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j0kers-light · 2 years ago

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His Lighthouse: Choices part one (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Choices part one

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

As the aftermath to the gala event unfolds Y/n must decided on what she truly wants out of her deal with Joker. Will she continue down this road with him or will someone else distract her heart?

Author’s note:

It feels like forever since I updated! I’m able to hold my phone with my hand so that made typing easier this go round. It still took too long (in my opinion) but my therapist said I’m making some progress! Which means I have more time to recover and write lol. I’m on a roll! I’m so happy where this story is going! I have part two sketched out and the story outline going so I don’t get off track. I also changed the rating so that means *drum roll* ITS GONNA GET SPICY SOON! The slow burn is well worth it! Read to find out.

Taglist!

@blackreaderatrisk

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Joker never saw you asleep before so he didn't know if this was normal.

He was amiss on what to do after you fainted on him but decided to make you as comfortable as possible. With how your night was turning out, it was the least he could do. You were light as a feather in his arms as he carried you from the center of the room over to his bed.

It was the only thing in the otherwise barren room. Joker considered himself lucky to find this particular hideout untouched by the GCPD as they combed the city searching for him.

It wasn't his favorite locale but he couldn't be choosy given the circumstances.

In the day that Joker spent away from you, he managed to get his crew in order, gain control of his main stronghold, and move equipment out of the few remaining hideouts that had yet to be compromised over to the main.

A busy day, yet you were on his mind the entire time. He planned a hit on the party you were attending, but nothing went according to plan.

Joker wasn't a guy to plan things.. but for once he wanted things to go smoothly! Now he had to re-strategize and wait for Two Face's next move, all the while keeping you out of it. Joker did not want you caught up in the middle but he feared you already were. Which became the reason why he ordered Frost to bring you here.

He couldn't help but watch over you as you slept. He never saw you so vulnerable before– so demure and otherworldly.

Your formal attire highlighted your natural beauty and despite the lack of natural light in the room, your jewelry twinkled and caught his eye.

Joker knew real diamonds when he saw them.

He also knew that sleeping in your best threads was bound to be uncomfortable. He fought the urge to pocket the fine jewels and slid your bracelet off your wrist before unclasping your earrings. You didn't like that and shifted, hinting at your possible alertness but thankfully you simply rolled onto your side.

Joker was about to tackle taking your braided updo down, when you began to talk.

He thought you had woken up but green eyes widened upon discovering you were still fast asleep. So you talked in your sleep? Interesting..

It was interesting to see your mind still at work even while unconscious. You continued to amaze him however your actual words worried him.

"Dead doves. Lemons... no not there. Don't burn the sandwiches!" Your entire body jerked and Joker knew the telltale signs of a nightmare from anywhere.

He sincerely hoped your sandwiches were okay.

You continued to thrash around until he tossed morals out the window and pulled you into his arms. If you woke up now he'd willingly face your scrutiny. Joker marked this down as another newfound joy.

He didn't know that holding someone close could feel so good and apparently you thought the same.

You calmed down and resumed a normal sleeping pattern. The takeaway was that you used Joker as both a personal pillow and a teddy bear. He couldn't escape even if he wanted to and honestly, why would he?

You were snuggled up against him, humming softly in your sleep. It was cute and it fit your personality.

One of your hands rested awkwardly on his neck and while he was moving it, he saw the jagged cut he left on it days prior. It was healing nicely on its own but he hoped it didn't scar. He didn't want you to have a permanent reminder of his mistakes.

Joker didn't know what possessed him to kiss your palm; Maybe as an apology or rather a prayer towards good health, either way he repositioned your hand to lay against his dress shirt.

It would wrinkle with how tightly you latched onto it, but feeling you nuzzle your head further into his embrace was worth every crease.

"You're more trouble than you're worth." Joker extended his arm to pick up a book on the side of his bed.

He didn't dare move too much and risk waking you. It was just a challenge for him to reach it. His hands found purchase and he was able to prop the book up on your head to read in his downtime.

You woke up alone. For not knowing your surroundings, you were well rested and yawned loudly.

A flash of red caught your eye and you drew your hand back to check it. You were a bit confused to find a perfect lipstick mark over the cut Joker gave you.

"Where did that come from?" Then it hit you.

The color red. Blood and so much of it. How could you forget a night so horrific? Everything came rushing back to you in stunning clarity.

You were talking with Sapphire and then bumped into Polly for a potential endorsement and happened to witness sheer madness in the form of Two Face and his goons shooting up the place. You felt sick just thinking about it. Each face in the crowd, each person who lost their life, entered your mind. You didn't know them yet their deaths somehow felt like your fault.

Sapphire's felt more personal. She was right there in front of you.

If you had more time, thought on your feet, did something instead of standing there useless, perhaps she would still be alive. You did nothing but freeze up in the heat of the moment.

Whatever happened to your Blüdhaven instincts? Whenever you heard gunshots growing up, it was just background noise and one less thing to worry about.

It was natural to duck for cover but a younger version of yourself wouldn't have been so terrified. Maybe annoyed more than anything. Cooped up indoors all the time had reverted your reaction time to violence right back to square one.

You felt more awake now and blinked to clear your fuzzy vision away, though you realized your mini concussion was still screwing with your system. You looked down and finally took stock of the state you were in.

The designer dress that was delivered to your home was unrecognizable with its dried blood splatter and huge rips throughout it.

You thanked a higher power that it wasn't on loan.

It was just a shame you would have to toss out a once beautiful art piece. However you were quick to notice something else was missing here. It would have to wait. You were sitting on a mattress inside a room you didn't recognize.

Your head was still spinning but not overly so where you couldn't remember how you got here.

A man in the crowd saved your life and delivered you straight to Joker. It was a surprise to see the clown after the argument you two had, yet he greeted you wholeheartedly and kissed... you...

Was it wrong to hyperventilate over that fact rather than almost being killed?

