tunnel at night, and the cars light up the inside of the tunnel and if you don't think about what might be on those walls, you want to reach out and run your hands all over the walls and remember that texture forever. During the day was just as wonderful because the tunnel was so dark, and when you ended up on the other side after a twelve hour road trip, everyone would squeal and cheer with relief because it meant we were finally there.

And maybe I saw two people having sex on a dilapidated cardboard box, and hid all my belongings in my shoes because I was terrified of getting mugged. But I'll never forget the snow. I'll never forget getting pizza with my aunt and it raining on the way home, so the pizza was completely drenched and just salty and gross and soggy but still so good. Maybe 99% of me hates it so much, but 1% of me goes back to a time in my life where I just had to see the Chelsea hotel, and where I walked through Central Park and heard music playing and so much energy around me.

I'll never forget sneaking out of my grandma's apartment and leaving her door cracked open like the little southern dumbass I am and waving at a girl who told me to fuck off in response while I was walking (that definitely pissed me off btw). I'll never forget fainting when I got home because I never drank water and have never been able to handle heat a day in my life. Us southern girls can't go an hour, let alone a whole month without AC. For some god awful reason, when I was growing up, I rarely entered a store that had it. I'm a little convinced on this fact alone that most new yorkers have a penchant for sadism or something because I know I'm not the only one who wants to jump off a building kermit style being in that heat.

It hits me so randomly sometimes and I miss New York so much it hurts. I'll just think, "I should have gone to NYU, I should have never listened to my dad. I should have tried going to Columbia like I wanted to." or "I miss the lights and cars." In the south, we have crickets, cicadas and the rumble of trains miles away. The crickets and cicadas get so loud it's almost impossible to sleep until it isn't, and then it becomes hard to sleep without. It's the same in New York. The sounds of cars and loud talking and beeps and life gets so loud that it's almost impossible to sleep until it isn't. And then when you go home to the cicadas and the crickets and the trains, all you can think about is how much you miss the sounds of the same cars you used want to shout at.

I never miss New York until it's late at night, and I can remember the nights I used to sit up on my grandma's windowsill, trying desperately to steal wifi from the neighbors next door, or trying to sleep and staring at the plastic aquarium nightlight that she kept on the shelf until I drifted off. It was the most boring city on earth before I started sneaking out. I wasn't allowed to leave the apartment, there were a solid four good channels (I watched so much degrassi, boy meets world, maury and H20: Just add water), no wifi, no books to read or crafts to do or anything. I just had to sit there and watch people walk past all day.

And when I started sneaking out, I'd go to the NYU campus and any park I could find, and I'd pretend that I was going to walk past or meet the person who I'd spend the rest of my life with. I never did, but it's okay. The experience was better than anything I could have imagined. I'd go to costume stores, and art stores, and bookstores and I'd explore all the places I could find. Sometimes I wish I had been bold enough to use the money my parents gave me to go do stuff, like take theater classes or something. They definitely never would have known.

I miss the assumption that I would always go back to that place.

That one day I'd go and see the places my brother should have taken me to like he promised. All the cheesy places like Ellis Island (so I can see where my great grandfather first entered the US at age 12!!), or the top of the Empire State building or the Brooklyn Bridge. I'd actually do anything to at least see Brooklyn. But it would be a bit too painful, and I don't even know what I'd do there anyway. Probably take a picture, post it on Instagram and say, "Brooklyn in Brooklyn! bah dum tsss!"

Anyway, so clearly this song took me down memory lane lol

[violetswritingg]

Only in Darkness

Jason Todd X OFC!

Description:

"Only in Darkness can you see the stars."

Or

Marlowe Knight stumbling upon a girl prophesied to end the world and going on the adventure of a life time.

Rating: M (Blood, cannon typical violence, sibling rivalry, scars, torture, trauma, angsttttt)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

9

Washington, District of Columbia

2018

Bags in hand Dick held open the front entrance of the red brick apartment building for the two girls. Rachel walking right through while Marlowe followed slowly, free hand rubbing against her eye as she yawned – still partially asleep.

The nineteen year old was a pace or two behind Dick and Rachel as they walked down the hallways of the building. Her duffle bag and canvas Staff carrier straps crossed over her chest while she carried her case in her left hand. 

She may be half-asleep but she had seen the street signs outside and knew where they were and to say the least, she definitely didn't expect to be back in DC so soon after what happened the last time she was here. Which was a big bunch of nothing but disappointment, failure, and embarrassment.

"Who are these people again?" Rachel questioned, she couldn't remember what their names were, or if Dick had even told them his friends names in the first place.

"Old friends, truth is I haven't seen them for a long time." His knuckles rapped on the oak door thrice, the man leaning on the door jam. A woman with Platinum blonde hair tied into a braid over her shoulder opened the door, soft music spilling out into the hallway from inside the apartment. Her pretty smile dropping at the sight of Dick.

Marlowe tried to come off as nonchalant but suddenly a lot of things clicked into place and she just wanted to bash her head into the ground.

"Hey." Dick greeted lightly.

"Hi." Confusion and disbelief colored Dawn's voice and bled into her eyes, especially when Rachel stepped forward with her hand out, introducing herself formally. Dawn giving the girl her name while shaking her hand.

Marlowe had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

"Can we talk?"

"You're about four years too late, but sure." Dawn opened the door for them to come in.

~~*~~

The wind had picked up, Marlowe distancing herself from the two adults as quickly as she could once getting to the roof, but not sitting with Rachel either. Instead standing on the opposite side of the bird cage, taking in the view of rooftops and alley ways below.

The sound of doves cooing mixing with the quiet car sounds and horns as Marlowe pulled her lined rain jacket closer to her. Aware of the eyes burning holes into her back but acting as if she wasn't. She didn't want to know what they were saying about her.

"That's Starman's daughter?"

"You might have head he retired, she took over apparently. She goes by-"

"Stargirl." Dawn finished for Dick, the man looking on in confusion at her. Dawn shifted, facing Dick a bit more, "She passed through about a month ago, kicked up some dust. We never crossed paths though. As soon as she showed up, she was gone."

Dick looked to the girl looking off the side of the roof, her hair whipping around under her beanie.

"She's helping out for the time being. Whoever is after Rachel has people in the department. We needed someplace safe to regroup. Think about what I'm gonna do." Dick trailed off, his eyes following an invisible path from Marlowe to Rachel. Dawn's doing the same.

Marlowe could feel the change in the air right before Hank appeared. Already rolling her eyes at his 'I'm an alpha male, grrrr' posture as he all but stalked up to Dick and Dawn. 

The three exchanging words before he turned and saw Rachel, then Marlowe. Who barely glanced over her shoulder at the hulking figure. Dawn crossed past him, leaving Hank to follow her back into the apartment. Leaving the traveling trio alone, Dick and Marlowe meeting eyes across the rooftop.

~~*~~

Marlowe had tried to put as much distance between her and everyone else as the cramped quarters would allow. Mostly staying out of everyone's way, to the point that it was almost concerning to Dick. Marlowe quietly removed herself from the apartment, without anyone noticing - so she thought. Feet traveling into a darker part of town, every other street light either flickering, on it's last legs, or just not working at all.

Stopping in front of a run down building, a warehouse that really should be condemned at this point. The front and sides of the building covered in tags and graffiti, the side entrance casually ajar allowing her easier access than the first time she had broken in, just over a month ago now. Her feet followed a path that had been burned into her brain, just more memories that haunted her at night.

Entering what looked like a factory floor, conveyor belts and other machinery all rusted up and broken beyond repair. Scaffolding set around the edges of the room, already dim moonlight being filtered by the murky plastic tarps. The only sound in the room emanating from where her sneakers met the floor.

The crunch of plaster dust and concrete debris slowly getting louder as the amounts of it increased closer to where she was headed.

The wall still in pieces, rebar, concrete, and plaster piled onto the floor, some of the pieces bound together. Their edges marbled and rough.

"What are you doing Marlowe?" the girl asked herself, running a hand through her hair and partially turning away from the destruction. "What the fuck are you doing?" her chin turned down into her chest, sights unintentionally being set on a piece of rubble. The rounded chunk no bigger than her palm and having almost equal parts of materials all twisted together. Unable to stop herself she crouched down and picked it up. Gently between two fingers.

Lifting her find up to her eyes she turned it over and over. As if she'd find her answer there.

"I see your tastes in locale hasn't changed." Marlowe spit out, her fingers adjusting their grip on the Staff. Arms vibrating at the same frequency of the rest of her body. 

He didn't say anything, just stood there.

"Oh, don't be like that. The silent treatment doesn't suit you." Marlowe tried to bait again, still getting nothing. She wanted to fight him, she wanted to make him feel the pain he had put her through. She wanted to-

"Speak! You fucking coward." Marlowe snapped, trying and mostly failing to talk around the lump forming in her throat and ignore the stinging in her eyes.

"You destroyed everything," Marlowe stepped closer to the Mist's unmoving figure, "I want you to look at me." If she hadn't of been so blinded by hatred and anger and pain, she would have seen the flickering of the body in front of her. Like a mirage.

"I want you to look at the monster you created while I throw you where you belong," Still no response, "Look at me!" Marlowe's voice broke as she blasted through the figure. Her brother's body evaporating in smoke before her eyes. Marlowe spun in circles, looking for the figure again. Her eyes locking on a glimpse disappearing behind a corner and rushing after it, seeing nothing but red.

Had she taken a second to breath she'd have seen this for what it was.

Coming to another open room, conveyors and rusted machines lined up in the space, Marlowe didn't wait to blast her brother in the back once she saw him. His seemingly solid body being thrown through a half-crumbled wall and getting buried under the rubble on the other side. Marlowe rushed over, stumbling down the concrete and loose rebar, taking in a shaky breath at the sight of a hand sticking out.

Marlowe's chest heaved, from exertion or panic she didn't know, but her chest was tight either way. All Marlowe could hear was buzzing in her ears, like the world's loudest neon sign had taken residence in her head. Falling to her knees and dropping the Staff, her gloved hands pulled at the rubble. Trying to unbury The Mist. Needing to know for sure. Needing to know if this was real.

If he was-

When she pulled off a large chunk of stone and exposed the face of-

Nothing.

She hated the rush of relief that shot through her before she managed to push it down. "No, no, no, no." Marlowe started to pull at more rubble searching in vain to find her brother's body under there somewhere.

"No!" Marlowe screamed through gritted teeth, slamming her hands down on the ground. There wasn't anything there. Just rubble and debris where his body should have been.

A flutter of paper echoed in the heavy silence that came after, a folded over page of college ruled paper falling on the ground beside Marlowe. Her brother's mist vapors twisting tauntingly in the air, shaky fingers picked up the paper and unfolded it.

Better luck next time.

Your loving brother,

The Mist

Then and only then, as Marlowe spiraled into a panic attack - hyperventilating, rocking herself back and forth, her arms clutching onto her sides - did she see what this was. A trap. A sick game devised by her brot- by the Mist.

One she walked right into.

Marlowe stood, dead eyes sweeping over the space of her failure. Her fingers moving the piece of debris among themselves. Her bottom lip started to tremble, a flash of red surged through her and with a scream she launched the debris at the last of the wall left standing.

~~*~~

Slipping back into Dawn and Hank's apartment was slightly tougher than she thought. Luckily finding a bobby pin in a pocket and picking the lock. Closing the door quietly and locking it back. Looking around with tired eyes, the darkness of the room hiding the red tinge in the white.

"Where were you?" The whisper made her tense up, turning to see Dick sitting up on the couch, his bed for the night, closing his computer case.

"What's it to you?" Marlowe rolled her eyes, making her way into the kitchen. Seeing a couple bottles of cheap beer and hesitating. Fingers with picked over cuticles wrapped themselves around the cold glass bottle and opened it on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. Footsteps sounding lightly behind her as she chugged half the bottle in one go.

The open fridge door casting a warm light across the tiled floor and lighting up Marlowe's silhouette.

"Marlowe-"

"Shut up Dick." She breathed. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looking over her shoulder. Dick was taken aback by the emptiness a winter ocean could hold.

"What happened? Are you-" He stopped himself, already knowing that she wasn't. Hedging a step in her direction as she took a large gulp of beer to avoid answering.

"I'm going to bed." She sat the, basically empty, bottle down on the counter and swung the fridge door closed. Pushing past Dick to enter the guest room she was sharing with Rachel. Dick watched over his shoulder with wide eyes as she disappeared behind the door. Looking back to the kitchen in shock at what had just transpired, catching something in the moonlight. Walking over to the counter and sliding a finger through the fine white dust, holding it close to his face as his eyebrows crashed together.

"What?" He breathed, shaking his head. Completely in the dark.

~~*~~

Marlowe didn't sleep that night.

Just laid on her back next to Rachel and stared at the ceiling.

Getting dragged to the store with Dawn and the blue haired teen was the last thing on her list of things she wanted to do.

 She had wanted, strangely, to stay back at the apartment with Dick. To come up with their next steps. So that they could get Rachel to safety as soon as possible so that she could get back to what she should be doing. But he pushed her to go for some strange reason.

So, here she was. Casually strolling through the aisles, a couple feet behind Rachel and Dawn. Listening as the two of them laughed and made conversation that Marlowe could honestly give less of a shit about. Lazily eyeing the products lining the shelves as she barely kept up. Dawn suddenly stopping the cart faintly registered in her mind as she looked through pop tart boxes.

"Hey Rachel, could you go grab eggs? I forgot to while we were over there." Dawn asked the blue-haired teen, who rolled her eyes but nodded, a grin tugging at her lips. Turning on her heel and exiting the aisle with a worried glance in Marlowe's direction. Leaving the two vigilantes to their own devices. Marlowe watched Rachel closely out of the corner of her eye until she wasn't in sight.

"What?" Marlowe asked, her eyes rolling to Dawn's figure. Knowing that Dawn hadn't just 'forgotten' to grab eggs.

"Hank and I could use you're help-" Marlowe rose a skeptical eyebrow at the blonde and Dawn sighed. "Dick told me about you, about your friend that likes to glow."

Marlowe grit her teeth and clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "Bird boy just can't seem to keep his mouth shut, can he?"

"Don't act like you don't know who Hank and I are." Dawn challenged, raising an eyebrow and Marlowe huffed. The older teen retracting herself from the pop tarts and crossing her arms over her chest as Dawn smiled, "There's a gun Op we're trying to take down. But it's a lot for two people, we could use the help." Dawn explained, leaning on the cart's handle, Marlowe taking a second to think it over hesitantly.

"When?" Marlowe asked, mildly interested. Or at least trying to come off that way. Dawn could tell though, that she was acting, and her smile grew in amusement.

"Tonight."

"What's the-" Marlowe started but saw Rachel enter the Isle and shut up, turning back to the pop tarts with one last meaningful glance Dawn's way. She was in.

Dawn smiled reassuringly at the young adult, nodding her thanks before turning to Rachel and thanking her. The group on their way through the store once again. Marlowe following a little closer this time.

Marlowe didn't participate much more than before in conversation but at least she didn't look like she actively wanted to murder everything that breathed. So, taking bags from a giggly Rachel, the older teen helped Dawn shoo her off once they passed the threshold of the apartment. The newest episodes of Game of Thrones all the bait they needed. Dick coming up behind them in the kitchen. Marlowe meeting his eyes in fleeting glances as she opened the fridge to put in their perishable items.

"What did you do to Rachel? You know the sullen one?"

"I didn't do anything with her, I just didn't treat her like a kid." Dawn shrugged, pausing in putting away food in the cabinets. "She's a good girl." Dawn didn't let the slight roll of Dick's eyes faze her, "Do you wanna take a look?" her words obviously directed at both Dick and Marlowe.

Dick didn't hide his confusion, making Dawn huff and clarify, "At the case."

~~*~~

"The suppliers name is Bronson. He's moving small handguns." Dawn started to explain the file on her tablet as Dick booted up his computer at the kitchen table. The two adults sitting in the chairs, while Marlowe hopped up onto the counter across from the table.

"He's trying to corner the pre-teen market. Intel says they're making a new shipment tomorrow night on the docks and we think we can break the chain." Dawn handed her tablet to Dick, the man watching the blueprint of the warehouse spin on the screen with critical eyes. Laying the tablet down in favor of bringing up the building in question on his computer using satellite imaging. Marlowe watching closely at the information that came up.

"The famous bird computer." Dawn smirked, leaning forward with her chin in her palm, "Wayne Enterprises Tech."

"You can't beat it." Marlowe added, eyebrows raising as her head tilted. Dawn and Dick both chuckled at the girl and her slightly swinging feet.

"What happened between you two? You and Bruce?" Dawn had asked a question Marlowe had been wondering herself for what felt like forever. But before the man could answer Rachel's voice disrupted the atmosphere. Her exclamation of how cool the dragons were making Marlowe almost smile. She sounded like a kid.

"It's a big responsibility." Dawn mentioned, confusing both Marlowe and Dick.

"What?" The man asked.

"Taking her in," Dawn smiled, turning her eyes to Marlowe, "protecting her." Both Dick and Marlowe dodged Dawn's eyes, but not for the same reason. Marlowe could feel her cheeks heating up, and she didn't want Dawn to see her blushing at the clear compliment.

The woman turned her attention back to Dick, "I mean, I know how healing it must be, doing what Bruce did for you when you lost your parents... But taking care of a kid is complicated. You know that better than anyone." Dawn lowered her voice and Marlowe took that as her que to leave. Hopping down from the counter Marlowe quietly edged her way out of the kitchen. And she would have left, gone into the living room with Rachel but Dick's response stopped her in her tracks just around the corner and out of sight.

"I'm not taking her in." Marlowe was in shock, the wood ridge of the wall cutting into her back as she leaned back. Eyes wide and darting across the floor as she tried to process what Dick was saying. "I'm not good at the staying with people part. I don't have to tell you that." Marlowe bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head, walking away and heading into the bathroom.

Locking the door and reaching automatically for the hand soap. Washing her hands with ice cold water and splashing some on her face, she wasn't caffeinated nearly enough for this shit. Bracing herself against the sink she looked into the small mirror above the porcelain.

the realization of what was about to happen plopping itself onto her already heavy shoulders. She didn't know when, but Dick was gonna bail. After he told Rachel he wouldn't - which meant it was up to her, and her alone, to protect Rachel now. 

Leaving her with two almost complete strangers wasn't an option. They didn't really know the situation, they were trying to leave the city anyway, and they didn't have the Cosmic Staff. They were just two normal people that put on masks. They wouldn't be enough. 

"Shit." Marlowe hissed.

Sounds of loud voices and banging got her attention, Marlowe whipping the door open and following the sound to the kitchen. Her eyes widening at the sight of Hank and Dick going at it in a shoving match. It didn't last long though, Rachel losing control and screaming to break it up. The windows and anything made of glass shattering and flying everywhere.

The silence after was deafening. Everyone looking at her with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Rachel slowly backed up, apologizing and then bolting out of the apartment. Marlowe looking at the adults in wide-eyed anger.

"What the fuck?" She bit out, following after Rachel, hot on her heels. 

~~*~~

[whisperlullaby]

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse/neglect (if you squint really hard), sad Steve, fluff, angst

Words:1615

A/N: Okay here’s chapter 2! I really want to establish the relationship between Steve and the Reader so after this chapter the series of events is going to pick up. Special thanks to @tuiccim and @river-soul for reading through this for me and to @sagechanoafterdark for the gif! I hope you guys enjoy the story!

You woke up the next morning to a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it's Steve. Just wanted to make sure you had my number and I hope your interview goes well. Can I take you for coffee after?

You smiled at the text, shaking your head.

Well Cap, if it goes well we can celebrate with coffee. If it goes poorly I'm gonna need a stiff drink. I should be done around 3.

You put your phone down and started to get ready for your interview. You chose black slacks and a light blue blouse, hoping it projected the soft gentle air you were going for. After a quick breakfast and a final review of the county statistics for domestic violence and child abuse cases, you headed out to your interview.

As you approached the courthouse you took a few steadying breaths. Very little intimidated you, but the thought you wouldn't get this job kept you feeling unnerved. When you entered the courthouse a strange sense of calm washed over you. You felt like you were exactly where you needed to be and it settled your resolve. You were getting this job. As you brought your hand up to knock, the door swung open, revealing an intimidating-looking man. A slow smile crept onto his face.

“Hello there darling, is there something that you need?” the man said, resting on the door jam.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “Yes, I am here to meet with the prosecutor for an interview. Are you their secretary?”

The man laughed and shook his head, “Not a secretary. A defense attorney, my name is Connor Pierce.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

You looked at his extended hand warily before taking it, giving him your name.

“Well, darling I’ll let you head in for your interview. Good luck.”

You stepped aside to let him leave. The prosecutor, Amelia Winters, stood swiftly to meet you at the door before pulling you into her office for your interview.

////////

After your interview, you sent Steve a text with the address of your favorite coffee spot. As you approached the café, grinning from ear to ear, you spotted Steve in a baseball cap and glasses.

“Ya know Cap, that’s not as effective of a disguise as you think it is.”

Steve chuckled, “Well it’s all I have, and I’ve found as long as you keep your head low people tend not to pay much attention.”

You smiled. He opened the door and let you in first. After you ordered your favorite beverage and a muffin, and Steve ordered a black coffee you found a seat.

“So, how did the interview go? Did you get the job?” Steve asked excitedly.

“Woah there, I don’t know how it went back in the ’40s but nowadays you don’t get hired on the spot,” you teased. “But I think it went really well. We had a lot in common and even graduated from the same university. Have you ever been to a place and it just felt like you belonged there?”

Steve considered your question for a moment before glancing down. “Not for a long time if I’m being honest.”

You reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand. He looked up and his features immediately softened under your gaze. When your drinks and food arrived at the table you let go of Steve’s hand to take a sip of your warm beverage, sighing in contentment. You looked back over at Steve and found him staring at you.

“What? Did I already spill or something?” You look around to see if your blouse was marked with the offensive liquid. 

“No nothing like that I was just wondering,” Steve began, “what made you go into victim advocacy?”

A warm smile spread across your face as you shrugged. “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they come from. I wanted to do something that put myself in between the bullies and their targets. No one should feel alone, and everyone deserves a voice.”

Steve looked at you bewildered but with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I think that’s a very noble reason to get into that profession.”

“Thanks, Cap. I crave your validation and approval.” You joked. 

Steve took a sip of his coffee, “I didn’t think you would. You just remind me of someone I used to know.”