You had finally kissed Joker! The third time was indeed the charm and this time, Joker didn't require any gimmicks to reach his goal. He just went in and claimed your lips like the zealous man he was. You couldn't lie and say that it wasn't worth the buildup.

Joker was hesitant at first until you met him halfway and matched his energy.

His lips were a bit chapped but quickly molded into the softest clouds to tango with yours. Every move was done with careful precision and his patience was greatly rewarded. How long had you denied him this small luxury, this obvious desperation to connect?

There was so much tension between the two of you it was ridiculous.

You teased and bewitched him for so long, your kiss felt like a balm being applied on a sore wound. The relief was instant and it felt good to experience and have out in the open for Joker to feel.

But there was one teeny tiny problem. He promised that he wouldn't leave you. One look around the room made him into a liar. Almost as if Joker had some sixth sense, he walked in right after you formulated the thought.

You were right where he left you, awake of course, just with a troubled look about you.

Joker knew your thinking face and your thoughts must've been running a mile a minute. He slowly walked up to your side of the mattress, searching for any clues that you might lash out.

You appeared rather calm to Joker but looks could be deceiving. He sat down on the bed and you quickly bombarded him with questions.

"What time is it? Where am I? Why did you tell that guy to bring me here?" You tossed out

"It doesn't matter." Was Joker's casual response. Surely he was joking.

"What? Yes it does matter! I don't even know what time it is, or if it's still Friday night or not. You have the answers to these questions Joker! I was at a high profile event that ended in mass murder. Barbara and Florence must be worried sick along with Sebastian! Oh my God, poor Will! He read all of my online posts!"

"Who are these people?" Joker asked while trying to keep his jealousy in check.

Wayne was enough competition. Joker didn't need others, though it was safe to say he claimed first place to your sought after affection when he kissed you.

"Where's my phone? I have to make some calls.."

"No." He shifted in his spot on the bed.

The action called out his close proximity to you, however you weren't bothered by it. You were bothered by how he kept brushing you off.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean.. There's no cell service soooo no calls." Joker stressed his words and you knew you touched a nerve.

In a detached voice you said more to yourself. "So we're underground."

Joker watched you process that info. He could practically see the wheels turning upstairs. The nail on the coffin was when you abused your lip right in his face. He just couldn't stand watching your soft flesh be bitten raw.

Joker didn't hesitate bending down to kiss you and your brain promptly shut down like Windows. He sighed in bliss and you kept quiet as he pulled away.

You hated to burst his bubble. "I need to go back to my apartment."

That's what you thought about after he kissed you? You always managed to test his patience one way or another but this was new. Sometimes that brain of yours worked too much.

Joker exhaled through his nose. "No."

His lack of sensitivity on the matter was irritating you. "Can you stop saying no? It's getting on my nerves."

"O-K. Mm, how about, it's too dangerous."

"How is it dangerous, Joker?!" You asked in a cynical tone.

"Y/n. Harvey Dent went out of his way to crash your.. uh, little gala thingy. You don't think he wouldn't show up at your apartment? I would if I were him. It's more convenient.. and you can control the wit-ness count."

"Are you seriously critiquing his methods?! Ugh, I don't have time for this! I have to go back home and get in touch with Cindy to make an official statement and mourn Sapphire and the others and then check on Polly and and—"

He really had to stop kissing you mid sentence. It was very distracting but maybe that was his intentions all along.

You indulged him a bit more and really got into it. Joker was pushing your shoulders, trying to guide you back down on the bed when you resisted and gasped for air.

"I-I really need to s-shower and change! I don't know how you're kissing me when I feel like death itself."

He sighed and sat up straight. He pointedly eyed you up and down and decided on telling the truth. "Ya look fine to me. Blood suits you."

That comment made you turn pale and question what you looked like from his perspective. You remembered Sapphire's blood splattered on your face at the party but how much was left?

Since then, you had a sack placed over your head, rubbed your face all into Joker's suit, and slept. And somehow he kissed you despite all of that.

Either the man was in love or completely insane. Both were true.

You frowned and glanced down at your bare arms, trying to change the subject with something else in the room. Then you remembered your missing accessories.

"Where's my bracelet?" You patted your ears and came up short. "And my earrings?"

Joker had the audacity to feign ignorance. With a shrug he replied. "Hmm, probably being sold on the errr, black market."

"JOKER, YOU SOLD MY JEWELRY?"

He began to laugh as he leaned back on his arms. You hated how hot he looked splayed out on the bed. Hopefully he didn't see you staring but he turned to face you as if he felt your wanton gaze.

"I took them off when you were sleeping. It didn't look comfy if you catch my drifT."

He nodded at your wrist where a red indentation of the bracelet was visible on your skin. You did mention to Barbara that she fastened it on too tight.

"I can't believe you sold them!" You were appalled.

Joker however took it all in stride. "You'll get over it." Obviously he didn't know how much the set cost.

You took a deep breath and carried on. It was a major loss, but you had more pressing matters.

"I still want to shower." You argued. Joker rolled his neck. You could tell he was losing the last of his patience with you.

"Okay... you might not care about hygiene but I do. And I'm leaving here with or without your permission." You stood up to leave but ran into a problem.

You couldn't find the door. The walls seemed to blend in flawlessly with no apparent doorframe or knob.

"About that.." Joker whispered in your ear making you jump.

You turn to face him and in the process, unknowingly backed yourself into a wall. Its smooth surface was cold on your exposed skin and it made you even more uncomfortable by touching it.

You thought humor would lighten up the situation. "What is this place, some kind of bunker?"

"Yes." Joker said without missing a beat. He stalked you like a predator with his dangerous aura perched on his shoulders.

"You can't keep me here, Joker. I.. I.. can't!"

He eyed your twitchy behavior and the puzzle pieces slowly came together. You were claustrophobic.