When you and Steve finished your coffee, you went for a walk through Washington Square Park. You were surprised how easily conversation with Steve came, especially since you knew how intimidating you could be. You would tell people it was a job hazard when they asked why you were so loud, but Steve never seemed to mind. As you passed the fountain you saw Steve tense for a moment and look around. 

“Steve is everything okay?” you ask, concerned.

Steve didn’t answer, instead, he just bolted towards the fountain causing you to run after him. As you got closer you picked up the sound of a child crying, and a quick gaze around proved that no one was paying any mind to the child. Steve crouched down and placed his hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy where are your parents?” Steve gently inquired.

At his question, the little boy started crying harder and Steve looked thrown. You approached and placed your hand on Steve’s shoulder pulling him away slightly from the little boy. You crouched down in front of the little boy and started speaking.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

The little boy looked at you for a moment, his crying became a bit quieter. You waited for a moment letting him catch his breath.

“I’m Skylar,” he said in between sobs.

“Well Skylar, it’s very nice to meet you,” you stuck out your hand and waited for him to shake it. “This is my friend Steve, he’s a superhero, isn’t that cool?”

Skyler nodded his head as he glanced up at Steve. 

“Now, you seem to be a bit upset Skylar, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Skylar wiped his face, still looking at Steve. “I-is that Captain America?”

You giggled and looked up at Steve. “It sure is. He looks a little weird without the costume right?”

Skylar laughed as Steve scoffed. 

“Skylar, we want to help you but we need to know what’s wrong.”

 You held your hands out flat in front of you and waited for Skylar to take them. Once he did you closed your hands around his and drew soothing circles into his skin.

“I don’t know where my mommy went. I just wanted to play in the fountain and when I turned around she was gone.” Skylar started tearing up again.

“Okay well, that’s easy enough to fix. Why don’t we help you look for her? Would that be okay?”

Skylar nodded and you stood up dropping one of his hands and started walking around the fountain. You looked back to see Steve staring at you, unmoving.

“Well Cap, are you coming?”

Steve shook himself out of his stupor and jogged to catch up to you and Skylar. You scanned the crowd for anyone that looked like they were searching for someone while asking Skylar questions about his favorite things to keep him calm. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping your movement as he surveyed the crowd.

“Hey, Skylar I think I hear your mom calling you.” Steve grabbed Skylar’s other hand and started walking in the direction of the voice he heard.

“Mommy!” Skylar dropped your hands and ran towards a frantic looking woman.

“Skylar! Don’t you ever run off again, I was so worried.” The woman looked at you and Steve, her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, you’re Captain America! Thank you for helping my son.”

“Actually ma’am it wasn’t me,” Steve gestured towards you. “She was the one who was able to calm him down and get him to tell us what he needed.”

You looked at Steve with an appreciative grin as Skylar’s mom regarded you.

“Well, in any event, thank you for helping him find me.”

Skylar waved goodbye as his mom pulled him towards the street. You looked up at Steve and saw he was already watching you.

“Cap, you have got to stop staring at me. You’re gonna give a girl a complex.” You shoved Steve teasingly.

“You were really good with him. I tried to help but just managed to make it worse.” Steve sighed. “How did you know what to do?”

You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at Steve. “I talk to children every day Steve. I need to know how to calm them down and get them to talk to me.”

Steve pursed his lips together and shook his head. “I didn’t realize you would have to advocate for children too. How do you do it?”

You took in a deep breath before you spoke. “I remind myself that they have already seen people fail them, treat them badly, and make them feel like they are unworthy of any human connection. I could not allow myself to ever be that person to them. I just, I don’t know, I just do it.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Let me walk you home?”

You laughed at his abrupt question. “Sure thing Cap, but only if we can pick up some pizza on the way because I am starving.”

“Oh,” Steve said shocked. “You want me to stay for dinner?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends aren’t we?”

Steve smiled checking his phone for any pressing messages. When he saw none he turned to face you.

“I know this great pizza place. I’m buying.”

[final-script]

RETURN: (Greg Gerwitz x Reader)

Paring: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader

Universe: One Chicago

Word Count: 607

Warnings:  English is not my first language, I'm sorry if there are misspelled words

With a wounded arm, but finally at home. It had been six months very hard, but they had borne fruit. Your mission abroad had been a success, they had neutralized the enemy. (...) Days after I stepped down American soil, I decided to go looking for who had become a very important person, since our paths crossed in the fulfillment of duty. Greg "Mouse" Gerwits, What is the best person I could have met.

He is the person I would definitely entrust my life to. As it was Saturday today, I remembered that before we got back to the list and met, on Saturdays if they weren't in any case, they were meeting in a bar called Molly's in the evening to have a beer with their colleagues in the unit. So today, hoping they will continue their tradition, I decided to go and surprise him. With as much care as possible, I wore my sling and walked out of my department.

Fortunately the bar was just one street away so I could walk and I wouldn't have to use my car. I had to drive with a single arm and it is most uncomfortable. In a few minutes I was already at the bar. (...) Atwater: I just say, it's not the same.

Jay: And I support him brother, plus you've almost stopped spending your days off here in Chicago. Hailey:Will it be a girl perhaps?? (Mouse's face said it all) Jay: What!? how!? when!? where!? Gabby: Rachel?? (Everyone turned around to listen to the bomber) When turning around they met a beautiful girl at the entrance door, most frowned as they had never seen her.

Mouse: Rachie? ( all eyes now turned to the technology expert). Adam: Wait, you know it!? The boy didn't answer and he looked for the person he didn't see months ago. When I walked in immediately my eyes went to the big bar of the place, where I met who became someone very important to me, after I admitted my feelings for Greg. It was the one who helped me confess to the boy and that thanks to her we are together today.

We met, when she went to work in Washington, later I discovered that Gaby lived in Chicago and knew the intelligence team my boy worked on. Gabb: Rachel?? (Surrounding her bar to be able to hug me) Thanks to God you returned. Rachel: I'm back and this time to stay. The firefighter had no time to react as... Mouse: Rachie?? (coming to our side)

Gaby: I... I'll leave them alone (he said and returned to his place on the bar) Mouse: God, you don't know how happy you make me back (he took my cheeks and my kiss, leaving the intelligence members in a state of shock) Rachel: I came back, I returned my love and this time to stay (kissing it again) Mouse: Cu...when you returned ? how did that happen? (point my arm)

Rachel: On Wednesday, I know it was a long time ago but... I wanted to make sure I was okay to see you and as for my arm, things got a little complicated and I had to go down to help and good... it happened. Mouse: I will not say anything, because I already have you here with me. Rachel: Maybe not but... you could introduce me to your friends, who seem not to understand much My boy smiled at me, took my hand and took me with his friends.

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter two | spies and white lies

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate -- and a rather attractive general -- have other plans for you.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist | previous | next

“What are we at now? Twenty argenti?” You grin and lean forward, elbows resting on the table. “Another round, Mulligan?”

The tailor gives you a look that only makes your smile widen. “I don’t know if I have anything left to wager.”

“Mulligan, your deployment is about to head out, you should get down to the loading dock.”

The look of relief on Mulligan’s face is nearly comical when Hamilton interrupts the next game you are setting up. Mulligan mutters a half-hearted apology, you wish him luck, and then he is all too eager to leave.

Hamilton places a hand on your shoulder and points you in the direction of Lafayette’s office. “The general would like a word with you.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Fair point. Wish me luck, Lex,” you mutter, making your way into the lion’s den.

You knock twice on the door, and without waiting for a reply, you push open the door and let yourself into Lafayette’s office. Dim, warm light greets you – a stark contrast to the harsh white lighting found in most buildings on Philia. Lafayette sits at his desk, thumbing through pages and pages of paperwork. The navy cape usually worn around his shoulders is draped over the back of his chair, and he absently scratches his beard as he continues to read the papers in front of him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask.

He nods toward the empty chairs in front of his desk. “Yes, have a seat.”

You sit down across from him and wait for him to inform you as to why you’ve been called into his office. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before Lafayette finally puts down his paperwork and leans back in his chair.

He appraises you silently, then finally: “Hamilton says you’re cleaning my men out of their money.”

“I want you to know,” you say quickly, “that my actions have been completely legal. It’s not my fault you never taught your men how to gamble.”

“How much did Mulligan lose today?” He asks.

“Twenty.”

“You don’t feel bad about taking money from the poor guy?”

“It’s Mulligan.” The both of you share a laugh. “Did you call me in here to tell me to stop taking your soldiers’ money?”

“Not at all, feel free to continue scamming them out of their money,” he says with a shrug. “As long as you keep supplying me with intel on the New British battle plans, you can do whatever you want with your off hours.”

“I take it you’ve got a new mission for me?”

“Perceptive. This is why I hired you.”

“I thought you hired me because I’m expendable,” you say bluntly.

He stiffens at your comment and slowly shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. You’re incredibly good at what you do, and I think you’re the perfect person for this job.”

Lafayette hands you a tablet with the information for your next mission. This one is a bit different than the previous jobs he had you run. It had been your job to lay low at shady bars around Philia that had been known as sympathizers of the New British crown and report back any information you had overheard. On occasion, you had been sent to spy on wealthy sympathizers at dinner parties, galas, races, etc. All these events took place on Philia or neighboring planets. Looking down at the tablet, your eyes widened a little at the name of your next location.

“You’re sending me to Hesse?” You say in surprise.

“It would be…” he pauses and thinks through his words. “It’s rather vital we send someone to observe negotiations between the leaders of Hesse and New Britannia. We have reason to believe they’re discussing more than just a renewal of the neutrality act.”

“I see. It’s just that… Hesse is quite far. It’s not even part of the United Planets of Amerigo,” you say. Lafayette knows this. Hesse is a part of a large federation of planets that has remained neutral during the war between Amerigo and New Britannia. It’s out of Lafayette’s jurisdiction, if anything happened to you there…

“You don’t have to go,” he says quickly. “You can say no. If you don’t think you can—”

“You said this was vital, yes?” You say. “Who else would you send?”

Lafayette is silent while he tries to come up with another name. There isn’t anyone else they can send; his silence tells you.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

He eyes you warily. “This is a risky idea. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it. We can find another way. You shouldn’t go.”

“General,” you say firmly, “I’m going to Hesse. You said yourself that I’m the perfect person for this job; I already speak Alemanni.”

“You speak Alemanni?”

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, general. Glad I’m still full of surprises.” You scan the information on the tablet and stand from your chair. “Guess I should be going, then. I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

“Our contact will be limited while you’re on Hesse, but if you run into the slightest bit of danger, press this button here on your bracelet and we’ll fly in to pick you up immediately.”

Lafayette hands you the bracelet in question, and you give him a nod before sliding it onto your wrist. You’re a few minutes out from the capital city, and the general is running through any last-minute details with you before he drops you off and the ship heads back into orbit around Hesse.

“Remember, this is a reconnaissance mission. You are not to engage in any combat whatsoever. Get in, get information, get out. Do you understand?” He asks.

Lafayette misses it when you roll your eyes, which is probably for the best. “I got it, general.”

He lands the ship, opens the cargo door, and turns his chair to face you. “One more thing.”

You groan. “What could you have possibly forgotten to say?”

Lafayette crosses his hands over his chest, taking one more good look at you. “Be safe out there.”

You’re a little shocked by his sudden switch to a softer tone, and it must show. You stare at him awkwardly for a minute before giving a small nod, grabbing your pack, and stepping out of the ship. Behind you, the ship begins to depart. You don’t turn back to watch it leave. You are now on a mission.

Hesse is vastly different from Philia. Where Philia has a temperate, warm climate, Hesse is considerably colder. Fortunately, it’s not snowing when you arrive, but the chilling winds are so harsh you don’t think it would make a difference. Traffic on the streets in Hesse is minimal, and you attribute this to the less than desirable weather. You’re not going to get any information from the inanimate light posts or street signs, so you find what looks like a promising tavern and head inside.

The tavern contrasts the icy Hesse environment; inside is warm and bright, backed with patrons from wall to wall and buzzing with conversation. As you make your way to the bar, you pick up on bits and pieces of the conversations happening around you. You’re in your element.

“You have to stop worrying so much. She’s a smart girl, she would call you if she needed any help.”

It’s been a few cycles since Lafayette dropped you off on Hesse. He didn’t expect you to call for him immediately, but he can’t stop himself from worrying a bit when he doesn’t hear from you for a few days. Lafayette is on a spaceship by himself with nothing better to do except work through piles of paperwork and think up every scenario that could go wrong for you on Hesse. If anything happens to you, he will be to blame.

In his defense, Lafayette had never wanted to send you to Hesse in the first place. It had been a rather forceful suggestion from General Washington after the head of the army had seen your success rates. Of course it made sense that you would be the one to take on this mission, but that didn’t make Lafayette feel any better about it. He voices these concerns in a call to Hamilton while he orbits endlessly around the planet.

“I’m serious, Lafayette,” Hamilton says, beginning to sound a little exasperated. “There’s nothing you can do at this point. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you panicking over this anyway.”

“Was this a huge mistake?” Lafayette asks, effectively ignoring all of Hamilton’s previous statements.

“No, it wasn’t. We need information on these treaties, I have no doubt New Britannia has something up their sleeves. If anyone’s going to figure it out, it’s her. You didn’t have a choice.”

It must be the eleventh or twelfth time Hamilton has repeated these sentiments on this call alone. Lafayette decides there’s no point in continuing on this line of conversation, so he surrenders for the time being.

“You’re right,” he says. “No point in worrying. So, have I missed anything while I’ve been gone?”

“Not much. Mulligan’s sent some intel back to us from his latest mission, nothing big yet. Oh, Laurens arrived back yesterday. A few bruises and a broken finger or two, but other than that, he seems to be fine.” Hamilton is happy enough with the subject change.

“He made it back in one piece? Well, how about that. The way he fights, you’d think he’s got a death wish.”

On the other line, Hamilton releases a bark of laughter. “You’d think so. Most men in your battalion are rather careless when it comes to safety. You think you had a hand in teaching ‘em that?”

“Me? I hardly think—”

He pauses mid-sentence when the light on his computer begins flashing a few times and a succession of beeps start sounding. Whatever he was about to say is lost at his lips when he stares at the blinking light. Lafayette has been waiting for this.

“I have to go,” he says to Hamilton, “it’s her.”

Lafayette doesn’t offer more of a goodbye, not that he needs to, and hangs up the call with Hamilton. Immediately he kicks into gear, sliding into the pilot’s seat and speeding toward the surface of Hesse in the direction being sent to the ship from your bracelet.

He’s surprised to find your tracking signal coming from a few miles outside of the capital, but he’s even more surprised when he finds the position you’re in. Amidst a forest of snow-covered trees, a fortress peaks out over the treetop with Gothic towers and intimidating sculptures. Along the top of one set of battlement walls, a fight has broken out and blasts of light are being shot from one side to the other. As Lafayette gets closer, he sees that you are on one side of this battle, doing your best to fend off a squadron of joint Hesse-New Britannia troops. It could be going better for you; you’re crouched behind a heavy shield, leaning out now and then to fire a blast at the soldiers who are gaining ground second by second.

Lafayette can’t be sure from this distance, but when you see the ship approaching, he swears he sees a grin spread across your features. Then, in a move that surprises both Lafayette and the soldiers, you stand from your position, and with a few steps, you’ve flung yourself off the castle walls. Lafayette curses under his breath, racing forward in the ship, opening the bay doors, and turning the ship sideways to catch you while you plummet from the air. Somewhere behind him in the ship, he hears a loud thud and is relieved to know you’ve made it onboard.

The soldiers recover from their shock and begin targeting the spaceship instead. Lafayette is able to avoid any significant damage to the ship by weaving through the trees, but it isn’t an easy task. When the blasts begin to fade and the fortress is far enough behind, the spaceship shoots up into the air, racing out of Hesse airspace. Lafayette navigates the ship for a bit, but once he feels they’re safe, he switches the ship into autopilot. He has a spy to debrief.

Lafayette finds you in the cargo bay, looking a little worse for wear. “Are you alright? Injured?”

You look up at him and grin. “Fantastic.”

After a quick observation, Lafayette concludes that “fantastic” would not be the word he used to describe your current state. Your hair is a mess, your face is covered with dirt and cuts, and you are cradling your wrist that looks bent out of shape, the skin around it already turning into a purple-blue color. He raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose I’ve been in better shape,” you say casually.

Lafayette steps closer, gently pulling your arm to him so he can inspect the injury. His  eyes darken as they move from your wrist to your eyes, and you’re suddenly aware of the proximity between the two of you.

“Who did this?” His voice is quiet, but the low growl in the back of his throat sends chills down your spine.

Your uninjured hand takes the arm that is holding you, and his grip on your arm softens. “No one. I think I might’ve broken my wrist on landing.”

His eyes lower and he releases you. Suddenly aware of your closeness, he takes a step back.

“You think?” He scoffs, walking over to the wall and opening up the first aid kit. You’re sitting on the ground, back pressed up against a crate, and Lafayette kneels beside you and begins to tend to your wound. “Tell me about the mission while I patch you up.”

“I think it went rather well. I found a job as a translator my first day on the planet.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Turns out there’s a lack of Alemanni-English speakers on Hesse, and the New Britannia diplomats were in need of a translator. Right place, right time, I suppose.

Anyway, I was brought to this Hessian duke’s castle where the negotiations were being made. The first few days of negotiations gave me nothing to report on; just usual diplomatic pleasantries and treaty renewals as had been stated by New Britannia. However, last night negotiations took a different turn.

The New Britannia ambassador told the duke that the New British army was in need of troops, and they were willing to pay large sums. They’re hiring Hessian soldiers as mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries? I thought Hesse wanted to remain neutral in this war,” Lafayette frowned, placing a bandage over one of your larger cuts.

You nod in agreement, “That’s what I thought, too. Apparently, many of the Hessian princes are in a lot of debt – they need the money and the Brits backed them into a corner. I was going to call for you to pick me up last night, but I thought I could dig up some more information.”

“And did you?”

“Of course I did, general,” you grin again and pat the leather bound journal next to you; Lafayette hadn’t even noticed it before. “Snuck into the ambassador’s office this morning and found this. Looked like it had some information on upcoming battle strategies, but I didn’t have much time to read through it, I was caught by one of the ambassador’s guards. Barely made it out, guess I was lucky you were there when I needed you, huh?”

“Lucky only begins to describe it. You shouldn’t have put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“I took care of myself, didn’t I? Besides, I think General Washington will find this information rather helpful.”

Lafayette can’t help but smile when you hand him the journal. He flips through a few pages, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise. This is more information than he had hoped to get out of this mission. Lafayette sets the journal down beside him, pulling a sling out from the first aid kit and gently lifting your arm into the fabric.

“I’ll make sure you receive proper medical attention once we get back to Philia, but this should do the job for now.” Lafayette tucks the journal under his arm and stands to his feet. “I need to make a call to the generals to update them on the information you’ve just shared with me.”

“Of course.”

“Get some rest, you look like you need it.” He begins to walk in the direction of his personal quarters but pauses before he leaves the room. “Oh, and starlight?”

You look up at him.

“Good work.”

Once Lafayette leaves the room, you can’t stop the proud smile that appears on your lips. Still, Lafayette is right about one thing: you need some rest. With whatever energy that is remaining, you pull yourself to your feet and begin to search for somewhere more comfortable to sleep. You were provided with your own quarters on the ship, but the room is small, windowless, and cold. You doubt you could get any rest there. It’s been a long couple of days, so you give yourself the authority to wander the ship in search of something comforting. You’re careful to avoid the direction of Lafayette’s personal quarters, even though that’s where your heart is being pulled toward.

Somewhere in between the kitchen and the bridge, you find a large observation room, and it takes your breath away. A large window gives you a view of space that leaves you in awe. Stars and planets swirl past you in a mixture of colors and brightness as the ship races back to the familiarity of Philia. The vastness of space should be intimidating, but for some reason, you feel safe. There is a world of opportunities open to you, and somehow you’ve managed to end up on this little spacecraft drifting through space and time. There is nowhere you’d rather be.

The observation deck is by no means extravagant or luxurious, the metal walls have sustained a fair amount of scrapes, a stale odor hangs in the air. Somehow, it feels more like home than anywhere else on the ship. You curl up on one of the old, stiff couches pushed against the back wall. As stars pass by, you count them. One, two… thirty-eight, thirty-nine… It’s somewhere between eighty-two and eighty-seven that you finally lose count and your heavy eyelids finally succumb to sleep.

Hours later, or maybe it’s days – you can’t really tell the passage of time in space – you begin to stir. When you open your eyes, the planets and stars outside the observation window are passing by slower, and in front of you, you can see the brown and green landscape of Philia. You pull your blanket around yourself tighter and enjoy the moment of peace. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to relax once you’re back on Philia, most likely you’ll be given another mission.  

It’s not that you don’t enjoy your job; it’s the best job you’ve had in decades. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but you like doing work that feels important, work that makes you feel like you’re making a difference. The paycheck is a nice benefit as well. Still, the life of a spy for the United Planets of Amerigo isn’t exactly relaxing. Taking on new identities each week and the risks that came along with it was exciting, but incredibly stressful. Maybe one day when the war ended you would settle down. Picket fence and an army of kids might be too much to ask, but you could see yourself moving to a quieter planet and building a home for yourself… and maybe someone else. You gazed out the window, looking at all the planets and picking which one you would one day grow old on.

“Great view, isn’t it?”

Your eyes flick from the window to where Lafayette stands in the doorway. He wears his white uniform as always, watching you carefully, the gold in his dark eyes bright underneath the starlight. He crosses his arms over his chest and casually leans against the doorframe.

“I come here when I need to clear my head. It puts things in perspective, gives me a sense of…”

“…peace,” you finish for him.

Lafayette stares out the window for a moment, nods and turns back to you. “Yes, peace.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, Lafayette watches the way the light dances over your skin and can’t help but admire the artwork. You stare back into his eyes until you feel that he’s on the verge of staring right into your soul. You’ve never been completely open with someone before, and you’re not ready to be now, so you look away. The connection is broken, and he takes a step back, looking anywhere but at you.

“I just came to let you know that we’ll be landing in Philia soon,” he says, turning to leave.

“Wait,” you shrug the warmth off your shoulders, “I believe this belongs to you.”