These four concrete walls were a stark contrast to the bright, open space of your apartment. It would explain why your place had so many windows and few walls to not obstruct the floor plan. Now Joker knew why you always grew nervous when he bullied you into corners.

He felt like an idiot for not noticing the signs sooner.

Your makeup was a mess from sleeping in it but his red lipstick was dotted all over your face from where he'd been kissing you. Joker was about to comment on it when four knocks echoed loudly in the room.

A door not even an inch away from you opened up revealing the man who rescued, or was it considered kidnapping? You really didn't know what to call his actions really.

He spared you a glance but dragged his attention over to his employer, towering over you. "The news is on."

Joker growled. "Oh goody. Let's see the mess Dent left us with." He walked out the room with his right hand man, leaving you high and dry with the door wide open.

You didn't know if it was a trap or if Joker did it by accident. Either way, it was a way out. You didn't waste a second.

Wearing your heels would make too much noise but you still grabbed them before tiptoeing barefoot to the door.

You stepped out into a long hallway. You saw the back of Joker's cloak turn a corner out of the corner of your eye and you immediately followed him, not knowing where else to go. His destination ended up being an office of sorts where a box tv was perched upon a folding table.

The volume was being turned up when you snuck in behind the two men. As promised, the aftermath of the gala was being shown as a local reporter broadcasted live.

"Tragedy struck The Prosperity last night as partygoers were caught in the crossfire of recent gang member activity. Sources confirm former Gotham City district attorney, Harvey Dent himself, crashed the event demanding special guest and popular YA author, Y/N L/N, be handed over. At this time, her whereabouts are unknown but eyewitnesses place her at the event before the slaughter occurred. Many fear the worst and an ongoing investigation into her disappearance is underway. Twenty nine people lost their lives and dozens more are still in critical condition at local hospitals. Startling video footage from inside the event was leaked online that depicts the harrowing scene and we must warn you, the following images are graphic."

Like you needed a refresher on what happened but apparently someone who attended the party captured the mayhem on their phone.

The video was shaky and the loud screams and close popping of gunshots depicted the scene as nothing but chaotic. In the far left hand corner you could see Sapphire's demise blocked by a few terrified guests before you were yanked out of frame. If you blinked, you would have missed it.

The reporter was continuing her coverage but you had (re)seen enough. You were slowly backing out of the room when a sharp pain in your head took you by surprise.

"You shouldn't be sneaking around Princess."

It was the same voice that catcalled at you when you were first brought here. It held a distinct, slimy tone that made your skin crawl. You didn't hesitate in screaming and dropped your heels in the process. They rattled loudly to the floor.

Joker and Frost both spun around in attack mode but found a new recruit holding you steady by your hair.

Although Joker didn't show it, he saw nothing but red.

"Heh! I caught her snooping around Boss. I know how you hate a rat." The poor guy looked proud of himself despite Frost shaking his head.

He knew what was coming and discreetly stepped to the side.

Joker's green eyes narrowed at the scene and caught your gaze at the last second. The glassy color made him hesitate on displaying any form of violence in front of you. It wasn't his norm to be merciful but for you, he could make an exception.

Joker walked up to the guy and slapped his hand that was holding your braids away. "I applaud your, uh.. dedication kid, but let me make something veryyyy clear."

You sighed at the pressure dissipating and sagged your weight into Joker's awaiting arms.

The intimate gesture made the guy pale in fear. He realized his mistake a little too late. Joker's eyes were like sharp blades stabbing into its victim.

"Don't ever touch what's mine, you got thaT?" Even Frost understood the message loud and clear, although it was the newbie who answered.

"Y-yeah boss. Listen, I.. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Joker scoffed and began to massage the back of your head as if he knew exactly where the pain was coming from.

"Of course you didn't knowww! I didn't tell you but here's the thing. She's kind of a secret right now so I'd really appreciate it if you kept this between you and me. Can ya do that?"

"Y-Yeah of course boss!"

You could picture Joker's wide grin, deceit and utter madness fueling the motion. "Good. It's good to have people you can.. trust close. You can go."

Surely this guy wasn't that naïve and actually believed Joker's lie, yet much to your dismay he left with a big smile on his face, like he was truly honored to gain Joker's trust.

As if it could be gained so easily.

He barely rounded the corner when Joker leaned over to whisper to his right hand. "Take care of that later."

"With pleasure." Frost said with a chuckle.

You couldn't believe your ears. This was the man who you were falling for. The level of standards you set for yourself was an all time low. You tried shrugging out of Joker's arms and he noticed your demeanor change almost immediately.

"What's with you?" He asked.

"Me?" You huffed at the accusation. "You just ordered a guy's death like it was Chinese takeout!"

"He made the miss-take of putting his hands on you. Nobody touches what's mine without my say so, you got thaT?"

"No! I don't got that! I am not an object Joker. I'm a human being and last time I checked, I am not yours!" You managed to free yourself from Joker's hold and created some distance from him.

Frost did not get paid enough to witness lovers' quarrels. He was still in the room and thought it best to leave. "Yeah. I'm gonna go snap his neck and dump the body. Call me if you need me."

Joker waved goodbye to Frost which did nothing to help his case.

"See what I mean!?" You shouted.

"Y/n, you know who I am. Why does it suddenly bother you? Is it.. because you got to see it with your own eyes? Oh Bunny.. you can't fear the monster under your bed when he's been sitting at your dinner table for weeks."

Joker was reaching out for you again but you were faster and retreated two steps back.

You hated when he was right. You spent so much time with Joker yet you only saw the façade he wanted you to see, not the real monster he truly was.

He was Gotham City's most wanted criminal, not a sweet roommate that complains about the thermostat and pile of dishes in the sink. You two weren't in your apartment anymore. He didn't have to play house and pretend to be someone that he wasn't.

You weren't prepared to see Joker's true colors despite knowing well in advance who he is.