It had taken you a moment in your sleepy consciousness to remember that you had no blanket when you had fallen asleep. At some point, Lafayette must have found you and covered your sleeping body with his navy cape. Always the gentleman. You fold up the fabric in your arms, already missing its warmth, and cross the room to return it to its owner.

“Thank you,” he says politely.

Your hands briefly touch when you hand him the cape, and the both of you linger for a moment too long. The moment is over when you pull your hands away, and the both of you silently agree not to address it.

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[flying-nightwing]

Double Cross (Jason Todd)

Hi people! So this is my little project I was talking about. A sudden blurb of inspiration led me to this and uh. Here it is! Once again, this is super experimental so yeah idk about its potential. You’ll be the judge of that I guess

This time I worked on time jumps back and forth and perspectives, so let me know how it turned out!

Masterlist in bio/pinned!

Pairing: Jason Todd x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 6937

Warnings: swearing, uhhh idk it’s dc so you know what you’re into 

-- 36 hours ago --

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage as you flew down Washington DC's streets. Your motorcycle was burning under you, and you had a feeling you were on the clock to get off of this ticking time bomb before it exploded and brought you down with it. The bullet holes broke the black paint, decorating your bike in a way that flagged unwanted attention. About six blocks ago, unmarked cars had joined your fast paced parade across the city.

A terrible mistake, all of this was. That was certain. 

You took a sharp right, your knee scraping on the asphalt on the way. An infernal noise came out of your bike, but you still willed it to accelerate on the straight alley. You shot back on the main roads like a bullet, swerving around the black police car that had tried to cut you off. But soon enough, you saw the blockade on the street in front of you. You could never jump it with your bike so in disarray, and there were no viable alleys to sneak into. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, then exhaled.

"I'm sorry Jason" You muttered to yourself. "But you left me no choice"

With a firm grip, you pressed the brakes and came to a stop a fair distance from the blockade. You turned off your bike and kicked the foot to hold it up, slowly getting off and pulling your hands up. Shouts erupted around you as the police mobilised themselves in tight formations, guns up and ready to shoot. With one hand up, you undid your tinted black helmet and let it fall to the ground. 

"On your knees!" An officer shouted as he approached. "Keep your hands where I can see them"

You complied.

-- Now --

The white of the neons glaring down on you made your already tired eyes hurt, saturating your vision with a harsh and constant flash of light. You were left alone with a room temperature glass of water on your left and your own reflection on your right. You couldn’t hear them, but you knew they were there, observing you. Instead, all you could see was the dark bags under your eyes and your messy greasy hair. 

You perked up when two men in suits came in by the door in front of you, thin files in their hands and calculating glances. They were nicely dressed, one with a gray suit and the other, black. Both suits were obviously tailored to them. They sat down in front of you and observed you before the one in the gray suit spoke. Dark hair, blue eyes, taller than the other, maybe around six feet.

“Good morning, Agent”

You only nodded, looking down to the table. 

“My name is Agent Baker,” He said. “My colleague here is Agent Tanev. We will proceed to your debriefing”

“Sure” You nodded again.

Agent Baker set a recording device on the desk and turned it on. “Please tell us again why you are here today”

“I am--” You paused, clearing your throat. “I am here today to deliver crucial information on a wanted criminal in exchange for a pardon” 

“Which wanted criminal should that be?”

“The Red Hood” You said, meeting his eyes. “I have names of associates, safe houses locations, frequent territories of operation as well as his specific m.o.”

“How come you know all of this?” He asked, his voice neutral. “No seasoned agent has ever managed to get this close to him, let alone a rookie. We want to know how you gained his trust, start from the beginning, spare no details. Leave nothing out”

“I met the Red Hood during operation 7381 in northern Lithuania” You began as Agent Tanev started to take notes. “I was in the back up team for the extraction of General Kradiev from a local opposant group. I wasn’t supposed to even see action, as it should have been simple enough against an untrained mob, but when is it ever…”

They had known you were coming. A whole grab and go operation had been compromised by the feeling of invincibility of the CIA, that looked down so much on whoever they went against that they never stopped to think that maybe--maybe--they were prepared.

So when the Alpha team stormed the country house where the General was supposed to be kept and found it empty, all action plans were thrown out the window. The Beta team was mobilised to close off all the roads surrounding the area and to search for the hostage. You were ordered to search a single decaying house in between two pine trees because the structure was so old, so  nobody could have ever been hiding in its debris. However, as you were leaving, you heard whimpers coming from the cellar a few feet away from the foundations. Carefully, you made your way to the wooden doors on the ground, and after making sure your magazine was full and the safe of your semi automatic off, you kicked the doors open and raced down the stairs.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off” You yelled, pointing your gun at the first person you saw. It was clearly a man, wearing a bright red helmet that shone under the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling. He slowly held up his hands, but he didn’t seem so bothered. Your eyes found another man next, tied to a chair and wearing a bag on his head. The military uniform was a dead giveaway of his identity, so you returned your full attention to the red helmet guy. “You’re going to back up and face the wall now”

“Or what?” He challenged. “You’ll ‘blow my head off’?”

“Shut up!” You barked, taking a step forward. Your firearm was ready to shoot. “Do as I fucking say”

“You’re CIA uh?” He changed the subject, looking down at your marked bulletproof vest and not listening to you. In fact, he didn’t seem worried at all by the situation he was in. “Should have known. You guys have never cared who lived or died. What fucking difference does it make, as long as they’re good pals with the good ol’ US of A right?”

“God would you just fucking shut up and back up” You were getting impatient, but also nervous. You were alone without backup, with a guy in a red helmet who was clearly taunting you, and you had never shot anyone before. It was your first oversea mission, and already it was fucking catastrophic.

“See, that’s the thing” He held a finger up. “You’re pointing a gun at me like I’m the bad guy, while you are trying to rescue the scum of humanity. You’re going to extract him, give him a nice long life on Florida’s golf courses with the taxpayers' money and wipe out from History the mass graves in the woods two miles away”

You remained silent.

“Oh, did you not know about the mass graves?” He asked rhetorically in a mocking tone. “Your friend here decided he wanted to test the new shipment of automatic weapons, because their bullets per minute capacity had been expanded. And what better targets than the group of students that opposed the american military presence in the country? The youngest was 16 and her name was Vera Beliskava. Isn’t that right, Kradiev?”

He pulled the hood from the general to reveal his bloodied and bruised face. He had been gagged and beaten, that was obvious. He looked at you, pleading. 

“You’re the only one who saw” The man in red said, softer this time. “You don’t have to save that piece of trash. Just say your search came up empty and I’ll make him disappear from the Earth's face permanently without leaving so much as a trace. Nobody else will know, and you will go to sleep knowing you made the world a better place”

You took a breath, a million thoughts running into your head. Who was that guy? Why was he here? Why did he not attack you, while he clearly had a handgun strapped on his thigh? Could he be right about Kradiev? You knew he didn’t have the cleanest record concerning human rights, but mass graves? 

“Beta team, report”

You both froze as your comm broke the silence. He gave you a challenging look as you were still debating. You wanted to do good, that’s why you went into the secret services. Being complicit in mass murder wasn’t something you signed up on. 

“Nothing to report on the north road”

“Clear in the valley”

“Farmer’s house empty”

“No traffic on the south road”

You knew it was your turn now. Slowly, you reached for your comm, not breaking eye contact.

“Pinetree house’s clear” You spoke in a flat line, decided and direct as you lowered your gun. You shut down your comm and glanced at Kradiev, whose relief morphed into fear once again as your decision registered. You averted your eyes. 

“You made the right choice”

“I hope so, or I’m dead” You mumbled. “I’m going back now. Don’t make me regret my decision”

“You won’t”

“So just to be clear,” Agent Baker frowned. “You just… Believed him? And you let General Kradiev in his hands?”

“When I left, I went to check, and the graves were there. Kradiev was guilty”

“That was not your decision to make” He pointed out.

“I know” You sighed. “That was my first mistake. I-- I lost it for a moment. He mentioned the graves and the victims and there were so many people the same age as them I could think about and I decided with my feelings rather than my judgement. And I’m paying the price today”

“Alright” He mumbled, passing a hand on his face like he was already done with this debriefing. “When did you cross paths with him again?”

“We were back in America” You continued. “By that time, I was no longer on training wheels. It was a little more than a year later, in Newport Oregon during operation 9004. We were busting a trans pacific drug dealer on the docks when we got unexpected company…”

You were running as well as you could through the maze of freight containers on the docks, trying to push back the pain of the bullet in your leg. You had drawn the fire of the hired gang so your colleagues could proceed, but things went down the drain when you were met with heavier fire than the briefing stated. Outnumbered and outran, you stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t go out as a coward, that was certain. If you went down, you’d take as many of them as you could with you. 

You reopened your eyes and checked the magazine of your gun, letting it drop on the ground and pushing a full one in. You loaded and clicked the safe off, flexing your fingers on the handle as footsteps surrounded you. You spun around and pulled the trigger, but before the bullet even reached your target, two men dropped on his side. 

You weren’t the only shooter. 

Thinking it was backup from your team, you allowed yourself to back up against a container, trying to stop the bleeding. You were starting to feel light headed, but you still had a bit more fight in you. Soon enough, all hostiles were down, and you were in for a surprise. Instead of the black uniform of your colleagues, you looked up to a red bat, a leather jacket and a familiar red helmet. You squinted your eyes and let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Do I even wanna know?” You asked.

“I owed you one” He shrugged. “You okay?”

You looked down to your leg, your pants soaked in blood that was already cooling, then back up again. “Peachy” You gave him a thumbs up. “You were right about Kradiev. He was a fucking trash bag”

“It’s often the case” He said as he rested his hands on his hips. 

“You here for Hiko?”

“Yep” He nodded, then snorted derisively. “Any tips?”

Ever since Kradiev, you have developed a habit of researching your target better. Most of the time, it was a capture or an execution on site, so it didn’t matter the extent of their crimes. But there were moments when you were extracting the package without knowing what came next, and those times usually meant they’ll make them disappear under a new identity, without giving them any repercussion for their actions. This one, Hiko, was the later case, without any plan revealed for when you get him back. He was a known drug trafficker, but he was also rumored to smuggle people back and forth between Asia and North America through the docks he owned. The Red Hood’s appearance was well timed, to say the least. 

“Sneak past the squad through the east” You panted. “If you can move on top of the containers without being seen or heard, you’ll cut them off with about two minutes to spare. Make sure you’re gone with Hiko when they bust through the door, or neither of us will ever find him again”

He paused, studying you. “Thanks…” He trailed off. “Why are you telling me this again?”

“Well, you said it yourself” You managed to smirk. “If I can go to sleep knowing I made the world a better place”

He didn’t answer with anything else but a quick nod before he climbed the containers and disappeared from your field of vision. You sighed, then reached for your comm. “Alpha 003 to central, I’m down and need medical attention, Northwest entry of the docks”

“So if I understand correctly, not only you let him go again,” Baker exhaled, looking bewildered. “But you told him how to get there first? You realize those are becoming serious crimes right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You snapped, before recomposing yourself. Both agents had backed away just a little at your outburst. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry. I’m just tired, it’s been a crazy last two days” 

“Did he offer you any medical help then?” Baker returned on topic. 

“No, I called the medics and I was extracted with the chopper” You replied. “I knew he was there for Hiko, not for me. It was a coincidence we crossed paths, and at that point I thought it was the last time I’d see him. I mean, what are the chances, right? But you see, that here was my second mistake”

“How so?”

“The CIA goes after threats to national security, but so does he, in his own way” You said, locking eyes with Baker. “The guy’s everywhere, even where we don’t go. And he’s at least three steps ahead of us at any turn. He has good funds, good intel and exceptional skills. You don’t find him, he finds you. And that’s what he did”

“He contacted you after the affair on the docks?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We could say that...”

You finished washing your tea cup when you heard a thud coming in from your living room. Slowly, you grabbed the gun hidden in your cupboard and held it up, quietly making your way to the next room. You rounded the corner and pointed your gun to the man standing with his back to you, registering his identity as he turned around. You must have been a sight in your baby pink pajama shorts and mismatching turquoise tank top, pointing your handgun to a man in a shiny red helmet. 

You scoffed and lowered your gun, clicking the safe back on and putting the firearm on the lamp table. “Breaking and entering, really?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst crime I’ve committed” He shrugged, and you could just imagine him rolling his eyes, whoever he was under that helmet. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, crossing your arms against your chest. “How did you find me?”

“Like I find anyone” He answered like it was the simplest of evidence. You waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have no intention to reveal his methods. This time, you rolled your eyes. “And I’m here because I wanted to check on your leg”

“No you’re not” You snorted. He would have come months ago if it was about that, and even then, the little you knew about him told you he was not the kind to just check upon people who didn’t mean anything to him. “But I’m doing fine, thanks”

“You’re welcome” He nodded. “And you’re right. I need something from you”

“Well, go ahead, since you’re already in” You gestured at him to go on.

“Wait wait wait” Baker held his hand up. “He broke into your house and you just let him? You put your gun down and didn’t call anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said” You replied slowly. 

“And it never occured to you that he was dangerous?”

You paused, thinking your answer over. “No, it didn’t. I mean, if he wanted to get rid of me, he would have done it on the docks where I was an easy target”

“Fair point” Tanev muttered under his breath, earning him a glare from Baker. 

“Now do you want to know what happened or not?” You said, annoyed at the interruption.

“Please, go ahead”

He reached inside his jacket and handed you a file. You took it and opened it, staring at the picture and the description beside it. “This is Ian Markstrom, he has been suspected to kidnap young women, mostly tourists, to sell them on the sex trafficking market” He began. “Not only is he friends with your big bosses, but those who were brave enough to try and get him locked up never got anything to stick, and that was the best case scenario. The others either disappeared or ended up dead, so I’m assuming someone in this government does not want Markstrom to stop”

You nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a secret auction strictly reserved for the elite, Markstrom will sell his best teenagers there” He explained, a hint of disgust in his voice. “The CIA chief of operation received an invitation. I want to know what it says on the card”

“I’m not sure I’m good enough to reach anywhere near it” You mumbled. “But sure, I’ll try”

“No, I believe in you” He said, and he seemed pretty sure of himself. You raised an eyebrow to hide your surprise at his compliment. “What I’m wondering though, is why you’re not asking questions”

“Well, you are two in two so far about targeting the bad guy” You said after a moment. “You seem qualified to spot ‘em, and you’d be real twisted to to make up that scenario for a petty revenge, so I’m guessing you’re on the mark again”

“Huh. You might just be the only smart CIA agent I’ve ever met”

You snorted. “Well, the more it goes the more I’m questioning the integrity of my employer”

“You keep impressing me” 

“With what I saw, I believe the bar was pretty low to start with”

“Keep talking like this and I might need a cold shower”

“You’re an ass, you know that?” 

He let out a short bark of laughter. “If only you knew”

“I’ll do my best for the invitation” You brought him back on topic, closing the file and putting it beside your handgun. “How can I contact you if I get it?”

He paused, then took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. He fetched a pen from his jacket and wrote a number. “This is a burner phone, which I will destroy after this whole deal. Don’t try and trace me with that, it won’t end well for you”

“Yeah yeah” You rolled your eyes, pulling back your arm when he was done. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore his overwhelming proximity. “I gave you two fast passes just to trick you into seeking my help to finally bag you, I’m busted”

“Hey, listen” He backed up, holding his hand in surrender. “I make that threat to everyone. It’s only a disclosure thing, I didn’t doubt your motivation”

“To each their own I guess” You shrugged. “Alright. If this is all, please get out of my apartment”

“Oop, sure”

Baker blinked slowly. “And did you? Communicate him the details?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “I managed to get into the chief of operation’s office, break into his safe, memorize the date, time and place of the auction and communicate it to Red”

“Red?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Short for Red Hood” Tanev clarified, and judging by yet another glare from Baker, he wouldn’t speak anytime soon.  

“He kept it on the quiet, but after that the chief of operation did seem a changed man” You smirked, before dropping it instantly. “And I didn’t hear anything from Markstrom, it was like he disappeared for good, which he most likely did. So I guess the Red Hood succeeded in taking him down”

“Jesus Christ” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have the feeling it wasn’t the last law you broke?”

“Because it wasn’t”

“Are you going to make a habit out of dropping out of nowhere to ask me for favors?”

This time, you knew who had broken into your property without even looking. You put the keys into your car and turned the engine on, trying to warm yourself. The Red Hood pulled himself upright from your backseat, shaking his head.

“Your car is very comfortable,” He declared. “You have good taste”

“So that means yes”

“Back at it again with your superior deduction skills” 

“What do you want?” You went straight to the point, but you were just a little amused. You could have a worst stalker. 

“I’ve been thinking this through,” He began, moved his legs so he was properly seated on the backseat. “You are skilled and you’ve got balls of steel. I could use your help more often. A partnership, if you might”

“Why do I have the feeling it took a lot to admit that and reach out?” 

“Because I don’t just trust people” He said plainly. “They disappoint me, among other things”

“So why me?”

“Like I said, skills and balls of steel” He repeated. “You went against the fucking CIA not once, not twice but thrice to do the right thing. That’s enough of a test of will for me. And besides, your job would be an advantage that is hard to turn away”

“Makes sense” You mumbled as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. He buckled his belt like it was a reflex. “Will this partnership imply me shooting bad guys?”

“If that’s what you wish for” He shrugged, leaning forward in the space between the two front seats. “I won’t be the one to limit you”

“Okay, yeah” You nodded. “Where do we start?”

Baker was looking into nothing, processing your words. He shook his head slowly in disbelief before he met your glance. “I shouldn’t be surprised” He spoke after a moment. “But this is Everest high levels of stupid”

“At that time it did seem like a good idea” 

“Yeah, might as well jump off of a bridge…” He trailed off, eying you suspiciously. “Did you do that too?”

“Well, if we consider the time when--”

“You know what, don’t tell me” He cut you off. “Please go on”

“Alright” You held your hands up in surrender. “So, where was I?”

You and the Red Hood operated on the field like a well oiled machine. Your expertise and contacts with the CIA helped him get into places way more easily than alone, and your somewhat reckless ways were compatible with his mode of operation. You knew who he was as well, you found out after he nonchalantly took off his helmet after a stakeout. You had not been prepared for what you saw then, when you were faced with what you could qualify with the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“Hey, you okay?” He waved a hand in your face, making you snap out your daze. You blinked a few times, shaking it off.

“Yeah” You replied. “I just wasn’t expecting this”

“Expecting what?”

“I mean, the helmet did give disfiguration vibes… Obviously I was wrong” 

“So you think I’m hot then?” He snorted derisively.

“I do” 

His head did a whiplash. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” You backed away. “Sometimes my filter doesn’t work”

“No it’s--” He tried to find his words, then sighed. “I’m just not used to that, I guess”

“What’s the point of this?” Baker groaned, his head in his hands. 

“It’s a turning point that brought me here today” You explained, turning your palm up briefly. “You asked for details, I’m giving you details”

“I kinda wanna know what went down, to be honest” Tanev added sheepishly.

“Tanev, I’m going to drive you through the mirror if you do not shut up”

“Jeez sorry” He mumbled.

“As I was saying”

That day was the moment things changed in your relationship. There was this tension that hadn’t been there before, the little brushes of hands when you were side by side, the staring at the other while they weren’t looking, the unspoken invitations to stay a moment longer after a mission for a cigarette and a good conversation. He was one of a kind, you had to give that to him. He was passionate, driven, smart in a way that told you he never really had it easy but always made it work somehow; the way he always thought of the less obvious way to do things, how even his messes seemed calculated. 

It was raining in Chicago and the air was crisp. Your muscles ached from the fight in that warehouse against drug lords that enrolled kids in their schemes, that and from the unforgiving cold of January. You had one too many whiskeys back in that little studio flat he rented under a false name, and it led you straight to his bed. Trying to find warmth, trying to find a connection, it didn’t matter why, as long as you were as close as humanly possible to him. 

And it didn’t stop there. The night after, and the night after that, always in his company past the business hours. Your chemistry translated way beyond the field, for you found him in a partner in more ways than one. You grew quickly to feel love for him, more than you had ever felt for anyone. The number of times you woke up naked and tangled with him--

“Okay I don’t need to know this-- I do NOT need to know this” Baker yelled. If he could have flipped shit from the table, you’re sure he would have. 

“You told me to spare no details!” You argued. “This is a detail. I’m being as thorough as I can”

“You know what-- Forget it” He brushed his hand in the air aggressively. “Just get to the part we have interest in, for God’s sake please just skip to that”

“Okay, okay” You muttered, rolled your eyes. “It went well for the first months or so, it was great. Nothing to say on that front, I was happy and fulfilled in this new englobing partnership we had going on. That was my third mistake, to get into that kind of involvement with him. Because then, like all good things must come to an end, mine slowly began crumbling down in my hands”

“Okay” He sighed, half in relief. “Tell me more about that”

“Well, he started to show his true colors” You admitted, pulling your hands under the table. “Sometimes, he became something else. Something dark. And sometimes became most of the time, but I was too in love to see it. He became manipulative, controlling. He was everywhere, in everything I did. It’s like I didn’t even have control on my life anymore…”

“Where do you wanna eat?”

You looked away from the car window, your feet comfortably up on the dash. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “Dunno, where do you wanna eat?”

“Don’t really care” He shrugged too. “You decide”

“What about chipotle?”

“Sure” He nodded. “Chipotle sounds good”

Tanev shook his head sympathetically. “He wouldn’t even let you choose a restaurant?”

“Never” You looked down, sadness weighing your voice. 

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that”

“Thank you” 

“Alright, moving on” Baker broke the moment. “What happened next?”

“Next? Next came what comes every time in screwed up relationships” You answered, returning your hands on the table and crossing your fingers. “We burned like a meteorite as it tears through the atmosphere, falling to our demise to high velocity and taking everything in our wake”

“That was poetic” He pointed out sarcastically. “What the fuck does it mean?”

You raised an eyebrow. “We got dangerous for real, Agent Baker” You paused to take a reserved sip of the water. “If you thought I was reckless before, you’ll need to reevaluate your scale. I was in for real. I was his battle horse, his wildcard, his whatever that he needed to succeed. And I was good at it. The worst was, I didn’t even realize he used me as a smoke screen. He put me more and more often in fucked up situations that were way more dangerous for me than him, and I was naive enough to think it was love”

“No. This is not up for discussion”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You said you would let me choose--”

“I said I would let you choose, not let yourself get killed” He interrupted, slightly raising his voice. “This plan of yours is stupid dangerous. If it backfires, you are almost guaranteed of not making it out free, or alive for that matter. I’m not allowing you to take that risk. Not for me.”