He used your moment of uncertainty to wrap you up in his arms. You were so confused.

It felt so good to finally be held by him but your brain knew the circumstances behind it were all wrong.

There was a reason why you didn't read gangster/mob tags in fanfiction! The ending never turned out well for the girl. She always struggled with her emotions and ended up getting hurt every single time trying to love the villain.

You were an author. You knew there was no happy ending here. This would only lead to angst and suffering on both sides. While you struggled with your feelings, Joker seized the moment to memorize every curve of your body.

You fit into his arms like the last puzzle piece snapping together. He could say with confidence you were made for him to hold.

Joker remembered one of your characters in The Greeks Among Us say that to their partner. It sounded sappy when he read it, but now it made all the sense in the world. His natural curiosity prompted his hands to become more adventurous.

He slid them down the slope of your back while his lips traveled up the column of your neck.

You felt his staggering breath on your ear and had enough.

Despite you holding onto the lapels of his suit for dear life, your words were pushing him away. "I'm so confused."

"Shhh." Joker left a kiss on your jawline. "Stop thinking so much and accept it."

That comment made you come to your senses. You shoved Joker away and stood your ground.

"Screw that! I-I need time to think and I'll do it in the comfort of my own home. I'm not gonna let y-you seduce your way into my good graces when you could have prevented that!"

You pointed at the tv screen showing the gala event being processed as a crime scene.

"I want to go home, Joker." You wished your sad puppy eyes worked on him better.

He simply averted his eyes. "It's not safe."

"I don't care. I'm going and I wish you would try and stop me."

Joker didn't bat an eyelash. "Okay?"

"Fine. I'll go by myself!" You yelled.

"Y/n.."

You ignored him and bent over to pick up your heels. You left to find your way back to the original room you woke up in. Thankfully it wasn't too hard and you located your long forgotten clutch sitting in a corner.

Looking inside you found your earrings and bracelet, confirming Joker's comment about him selling them on the black market to be false. You liked Joker better when he was funny and not so methodical in his pursuit of pure chaos.

This was too much to process. Why couldn't things go back to how they were a week ago?

Your head was still spinning from bumping it in the van last night and thinking about Joker wasn't helping the pain lessen. Your only concern right now was getting out of this bunker and contacting Cindy to begin some serious damage control.

You might not be able to control Joker and his actions but you could control your public image.

You decided to stay barefoot until you reached street level and started the grueling journey of finding the exit. You didn't expect to run into another one of Joker's henchmen. And fate would have it, it was the same one that brought you here.

He blocked your path with his towering frame and you quickly drew into a shell. "Hi.. um."

"Turn left, then go up the small flight of stairs. Take another left and the door outside is on your right."

He was about to walk past you down the hallway, when you stopped him.

"Why are you helping me? Don't you have orders to keep me here?" You asked.

"You're stubborn just like my daughter." He mumbled under his breath. "No I don't."

His confession made you stop and realize these criminals could very well lead normal lives. Given their nefarious deeds they were still capable of doing the right thing and were still human.

Could Joker be normal? Perhaps in another lifetime.

You imagined Joker with a family living in a house outside the city limits. A Joker whose laughter was carefree without evil, holding a son or a daughter that looked exactly like him...

Your wild daydream made your ears flush beet red and the guy in front of you quirked his eyebrows at the visual. No wonder you got along with Joker. One of your screws upstairs were loose.

You recognized that look from anywhere. A look of veiled judgment and it made you snap out of your thoughts to defend yourself.

"I-I promise I'm not crazy! Well not clinically that is. Um, I didn't quite catch your name when you were saving me last night."

"Frost." He looked down at your hand laying on his forearm. You quickly removed it.

"Cool.. so um thank yo–"

"Just go woman. You're not needed here anymore." He huffed out, nearly exasperated.

Your foot froze mid step and you tossed an "Excuse me?" over your shoulder. It was apparent Frost wasn't intimidated by it.

"It's obvious you don't belong here. Run along back to your ritzy penthouse where you came from."

If it were possible, steam would be blowing from your ears. Here was Joker's right hand man blatantly telling you off and you were supposed to take it?

You seriously had enough of people ordering you around like you were some kind of invalid. You weren't a push over.

"You're a terrible driver and worse at offering advice."

"At least I don't have lipstick all over my face." He shot back. You frowned in confusion and he decided to give you a break.

"Bathroom is behind you." With that, Frost left you stumped in the maze of a hallway.

Sure enough immediately behind you was a door that opened up to a decent sized powder room. Or should you say former bathroom.

The area now was decrepit and riddled with squalor. You didn't want to touch anything let alone use the mirror. The once reflective glass was cracked and murky with age and neglect.

And they called this a bathroom. "Sweet Jesus deliver me." You didn't dare turn around and see the toilet. The smell alone hinted at its current state.

You stomached through its stench and scanned your face in the mirror.

Just like Frost said, the same shade you bought last Monday for Joker was scattered all over your skin. There were a few lipsticks marks on your mouth and faint ones trailing down your neck.

The harsh red stood out on your complexion and you sported a comical tick mark of irritation until you remembered there was also a lipstick mark on your hand.

Was it a sign of regret? You questioned earlier if Joker was capable of being normal. That one lipstick print was all the proof you needed.

I'm his own way, yes he could. You were tired of running away. It was time you stood up for what you wanted.

Who carried if it wasn't the right choice? Perhaps you might end up regretting it later in the future, but for now, you retraced your steps back to Joker.

His head shot up when you appeared in the doorway.

He hoped you didn't catch him pacing back and forth deep in thought. Joker had a million things he needed to do and not a lot of time to complete them in, but you always managed to bomb rush his thoughts and take center stage.

Would you make it back home safely? Would you calm down and see the reason behind his refusal to return or was this the last time he would see you?

Joker stopped pacing and picked at his cuticles. He didn't like that last scenario.