“Again, ‘if’ being the keyword” You insisted, following him as he stomped out of the storage room. “I am capable of executing it flawlessly. I know I am, you’ve always told me I am”

He halted his steps, hesitantly turning to face you. His eyes softened as he sighed, taking your hand. “I know you can, it’s not about that” His voice was back down, even lower than his usual volume. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you for something I dragged you into in the first place, I would never forgive myself”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on his. “Okay” You finally said, nodding lightly. “We’ll find another way. Another plan. But we’re hitting that ball out of the park either way, I won’t let Preston get away with it”

He smiled. “Oh no, we won't indeed” He kissed the top of your head. “We’ll get him one way or another, I promise”

“I almost feel sorry for you now, Agent” Baker gulped. “I cannot begin to imagine what terrible things the Red Hood forced you to do under his manipulation. We however must continue this debriefing”

“Of course” You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “So we planned our next move, but he wouldn’t tell me the final target. I found it weird, he always told me the targets. I don’t know, maybe he sensed I was trying to find a way out”

“And that plan was…”

“Yes” You didn’t have to let him finish his trailing thoughts, you knew what he was getting at. “So this brings us to 36 hours ago”

“Be as thorough as you can” 

“So the Red Hood gave me those instructions to follow” You began. “I was to draw the attention of the authorities to me in a city wide chase. Now, I am rather good with a bike, that I won’t hide, but outrunning police and secret services? That was impossible. I still don’t know how they got there, but it saved me. He would have never dared to come into the melee to get me back, and risk getting caught”

“Was he not afraid you’d talk to us?” Baker asked. “That was a pretty big gamble”

“He thought I wouldn’t talk I guess, probably for the same reasons I stayed with him for all this time” You said, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. You hated to think about these words. “Because I believed I loved him”

“I guess that wouldn’t be too far fetched” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be the first time we saw it happen”

You nodded, remaining silent. Baker made eye contact with Tanev, then looked into the reflecting glass. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to you. 

“We are going to get you back to the holding cell while we process this information” He said. “But once we do that, you’ll be free, and with a new identity if you wish, as your agreement states”

“Thank you” 

“Just one more thing before we wrap this debriefing” He leaned forward. “You must know his name"

“Of course” 

“Then what is it?” He asked. “What is the Red Hood’s name?”

You looked down, taking a deep breath, then back again, locking eyes with Baker. Then, you spoke. 

-- 36 hours later --

The sunset over the valley was gorgeous. The mixes of pink and orange on the yellowed sky was straight out of a fantasy world, and Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the scenery. It was soothing, like it could swallow up his anxiety at least for a minute or two. He leaned on the wooden ramp, the sightseeing roadside station seeming not so cheesy at the moment.

He only tore his eyes from the burning sun when he heard a motorcycle approach from behind. He pushed himself off the ramp and faced the sleek black bike--the lack of use on it showing him it was brand new--then, the driver with a black tinted visor. 

You took off your helmet and smiled at Jason’s stern expression, whose eyes showed relief anyway. You turned off your bike and parked it, then got off and walked to him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

You walked past him and leaned on the ramp he had been on moments ago, and he joined you. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered you one. He lit up both with his lighter, and you took a long draft before speaking. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice” You smirked, bumping your shoulder to his. “I did save your sweet ass, after all”

“I thought we agreed not to do that” He glanced at you sideways. His annoyance was also mixed with playful disbelief, like he both wanted to throw you off the cliff you were admiring the view from and do celebratory shots with you. 

“We did” You nodded, chuckling. “But circumstances changed. You weren’t out by the time I reached the monument, so I had to draw them away from you, or we would not be having this conversation. ”

“Still” He tilted his head to the side, before his head snapped in your direction. “Wait, did you call the secret services after yourself?”

You shrugged half heartedly. “Mayhaps” Your lips curved upward, while he shook his head. “I mean, it kinda was my fault too. I misplaced the bomb and it barely detonated. I had to flip to plan B, then they shot my bike. They had me surrounded, and my it was running low on life, so I skipped directly to plan fuck this”

“So you gave yourself up”

"Played the victim, pretended I wanted to exchange information on you for my freedom” You sighed, taking a drag of your cigarette. “None of which was relevant enough for them to even get close to you, worry not”

“They must have asked for a name” He hummed, now turning his full body toward you. “What did you tell them?”

“My grandpa’s name” You snorted. “He died two decades ago. Let me tell you, when they found out the last update on him was in the necrology of the 2001 Sunday paper, they were not happy campers”

“Then how did you get out?” He squinted his eyes.

“Oh, do not underestimate me, sweetheart” You grinned. “I’ve spent my whole career getting to know the buildings and the procedures for people like me. It was a piece of cake”

You were escorted out the interrogation room and into the small, yet cozy holding cell. You were on the clock, because the lies you’ve slipped into your story would unravel pretty quickly once they discovered that the name you gave them was a farce. Then, you wouldn’t be put in a minimal security room, but probably somewhere way less fun. 

“Hey wait” You called after the guard before he could close the cell door behind you. He paused his actions, waiting for you to speak up. “This wasn’t there last time”

He frowned and took a few steps into the cell, trying to spot over your shoulder whatever you were talking about. When he didn’t see it, he got closer and closer until he was all the way into the cell. “What wasn’t there before?” He asked, annoyed. 

You smiled. “You” 

With a quick jab of your elbow behind his head, he fell down unconscious on the floor. You grabbed his keycard and exited the cell, locking the guard in. You winked at the camera on the upper left corner of the hallway and made your way down to the garages as the alarms blared through the whole building. That meant it entered lockdown, closing all the escape routes. But you had your own fool proof plan.

Agent Baker began swearing when the hallway was plunged into the red glow of the lockdown alert. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out you had led them in circles, and he had appeared a fool in front of his colleagues when he proudly revealed the name of a long deceased old man instead of anything tangible. He had been on his way to your cell when he realized the depth of this foolery, understanding you had been stalling them for this opportunity. 

“Sir, we are reporting engine noises in the garages”

“Fuck” Baker shouted, pushing the other man aside. Tanev was a step behind, his weapon drawn. They had stored your bike there, you must have gone back for it. “All units report to the garage, we’re having a break out. I repeat, all units to the garages”

They all flocked to the lower levels, ready to enforce the barrages at the doors and trap you with no exit. It was an excellent execution of emergency measures, but they definitely weren’t prepared for what came next. As they kicked the storage unit of your motorcycle, they came face to face with the bullet ridden bike with no driver in sight. Baker lowered his gun, squinting his eyes. Then, they widened comically as the dark smoke coming out of it and the strong smell of gasoline registered in his brain.

“Motherfucker” He spat. “Everybody out!” 

Seconds later, it exploded.

“You’re unbelievable” Jason scoffed, shaking his head. However, he now had a full blown grin to match yours. “I gotta give it to you though, blowing up your bike as a distraction was smart. Balls of fucking steel”

“Of course it was!” You replied, then reached in your pocket for your phone. “And it’s not even the best part, look”

You unlocked your phone and passed it to him, showing him your most recent picture of the CIA’s chief of operation dead with a letter opener through his neck. His eyes widened. “You got Preston?”

You turned around from your position, now leaning back on the ramp with your elbows resting on it. “The bike opened a window big enough for me to get the target” You said, finishing your cigarette and disposing of it in the ash bin on your right. “And with all those idiots guarding an empty garage, t’was easy enough”

“After all this time, you’re still impressing me” He nodded, holding up his fist. “Good fucking job”

You bumped your fist sideway with his, laughing at his baffled expression. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, but the air was still warm. You could hear the crickets in the high grass, and the silence was a peaceful one. You could admit that you had cut it close this time, that this gamble could have very well turned to shit, so you just took a moment to let the pressure slip away from your muscles, at least for now. You had the time to smoke another cigarette before you spoke.

“So now what?” You hummed, looking up to the bright stars above your head. “Markstrom’s ring is no more, and I’m pretty sure I not only lost my job by pulling that stunt, but also bought myself a ticket on at least three intelligence services’ most wanted list”

“Well, that’s nothing a good ol’ fake death can’t fix” He shrugged. “But until we find the right moment for your tragic public demise, I’m sure we can manage to find on our own some domestic assholes to beat up. What do you say?”

You met eyes with him, then raised your eyebrows. “I say let’s get to it”

[wicked-mind]

Spark: Chapter Two

Summary: Y/N and Damon were apart of a Hydra experiment for over a decade until they escaped. When power outages through towns along with bodies of murdered Hydra agents start popping up across the country, Y/N becomes Bucky’s mission.

Warnings: More drinking, trauma, mentions of (kind of )torture

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Two - The Two Ts

-10 Years Ago-

Y/N sat in the small cell. She had been here for a while, stuck in the small cell with a glass door. There was a bed, a desk with some books and notebooks, and a small corner covered with a curtain as her bathroom. The walls were all white as well as the floor. She sat at the desk, picking up a pencil and putting another line with the many already on the page. The days she had been here. Almost three years. She stepped on the cold floor with her bare feet, hearing someone enter from outside the cell down the hall. She was wearing some grey sweatpants with a matching grey shirt, it was the same thing she was always given to wear once a week. Around her neck was what looked like a thick silver collar, attached by a long metal wire to the top of the room that allowed her enough freedom to walk around her whole cell without discomfort. She touched the glass with her palm and leaned her forehead against the glass as well, trying to see who it was. She hadn’t left her cell in a long time, and rarely got visitors coming down to her except for meals and a change of clothes. Y/N watched as two guards escorted two young men down the hallway, placing them in the two cells across from hers and the glass doors shutting behind them. One was shorter, dark brown hair with green eyes. The other was taller and skinnier, dark black hair and blue eyes.

Y/N spend the next few days getting to know the two. She had learned they were brothers, Damon being the dark haired one and the other was Stefan. They were taken from the military, considered missing in action. They learned about her as well. Her parents sending her away after they figured out she could create electricity. Being adopted by a nice family after being discharged from psychiatric care, but when it was finalized they handed her over to the men who brought her here. She told them everything she knew about Hydra, which wasn’t much. Y/N would watch as one of the brothers were escorted out, when they came back they were always exhausted, talking about being tortured and strapped into chairs.

The three were there together for years, become friends. Damon and Stefan quickly learned of why Y/N was here. The collar around her neck was used to absorb the electricity Y/N could create and power the facility, keeping the facility on the down-low from those who may be looking for Hydra. The brothers witnessed Y/N being shocked daily until she would eventually pass out, usually when one of the brothers were taken. She was the battery for the facility and their experiments. 

One day, the guards took Stefan and he never came back. A guard informed Damon a few days later that his brother had died as part of an experiment they were running on the two. Damon had flown into a rage, breaking everything that he could in his cell. He looked over across the hallway to Y/N who was also heartbroken to hear the news, tears streaming down her face as she sat curled on the floor. Damon and Stefan had become her family, “I’m going to get us out of here, Y/N.” Damon told her, “And I’m going to kill them all.” 

Damon would be taken for experiments almost daily after Stefan was killed. One day he came back to his cell different, talking about how he was stronger and faster with all his senses heightened. They told him they were making him a super soldier and the next stage was to brainwash him into submission after breaking his will to live.

Y/N remembered the day of their escape vividly. The sharp prongs in the collar pushed into the skin of her neck, causing her to scream as her body reacted with a large amount of electricity being sent through the collar and up through the wires. It wasn’t just pain she was feeling though, her anger and grief had grown since Stefan had died as well as after she heard what they were doing to Damon. She created a powerful surge of energy, causing the lightbulbs in the hallway to explode before the whole facility seemed to be overloaded with power and shut down. The glass doors to the cells opened in the darkness. Damon ran quickly across the hall from her, breaking the collar off from around her neck. The two made their way through the facility trying to find a way out with Damon killing every Hydra member in their path. When they got out, they found themselves in a secluded part of a forest around the border of Canada and the United States. Since then, they had been on the run before settling in Covington, Georgia together. They were inseparable, the only family both had left.

-Present Time-

Bucky found Sam waiting for him at the apartment that was set up as a cover home. Sam sat on the couch, watching some football game on tv with a beer in his hand. Bucky shut the door, locking it behind him as he watched Sam, “Make yourself at home.” He grumbled, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of beer for himself. 

“You missed our check-in last night, had to come make sure you weren’t off the rails.” Sam replied as he clicked the tv off with the remote, looking over the Bucky, “Where were you?”

“Working.” Bucky replied, taking drink of his beer, “I finally got in to plant bugs in the house last night, spent the night watching the house.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “It’s about time. I thought we were going to have to pretend to be the gas company or something it get in there. What did you find?” He stood up, crossing the room to sit at the small dining table.

Bucky sat at the other end of the dining table, running one of his gloved hands through his hair, “Y/N is definitely some type of enhanced human, something to do with electricity. But I don’t think she’s doing the killings. She doesn’t seem capable of that, can’t even make a proper threat or lie without flinching.” He informed, looking at his beer, “She does have this friend, Damon. Don’t know much about him, but he definitely seems like the rip out your heart type.”

Sam nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through it for a moment before sliding it across the table to Bucky, “Is this the guy you’re talking about?” 

Bucky picked up the phone, narrowing his eyes at the picture. It was a picture of Damon and Y/N walking around at nighttime, probably from a street security camera. He noted that they both looked younger than they do now. He nodded, sliding the phone back, “Yeah, that’s Damon. Where did you get that photo?”

Sam clicked the phone to turn it off, leaving it on the table, “It was taken two years ago, a small town in Washington happened to catch them on camera before the power went out in the whole town. It’s the first photo we have of the two.”

Bucky nodded at the new information, taking another sip of his beer, “I did overhear a conversation between Y/N and Damon. He said he saved her life again the night after the most recent dead Hydra agent.” He informed.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Well, if Damon is the one killing all the Hydra agents we keep finding, we have to figure out how and why. And if the why is that the Hydra agents are coming for them, we need to know the why to that also.” Sam stood when he finished, “Don’t miss another check in. And at least get a damn picture to hang on the wall or something, spice it up.” He said before walking out the door, leaving Bucky alone.

Bucky sat silently after Sam left, finishing his beer before throwing it away. He had a few hours before he would start to head to the bar to see Y/N, and decided to get some much needed sleep after pulling an all-nighter watching Y/N’s house. 

Bucky awoke as quickly as he fell asleep, another nightmare. He ran his hand through his hair, breathing deeply. He pulled himself off the floor from his makeshift bed, pulling on clean clothes before putting the same black gloves and leather jacket on his always wore. Bucky made his way down the street to the bar, but stopped when he noticed it was closed. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked through the windows, seeing nobody. This was the first time it’d been closed since he arrived in town. Bucky quickly came up with a different plan, walking into a nearby store and grabbing a bottle of tequila, a bottle of whiskey, and some chicken noddle soup before walking to Y/N’s house, gently knocking on the door.

Y/N was alone at her house. Damon had gone out of town, which he didn’t do very often. But when he did, Y/N stayed home in fear of going out alone. She dragged herself up from the couch at the knock, watching some dumb sci-fi movie with that wasn’t grabbing her attention.  She peeked through the curtain to see Bucky. A small smile appeared on her lips as she went to the door where Sarge was already waiting, unlocking the locks quickly before opening it to see Bucky holding a grocery bag, “Hi Bucky.” She said softly with a smile.

Bucky smiled at her, “Hey, Y/N. I went by the bar and saw it wasn’t open. Figured you were either sick or something was wrong so I brought supplies.” He said, holding up the bag, “Chicken noodle soup and tequila for you, whiskey for me.” 

Y/N let out a small laugh at the bag. She blushed a little bit at the thought of him thinking about her. She opened the door a little more, allowing room for him to come inside, “I’ll never say no to tequila. I also haven’t had dinner, so I won’t say no to the soup either. Come in.” She responded with a smile as she watched him walk inside and greeting Sarge who then promptly went and laid on the couch. Y/N locks the door behind him, all six padlocks. She took the bag from him, taking it to the kitchen and placing the contents on the table. 

Bucky greeted Sarge happily before following Y/N to the kitchen, “So which is it? Sick or something wrong?” He asked with a smile, “Just so I know if I should keep my distance, I don’t want a cold if you have one.”

Y/N looked at him and shook her head, “Don’t worry. I’m germ free, not sick.” She informed before grabbing out two small glasses for the alcohol and spoon for the soup, “Damon’s just out of town for a few days. I just.. feel safer at home when he’s away. Thanks for bringing me some dinner and tequila.”

Bucky reached out and uncapped the bottles of alcohol as he watched Y/N grab some glasses, taking a seat at the small table. There were only two chairs. He wanted to ask curiously why she didn’t go out when Damon was gone, but didn’t want to raise any suspicions in Y/N’s mind, “I could keep you some company tonight… if you’d like. When does he get back?” He asked as he filled the glasses up a little bit with tequila and whiskey.

Y/N nodded, “I’d like that.” She smiled towards him, sitting down in the other chair. She uncapped the styrofoam container of soup, spinning it with her spoon for a minute before taking a bite then setting the spoon down back in the container, “He said he shouldn’t be gone too long, he was headed to Washington to visit a grave this time of year. Probably going to be gone a few days.” She told Bucky breaking eye contact with him to look at the soup. It wasn’t a full lie. It was getting close to the anniversary of Damon’s brother’s death and every year he would go back there and try to figure out what happened to Stefan’s body. 

Bucky nodded slowly, lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips as he thought. Damon going to Washington where the first power outage and footage of Y/N and Damon were spot raised some flags in his mind. Why was Washington important to these two? Bucky watched Y/N take a few more bites of her soup. He grew more and more curious as to how a sweet girl like her got mixed up in something to do with Hydra.

Bucky sat with Y/N while she ate the soup for dinner and then putting the leftovers in the fridge, watching her sit back down and drinking the glass of tequila. He promptly filled it back up a quarter of the way, smiling over at her, “So what’s your reason for drinking?” He asks as he watched her face.

Y/N smiled and thanked him for the refill, bringing it to her lips, “You first.” She challenged before tilting her head back as she drank all the liquid without a flinch. 

Bucky chuckled at her, Y/N was quick. It seemed like she was trying to figure out as much about him as he was to her, “The usual stuff. Annoying co-worker. Trauma. The taste.” He smiled looking at the amber liquid in his glass before downing the rest of the whiskey.

It was Y/N this time who refilled their glasses with the preferred liquid, nodding at his list, “Ah. You have a longer list than I do.” She smiled over at Bucky, “My reason is just the two Ts. Taste and Trauma. Luckily it’s only me at the bar, no annoying coworkers.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Bucky chuckles, “You’re lucky it’s just you. Annoying coworkers are the worst.” He said, rolling his eyes as he thought of Sam. Thinking of him made him take the next shot of his whiskey quickly before focusing back on Y/N. He noticed her watching him, as if trying to decode him.

Y/N watched Bucky, studying him. She was wondering why he was so out of his shell with her. He never spoke to anybody else at the bar or about any friends. Why would he be so interested in her? Bring her soup and alcohol when the bar wasn’t open? The tequila in her stomach was giving her a little courage, “Why are you here, Bucky?” She asks, her eyes narrowing.

Bucky was caught a little off guard by her question, shifting his weight in the chair, “What do you mean?” He asks, the smile fading from his lips to a stern line. 

Y/N tilted her head at him, “You noticed the bar wasn’t open so you brought me soup and tequila. People usually don’t do that for their bartender, they just find another bar to go drink at.” She said, her eyes still slightly narrowed at him as if she was trying to decipher if he was going to lie.

Bucky shrugs at her words, meeting her gaze. He knew she was analyzing his every move and word, “I like your bar, wouldn’t go to another one since I’m such a good and loyal customer.” He said carefully, “Plus, I thought you and I had fun the other night when I beat you at your game. I like spending time with you.” He said, realizing it was honest. He did have fun with Y/N, and he did like spending time with her. She was like a ray of sunshine in his dark world. 

Y/N bit her lip as she listened to him, looking down at her glass when he said he liked spending time with her to hide her flushed cheeks, “That’s very nice of you.” She said softly. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment as she looked back to Bucky, “I don’t have much to do here…” She admitted with a small smile, “Have you ever seen the movie Alien?”

Bucky titled his head at her, a smile returning to his lips as she accepted his answer, “I haven’t seen that one yet.” He told her, refilling his glass with some more whiskey. He could drink a lot and wasn’t about to slow down now. He was having too good of a time with Y/N. 

Y/N smiled at him, “Oh, it’s so good! You’ll love it.” She told him, standing up, “It’s my favorite movie.” She grabbed her glass of tequila in one hand and grabbed Bucky’s gloved hand with the other, pulling him up out of his chair and into the living room. She set her glass of tequila on the coffee table before turning to put a DVD into the player, “I don’t have popcorn though, I hope you don’t mind.”

Bucky couldn’t help that his smile widened at Y/N’s excitement about watching a movie with him. He almost forgot he was here for work, not a date. Something about feeling Y/N’s hand in his felt…. right. He wished he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could feel her touch on his, but instead squeezed her hand slightly, “Don’t worry about it, doll.” He said with a smile, watching her put the DVD in. He sat down on the couch next to Sarge, watching her fumble with the remotes.

When Y/N got the TV to start playing the movie Alien, she took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. She smiled over at him a little before returning her focus on the tv. He made her feel nervous like she had thousands of butterflies in her stomach, but he also made her feel calm and safe and she couldn’t figure out why. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time even with Damon constantly around her keeping her safe.

It wasn’t long into the movie until Y/N fell asleep with her head resting on Bucky’s shoulder. He took in his surroundings. He was watching a movie sitting on the couch with a beautiful girl asleep on his shoulder and a dog beside him. He wondered if this was something his life could’ve been like if he had never joined the army and been taken by Hydra. Bucky felt happy at the thought of it. He could stay in this calm, happy place forever.

__________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos​

If I missed anyone on the tag list, please let me know with a quick message. As always, thank you for the support (:

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 6 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Or

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

Part 6

A plan of sorts that leaves neither parties thrilled.

She was still waiting for a sign.

On occasions, Adeline felt watched and the unease in her heart refused to subside. Something was about to happen to break this faux peace, she was sure; but just what it was she had no clue. And the more time had passed, the more on edge and paranoid she got, going so far as to snapping at poor Loreen for the smallest of things. She hated herself more than ever.