He refused to let you go yet. He liked how you were a (somewhat) independent woman who could speak her mind. Smart and drop dead gorgeous with a sprinkle of crazy, he really didn't want to fumble this bag which is why he panicked when he saw you panting out of breath before him.

You caught your breath by clearing your throat.

"I am.. tired of running away and bottling up my feelings. I'm sick of taking two steps forward and having to retreat back miles and miles when something goes wrong between us and trust me, it always does. One of us says the wrong thing or our actions speak louder than our hearts, yet we always manage to make up."

"I'm going back to my apartment and.. and I'm asking if you want to come with me. This isn't some 'two week up in the air' agreement like last time. Of course I want you healed... but this is just me— being selfish and simply wanting you there with me. We're both adults here, Joker. So let's cut to the chase. Stay with me.. until I think about what this is."

You ended your speech waving your hand in the space between you two.

Joker hummed in that vague tone of his but this time you didn't know if it was positive or negative. He cut the distance between you and him short by meeting you in the doorway.

Now that he knew you were claustrophobic, he didn't crowd your space even when his personality demanded it. He liked to invade people's personal space and intimidate them. He would have to train himself to stop around you.

"Hmm. I'll be spotted if I return to your place with you. I need a smug op."

"A what?" You were elated that he was agreeing to come back but his terminology threw you for a loop.

Joker fought back his grin seeing your head tilt like a puppy. Your bright, young mind had a habit of turning off from time to time during the most inopportune times.

"Are you serious about us? Me. Staying at your place?"

Joker was too nervous to speak in full sentences but you understood him word for word and nodded. Joker nodded to himself and started hatching a plan.

"You won't be a ahhh secret anymore, I'll have to get you involved. Stay behind me." He said.

You were thoroughly confused and had no other choice but to follow wherever Joker was dragging you off to. You definitely regretted not putting your heels on.

This bunker was truly a maze with all kinds of twists and turns that Joker led you through.

By the fifth left turn, you were turnt all the way around that you would never make it to the exit that Frost pointed out to you.

The end of the wild maze brought you to another unmarked room noticeably larger than the first where dozens of men, all in various conversations, were in the middle of activities like playing cards or arguing over the game being displayed on a flat screen tv.

This must be their common's room.

You felt out of place in your torn designer gown but Joker calmly walked up to a pair of men who immediately stopped talking to greet their boss.

Joker skipped the pleasantries and got to the point. "I need... a covert smuggle operation."

The men looked from Joker to you completely speechless. The rest of the room followed suit. Joker smacked his lips, patiently waiting but nothing happened. And so his patience waned.

"Did ya ears stop working? You. Your name- uh Mark something. Whatever. I need to sneak into.." Joker gestured at you awkwardly standing behind him. ".. her apartment without being seen. Can ya do it?"

"It's Mac but yeah wh-where's the place?"

You saw Joker's brain troubleshoot. He stayed at your apartment for weeks and he didn't know your address. Talk about awkward.

"Move Joker. Honestly..." You gently pushed him to the side and everyone in the room gasped.

"Hi Mac. I live on Quinn Street in the North Grant Row building. It's the white glass rooftop high rise near the Grant Park fountain. I can keep Joker hidden from view up until Gotham Square but the rest of the way, I'm not too sure. Can you help?"

You leaned against the table and Mac got to see your beauty up close. He would be a fool to say no.

He totally forgot about Joker standing next to you. "For you, I'd love to. I have to say I ahh.. I'm not very familiar with Old Gotham."

"Really? Oh it's not that complicated! Lots of old alleyways and one way streets to duck in and out of. I'm just worried about the open streets the closer we get to my complex. Hey, can I borrow that map?"

You asked a guy, a table away, who was openly staring at you. He looked to Joker for approval and then handed over the map. You thanked him with a smile and he proceeded to swoon.

You smoothed the map out onto the table and pointed to a spot with your nail. "Here. There's an awning that we can stop at. It'll be the last cover Joker has before it's an open shot."

Mac stood up to see better and hovered by your side– a bit too close– for Joker's likings.

Unfortunately the blond didn't notice.

"Oh that's uh First National bank. I think. We can do a swap there if the Boss gives the green light on it. What's the security at your place like?"

You sigh. "That's the problem. It's tight. Front desk staff with only two entrances; the main lobby and a service on the side of the building, here. If you can help Joker make it to the apartment building, leave the rest to me. I'm the top floor tenant so I have special privileges. Plus there's a restricted passageway that Joker can use to my apartment."

"A whaT?"

Everyone turned to stare at Joker.

He had sat down after watching you interact with his men like some seasoned gofer. Joker honestly didn't know if he was turned on or concerned by how at ease you were around them.

You met Joker's gaze head on. "I rarely use it but there's a secret tunnel. I'll um explain later, it's a long story."

Up to this point you tried to ignore the intense pressure that came with being watched but you couldn't stomach it anymore. You were a big girl and you could handle confrontations. So you turned around to address the issue.

"I'm sorry. What's your name?"

You pointed to the second guy, a stocky brunet, who was seated at the table with Mac. His demeanor came off very aggravated ever since you walked into the room.

He snorted while crossing his arms. "Boss, you lettin this broad order us around?"

The whole room went silent and it was a tossup to either look at Joker or you. However, the majority of the crowd chose the latter.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out his problem. You had written countless characters just like him so you knew exactly how to deal with his kind.

Once again you wished you were wearing your heels to appear taller.

"I may not look like it– but I'm no pushover. I really wanna go home and you and your misogynistic attitude.. is standing in the way of that."

"So?"

You took a breath to calm yourself. This man was really trying you. "So... I'm asking you nicely to stop being a dick and avoid ending up with Pookie and nem' in Port Adams. Yeah. I know the lingo; this ain't my first rodeo. I'm from Blüdhaven, south side at that, so by all means! Buck up to me again and I promise you, I'll write your obituary with perfect grammar."