In the end, the sign she had been waiting for came in the form of flowers.

Cornflowers to be exact.

A bouquet was left in the early morning on the doorsteps of their little shared house. No one had heard the deliverer. Anakin and Teddy were away, engaging in their own businesses. Loreen was still tucked safely in her little fort of plushies and rag dolls. Adeline had merely opened the door to enjoy some fresh air and was instead met with a bouquet of cornflowers arranged with utmost care.

Your eyes are the colour of cornflowers.

A man she loved once told her. So she was reminded of.

Holding the bouquet as far away from herself as possible, she chucked the bouquet straight into the trash and went about her day as if nothing happened. As if she wasn’t bouncing her leg non-stop while watching reruns on TV, or how distracted she was, or how Loreen kept shooting worried glances at her. As if she wasn’t practically vibrating anxiety off her being.

The flowers never stopped. Every morning a fresh batch was laid on the doorsteps, Loreen even managed to steal some and displayed them in a pretty little vase in her room. Out of spite, Adeline thought. She tried to stay vigilant and stand guard at the door, but then they would only appear elsewhere around the house. She knew then that there was no running from this.

Adeline would bet good money on who her secret admirer (stalker) was. She did not remember him as a stubborn man; but from the persistence of his action she had gathered what game he was playing at. This was an open challenge issued to her, a taunt, he wouldn’t confront her upfront. No, he was patient with his schemes and would strike only when the hour was ripe; he was the predator and her the prey now. And she was so so tempted to rise to the bait. But she must keep her cool, and not loose her mind. He might loose his interest in her yet.

In a century or two. Her treacherous mind taunted mercilessly.

Oh but how wrong was she.

The next taunt came the next day in the form of a book, Frankenstein.

Specifically, the exact copy of the cheap paperback edition she had left behind in Whitehorse months ago.

In a fit of hysterics, she threw open the front door and went all the way up to the front yard and bellowed into the empty countryside. “Leave me the fuck alone you sick bastard!”

Only later did she start to question.

How did he find her? How did he manage to track her down from Whitehorse to Minnesota and now Colorado? She was confident of her concealment ability.

So then, how?

*

From a distance, Jasper watched the girl sitting at the front porch, lacing up her roller skates. The child turned her heard, seemingly to answer someone inside the house before finishing up the rest of her laces. Then in trepidation she tested water with the first few step, before gaining confidence and propelling herself forward into the open road.

In her flowy sundress and a light cardigan, seemingly not minding the alpine chill, the child spread out her arms and laughed with her head thrown back, as if she were soaring amongst the wind instead. She seemed like any other child, if it weren’t for her scent, and that luminous skin in the morning light.

Jasper casually got out of his car and leaned against it, unsubtly observing the girl. That seemed to catch the child’s attention as she eyed him suspiciously while zipping past the first time; before turning round at the end of the drive and passing by again. If she was scared then she hardly showed it. After a few back and forth, she finally slowed a few meters from Jasper and regarded him cooly.

“Who are you?” Her asked in a sing-song voice. “If you’re here to sell cable or insurance or fire resistant something, we’re not interested.”

“Ah I see so you are the Madame of the house then, little lady.” Jasper chuckled and watched as the child pouted and crossed her arms, petulant at the name. Yes, she was like one of those children too smart for their own good, sharp witted but quick to anger. And much too trusting. “Fear not, I am only a friend. Tell me, do you live here with family?”

“Half siblings.” The child corrected.

“And is not your half-sister called Adeline?”

“And you are?”

“A long time... friend.” He hesitated after a second.

“Oh?” Now her voice was laced with suspicion.

Jasper smiled charismatically and exerted an air of reassurance over the child. “Do you think you can send a message from me to her?”

The child frowned, clearly reluctant. “Couldn’t you do it yourself? If you really are her friend. She’s in a mood these days and I don't want to cross anymore than I need to.”

“I don’t think she’d like to see me for now.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was not in fact stalking the said person, but simply had a disagreement with her over a conversation during bar night.

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

“What’s in this for me?”

Jasper bowed his head respectfully. “Of course there will be payment on my part. I shall be forever in your debt.”

She pursed her lips and pondered on the request thoughtfully. “If I am to be messenger,” She began slowly. “I’d like a year’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s. And a year’s subscription of Netflix!” She looked so haughty then, so proud of herself for striking a deal that he had to chuckle.

“Oh little lady.” He said in between laughs, somehow adoring the sweet innocence of the child. “You drive a hard bargain don’t you? Yes of course I promise.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. “Cross may heart and hope to die.”

That seemed to satisfy the child and she grinned cheekily at him, no doubt pleased with her little bargain of free ice cream and Netflix films.

“Here.” He produced from his pocket a single map. And handed it to the girl. She eyed it suspiciously before taking in gingerly, their hands briefly touching. If she noticed his ice cold skin then she did not make a remark.

Instead her eyes flickered back to him and she chewed on her lips thoughtfully before finally opening her mouth. “I hope... I hope whatever it is between the two of you, all will be well soon.”

Momentarily caught surprised, Jasper straightened his stance and looked to the house in the distance with longing and tenderness.

“Yes I hope so too.”

*

“Oh Lorie you’re finally back. Fun time roller skating?”

Adeline was sitting on the sofa, in a bathrobe with blankets wrapped all around herself up to her head flipping through the channels at top speed.

“I met a friend of yours down the street.” Loreen announced.

“Friend? What friend-”

“Jasper.”

She froze at the name.

“Come again?”

“Jasper was here and he wanted me to pass on a message to you.” Loreen stated as-a-matter-of-factly and handed over the old map. She scrutinised her sister; watched as her face blanched before being replaced by red hot fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Adeline bellowed, crumpling the map into a tight little wall. “Where is he? Is he still out there now?!”

Loreen shrugged, trying to convey the message that she was just as clueless as the other was. “I’m sure he’s only just left.”

Adeline bolted out of the doors at once.

“Jasper!” She yelled like a lunatic, and searched frantically, not giving a fig what the neighbours would think. She had other pressing matters to be concerned of.

How dare he! How dare he approached her family, especially her innocent sister! He had already shattered her little peaceful life! That she could tolerate, and she supposed to some extent, she was reaping what she had sowed years ago. But preying on her young sister like that! He had no right! Absolutely no right! How dare he!

Hidden under the shades of the woods she took off in a blur, trying to locate the man. But the faint smell she caught whiff of indicated that he had long since been gone.

Still livid, she stomped her way back to the house.

First the flowers, then the book and now this map. Jasper; yes she was finally going to acknowledge this, that he was the same man she had met all those years ago, and that yes he was a fucking vampire now! And one with no fucking sense of boundaries! His message was clear and simple.

Don’t think that you’ve been forgotten. I know where you are and I will find you, whatever it takes. Or you can come to me, on your terms. You know where to find me.

She spread the crumpled map out.

Washington.

It was a state map of fucking Washington!

Like a flame being doused with ice cold water, she finally realised her mistake all those months ago. The hybrid child she had met in the clearing… That was how he had come to know of her. There was no doubt of it now. The child must have told her coven of their meeting, and either he was part of the coven, or he was on intimate terms with them. Either way, she had damned herself that day when she had decided not to trust her instincts to stay inland. And like dominoes, a little push had unknowingly caused the whole system to collapse on its own, the shockwaves continuing to reverberate in the aftermath of the disastrous meeting.

Adeline cursed and screamed in frustration.

Stupid! Stupid! She was so stupid! What was she to do now?! Engage? And she would be falling right into his laps without a fight. Run? But for how long? He had proven himself more than capable of tracking her somehow, it would be all for naught. He had a coven; and she had only her siblings. Siblings whom never got involved with her affairs, nor did she wish to involve into the mess. And especially not her youngest.

Frustrated, she flipped the map to find an actual written message penned in impeccable cursive handwriting. Which got her blood boiling immediately.

Do you have what it takes?

Self-righteous bastard! Well she’ll show him!

Adeline was in and out of the house in a flash, clothes changed. “Addie where are you going?” Loreen was by the door, obviously concerned.

“I’m going.” Her reply was short, clipped.

“At least wait for Anakin or Teddy.”

“No Loreen. I have to go. You’ll be fine on your own right?” Adeline tried to smile to relieve the tension, but evidently the tight-lipped smile only succeeded in agitating her sister more.

“I suppose yes. But-"

“Stay safe dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And she was out.

She refused to address her other concerns; like what did he want by actively seeking her out, or how did he even find her when she had made sure all her tracks were concealed? What did it mean for the two of them now that the other was all along alive and well? What would it entail for either parties from here on? What would father even do should he learn of this?

All of the what ifs and hows and whys were all overshadowed by her high-strung emotions. Her action was spurred into motion and further fulled by her fury at her former lover. Really, she lacked even a concrete plan of engagement which she seemed to be forgetting repeatedly in favour of the raging anger within her.

One she had not felt in years now.

*

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Edward asked.

“I’m sure.” Was Jasper’s curt reply, even if the doubt was weighing heavily down on his heart. He was back in Forks, back with his family where there was still some semblance of safety and control.

For nights, he had sat outside of Adeline’s little house in his car, just thinking and formulating, the best ways to engage her. He could knock on her door right then and there, and no doubt she would lose her shit, and everything would be fucked. Or he could catch her attention and lure her out back to where he felt safest, and should she decide to come along with then he would engage accordingly. At that time it felt like a decent plan, but now that he was home, the plan seemed stupid. Either way seemed like it would end pretty badly. In the end, he had made his escape early, had not stayed to see Adeline’s reaction at his subtle message. For fear of rejection, for fear of being unable to bear the disappointment.

He was such a coward.

And now he watched as his brother grimaced and frowned, clearly hesitating whether to speak his mind out or not, before finally making his mind up. “It’s just… are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Jasper said feigning ignorance.

“You’re taunting her.” Edward stared him straight in the eye, somewhat sternly. “Is this any way to court the girl you like?”

“Well, says the man who stalked his then classmate in her bedroom every night.” He shot back with barb, clearly annoyed.

Edward’s face soured and immediately stalked off the other way.

Offended.

Jasper sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his tangled hair, emotions all over the place. He knew he was an unwelcome presence in the house lately, practically vibrating off anxiety within a mile radius and affecting anyone within. It made the others nervous, stressed even. And everyone avoided him like the plague.

Bella and Edward had taken Renesmee to their little cottage so that the little one would not be affected. Carlisle had taken to working long hour shifts at the hospital and God knows where Rose and Emmett were.

And Alice... Alice was distancing herself from him.

She had taken to avoiding him, bluntly. She was never in the same room as he was. Had stopped being affectionate like she used to. Their interactions were reduced to light pats on his shoulder, fleeting hand touches, tight-lipped smiles that never quite reached her eyes. She was clearly hurting regardless of what she proclaimed. And to make matters worse, it was fracturing the family.

Emmett’s the-devil-may-care attitude can be reassuring, but Rosalie’s disdain at him was dully noted. Bella was torn and Edward was still suspicious of Adeline but somewhat more understanding of his predicament, although apparently he had just pissed off his last comrade. Carlisle and Esme were only concerned for the two of them, no doubt wanting the best for the pair of them.

And there was nothing he could do.

Alice had made the decision for the two of them.

But it tortured him as much as it killed her. She was the light in his pitiful life for years, his beacon in the dark night. She would never forgive him for all his betrayals just as he could never forgive himself for being the one to hurt her,

And now it pained him just as much to think of Adeline, of his plan to lure her out. He had known her like the back of his own hand then. Though what an irony that felt now. The one he had meant to share his life with, ended up being the one he had known the least.

While she can be sweet and lively, her temper seemed to have a mind of its own. And her heart always dominated in any decisions she made. She was open to persuasion, but would never bend to anyone’s will by force. Would react badly and lash out if forced.

And he had forced her hand.

Adeline would come, she must. Because if she did not, what then? He could go back to Alice and begged for her to take him back or he could continue hunting Adeline down, but then what? He could not force her into anything against her will, he would not. While he was no saint, he certainly was no monster to force himself onto her. She had only need to say the words, with steel in her resolve and he would begone as she requested, forever.

And should she have changed?

It had been more one and a half century since their parting, he had changed much. How did he expect her to remain the same? How did he expect her to remain steadfast in their love? Or its lack thereof?

He was torn between being content with simple ordinariness, or pursuing something more, something all encompassing and consuming, but also elusive which might end up being a gamble for nothing.

Either required him to make a blind leap of faith, though one was certainly more perilous than the other.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." He finally admitted aloud to Edward's retreating form, watched as the man turned to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "I have the choice... I have the choice to move on like she did, or I can continue to pursue her to the ends of the world, like some psychopathic stalker vampire..."

"But you don't want to be neither." Edward sighed sympathetically.

"No."

"And yet you don't want to let her go either."

"No, I don't either."

Jasper shot his brother a bittersweet smile before lapsing into silence. It felt embarrassing to tell Edward of his inner most thoughts, but at the same time there was something cathartic in finally sharing with someone what he thought.

"If there's anything I learnt from being with Bella," Edward said after a moment of thought. "It's that every relationship requires the investment of both parties. It's useless if she doesn't reciprocate your feeling."

Jasper quirked his lips ruefully. "Alice seems to think otherwise."

"Alice can't see the hybrid's future."

"No but I told her we might be soulmates."

"Well are you?"

"I don't know... I think so."

Jasper looked up to see Edward with a smug smirk aimed at him. "Well what do we have here? The cold and calculating Major Whitlock stumped for once because he's confused what to do with his lover-"

"Edward!" He protested loudly.

Ed laughed with mirth before holding up his hands in surrender. "I digress." Then his demeanor turned serious again. "Like I said, it requires two people to be in love. A soulmate bond doesn't automatically make her fall in love with you and vice versa. At the end of the day, it's just a bond. It ties the two of you together in this life, you can feel her, might even need her. But at the end of the day, it's for the both of you to decide if the both of you want to purse a more serious relationship, no?"

Jasper looked away, not wanting to meet his brother's intense gaze.

Had he considered what she wanted?

He loved her, still. But did she want him in the same way?

"I... tell me what I should do then?"

The proposition pained him physically and mentally and Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.

But Edward only looked at him with a tenderness and pity in his eyes.

"Do what's right, brother. Don't make it a regret of yours for eternity."

[merakiaes]

Blueberry Kiss - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: No.

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This was just a small idea I had a while ago. It’s not very eventful, I barely even know what the hell it is, and it’s probably really OOC, but I hope you like it. Let me know what you think xx Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes!

Wordcount: 2693

Summary: Five years after last seeing your childhood sweetheart, you return to Freeridge to find that it’s like you never left. 

The infamous Spooky, leader of Los Santos, one of the most powerful and most feared gangs in all of Los Angeles, had two soft spots; two things, two people, who he would go against all of his morals and beliefs in order to keep safe.

One of them was known to all; his brother, Cesar. It was a given that after raising him like he was his own son since he had been a mere teenager, himself, that he was soft for him.

Everyone in Freeridge knew this and never dared to touch a single strand of hair on his head because of it. 

Those who, against all odds, felt brave enough to involve him in whatever scrap they had with Spooky, ended up learning the hard way why he wasn’t to be touched.

But he had another soft spot, one only his longtime companions knew about.

You.

You had grown up across the street from him, the daughter of a single mother. You had known him long before his mother bailed on him and Cesar, long before Ray got locked up and way before he joined the Santos.

You were as close as peas in a pod as kids, the two of you getting into trouble around the neighborhood before the thought of joining his father’s gang even struck his mind.

And even when you reached the point of Ray’s arrest and Oscar being jumped into the Santos in his place, Spooky being born, you stuck by his side through it all.

You never put a label on your relationship. However, the second you reached your teenage years, your friendship took a more romantic and sexual turn.

You were inseparable for thirteen years, through your childhood, through high school, and through his first years as a Santo. Through all of the struggles and all of the blessings.

And then when you were both eighteen, your mother met some snob from Washington DC and dragged you across the country in order to marry him and build a life with him; forcing you to say goodbye to all of your friends, your old life, the Santos, and Oscar.

The first months without him were insufferable, painful to the point where you didn’t think you were going to get through the heartbreak alive.

You tried texting him and calling him, but he never picked up, and to a start, you thought it was because he was angry at you for leaving, or because he had already moved on.

But then your mother told you that he had gotten locked up and you knew him well enough to, in that moment, be able to conclude that he cut off the ties in his own gallant attempt to not hold you back.

You knew he had always seen himself as dead weight, someone holding you back from going out into the world and making something of yourself. Now that you finally got an opportunity, he wanted you to be able to live your new life to the fullest.

You didn’t agree with his mindset; you never had. But you respected it, and moved on, although… not really.

Now twenty-three years of age, you hadn’t seen nor talked to him or anyone from Freeridge in five whole years.

The sound of Black Fortune could be heard all the way down the street as you stepped out of your car, now having parked right outside the house you had spent countless of days and nights in back when you had still been living in Freeridge.

This was the first time being back since leaving, and everything looked identical to the way it had when you left, almost making it feel like you never did.

But with the nervous feeling lodging itself deep in the pit of your stomach, you were quickly back to the reality in which you had, in fact, left. However, you didn’t let this discourage you, letting your feet move you toward the fence to the side of the Diaz residence.

Judging by the loud music booming from the backyard, you knew that no one would be inside, so it would be no use to knock on the door.

Even back when you had still been living in Freeridge, Oscar hadn’t liked having people in the house whenever he threw a barbeque or a party of any kind. You knew much had changed since then, but you also knew that his excessive need to be in control wouldn’t have.

So you made your way around the back slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips when you walked past the familiar red Impala standing in the driveway.

It was late and the dark had fallen over an hour ago, so as you reached the backyard and caught sight of all the people standing around and mingling, you struggled to make out any familiar faces.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, looking for Oscar or Cesar, even if you knew if the latter most likely wouldn’t be there. You realized pretty quickly that the man you were searching for was nowhere to be seen and gave up your search for him.

But after another good minute of looking around, your eyes finally stopped on another figure, his tall, lanky body and the familiar Santos cross inked into his neck looking as familiar as ever.

Your face instantly pulled into a wide smile and you wasted no time in heading over, your smile turning into a teasing smirk at the sight of the large number of empty alcohol bottles on the table next to them.

“Well, I see you Santos’ alcoholic tendencies haven’t changed.” You spoke once you knew you were close enough for them to hear you over the loud music and watched with amusement as their heads instantly turned in your direction at the sound of your familiar voice.

“No way.” Sad Eyes was the first to speak – the only familiar face you had been able to make out from the other side of the lawn. “(Y/N)? Is that you, chica?”

You held your arms out and chuckled, nodding your head. “In the flesh.”

Now that you were closer to the group Sad Eyes was standing with, you could easily recognize the familiar faces of the Santos, all of whom were looking at you with shock.

An older Santo, Hector, whistled at the sight of you, pulling a hand over his chin. “Damn, you looking fine, mami.” He complimented.

While everyone else made some kind of sound in agreement, Sad Eyes face turned into one of playfulness. “Yeah, what happened?” He asked, and you instantly rolled your eyes.

“Ever the comedian, Guzman.” You chuckled, and he snickered back, opening his arms for you.

“Come here, niña.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, your feet automatically moving you a step closer and thereby walking you straight into your old friend’s open embrace.

Your arms wrapped around each other, his cheek leaning against the top of your head and yours against his chest. He hugged you tightly, rocking your bodies from side to side a few times before letting go.

The two of you shared another smile, but before anyone could say anything else, all of their eyes caught sight of something behind you.

“Here comes Spooky.” One of the Santos spoke and your heart instantly skipped a beat in your chest at the sound of his name.

The Santo slapped Hector’s chest. “Better dip.” He said, and they did just that, along with all the other Santos, as Oscar walked up to you where you were now standing alone with Sad Eyes.

“Los Santos taking in strays now?” He asked his best friend, and just the mere sound of his voice caused your chest to tighten.

It was a lot deeper than it was five years ago, and much rougher, most likely because of the number of cigarettes he without a doubt had smoked throughout the years judging by the smell of tobacco following him around.

While you remained silent, Oscar not even having spared you a glance yet, Sad Eyes chuckled from beside you, the much taller man reaching a hand out to squeeze your shoulder. 

“I’ll go get you a beer.” He told you and you smiled up at him.

“Thanks.” You replied, even though you knew he’d most likely not be back.

Sad Eyes walked away, leaving you alone, and only then did Oscar look down at you.

“Never thought I’d see your face around here again.” He commented with little to no emotion on his face. “How you been, (Y/N)?”

You smiled softly. “Oh, you know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing like being dragged away from your life by your alcoholic, gold-digging mother to live on the other side of the continent for five years.”

Your words brought a chuckle from his lips. “I bet.” He nodded, his chuckling dying down into a simple smile, soft enough to match your own. “You’re looking good.”

Butterflies instantly filled your stomach. “So are you, Oscar.” You nodded, your expression turning a bit more serious. “How have you been? How are things at home?”

His smile faltered ever so slightly, his eyes turning harder. “Same as they were before you left.”

You nodded, biting on the inside of your lip lightly. “Your mom’s still gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Ray’s still in prison?”

“Yup.”

“So it’s just you and Cesar.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, raising the beer he was holding to his lips and taking a slow sip, his eyes leaving yours for the briefest of moments.

Your lips tugged upward with pity, but you quickly covered it up. “How is he?” You asked, turning the conversation away from the heavy stuff.

At the change of subject, he looked back down at you, giving you another shrug. “As good as you can be when you’re stuck in Freeridge. Good grades, friends, girlfriend.”

“No way.” You found yourself chuckling. “Lil’ Spooky getting action already. Who’s the poor girl falling victim to the Diaz charm this time around?”

He snickered, taking another sip of his beer. “Monse.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Monty’s daughter?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and you let out a low whistle.

“Damn. Didn’t see that coming.” You hugged your arms around your body as a chilly breeze pulled at your jacket, looking to the side for a moment, thinking. “What about you?” You asked then, turning your gaze back to him just in time to see his eyebrow raise.

“What about me?” He asked, although judging by the small, teasing smile on his lips, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

But still, you played along, asking in a drawling, playful voice. “Someone special in Spooky’s life?”

He chuckled at your tone, but it died down almost immediately, his head shaking in response to your question. “Nah, haven’t got time for that shit no more.” He replied, his voice low. “Have more important things to deal with.”

You raised your head in a nod and forced yourself to smile a tightlipped smile, ignoring the jab his words sent straight to your heart. “Right.”