He rose up from his seat and began a staring contest. He was sizing you up until a humorless laugh cut through the room.

It was sarcastic and dark in nature, sending a chill down your spine. Everyone in attendance turned to face their boss who was seated with his hand propping up his cheek and ending his theatrical laugh.

"She's a feisty one isn't she? It's gotta be that, uhhh.. Blüd in her. She's still running on adrenaline so I'd listen to the nice lady, Flint. That obituary might come as a surprise. The truth hurts ya know."

Flint understood what Joker was implying and wisely sat back down.

He was still brooding as you finalized the operation with Mac and kept a cautious eye on him.

In the background Joker ordered Frost to dismiss the rest of the men who weren't needed. They didn't need to hear the rest of this conversation. As the last goon left the room, Joker approached the table where the three of you brainstormed.

He'd deal with Flint's attitude later. Joker got the impression that you were no stranger to violence but witnessing any form of it terrified you. Perhaps your childhood turned you away from it? He wasn't too sure.

However if Joker was staying with you for the unforeseeable future, he needed to ensure that all of his business remained behind closed doors so you didn't have to see it.

Although that could wait. Joker had more pressing matters to think about. Like how you stood up for yourself without his help.

In a room full of men you demanded their respect, barefoot and while wearing a ripped designer gown. Joker was more than proud, he was absolutely feral after seeing your more bossier side.

Recently he only saw your docile and sweet nature.

Cooking him meals, stumbling over your words around him, to being on the receiving end of your coy gestures. It was a complete 180 and boy did he love it. So what if everyone saw him eyeing you like a piece of meat? He wasn't ashamed.

Joker wondered if you would complain if he took you right here in front of—

"..ker! Of course you're not listening. We're ready to go whenever you get your head out of the clouds."

You rolled your eyes and leaned back over the table to iron out some more kinks with Mac. He was more than happy to work with you and see this secret tunnel you mentioned.

Joker was too busy shaking himself out of his daydream.

Much as he would like to establish dominance and claim you as his for all to see, he knew your current attitude was just a front.

You used your tough Blüdhaven upbringing to face his crew but the minute you two were alone, Joker knew you would revert back to the introvert you were. The one that tucked tail and ran away every time he tried to make progress with you. He hoped you didn't after all of this was over.

Just overhearing the conversation you planned, this operation would be risky. Doable, but it was cutting too close to home.

Were you really serious about him staying with you? You were proving it in your actions but Joker would have to find out if your heart was on the same page when he got you alone again.

The meeting was wrapping up and Mac offered to show you the way to the awaiting vans.

Everyone was leaving and Joker waited till you were out of sight before dragging Flint back into the room by his collar.

"Hi..." The awkward crimson red smile on Joker's face was not friendly.

Flint knew his actions had consequences but he didn't think they would come back to haunt him so quickly.

His eyes darted everywhere but at his boss who was proving the saying, 'if looks could kill' absolutely true.

Joker wagged his finger at the male while slowly circling him.

"You're a great guy but I really... reallyyy thought about killing you earlier. But I didn't! Wanna know why?"

Flint was used to working for a psychopath yet nothing prepared him to be held at knifepoint and the blade digging into his mouth. He blinked and Joker held his life in his unpredictable, makeup covered hands. Honestly, that was a typical Saturday around here.

"You wanna know? I'll tell ya. The thing is.. if I killed you– Y/n would've saw it! She's very.. sensitive to these things and I'd.. hate.. for her pretty little head to worry. I. Don't. Want. Her. To. Worry. So.. you're gonna do your joB and listen to her plans and if you don't?"

Joker tugged on the knife, digging harshly into Flint's gums "You don't want an obituary written out for you. Hm?"

Flint shook his head no along with Joker. He froze when another henchman came into the room.

"Uh Boss?"

Joker's fingers danced on the knife's handle. "What."

"Y-Y/n is waiting for you. She's getting impatient in–"

Joker looked at the newcomer and didn't realize that his hand slipped while holding the knife. A pained grunt gained Joker's attention. He took one look at the gash he made on his employee and cringed.

"Oops. I uh.. hmm. Patch that up and oh c'mon at least it's not ear to ear!" Joker patted Flint's shoulder and walked out to join you in the van.

The newbie and Flint both shared a look. Y/n was a touchy topic best left alone.

Your original plan had to be revised.

Walking in from the street was too risky so Mac proposed ditching the original swap at First National Bank and went forward with dropping you and Joker off at the service entrance at your place. Joker was a wanted criminal and with your current state of dress, neither of you could be seen.

The cover story for the front desk staff was another furniture delivery that Mac thought on the fly.

The story went as follows: You escaped The Prosperity massacre and made it to your apartment where you passed out from shock. The delivery man woke you up.

It creeped you out how believable this lie was. Short, sweet and to the point.

From the service entrance, you and Joker would meet up with Mac on the eleventh floor, he having taken the main entrance to sell the lie.

If all went well at the front desk, it was smooth sailing. A foolproof plan that even Joker had to applaud. Joker followed you as you guided him through the service hallways and passed by the apartment building workers in the area.

The giant service elevator was behind a wall and gave you and Joker some time to breathe. You spotted a surveillance camera above and noticed the red light was off.

Parked a block away one of Joker's software techs, (you chose not to think about how he had one on his payroll) hacked into your apartment complex system to disable the cameras.

Everything was carefully thought out and when the lift softly chimed open, you all but shoved Joker in before hitting the eleventh floor button. You sagged your weight on the stainless steel walls and missed Joker's wary green eyes checking you out.

He knew this mission was quite stressful on top of you not processing things from last night's attack. When you were finally situated at home, you were gonna crash like a bag of rocks. He would make sure you got some much needed rest.

The lift dinged on the maintenance level and you lowered your guard thinking the coast was clear. Joker's arm pushed you back inside in just enough time to avoid walking into Mac.

He looked up from his phone to Joker then at you, stunned speechless.

"How did you...?" You asked after a while.

He left at the same time that you and Joker did. Either he teleported here or..

"Don't ask that question. Where's this secret tunnel you talked about?" He looked around the maintenance room but didn't find anything remotely similar.

Joker was curious too and decided to speak up. "You said you'd explain later. It's later, Y/n."

The two men hoped you didn't lead them to a dead end and waited for an explanation.

"Alrighty then... It's not really a tunnel per se, more like a hatch. The construction workers needed an easier way to transfer large equipment and materials during the renovations to my penthouse and made one. I only used it once during an emergency, i-it's practically useless."

You walked over to the far end of the room to grab the step stool you left last time, only to find it missing.

"What? I had a step ladder right here. Where did it go?" You scanned the room looking for it but Joker was losing his patience again.

You tried to stifle your scream when Joker picked you up and sat you on his shoulders.

You couldn't believe this was happening but you kept blinking and sure enough your head was grazing the ceiling. Joker rolled his eyes knowing your mind was spinning faster than the Earth with questions.

"Just tell me where to go." He mumbled.

You stole a glance at Mac who pointedly avoided watching the scene unfolding before him. Smart guy.

You guided Joker over to a portion of the room, trying to keep your thoughts PG.

"I-I never opened it from this side before but there should be a.. Ah here!" You wobbled a bit on Joker's shoulders but he held you steady.

His head swam when your thighs clenched around his neck. Why did he put himself in these situations with you? You were unaware of Joker's growing dilemma, you had felt around the ceiling until a mechanical popping noise was heard.

Much to their surprise, a decent size latch opened up from the ceiling. Joker regretfully sat you back onto your feet, missing your warmth around his neck already.

"How many people know about this, Y/n?" Joker pointed to the ladder. You cleared your throat and answered.

"Well– the contractor, his employees, you and I, and now your crew. Why?"

"Dwindle that number." Joker said without looking back.

It took you a minute to realize Joker wasn't talking to you.

Mac gave you a look, 'don't ask', before he mentioned he was going to survey the rest of the complex building and left. Before you knew it, Joker was already halfway up the ladder.

"Wow! What a gentleman Joker! You couldn't wa–"

His voice floated back down. "You have a front door. Use it."

If he remained down there with you any longer he wouldn't have been able to control himself. He reached the top and took in your neat storage closet. Another mystery door in your hallway was explained.

He was looking around the organized shelves and heard something outside the door that made him pause.

Your head was poking up from the top of the ladder and Joker waited until you found your footing on the floor above before he slapped a hand over your mouth.

"Shhhh shhh bunny. Are you expect-ting anyone?" He left a brief kiss behind your ear as an apology for scaring you.

At this rate you'll have red lipstick stains everywhere.

You shook your head and froze when you heard something heavy being knocked over, followed by a loud curse.

"Keep it down, she could be in here." A voice said.

Another one answered just as fast. "Sorry!"

Someone was in your apartment and by the sound of it, more than one person. You knew Joker wanted to say, 'I told you it wasn't safe' based on his pointed glare.

He pushed you towards the wall right underneath your large supply of paper towels and whispered his warning. "Lock the door when I leave and don'T come out until I turn the door knob four times."

He knew the moment you were away from his crew this would happen.

Gone was your tough persona replaced by his timid little Y/n. Your big doe eyes were fixated on him and already glazing over in panic..

They glanced down to his leg and Joker was reminded that he was still on the mend from his shootout with te GCPD. This was the most troublesome gunshot wound he had to date.

"I'll be fine, Y/n. Keep quiet." Joker whispered to you.

He then reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to step outside into the hallway. He heard the deadbolt lock immediately afterwards.

Smart girl. He thought to himself.

Joker didn't see anyone from his position in the hallway but he couldn't dash over to his room where his duffel bag of weapons were stashed underneath the bed.

He would have to be light on his feet, something ever since his injury– he was unable to do.

Joker had his trusty knife in his pocket but against two possible assailants (and maybe more) with unknown weapons of their own, he wanted to enter this fight prepared. He knew Dent and his half burnt boys never played fair so he would have even the odds.

It was too quiet in your closet and it felt like time stood still as you waited for the door handle to turn.

Were you supposed to hear something? Was silence a good thing or a bad thing? These past twenty four hours had been brutal on your nerves already. You were getting antsy just sitting around waiting, so you did the exact opposite of what Joker told you to.

You got up and opened the door.

Your apartment felt foreign with the fact that people were here unannounced. How many were here? Just how badly did Two Face want to talk to you?

Scratch that. Why did he want to talk in the first place? Random people were raiding your house all because of a fictional misunderstanding.

Each door in your hallway was closed but you wanted to be double sure. The main bathroom was empty so you moved onto the two guest bedrooms. They were empty too.

Maybe your imagination created a second voice to scare you but Joker heard it too! Moreover, you sighed and closed Joker's bedroom door when your heart took a dive straight to your stomach.

"No!"

Joker heard you scream and the sound of something breaking and thought the worst.

Once again you made him lower his guard and he only had seconds to dodge the fist being swung at him. A perk of fighting in private/public areas. Guns were too loud and hand to hand combat reigned supreme.

Right up Joker's alley.

The poor guy didn't stand a chance as Joker parried the fist and used its momentum to flip the intruder over onto their back.

A moment of hesitation cost him and the slight stinging pain in his hand was the price to pay but Joker knew killing the guy wouldn't earn him any brownie points with you.

Instead of slicing his throat open Joker opted to snap his neck. A good compromise he thought, but then he realized that it wasn't just a bit too late. He would lie about that later.

He remembered you screaming and ran (more like limped) towards the hallway to assess the scene. He found you standing over the second intruder still holding half of a decorative item in your hand.