Silence fell over the two of you. It was awkward, but not enough to make it uncomfortable. You were looking everywhere except at each other, eyes scanning over the crowd gathered in his backyard.

“How does it feel to be back?” He asked then, causing you to return your attention to him, finding him now looking down at you with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t smiling, but it wasn’t emotionless either. It was just… sincere.

“Weird. Especially being here with you.” You answered before you could stop yourself and he instantly gave you the nod.  

“Yeah? How come?”

You snorted, getting slightly uncomfortable as you were put on the spot. “Please, we didn’t go a day without each other back then.” You answered, glancing to the side briefly before looking back up at him. “You were that one person I always wanted to talk to. No matter what. And now we’ve been apart for five years. We might as well be strangers.”

He listened to you as you spoke intently, his head shaking the second you were done. “We’re not strangers.” He protested softly. “Never was.”

You have him a sad look. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other.” You told him and he nodded.

“I know. But nothing’s changed.”

You stared deeply into each other’s eyes, everything seeming to slow down around you. Before you knew it, and almost as if your bodies were moving on autopilot, you had both taken a step closer to each other.

Oscar’s free hand came up to touch your upper arm gingerly, while one of yours moved up to rest on top of his. You remained like this for a good few seconds, just searching each other’s faces for any indication that the other was against what was about to happen.

But when neither of you could find any indication of the sort, you slowly brought your other hand up to his cheek, both of you moving your faces to close the remaining gap between you to connect your lips in the first kiss in five years.

The first time you fall in love, it changes you forever and no matter how hard you try, that feeling just never goes away. You realized this now when, even after all these years, the feeling of his lips on yours sent a hot jolt of sparkling electricity through your entire body.

You pressed your lips harder against his, both of you taking another step closer to the other and pulling at each other’s bodies desperately.

Your breathing became heavy in no time and your heart thumped against the inside of your chest violently.

While the hand he had on your arm remained there, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your jacket with his thumb, the hand that was holding the beer came to rest on the curve of your hip.

Meanwhile, your hands moved up to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to you as you got completely lost in the kiss.

After what seemed like eternity but at the same time barely even a second, you pulled apart for air, both of your chests heaving up and down breathlessly and your foreheads pressed together.

Your eyes met again, and breathlessly, you confessed. “I thought you’d forgotten about me by now.”

Oscar instantly shook his head against yours, blinking slightly. “No man forgets a good woman like you.” He mumbled quietly, softly. “They just become haunted by the realization that you’re not replaceable. That there’s not anyone who can live up to the feelings you stirred up in me.”

Your chest and stomach fluttered with butterflies at his words, an intense wave of peacefulness and happiness coming over you.

“Well, I know for a fact that one thing hasn’t changed.” You whispered back, the corners of your lips tugging slightly.

“What’s that?” He asked, and only then did you fully smile.

“You’re just as smart now as you were when I left you.”

A smug smirk came across his features, his head nodding against yours. “And you still use the same lipgloss.” He pointed out and you raised an eyebrow.

“How can you tell?” You asked, slightly shocked but also amused.

He brushed his lips against yours, mumbling against them. “Still tastes the same.” He pressed his to yours fully in a second kiss, short but sweet. Once you came back apart, you watched as his tongue darted out from between his lips, tasting them.

“Blueberry.” He mused, smirking down at you. “Nothing that tastes better.”

You chuckled, caressing the nape of his neck with your fingers. “I guess things really haven’t changed, huh?” You asked and watched as his eyebrows rose in amusement.

“I told you, mami.”  He said.

You chuckled, nodding your head. “That you did.” You confirmed, and then pulled him back in for another, sweet, blueberry kiss.

All these years, you had convinced yourself that you were over him and yet now, in this very moment, you realized you probably never were, and that a part of you would always be waiting for him whenever you were apart.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 11 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Plans For The Future

You're seated on your knees, on the floor, before the coffee table where several sheets of paper are scattered around. The possibilities for your future. You left the League in the cave to discuss their business and came up here to do this. But it's been twenty minutes since you wrote down the last option, and you're still clueless.

“Any luck?” Barry is suddenly seated across from you, the wind he makes with he's speed messing with the papers. But he quickly gathers them again.

“No,” you mutter, feeling a little defeated. Seconds later the others are here too, and as if they were told to, they sit all around the coffee table, on the floor. Expect for Bruce, who sits on the couch, his legs near you.

“Isn't there anything you would like to do?”

“I can't really picture myself doing anything.” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh.

“You were so excited about it in the cave. What changed?" Diana asks, and you notice how everyone seems focused on you. In the last week, since they got back from Washington, the League seems very interested in you. There's a lot of effort to make you feel comfortable, and engage you in their conversations.

“Am I going crazy or are you guys like... Trying to make me get used to normal human interaction again?” Crossing your arms, you have your answer by the way they all exchange a glance and then stare at Bruce. “I knew it.”

“How did you find out?”

“Well, right now everyone is literally seated around the coffee table with me. Except for this weirdo here.” You elbow Bruce's leg, making Barry and Arthur giggle. “You're planning to take me out, aren't you?”

“You're very perceptive.” He says as he moves to seat on the floor with you, an arm around your shoulders. “I've been thinking about it for a while.”

“Do you think I can deal with the real world?” You ask him in a lower voice. You haven't been on the streets yet, and you're not sure how you'll feel among the people.

“Yes, I do.”

“You know people will think Bruce Wayne has a girlfriend, right? If we go out and you do things like hold my hand...” You bet it won't take half an hour for his name to be on the headlines again, and the news channels will talk about it. The world will know about your existence, and every girl who has her eyes on Bruce will know they lost their chance. “You'll have to keep a distance.”

“(Y/N), we're dating. I won't keep that a secret so yes, people will have to find out eventually.” He places a soft kiss on your nose before his lips connect to yours.

“Uhm... We're still here...” Barry mutters, reminding you of the public.

Weird how it only took half a second for you to forget you have company. “So... Now that I know why you guys are still around, help me find something to major in.”

“Let's see what you have here.” Diana starts, and everyone takes a piece of paper or two. “Doctor?”

“Nope. That was just a joke.” Bending over the table a little, you take the paper from her hand. “Moving on.”

“Nurse," Arthur says.

“Vet.” Clark reads.

“All jokes.” Wanting something isn't enough, you have to feel like you can do it. And you don't think you can.

“If you become a nurse you could patch him up.” Arthur gestures at Bruce who nods.

“Sweetheart if this is what you want you just need to say and I'll help you.”

“Me? A nurse? No way, it's too much for me. I need something easier.” You're not saying you're stupid, but why put effort into something on which you'll probably fail? No need to hurt your feelings.

“So you don't think you're smart enough?” Clark asks and you nod.

“If you weren't smart you wouldn't have survived this long as a criminal. And wouldn't have escaped the prison twice. Or fooled the Joker so many times.” Bruce says, and you tilt your head to the side a little, thinking. It did take some brain to do this stuff, calculations, memorization, and some random knowledge.

“It looks like this is what you want,” Arthur mumbles, elbows on the coffee table.

Nurses help people, and that's the exact opposite of what you did. You never really enjoyed hurting people though, at least not normal civilians.

“Yeah... I've been thinking about being a practitioner nurse.”

“You've been doing some research on the subject then.” Wonder Woman raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. They can diagnose diseases, initiate treatments, and prescribe medications. They're more independent.” Shrugging your shoulders, you lean closer to Bruce. “But I don't know. Maybe we should keep looking into the other options.” Pretending you're not insecure is useless. Building a life is both exciting and terrifying.

“No. I guess we found what you want to do.” Bruce says and kisses your cheek. You bite back a smile, but it escapes anyway. “Anything as long as you're happy.”

“I can die in peace now,” Arthur says, and everyone turns their heads to look at him. He simply gestures at you and Bruce as if it would explain everything. “I lived enough to see Batman being soft with someone. The rest of my life will be dull.”

It took long enough for the funny comments to start. “Let the man be, Arthur. Everyone softens when they find love.” Diana adds.

“Aren't you a little too young to be dating Bruce actually?” Barry asks, shrugging his shoulders. “Just-just saying.”

“I haven't really thought about that,” you say.

“I have,” Bruce admits.

“Obviously. In this relationship you're the morals part.” You start gathering the sheets of paper, making a small pile. “I'm the impulse part.”

“Impulse part?”

“I did kiss you out of impulse. I was trying to control myself for quite a while but the thought of another suicide mission finally made me give in.” Looking at him, you smirk. “What would you do if I didn't kiss you before the mission? Were you planning to tell me about your feelings?”

“Shouldn't we discuss that in private?” He raises an eyebrow, and you give the guys a glance before looking back at Bruce.

“We don't mind. Go on.” Barry mutters, getting an annoyed stare from Diana.

“Let's give them some time." She says before getting up. The others soon follow, but Barry is the last.

“The fast one seems very curious about Batman's love life,” you say in a sassy tone when you're left alone.

“He turned the mission in Washington a nightmare the moment I mentioned you.” Bruce moves closer, caressing your cheek.

“And how was that?”

“I told them we had to make it as quick as possible because I had someone to go back to.” He places a soft kiss on your lips and you can't help but smile. You can't believe that someone was you. “Then he just wouldn't let it go. And yes, I was planning on telling you how I felt.”

“What would you do if the feeling wasn't mutual?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you move to sit on his lap.

“I was pretty sure you felt something for me.”

“Really? I was trying so hard to hide it.”

“Miss Quinzel. Master Bruce. Dinner is served.” Alfred announces and you're just about to stand up when Bruce lifts you up with him.

“Because that will make Barry stop sassing at you,” you tell him, not even bothering to ask him to put you down. He can carry you all the way he wants. It feels funny though, and good to float like this. But the best part is how close your faces are, so you take the chance to kiss him as he takes you to the dining room.

Dinner goes on very well. The chattering is constant, and you manage to get into the conversations. You do feel like you're getting along with the League. Maybe you'll do well with other people too. If you can deal with the supers, you can deal with regular humans. It gives you hope, makes you a little more excited to go out. For dessert, you have brownies, one of your favorites, with vanilla ice cream.

“(Y/N), you said something about a suicide mission?” Barry asks after Diana gives you more details about the Washington mission. “What was that about?”

“Yeah... It was a terrorist attack in New Mexico. They mounted a base there but we never knew their plans.”

“They send you in a mission completely in the dark?” Diana furrows her eyebrows.

“We're the Suicide Squad. Well, that's what we call ourselves. The official name is Task Force X.” You move in the chair a little, but you notice you're not as uncomfortable as you were before talking about it. Bruce says you have to accept who you were in order to be free to restart. Trying to ignore it will only allow the past to haunt you. “When the soldiers can't deal with it but it's still not bad enough to call the heroes, they send us. The whole point is that it doesn't matter if we die in the process. The order is to finish the mission. We're... Spendable.”

“I never heard of anything like that,” Clark says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nobody is supposed to know. But it doesn't matter anymore. The mission was a success and I'd be fine with it if the guards didn't beat me up on my way back here.” You say it without really noticing what it means, but by the way they exchange glances with each other, there are questions in their heads. “Some of them knew me from Belle Reve. So they knew I was going back somewhere they wouldn't be able to punish me for my crimes. They said it was a taste from home.”

“Everyone who was in that van was fired.” Bruce's voice is heavy with anger. “And I doubt they'll get any other job in Gotham.”

“If you're in prison to pay for your crimes, why did they beat you? Isn't the confinement the punishment?” Barry raises his eyebrows, and Arthur nods.

“Uhm... Yes. In any other prison, yes. But Belle Reve is different. It's like we're not on Earth anymore they... They can do pretty much anything they want. Every man and woman who acts as our guards are military or ex-military. Soldiers... And they have so much hate for us.” The memories come back in flashes of lightning, flooding your mind. The pain is still a vivid dream, the darkness is still terrorizing. “I can only speak for myself but I'm sure almost everyone who gets there tries to fight, to run away. I did. And maybe... Maybe I deserved it, maybe what they did was right.”

“(Y/N), don't you think for a second that you deserved what they did to you. Just because someone is a criminal doesn't give them the reason to treat you like an animal.” Bruce takes your hand over the table, and you smile to feel his fingers brushing against the soft skin of the back on your hand.

“They don't treat animals like they treat us.” The acknowledgment is dark and heavy, and you feel as the atmosphere gets tense. The League seems uncomfortable, perplexed.

“What the hell happens in that place?” Diana is the first to speak up after several seconds of deep silence.

“I can only tell what happened to me. By the rumors, it depends on who we are. Killercroc, for example, is left alone in a hole on the ground. Me... I always fought back.” Taking a deep breath, you revisit the endless days you spent in hell. The longest year of your life. The terror was usually suffocated by anger, burning rage, but it was always there, creeping through the walls. “I was kept in the dark. The only light source came from the small gap under the door. It had a blueish glow. My cell was open three times a day, at 10 a.m., 04 p.m., and 08 p.m. The two first were to feed me. They put a straw through my nose all the way down to my throat and fed me with some kind yogurt.” You cringe at the memory, a shiver rolling down your spine. “The last one was the shower. If you can call that a shower... They made me take my clothes off and back up into a concrete wall and blast me with water from a hose. If the weather was hot, the water was ice cold... If it was cold, the water was so hot that it burned my skin.” As you speak, Bruce moves his chair closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“You don't have to tell us anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” Clark says in a low voice.

“No, it's ok... It's good to say it. To... Let it out.” Holding it inside has only screwed you up over and over again. Dealing with it alone has isolated you. And you don't want to be alone anymore. “Before or after the shower was usually when the beat me. Men, women... They didn't really mind if they were a 6ft tall man kicking me. The drugs, the... Several different kids of drugs they gave me numbed the pain, but it was worse, at least to me.” The tears are rolling down now, as you're looking at the table, holding Bruce's hand as if he's your anchor. “I knew my body was being broken, sliced, bones being fractured but I only felt the impact. It's a psychological torture they play alongside the physical one. They liked to know that I was feeling my body being hurt, but I could never feel it... The drugs never wore off, so they never treated to my wounds. I was always left there, in my cell, as the blood dried, as the darkness threatened to suffocate me but I always told myself I was Havoc. I was freaking Havoc and I did not only deserve that, but I also could deal with it. That I was used to the pain...”

“Alright, that's enough.” Bruce raises his voice, and you notice you were yelling. He pulls you close and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“I speak for everyone here when I say we're very sorry for everything you've been through,” Diana says, and you feel a hand on your shoulder. When you look up, you see that not only her but all the others are standing around you and Bruce. “And I'm sorry I brought up such terrible memories.”

“Thank you.” Your voice sounds terribly weak, and Bruce dries off some of the tears with his thumb. When you get up, Diana holds both your hands on hers.

“I want you to know that you have me now. To talk, to ask for help, anything.” Your eyes quickly fly through the others when they nod.

“More than Bruce's friend, you're our friend now,” Arthur says.

“So now you not only have friends but superfriends.” Barry steps ahead and pulls you into a hug. You're surprised at the sudden affection, but it feels nice. The others join you soon, and you're in the middle of a group hug.

Not for a single moment in your life you thought you'd ever had anything like this. “Guys, you know you don't have to do this,” you mutter because you can't help but think you don't deserve it, that you're not the victim. Guess you still have a lot to work on, and Bruce is right to still give you some therapy sessions.

“Of course we do. You're an incredible woman who overcame so much. And you truly seem to want to leave the past behind.”

“Clark's right. You're the proof that villains aren't too far beyond repair.” Arthur says with a smile.

“Thanks again.” You're blushing a little because you think they see you as more than what you are now. But it's good to know they believe you.

An hour later, you're on Bruce's bedroom, getting ready to sleep. You're reading about Gotham's University as Bruce brushes his teeth, getting a little confused by how complicated it seems to be accepted there.

“Bruce, all these papers... I don't know if I have them.” You complain, suddenly losing hope.

“I'll deal with them, don't worry.” He comes to the bed, sitting beside you and resting his back against the pillowy headrest. “Worry about studying.”

“And about the fact I'll be surrounded by people all the time.” You sigh, putting the tablet on the nightstand. “It's still confusing, you know. Terrifying sometimes.” You're used to making people fear you, and when that's not possible, they just hate you. Hurt you. You're not sure how you'd manage to stay in between. To be normal.

“The classes only start next semester, so you'll have some months to get used to people.” Bruce pulls you to lie down, and you lay your head on his chest. “Tomorrow we're going out.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. We'll walk around, buy you some new clothes, eat at a nice restaurant...” He caresses your hair, making it hard to keep your eyes open. “I'll be right there with you, so no need to get anxious.”

“Okay...” Noticing you're a little thirsty, you roll your eyes as you get up. “I need water. Do you want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“I'll be right back.” Crawling out of the bed, you make your way downstairs, straight to the kitchen. You hear low voices, so you walk slower, making sure you won't interrupt anything. When you get there, you see it's Diana and Barry, who's eating your ice cream. “Hey, guys,” you announce yourself.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Diana says as Barry waves with the spoon.

“You know this ice cream is mine, right?” Raising an eyebrow, you try to look mad. It apparently works because he gives an apologetic look and lowers the spoon.

“Sorry.” He mutters as you walk around the island, getting a spoon for yourself, sitting beside him and starting to eat too.

“Relax. It seems that I have to share now.” You keep the sarcastic tone, but Barry still doesn't seem to understand. “I'm joking. You can eat it, it's just ice cream.” You smile when he starts eating again. “Don't you want some, Diana?”

“No, thank you.” She raises the mug she's holding. “I usually just drink some tea before going to sleep.”

“Yeah. I just eat. I need a lot of calories.” Barry says with his mouth full of ice cream. “What about you?”

“Actually I just came to get some water. Bruce is waiting for me upstairs.” You forgot about the water, but now you feel thirsty again, so you get a glass and head to the fridge.

“You guys sleep together?” He asks.

“Barry.” Diana reprimands him, and that makes you giggle a little.

“We share the bed.” Shrugging your shoulders, you speak as you pour some cold water on the glass, closing the fridge and making your way back to where you were seated. “I have... Nightmares. They were more often before, but they still come. But when I'm with Bruce it's just... It's better.” You feel safe, secure, but you're too shy to tell them that. It's too much that you're telling about the nightmares, but it's a good sign that you're able to open up, even if it's just a little bit.

“You love Bruce, don't you?” Diana asks in a low voice.

Looking down at your half-full glass of water, you nod. Love isn't the word you use to express your feelings for Bruce, but that's just because you're way too scared to let those three words flow out. ‘I love you.’ You've been biting your tongue for quite a while now. Those words hold power, you know it, and you're scared that he doesn't feel the same way. “Don't tell him,” you beg, looking up at Diana.

“Why?” As she asks, Barry takes the ice cream and gets up, leaving the kitchen.

“Girl talk.” He mumbles on his way out. And yes, you feel a little more comfortable knowing it's just Diana.

“Because maybe it's too soon and... If he doesn't feel the same I'm afraid it'll push him away.” Your feelings for Bruce only grow, and even though being in love with someone is something new, you know how things should play out. Or you think you do. The fact that he's Batman and you're Havoc, a villain he tried to catch before, only makes everything worse.

“I know Bruce. He would never officialize a relationship if he wasn't one hundred and ten percent sure of his feelings.” She moves from her place at the table to seat across from you on the island. “And I understand that what you did before may get in the way but it only makes me even more sure about his feelings towards you. So yes, I think he loves you and there's no reason for you to be so scared.”

Taking a deep breath, you try to accept that. “How could he love me?” You inquire in a low voice because you can't help but go back, to remember who you were and what you did. You do regret it, and you do want different things now, to have a whole new life. But... Sometimes the fear of losing Bruce hits hard, and you start going back to your shell.

“Why don't you let me answer that?” His voice makes you jump, and you stand up abruptly. Your heart beats so fast that you can hear it on your ears, like drums.

“I'll get some sleep. Good night, (Y/N). Bruce.” Diana stands up and leaves the kitchen, as you stand there, looking at Bruce.

“You weren't supposed to hear any of that,” you mumble.

“But I'm glad I did. Let's head upstairs. We need to talk.” Nodding, you start following Bruce. “I need to make things clear with you, sweetheart.”

×

@fionanovasleftnut @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1  // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3  // Chapter 4 // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 5

The phone rang three times before she answered. My jaw ached as I tried to mask the slur in my voice when I told her who was calling. I realized it was a long shot ringing her number but I needed something to get my head on straight. I told her I was in Georgetown and as luck would have it she did not have a shift at the hospital that evening. She accepted my invitation to have a drink. I confirmed her address and I said I would wait outside the building to meet her, adding to look for the forlorn gentleman with a grey fedora. We disconnected and I exited the booth then walked to the curb to hail a cab. 

Scully’s apartment building was tucked into a quiet tree-lined block on Q Street. In a town built on history this neighborhood dripped vintage charm with neat colonial rowhouses and brick sidewalks. I paced a slow line in front of the staircase then stretched a foot on the bottom step. The sound of a door opening and heel clicks on brickwork caught my attention. There she was. A vision in a short-sleeved olive green sweater with a high neck, wide-leg trousers gave way to dark t-strap shoes that peeked out from under her pant cuffs. Her ginger-red hair was pinned up halfway and decorated with a small flower. I straightened up and tried to smile as she landed on the last step. 

“God, what happened to you?” she questioned before I could even greet her properly. 

“And hello to you too.” I replied.

“Oh, your cheek,” Scully frowned, “This reminds me of when we first met.” She inspected my face without laying a finger on me. I tipped back my hat slightly so she could get a better look. In the afternoon sun her eyes processed a diagnosis and she reached out a caring hand to touch my jawline but withdrew it quickly. Fingers formed a loose fist instead as her hand dropped slowly towards her hip. I cleared my throat.

“Serves me right for interrupting someone’s lunch, huh?”

“Must have been someone important for them to leave a mark like that,” Scully said, stepping back and adjusting her handbag. I shrugged then said,

“No, just me being a nosy cop.” I found myself staring as she smiled.

“So now that we’re here, where are we off to?”

“There’s a little place I visit when I’m in the neighborhood.” I slipped my hands in my pockets and gestured with a nod down the block. She joined me at my side and we strolled for a few silent moments. Her presence helped to mute the extra noise in my head. Though with each intersection we crossed I was still checking my corners, making sure we weren’t being followed. After the little scene I caused at the restaurant my guard was up. I knew I could never be too comfortable with my surroundings and I certainly didn’t want to put her in danger.

We walked farther down Q street and crossed over to 33rd to a small bar named The Blue Note. I opened the door for her and followed inside. It was your standard set-up with a small stage on the side arranged for a jazz combo. Too early for a gig, so the jukebox in the corner played the matinee performance. Regalia from the university littered the walls but in a more dignified fashion, like the proprietor was trying to distance the establishment from looking like a run-of-the-mill college bar. Still, it was dark, smoky, and my kind of familiar. Only a couple of bar flies had landed to start their day-drinking. I ushered her through a fresh haze of cigarette smoke to an empty spot at the far end of the bar. She took a seat and I adjusted my barstool, sitting close but not too close. Scully caught the attention of the stout bartender.

“I’d like a vodka tonic and my friend here will have?”

“Whiskey.” 

The man nodded and scuttled back to fix our drinks. I put my fedora on the bar and ran a hand through my hair.

“Can you tell me about this case you’re working on?” Scully asked as she placed her handbag in her lap. I thought about how much I wanted to divulge so I kept the names and places to a minimum.

“It involves a drug ring, fairly standard for the vice unit. However the fly in the ointment is that it also involves an investigation into my partner.”

“Wait, the one who was buried at Arlington?”

“The very same,” I answered as the bartender delivered two short glasses. I grasped the drink and raised it, she mimicked the motion. “Cheers,” I said before taking a long sip and swirling the ice cube around. Scully sampled her drink as well and I continued.

“The papers painted it that he was killed in the line of duty. Now, I was there that night. It was the same night I got a hot lead kiss on the shoulder and I think my partner was bumped off in a deal that went sour.”

“Your partner was a hophead?” she asked as she twisted the bottom of her glass on the bar napkin.

“I didn’t suspect he was a hophead,” I said after I downed the last of my whiskey, “but the medical examiner ordered blood work that confirmed he was sky high.”

“Did you see who shot at you?” she asked after a beat, tracing a fingertip along the edge of the highball. 

“No, but we did get a match on the weapon. So all I need to do is take him in .”

“Let me guess, that’s who gave you the bruise.”

“Very perceptive Scully. It was one of his goons actually.” I said as I rubbed my left cheek and glanced reflexively over my shoulder. She held her glass close to her lips and thought for a moment before taking another sip to finish it off. Scully pressed her lips together and focused on her now empty glass. I caught the change in music from the jukebox; a heavy piano piece that fit the tone in our little corner of the bar. I flagged the bartender and ordered another round.  She was hesitant at first on the refill but I guess she didn’t mind my company and decided to stick around. Time seemed to slow to a halt, dripped down like molasses on a winter day.

“Enough about me and the DCPD, I want to know your story.”

“My story, Mulder? I don’t think I’m as interesting as all that,” Scully said as she glanced at her hands, admiring the tidy red varnish on the nails.

“Try me,” I replied as our second round arrived and my attention was now only on her.

“Let’s see...you already know I’m a nurse,” she began with a gesture, “I’ve been one since before the war. Schooling was no cost and once the conflict started I opted to stay home in Maryland to fill the nursing shortage. My brothers had gone through the gauntlet at the naval academy and were sent to San Diego then the South Pacific respectively. It would have broken my mother’s heart if I joined up and got shipped off too” She paused and took a drink. “My sister and mother stayed in Annapolis but in ‘45 I headed to Washington to continue with medicine. There was more I wanted to learn and more ways I felt I could help.”

“And that’s how you ended up in Georgetown?”

She nodded and softly exhaled.

“After I buried my father, I buried myself in studies, work, and other hobbies. I figured if I kept myself busy enough I wouldn’t have time to think about the loss.” Her shoulders shrugged and she absentmindedly toyed with a strand of hair then swept it behind her ear.

“Any travel in that time?” I asked, hoping she had an answer. I was shit at small talk when I wasn’t using my badge.

“California after the war ended to see my brother Bill and his family for Christmas, then last year I took the train up to New England for a change of scenery.”

“Ah, I’m familiar with that area. My parents live on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“It’s really lovely. I was fortunate to visit in the fall.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she recalled the memory. A pleasant silence then fell between us. More small talk followed, less personal this go around. Filler subjects like the weather and sports weaved their way into conversation. I was pleased to learn she was a baseball fan and was hoping for a better season than last year. 

The bar was getting more clientele and as much as I wanted to stay and extend my friendship with Mr Jack Daniels, I figured we should make it last call. I paid our tab and escorted Scully outside, placing a featherweight touch on her shoulder as I guided her through the open door. The air felt cool as the sun hid behind passing clouds, setting up for another storm. She thanked me for the drinks and though she was a captain’s daughter who could certainly hold her liquor, I offered to walk her home. 

As we turned the corner and walked back up the block I still felt that we weren’t alone. I kept a close stride next to Scully as we neared her building. She ascended the steps and I joined her at the door. This time her hand found my cheek. 

“I hope to see you again,” she said as she gently stroked my jawline, “But next time without any occupational damage.” 

“Can’t make any promises, doll,” I said moving closer, feeling her fingers twitch, catching a flutter of her eyelashes as she exhaled. My gaze was soft, hypnotized by her features. She grazed the stubble on my skin then Scully raised her chin and placed a soft sweet kiss on my injured cheek. 

“Take care of yourself, detective.”

Through the narrow pane of glass on the building’s door I watched her walk up the stairs, she looked back over her shoulder giving me a final flash of that flower nestled against her red hair. As I turned and walked down the steps I noticed a car parked across the street and a man with a sharp suit and glasses leaning against the side.

“Are you following me?” I called out once I was on the sidewalk, my hand on the butt of my weapon.

“This is your surveillance detail?” Skinner questioned.

“Chivalry isn’t dead yet, Captain.”

“Something’s come up. Get in,” Skinner said as he motioned to the car. I walked around the front of the cruiser and opened the passenger door joining him inside.

“I heard about your incident with Carlo Lodi today.”

“Word travels fast.”

“You’re damn right it does, Mulder. This city is more connected than ever. I had a conversation with our friend Alex Krycek when he returned the squad car you lent him. Seems that he was privy to information regarding a Vincenti heroin shipment tonight.”

“Ha! What did you have to trade for that info?” I asked. He tensed his jaw then said,

“Continued protection. It appears he’s been sitting on this since we first interrogated him.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“There will be a boat arriving at the Navy Yard tonight. Small crew. They are going to make a transfer to one of the warehouses, but it’s up to you to find how they’re moving the shipment from there.”

I took a moment to process the details of my assignment. 

“Will I have back-up?”

“Via radio. Do not engage after you make the mark. Follow standard tailing procedure.”

“If you’re going to send me on a suicide mission, can you at least drop me off in Alexandria. I could use a shower and something to eat.” Skinner gave me a sideways glance and turned the key in the ignition, bringing life to the cruiser. He shifted into gear and we were on our way back across the Potomac.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I Loved Him... Once - CH 1

Title: I Loved Him... Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

     In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Spencer: 

     “What we have done for ourselves alone, dies with us. What we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” - Albert Pike

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     “Fourteen days, fourteen days, fourteen glorious days!” 

     Spencer barely looked up from the book he was reading, sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair as Derek Morgan sashayed across the bullpen and perched himself on the corner smiling down at him.

     He opted to ignore the over the top, ray of sunshine, mood Derek was in, and flipped the page of his book. Derek was not giving in, he was not going to be ignored when he was in such a good mood, so he swiftly swooped his hand and stole Spencer's book, eliciting a whine of protest as he sat forward and reached for it. Though he didn't make any more effort than that, he knew very well there was no way he would be able to get the book back from Derek through force.

     “Come on, Morgan, give it back.”

     Derek laughed, his eyes shining with mirth as he kept playing keep away with Spencer, “You really want it back that bad?”

     “Yes, actually, it was just starting to get good!” He made another jolt forward to reach for the book but it was in vain. Spencer’s brain might be fast, but Derek Morgan's reflexes were always faster.

     “Really, kid, you're reading…” He turned the book over and eyed the title with a raised brow, “‘The Art of War’. You planning on taking someone down, Reid?” Spencer just eyed him as he closed the book and tucked it under his crossed arms, knowing full well that the genius would remember not only the page number he had been on before Derek closed the book, but the exact word he had read last. “Now, like I said before, we have fourteen, I repeat, fourteen glorious days of vacation starting right now. And you're telling me that your only plans are to sit here at your desk, at work, and continue reading ‘The Art of War’ instead of going out and doing something, anything, other than that?”

     “It never hurts to educate yourself, Morgan, and yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you,” he replied, a little short, then tried once more to swipe unsuccessfully for his book, “now give me back my book.”

     “Good god, man, live a little, you're killing me.” Derek stood and moved the book even further out of Spencer's reach, so he just huffed and sat back in his chair again. “You don't have any plans? No dates? No trips to exotic lands to meet fine exotic ladies?”

     “When have you ever known me to ever have plans? Or dates for that matter. It's not like girls are exactly lining up to date the lanky, boy genius.”

     “Oh you're much more than that, pretty boy, you know that.” Morgan perched himself on the side of his desk again.

     “Not to mention the fact that seeing this in a bathing suit on a beach full of, more than likely, gorgeous people, is not something that is on anyone's bucket list, I'm positive of that. I'm so white I'd probably end up blinding half the beach with my legs alone.”

     Derek was laughing, near tears at this point, “Oh, come on kid, it can't be that bad.”

     “Oh, it is,” Spencer was slightly laughing at this point too, “I went to a pool party once in university and I was asked to put my shirt back on because the light was reflecting off my skin and ‘hurting people's eyes’... Derek, it was ten at night. My skin was reflecting the pool lights so severely it was hurting people.”

     Derek barked out a laugh so hard he nearly fell off the table and Spencer couldn't help but join him. “So you just need a little bit of sun, cancel out some of the white. Why not come with me to Barbados? Little sand, little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun.” He shot a quick wink at Spencer who just scoffed and looked away. “Give me two days with you on the beach and I guarantee I could get you a couple shades darker, at least.”

     “Oh, yes,” he nodded, smirking, “as well as skin cancer.”

     “I promise I won't let you get skin cancer, but that being said, once we get you all sunkissed and confident, I can't promise I'll be able to keep all those fine ladies off of you.”

     “You're not making this sound any better. Skin cancer, STD’s, and multitudes of random women hanging off of me, no thank you.”

     “Well, if you don't want to be swarmed by the fine exotic women,” he paused, smirking down at a waiting Spencer, “I'm sure I can help you land some handsome exotic men, then. I'm not here to judge. More women for me.”

     Spencer reached to the side and grabbed the small pile of papers that were sitting there, and swiftly smacked Derek on the arm with them, “Get off my desk.”

     “That doesn't sound like a denial,” he ducked as he was swatted at again, “come with me and I promise you'll have a good time.”

     “Go!”

     Derek chuckled once more, before ducking under his own desk to grab his bag, then turned back to toss the book back to Spencer who barely caught it, “My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow night, think about it!”

     “I don't need to, I'm not going!”

     “Think about it!”

     “What's the point anyways!?” He called as Derek was almost out of ear shot, but he continued anyways, “When has vacation ever worked out for us? I'd buy a ticket and pay for a room, and realistically we'll probably end up right back here in two days, four tops!”

     Derek was gone by this point, not having heard most of what he had said, more than likely already knowing that this was probably their reality, but not wanting to have to accept it. Though his complaints didn't fall on deaf ears.

     “Oh, now you've gone and jinxed it. Just know that if our vacation gets cancelled due to a case, I am definitely coming after you first, Reid.” 

     He gazed up at Emily over the edge of his book, having indeed remembered the exact word he had left off on when it was stolen from him, and gave her a playful smirk. “I am only stating statistics. If you factor in every vacation we have had since we started here at the BAU, the odds that we will have a full, uninterrupted ‘fourteen glorious days’ as Morgan put it, are less than ten percent. Eight point five-six-three-two percent to be exact.”

     “God I hate you sometimes,” though she laughed as she said it, “so you really don't have any plans?”

     “I never said I didn't have any plans,” he sighed and closed his book on his desk, resigned to not getting any reading done until everyone was gone, “just because I don't have plans involving a hot beach or women, doesn't mean I don't have plans.”

     “Oh!” She perked up and moved closer, intrigued. “So what kinds of fun are you up to then?”

     “Oh, loads!” He shifted in his chair, moving to lean towards her with his elbows on his desk. “I'm signed up for a lecture series that starts tomorrow, but the one I'm most excited for is a lecture called ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid. It's a Nobel lecture all about possible engineering applications for, and the inner workings of, organic and conductive polymers. It sounds completely fascinating! I was also thinking of taking a trip to Colonial Williamsburg. I mean, how amazing would it be to walk the same streets as Thomas Jefferson, or eat in the same place as George Washington! I was also thinking of visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. They have over twenty- two thousand works on display that are largely focused on modern and contemporary art, especially with a focus on European art after the nineteen hundreds. They are also having a workshop there next week focusing on-”

     “Woah, woah, take a breath,” she laughed a bit, then asked with a hint of concern, “aren't you doing anything that doesn't involve… learning? Like, no info intake, no lecture series, no workshops, just relaxing? Letting your brain just take a break?”

     Spencer pouted his bottom lip in thought then looked back up to Emily, “No? Why would I want to waste two weeks doing nothing when I could spend them increasing my knowledge?”

     “Wouldn't you want to sit back and…” She stared confusedly at an equally confused Spencer, then just shook her head with another laugh, “Nevermind, look who I’m talking to. Of course you would think that spending two weeks learning would be an ideal vacation. To each their own I guess, right.”

     He just nodded, picking his book up again as she moved away from his desk.

     “Well, have fun with your jam packed knowledge filled two weeks, see you in fourteen days.”

     “Or in two to four days. Don't forget the eight point five-six-three-two percent chance that I will see you before-”

     “Blah, blah, blah!” She covered her ears as she walked away from him, “Can't hear you, already on vacation!”

     “Very mature,” though he was smiling, “have fun with your mother.”

     She threw a quick wave at him then disappeared. When she was finally gone, he sat back in his chair with a content sigh. Now that Emily was gone, it was just himself, Rossi, and Hotch who were left in the office, and he knew there was a very low chance that either of them would interrupt him to inquire about his vacation plans. He was finally able to finish his book in peace before catching the last train home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Knock, knock.” 

     Aaron looked up from where he had been bent over the front of his desk, the pile of papers he had been sorting through covering every inch of it, and towards the door. “David, come in.”

     The man did, eyeing the mess, but merely stood in the middle of the room and tucked his hands into the pockets of his very expensive suit. “Always one of the last to leave, huh?”

     “Has everyone gone?” Aaron asked without looking up this time.

     “Everyone except the usual suspect.”

     “Reid.” Aaron sighed. ‘Not last to leave,’ he thought. Spencer always seemed to still be there, even in the late late hours of the night. After a case, before vacation, even sometimes during vacation. Aaron always felt bad for the man, worried that he was lonely, though nowadays he could relate. 

     “I overheard him talking with Emily and Derek before they left. His most exciting plans seem to have something to do with a Nobel lecture series,” Rossi moved closer, taking up the chair in front of Aaron’s desk, “that kid needs to learn how to slow down and relax, I'm worried he might burn out someday if he doesn't. He should go out, have some fun from time to time.”

     “Well I'm not much better,” Aaron turned, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, now facing David, “my plans for the next two weeks pretty much consist of staying home, catching up on more paperwork, and if I can swing it with Haley, taking Jack for a few days. If I play my cards right, the park will be the most exciting adventure of my vacation. I'm not exactly going out to paint the town red either.”

     “Yeah, you two are wild,” he drawled with a smirk, “you know, maybe a date would do the kid well. Loosen him up a bit.”

     Aaron eyed him warily with a tilt of his head, seeing right through his attempted ruse, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

     “Perhaps, while you both have the time off, you and Spencer could plan something together.” Aaron closed his eyes with a sigh and shifted, opened his mouth to say something in protest, but David beat him to it, hands up to stop him. “I'm just saying, you're the only two people on the team that aren't out of town for the next two weeks. I’ll be in Italy visiting family, JJ is taking her family camping, Prentis is visiting her mom, Garcia is, quote, ‘on a shopping tour of all the best malls in the northern hemisphere’, and Morgan is hitting the beach in Barbados. That leaves you and Reid. So all I'm saying is that maybe you can stop fantasizing about the kid and actually do something about your infatuation.”  

     Aaron just gaped at his friend, shocked, speechless for the first time in as long as he can remember. “I… how…” Was the only thing he was able to manage to stutter out.

     David just smiled up at him mischievously and stated, “I'm a profiler, Aaron, and a damn good one. I've seen the way you look at Spencer, the way you stick close to him, and it's very obvious you care about him. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, yet ironically the only one to not have figured it out yet is the only actual certified genius.”

     Aaron still didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone about how he felt about Spencer. It was hardly appropriate for him to attempt to pursue the man considering he was his superior, not to mention older than him. Something that had plagued him since the very day he met the cute, quirky doctor on his first day with the BAU. 

     “I can tell you're over-thinking, Aaron.” Rossi speaking brought him out of his small internal panic and he looked down at him. “What is it? That you're his boss? Strauss?”

     He shifted, crossing his arms impossibly closer to his chest. No point in denying it now. “A bit of both, I guess. Not to mention the age difference between us.”

     “First off, I wouldn't worry about Strauss. If anything were to happen between you and Spencer, as long as you navigate the correct channels and immediately disclose your relationship, sign the proper papers, then there is nothing Strauss can do against either of you or your jobs. As for you being his superior, I wouldn't even give that a second thought. No one on our team would think anything of it, no one would ever even entertain the thought that you took advantage, and neither would Spencer.” David then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “And the age gap, who cares. Love, is love, is love. Take it while you've got it and don't ever let it go. Age is but a number and love knows no bounds.”

     “Very profound of you, David.” He couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip.

     “What can I say, I am the embodiment of love.”

     “Right, and is that why you've been married three times and are on wife number four?”

     They both laughed, hearty and full, and for the first time since they started talking, Aaron found himself feeling a lot lighter. It was nice to finally have someone who knew his secret feelings for the young genius, and be able to actually have someone to talk to and confide in about it. 

     Rossi's phone ringing broke the moment though, and he reached into his pocket, just looking at the screen and not answering. “Well, my ride to the airport is here. I will see you in two weeks, do not call me.”

     Aaron let loose one last light chuckle, moving along with Dave to see him out. With a smile and a pat on the back as they reached the door he said, “I'll try not to, enjoy your time in Italy.”

     “Oh I intend to,” he opened the door, then turned back at the last minute, “but do me a favor will ya. Don't call me, but do call Spencer.”

     Aaron just smiled, gave Dave a small push out the door, and answered, “Good bye, David.”

     Once he was out the door and down the stairs, Aaron closed the door and took a step to the side to watch him cross the bullpen. He gave a quick goodbye to Spencer as he passed, and then he was gone. Then his eyes wandered over to the last person left besides himself, still sitting alone at his desk, leaned back reading his book. He sighed, watching Spencer for a moment longer before thinking to himself, maybe David was right. Why should he worry about all that other nonsense? Besides, he would never know if Spencer felt the same unless he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aaron finally finished organizing the paperwork explosion on his desk, filing away what was finished and adding the rest to his bag, then was finally able to head out. 

     It had been a good two hours since Rossi had left his office, leaving Aaron with all kinds of things to think about, and the man that those thoughts were all about was still sitting in the same spot he had been in since vacation officially began. Though now, Spencer was already halfway through his second book. 

     As he passed him, the younger man not even so much as lifting his eyes from his book, he said a quiet, “Have a good vacation, Reid.”

     “You too, Hotch,” he answered back, and Aaron just about kept walking, but stopped himself at the last minute and turned back.

     They were currently alone, no one else around but him and Spencer, so now was just as good a time as any. “Reid…”

     At the questioning tone to his name, Spencer looked up at Hotch who was now standing right in front of him, “Yeah?”

     “I… I was…'' Spencer was still looking up at him with concerned eyes, a furrowed brow, and if Aaron was being honest, a super cute frown. Now, what Aaron wanted to say was ‘Spencer, I know that you and I are the only two who will be remaining in town for the duration of our vacation time, and I was wondering perhaps, if you would like to take advantage of the fact and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’ But what he actually managed to come out with instead, was a sad and defeated, “I… I just wanted to wish you well. I hope you have a good fourteen days, and I heard you will be attending a lecture series, I hope it's informative.”

     “Right…” Hotch couldn't be certain, but he was sure that Spencer almost looked… disappointed? “An-anything else?”

     “... No, I don't believe so.” And before he could stumble his way through any more embarrassing sentences he quickly said, “Good night,” and left before Spencer could even return the sentiment. Leaving him staring, still confused and a little down, after a fast walking Aaron, not having the courage to even look back as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Derek woke for the first time well rested and relaxed. No case to solve, no unsub on his mind, no high speed chase down unfamiliar roads, and no showdown with a psychopath in some dark abandoned warehouse. It was just him, the sun, the sand, and two weeks of relaxing and sleeping late, eating more than he probably should and shoving as much fun into two weeks as was completely possible.

     Now, those were Derek's original plans. The plans he made before he left Quantico, Virginia for the beaches in Barbados. For the all night parties, the beautiful ladies, and the all inclusive never ending free drinks. And yet, here he found himself, within arm's reach of all those things, and not doing a single one of them. 

     Instead, Derek walked down the beach and found an empty lounge chair tucked under a very colourful umbrella. A sprite and lime with ice in hand, he stood and looked out at the calming ebb and flow of the ocean, letting the soft crashing of the waves take over and clear his mind completely. It was nice, the best he'd felt in a long, long time. 

     A volleyball skid to a halt at his feet, covering his toes in warm sand, caught his attention and he turned to face the small group of women off to his side. He kicked the ball back over to them, each one of them very obviously interested in getting to know Derek, even if it were just for one night. But to his own surprise, he found himself flashing a smile and a wave in decline of their invitation to come play, and instead took up his seat in the covered lounge chair. 

     He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, took a sip of his drink, then reached down to the small bag he had tucked under the chair, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He settled back in the chair, not able to help the smile that spread across his face as he read the title of the book in his hands, 'The Art of War', and settled back to read it with a quietly muttered, "Damn you, Spencer Reid."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there is chapter 1, chapter 2 to come soon! I’m super excited about this guys XD

And if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please let me know <3

[puckmeupfam]

Emotion | Andre Burakovsky

Word Count: 3064 Note: I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs and this has been in my head for awhile. Excuse any spelling/grammar errors because I barely edited it. Sorry I couldn’t find a way to include Burky getting into a random car thinking it was his Uber or Backy calling him his “baby boy.” 

Growing up, no matter how confusing everything else seemed to be, you knew one thing for certain: everyone had a soulmate. You could purposefully communicate with your soulmate no matter how far away they were and any especially strong emotions were shared whether you wanted them to be or not. There were some rules that had always seemed rather nitpicky to you. You couldn’t communicate where in the world you were, or your full name, or anything too identifiable. But other than that, the whole thing always seemed amazing to you - there was someone out there who you would know better than you knew yourself, someone meant for you. 

There was one major problem in your personal circumstance. Your soulmate was much, much further away than you would like. As early as pre-school you remembered getting feelings of your soulmate’s emotions before dawn. Excitedness at breakfast. Boredom while you brushing your teeth in the morning. Sometimes you would even be woken up as early as three in the morning with exuberance and for hours you would be too jittery to get back to sleep. 

Around the time you started school ou had begun receiving messages from him. You were forced to the conclusion at just six-years-old that your soulmate was a complete idiot. The messages he was sending you were in utter gibberish. Your first real encounter with your soulmate consisted of him waking you up early with his words that made no sense. It was annoying and you had to go to school tired. In the car, there was more and you sighed. But by the time of your spelling test, you had had enough. You were trying to focus and there was a voice in your head interrupting your thoughts. No one had ever officially taught you how to send communications but you couldn’t sit back and let him bother you any longer. You closed your eyes tightly and focused as hard as you could. 

“Could you please shut up!” Yes, you had been taught not to say things like that to anyone let alone your soulmate but drastic times called for drastic measures. Luckily for you, your soulmate finally stopped talking. You did feel a wave of… something, but while it was odd and made you feel slightly shaken it was now time for recess, and all of your soulmate problems were soon forgotten as you ran for the swingset.

Later, as you grew up and learned how to articulate the millions of emotions that encapsulated your life, you would be able to classify that feeling better. Apprehension.

The next day was a Saturday and the weather was nice enough that you got to color outside. You sat criss-cross applesauce on the grass even though it made you a bit itchy. As you were deciding which shade of pink to use you felt a tumbling in your belly that you usually associated with the first day of school or singing a song at camp all by yourself. Nerves.

That’s when it came through. The stuttered, “hi.” The word didn’t sound like you had ever heard it before. Not clear like your teacher or confident like the boy who sat across from you in class. But whether or not it sounded like he was eating saltwater taffy, this was an improvement to you. So you squared your shoulders and sent back a hi of your own. Unlike the first time, the feeling that washed over you felt good. This time it felt… cheery. The feeling egged you on so you sent another message.

“My name is (Y/N).”

His response came, still not clear but slightly less timid, “‘m Andre.”

—

Over the years your Andre had become more and more fluent in English. After you’d grown up a bit you had asked him enough roundabout questions and done enough research that you had determined that what he was speaking was not gibberish but rather Swedish. While the difference between the two wasn’t that big to eight-year-old-you, it was still an improvement. 

It was when each student in your class had to do a report on a country of their choice that you had to come to terms with the logistics. When the teacher announced the project you had been quick to raise your hand and request Sweden. But when you sat down to do the research you discovered the startling fact that you were about five thousand miles away from the country. For Andre, it was around dinner time when he must have felt your thunderstorm of emotions. Disappointment. Frustration. 

“What is wrong?”

You sighed and replied sadly, “you’re far away.” His response was slow and when it came back it was just a solemn, “very far.” For a minute you just sat and stared at the wall. Before Sweden had seemed like this fun, magical place where your soulmate would live until the day you were both ready for him to appear on your doorstep. It wasn’t until this random Monday that it occurred to you that it might not be that easy. That you were separated by oceans not streets. That you may very well never be able to find him.

That’s when his words came, “It is very far. But we are soulmates and I will come to you.” He sounded more certain in those big plans than he ever was before and you genuinely felt like if anyone could make something like that happen it would be Andre. 

You tried your best to transmit all of those feelings and hopes to him and thousands of miles away, on a completely different continent you knew he would sense it. Reassurance.

When you were in your teenage years it was a definite fact that Andre was your best friend. He had always been your soulmate and you’d always had a certain affection towards him with his goofy jokes and dumb ideas. But over time he had become your confidant and he had become yours. You’d become decently proficient at Swedish- enough that he could complain to you about his parents or his totally unfair and definitely rigged penalty. It had also become your party trick at school to teach everyone the Swedish swear words that you had learned from Andre. 

You knew that he played hockey and that it dominated his time and his thoughts. You’d felt waves of excitement, disappointment, and pure adrenaline throughout his games. But it was in 2013 that, together, the two of you came to terms with the fact that he was going to be drafted. While you were so proud that he was going to be living out his dream, another part of you was full of nervous excitement because not only would he be playing professionally… he would be playing professionally in North America. 

In the weeks leading up to the draft, there seemed to be a constant flurry of nervousness coming through your connection. You did your best to take deep breaths to send back as much calm energy as you could muster. There were times when you knew he was sitting awake. Trepidation. 

“It’s going to be fine, ‘Dre,” you would tell him, “you’ll go where you’re supposed to be.” 

“But what if no one takes me,” you would hear in his nervous whisper. 

“From everything you’ve told me about yourself you’re really good so unless you’ve been lying to your dear and beloved soulmate, someone will pick you,” you were trying to come off as cheeky, trying to make him smile even if you couldn’t see it for yourself. His anxiety was starting to diminish but your own mind was filling up with something else… something that you spurred you on to say more. To make him understand.

“Andre. At the end of the day, if all else fails, just know that I will always pick you.”

Both of you were swimming in emotions. There was a crushing weight of something in your chest that almost brought tears to your eyes. The feelings were all new and unfamiliar and it made you feel too overwhelmed to try and categorize. So you chose one of the simpler ones. Bliss.

The day of the draft you had practically glued yourself to the TV. You swore you could feel Andre’s nausea. As it was all gearing up you made sure to tell him how proud of him you were no matter what happened. You sat through most of the first round chewing your lip before the twenty-third pick came up and with absolutely no preamble you heard it.

“Washington takes Andre Burakovsky.”

The camera panned to the player and his family. Your jaw dropped as you practically drowned. Disbelief. Glee. Euphoria.

You knew but asked anyway, “is that you?” You swore you saw him laugh before he said “yeah.” The voice in your head was full of happiness and tears sprung your eyes as you laughed. Anyone watching would think you were deranged but there he was. Still not with you, though you chose not to dwell on that, but he was real. And you had to say it, “you’re so hot.” Through the screen, he shook his head jovially while the wide smile seemed unable to leave his face. As the Canucks took the stage for their pick you were still stunned. Andre was chattering to you happily but you couldn’t quite focus. “It’s you,” you were interrupting his rambles and he paused. While you had already established that the Andre on the TV screen was your Andre, he knew what you meant.

“It is me… and it’s always been you.”

—

During his time on the Otters you let him focus on hockey while simultaneously teetering on the edge of Something. He was on the verge of making it and you didn’t want to complicate that, but you were both acutely aware of each other. For as long as you could remember Andre was yours and him being in the NHL didn’t change that. Over time you’d gone from kids who could barely conceptualize that the voice in their head was a real person to teenagers who were friends and now you were adults who were a bit more. You were falling for your soulmate. 

On the night of his debut with the Caps, you were bubbling over with delight. You were sitting on the floor in front of the same TV that you watched him get drafted on. The camera followed him as he did his first lap on NHL ice and like the first time your mind went blank except for Andre. You were enraptured watching him during the anthem and when the game started your eyes didn’t follow the puck, instead they stayed trained on number sixty-five. 

Suddenly there was a turnover by the Canadiens and there was Andre with a one-timer and you actually screamed as you watched your soulmate score his first goal just six minutes and forty-three seconds into his NHL debut. As he jumped the boards you did your best to focus enough to send him a clear message. He was tackled by his team so you weren’t even sure if he got it until he emerged to high five everyone on the bench. That’s when you heard him. Short and tooth-rottenly sweet. 

“For you.”

Pride.

—

Not every day was as rejoiceful as that one. His upper-body injury during their 2018 Cup run hit him hard. He had missed time due to injuries over the last two seasons and he had been hoping to prove himself. Healing during the playoffs gave him far too much time to overthink. Every time he told you about a pass that missed or a shot that was saved you did your best to talk him down and convince him to focus on healing. The trouble came when he was finally back in the lineup but seemed to psych himself out of every scoring chance. You watched as he went back to the bench after barely five minutes of ice time. Anger. Desperation. Normally you avoided communicating with him during games but you could tell he needed more than even Nicke or Tom could give him. 

“Andre, don’t beat yourself up. Just focus on the team.”

“You’d pick me?”

“I will always pick you.”

Later that night, even though Andre hadn’t scored, the game was one to remember forever. Your jaw hung open as you listened to John Walton cheer, “The demons have been exorcised! Good morning! Good afternoon! And good night Pittsburgh! We’re going to Tampa Bay! The Capitals have done it!”

Shock. Thrill.

When Washington won the Cup final against Vegas you were overpowered by Andre’s triumph and ecstasy. You couldn’t even tell where his excitement ended and yours started. While he spent the rest of the summer drunk on happiness and an unbelievable amount of alcohol you found yourself oddly jealous. The two of you had never really discussed a plan for meeting. But now you were selfishly upset that he had gone through this momentous life event without you. That he had gone so much of his life without you by his side. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want to distract him. You told yourself it was because you had to make your education a priority. But Andre was out there. 

When the season started again with the team affected by their Cup hangover, you could feel Andre’s stress. And though you were wallowing in your own cowardice, you pushed it aside to support him and let him focus on hockey. You did your best to congratulate him on every goal and reassure him about every loss. Even though the team was doing well, even clinching their division title, it was a tough time for your soulmate. He only had twenty-five points through seventy-six games. While you were so proud of him and content with the progress he was making with his sports psychologist, you could feel how heavily it weighed on him. Everyone was telling him that he was supposed to be on the first line besides Ovi. Andre was invaluable on the rush but the constant pressure seemed to do nothing but push him further and further away.

It wasn’t until July that everything changed. You were calmly stirring honey into your tea when it hit you right in the chest. Dread. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Something was clearly very, very wrong. Worry settled in your stomach and you took a moment to steady yourself before reaching out.

“Are you okay?” 

“I got traded.”

You felt vaguely hollow. Another major life event that you weren’t there for. And this time it wasn’t jealousy that you felt but sadness. He needed you and you weren’t with him. 

“I’m terrible. The Capitals dumped me because they knew I wasn’t good enough.”

“Andre, could you please shut up,” you said, quoting the first time you ever spoke to him, “you’re fucking amazing, I know it, and maybe now you’ll finally get the chance to show everyone else.”

His grief dispelled a bit and he replied, “I miss you.” Your eyes stung as you tried to contain your emotions so he didn’t feel the need to worry about you. 

“You can’t miss me, you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you, though.”

Heartache.

You composed yourself enough to ask him where and when his voice replied Colorado it felt like the decision was made for you. 

—

As soon as the Burakovsky number ninety-five jersey appeared for sale you bought it. When the dates for the pre-season came out you sprung to buy a ticket out to Denver. The travel website asked you when you would like your return flight to be and without even thinking you clicked one-way.

Your knee shook as you sat on the plane, waiting for takeoff. The cabin was tight and full of chatter but you were too busy imagining what it would be like when you finally met your soulmate to care. Eagerness.

“Everything good with you?” Andre asked. He could feel your nervous energy, but you wanted to keep the surprise. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just excited about your first game as an Avalanche,” it wasn’t untrue and you hoped he wouldn’t press for more. 

“When I score it’ll be for you,” he replied. It mirrored his first-ever goal and you laughed lightly, “I have a really, really good feeling.” Giddiness.

You dressed in his jersey and spent longer than usual on your hair wanting everything to be perfect. Standing outside of Pepsi Center hours before the game you took a deep steadying breath as you thought about how your life was about to change. Your soulmate was somewhere in that building and holy fuck this was really happening. 

“I’m here,” you told Andre after you had willed yourself inside. Despite your best efforts, your voice shook on the words. 

“What,” his shocked reply was immediate, “no… where?” You looked up and communicated all of the signs you could see, just hoping that he had learned enough of the building to know where you were. Within minutes you heard the sound of someone running. The door flung open and there was your Andre. Amazement. 

For a minute the two of you just stared at each other. He was dressed in a crisp game-day suit with his usual swoopy, messy hair and he looked so tall in person. You took one step towards him and that seemed to wake him up enough to hurriedly get over to you. Right before he actually reached you, with just a few inches distance between your bodies he stopped again. Looking up at his astonished brown eyes that were so clear even in the harsh fluorescent lighting you saw everything going through his head. It felt different than when you felt his emotions through your connection because there he was right in front of you.

“Hi,” you whispered. Andre smiled and if you weren’t absolutely gone for him before you definitely were then. “Hi,” he murmured back.

Joy.

You reached out and tangled your fingers with his. They were warm and calloused from years of hockey. Andre tightened his grip on your hand and squeezed your hand as if to check if it was really there.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me… and it’s always been you.”

Love.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

wait a minute. So I've read your bits on civil war 2008, and I have a question for you: all the characters in the civil war event, at least the major players(like stark, Cap, Spidey, FF), do you believe that they are acting OOC, or that the writers chose to bring out the character's worse qualities to create drama?

And do you think that if the writers had written them In Character, or at least written them to be more balanced, would it have improved the story? Actually, do you think that Civil War could have been... at least A not Bad Story under an intense rewrite? or that the whole concept should have been thrown away?

The OOC talk is tempting and also partially justified. There is a batch of previous stories scattered through the years with the Fantastic Four dealing with similar scenarios where Reed is pretty much anti-government.

1) In one Social Services sue the FF4 for endangering Reed and Sue Kids by keeping them in the Baxter Building despite it being blown up once every 2 weeks. They ask them to "register" them and put them in a safe government facility, so to spearhead a new law where they can get pre-teen superhumans "out of harm way" or some shit.

Keep in mind Franklin is still a Mutant in this story (And still is right now because FUCK YOU SLOTT). Anyway, Reed seemingly agrees,only to set up a dummy facility and "register" his kids there. He doesn't even announce it he literally only writes it in the Government's documentation and shit.

The facility is razed to the ground a couple hours later. Because yes the Baxter Building can explode at any time but AT LEAST they are there to protect the kids from the countless people.

2) In another story, Reed is asked by Congress to create a device that outs mutants and "abnormal" humans, so the government can better individuate them for "reasons." Reed agrees, and makes a device SO POWERFUL it detects every deviations from the supposed norm, so when he gives a demonstration in Congress, he reveals half of its members would qualify as "Mutants" if they kept that line of inquiry, which makes them hastily drop the whole thing. This was intentional, because who the fuck are they to decide who is or isn't not normal?

3) Compare and Contrast with Civil Ear Reed Richards, who is a McCarthy apologist who goes "Logically speaking, we need to listen to the government on this one otherwise we might get burned just like my (gay coded) artist uncle was by the McCarthy Trials in the 50s when he told the court to shove it and his life was ruined as a result. It's the rational way to do it."

4) (The three main proponents of the Registration Side being Rich, White, Heterosexual Men in positions of powers, with jobs in the science field that justify their decision with "Facts and Logic" was PROBABLY unintentional, but is also a great unintended allegory for this kind of shit. The ones who are hurt the most but these kind of laws are the ones who can't afford it after all, and who is ever going to go after the rich and powerful first? Especially if they come with little repercussions on their lives (Tony, Reed and Hank where all already outed as Superheroes after all))

5) Peter is OOC in OMD mind you, Civil War goes pretty much how you'd expect him to go (gets manipulated by authority figure into it, MJ and May are supportive of him because they see only half the facts, the SECOND Peter realizes that those people are monsters he drops them and gets the shit beaten out of him for it, unlike Reed or Tony who can AFFORD having their identities public Peter barely has the money to survive which ends with May getting shot for it). It's an incredibly poignant scenario that I wish was used to TELL A MESSAGE rather than just a backdrop to shoehorn OMD in.

6) Which is to say Civil War could indeed be written better under the same premise. If they want to keep the Patriot Act Allegory, they should be aware of what that would entail for the characters that support it.

We are currently seeing a similar scenario going on in Marvel in the Champions comics where the registration side is pretty much spearheaded by an unambiguous evil corporation and shit. In light of Civil War I existing the whole thing kinda loses its impact (Like that one joke scene where Tony goes "Maybe we should register them" with a smug look on his face as if he isn't responsible for so many deaths), but at least they are trying to shift the conversation? The villain is not the Government of course it's Evil Apple, but at least it's not a "Both Sides are equally ok" centrist bullshit take like they did in Civil War or in Skyrim.

Like, fuck, it's literally called CIVIL WAR to invoke the American Civil War in the context of the "brother kills brother" interpretation some bastards are so fond off, I wouldn't call THAT a "Both Sides are valid" scenario by a long fucking mile, yet here we are.

7) I think the best way to put it would be to set up the same scenario but make it realistic to the setting and shit.

Hank and Tony still support the Government because one is a Skrull Chaos Agent the other is misguided, Carol takes Reed's place in the Triad because Women can be War Criminals too (She was leading the equivalent of a child soldier program during Civil War so she is one already at least). Steve is also anti government because this is happening during the fucking BUSH ADMINISTRATION and he goes "When will Washington decide who the villains are?" Like he did in canon but in, like, a poignant moment.

Speaking of Reed he will keep his family neutral and go "I admit superheroing does need failsafes and some kind of oversight mind you, I just don't this this country's government has demonstrated their right to be that."

Let's not put the "Cap you are out of touch because you don't know what MySpace is" or "Luke every time I see a Sentinel that's like seeing a Burning Cross" rants in the story too because those were some raw shit.

Tony, again, lives in privilege, so it wouldn't exactly affect him, and is genuinely trying to do good, so we need to put him as the "Patsy" who gets duped by Skrull Hank Pym for it, the government is the one with the secret prison for Superheroes, Hank is the one recruiting Nazi Scientists and starting child soldier programs, clones Thor, sets up with the Government a Super Prison in the Ocean (can't use the negative zone without Reed), outside of US Jurisdiction so the government can ship then there with no trial and torture them. When Skrull Hank Pym is confronted for it, and the blame is attempted to be pinned on him and him alone, he goes "Are you earthlings daft or something? I did almost nothing, it was your government who did most of the work in their desire for security and safety, I just sped up the process for them, they would have done all of this with or without me."

Around the ending Tony finds out and is devastated and drops the whole thing."

When someone tries to comfort Tony over it because he didn't know any of this he goes "Oh, that's were you're wrong Peter. I knew. Deep down, I knew things weren't right, unjust, but I did nothing, because I could make things better from the inside, because it didn't affect me, because It would have been inconvenient to me to stop this. This is on me for passively accepting it as it is on the ones who enforced it." Which leads him to make amends, that way he is not as much of a awful character here.

The scene where The US kidnaps Ororo so they can strong arm Tchalla into getting registered happens but is treated as a international crisis as it deserves.

The Prison Break finale happens because Namor discovers the prison in HIS FUCKING DOMAIN and just goes ham on it with the help of the Anti Registration side, he drops a line like "I've seen shit like this before, I've seen what happens when man declares another man a criminal for things out of their control, for what they've been from birth, and I say NOT IN MY KINGDOM!" or some shit (He is a WWII veteran after all).

Since Steve isn't pummeling to the ground Tony in this scenario there isn't the dumb as fuck Everyday Heroes scene and he doesn't get shot by Sharon later on..

We have instead the scene from Secret Invasion where Skrull Hank Pym kills Steve (In SI it was Skrull Queen killing Janet Van Dyne) on national television, which leads to the anger of everyone involved who rush him, only for Tony to be the one who pull the trigger.

Tony is put in charge of SHIELD, which leads to Iron Reign (Dark Reign equivalent), and the story ends with him going "Let's see if things can reach change from the inside this time" as he actually reforms Shield from his position of power. The Registration Act becomes unpopular due to Steve's death and Alien Interferences, so that helps, and leads to actual protests in the streets after Namor reveals to the UN the war crimes the US is committing. It's a slow process, but is something.

OMD doesn't happen, The Peter storyline remains pretty much the same, but instead of Tony bragging about his private prisons for Superheroes in hell, it's the Punisher who shows up to him and reveals some troubling shit he discovered, Peter Confront Tony for it who dismisses it as fake news because he doesn't want to believe, Peter drops the registration side out of disgust, which then leads to the government sending villains after him rather than Tony. Tony is then seen strongly arguing with Maria Hill for this since Peter almost died from what he got from his suit readings (which he never hijacked or deactivated), but the Skrull Hank Pym shows up and supports Maria Hill for it, and Carol is busy with her child soldier program to comment.

May still gets shot and dies right as Peter and MJ discover MJ is pregnant with their second Daughter, which is ripe for lots of good stuff.

Maria Hill will therefore have to take even more of a role as a Government Plant and shit, but what's new.

Johnny Storm still gets hate crimed on but not by black people. Maybe confirm him as Bi while we're at it? You know, to get topical and all.

Ideally No More Mutants never happened so mutants are still a thing and most of them are vehemently anti registration. Emma Frost appears neutral at first glance, but ultimately she is playing the long game, secretly helping militant mutant groups and shielding the school from unwanted attention. She still has a restraining order filled for Tony Stark, she still points out to Carol how fucking dangerous a mutant life can be if outed via mind powers.

Can't think of much else for now, maybe Felicia helping MJ and May while they are in hiding? MJ is nauseous and all and she goes "must be the nerves" and Felicia agrees but May knows. This could lead to the polycule post May death since Felicia blames herself for it for not being fast enough, and MJ now is pregnant and scared and the Registration Act is getting repealed by the future is still glum and Peter is depressed so they all comfort each other and then 69 issues later we have a two parter maxi event where they face their fears and BANG we get the polycule.

Aunt May still poisons the Chameleon while he was posing as Peter. She actually actually poisons him rather then just drug him this time, because she knows of that one time he tried to force himself on MJ while posing as Peter which lead to MJ beating the shit out of him with a baseball bat, and May is a nice old lady but there are things she really can't stand you know?

Felicia and MJ help her hide the body. Peter never finds out.

And that's it?