You were panting and jumped when Joker grabbed your forearm to pull you away.

He checked the guy's pulse, definitely unconscious, and the oozing blood on the back of their head confirmed a guaranteed headache whenever they did wake up.

"What did you do?" Joker ended up asking you.

He eyed how your body was still shaking, either from adrenaline or from fear, he didn't know.

"H-He was about to.." You swallowed loudly. "He was about to go into my room."

Joker was well aware your room was your escape from the world. In the two weeks he'd been hiding here, he only knew the walls were dark in color.

No other glimpses inside and you most certainly didn't talk about what lie therein.

It was your most kept secret; it was no wonder you bashed the guy's head in to stop him from entering. Once again you amazed Joker with your bravery but he did have to scold you.

He opened his mouth to speak but followed your line of sight to his hand. It was red from the slash the first intruder managed to land on him.

"Why are you bleeding?" You whimpered. The bauble you currently held fell from your grasp. Neither of you cared that it landed on the guy's head.

Joker glanced at his fresh wound and rolled his eyes. "Calm down bunny. It's just a scratch. I thoughT... I told you to stay in the closet."

"I wasn't gonna let you take on two guys at once! Are you crazy?!"

"Uh yeah." He replied. It was common knowledge. "I told you it wasn't safe here but you.. don't listen. I'll have to assign people to guard your building. There could be more.. uhh unwanted visitors. I uh.. I can keep you safe, that is... if ya want me to really stay?"

Joker didn't mean for it to come out like a question but he wanted to be sure that this is what you wanted and not some spontaneous decision made in distress.

He stepped over the unconscious goon and entered your personal space.

It was instinctive yet you weren't uncomfortable by his proximity. In fact you gravitated closer to Joker and rested your hands on his chest.

The air was thick with uncertainty and Joker wondered if now was the time that reality set in for you. Would you kick him out and never talk to him again? He thought through all the possibilities in the same amount of time you came to a conclusion.

Your heavy sigh gained his rapt attention. This was it; you were saying goodbye. Your sad eyes confirmed it.

"Like I said earlier, I don't know. I knew having you in my life would be dangerous and scary but until I figure out exactly what I want– I'll have to embrace the unknown. I have to accept who you are and the baggage that you carry, along with the risks. I'm scared, Joker... but I'm also scared of how I'll feel if I don't give you a chance."

Joker's eyes widened when you held his hand up to your cheek, miraculously avoiding getting any blood on you.

With every word your lips grew closer and closer to his.

"You promised me– you promised you wouldn't leave. I want to try us. Please don't–"

Then the doorbell rang.

Joker was two seconds away from throwing a tantrum. Every time he was in the middle of having a moment with you, fate had to intervene. He sighed through his nose as you glanced at the door. You were about to pull away when Joker grabbed your hands.

"Y/n, wait. It could be another attack."

You broke your hands free and wiped Joker's blood off on your gown. It was bound for the trash anyway.

"I highly doubt if they were coming to kill me they would ring the doorbell."

You were too stubborn for your worth. He growled lowly as you moseyed over to the front door and looked into the peep hole.

Joker frowned when you yelped and snapped it shut.

"Hide Joker!"

"What? Who is it?" He wanted to see who it was, but you shoved him back towards the hallway.

You didn't notice the guy's motionless body near your dining room table.

"J-Just a second!!" You shouted over your shoulder at the door. "You have to help me change. Now!" You whispered to Joker.

"Who's at the door Y/n?"

"Bruce!" You didn't hesitate to fling your heels across the room, drastically dwindling your height, and you were shrugging off your draped gown when Joker's brain short circuited.

Obviously you weren't thinking things through because you wouldn't have stripped in front of Joker if you were.

Did you forget that two men were unconscious, one of them (unintentionally) dead in your apartment and in the same room as you?

Joker was wondering what rare good deed he did to deserve a show like this. Despite the odd circumstances, he was still a male. Watching you undress was mesmerizing.

Joker's eyebrows jumped up seeing your skimpy black panties as you bent over and his eyes nearby rolled back into his head when you...

"Hide the bodies somewhere while I go change!" You cupped your breasts and sprinted to your bedroom.

The door slamming shut was the last thing Joker heard before his mind switched to autopilot. You weren't wearing a bra.

Now he'd seen some pretty bizarre things in his life and especially living in Gotham City, but the greatest sight of all was you stripped down to your underwear.

He could only imagine the full unobstructed view.

He cleared his throat and got to work dragging the dead body to your storage closet. While he was in the hallway, he grabbed the unconscious one by the foot and pulled him inside as well.

Joker didn't register that he sent a text to Mac to dispose of the two bodies on the maintenance floor before he kicked them down the secret ladder.

Their body weight landed loudly on the floor below yet Joker's mind was still racing with the visual of you. He closed the door to the storage closet the same time you stepped out of your room.

This all took place in less than three minutes. You decided to wear simple grey sweatpants and were struggling to pull down another fan T-shirt when you caught the pair of green eyes looking your way.

"Well don't just stand there! Go hide!"

Joker just nodded and walked in his room.

That was weird, but you didn't have time to question Joker's odd behavior. Bruce was waiting outside your door and you knew exactly why he was here.

You waited until Joker was safe in his room before sprinting towards the front door– a quick deep breath was the only preparation you gave yourself. Then you opened the door with a smile.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. Come on in!" You welcomed Bruce Wayne inside.

His dark eyes felt like a lie detector ray as he scanned your frame. If Bruce noticed your frazzled appearance, he was a gentleman and didn't comment on it. That didn't stop you however.

"I probably look a mess. It's been a.. well a terrible night." You chuckled to yourself, knowing good and well the joke wasn't well received.

You weren't expecting Bruce to hug you.

Your short gasp was muffled by bands of muscle and expensive fabric. His cologne smelled phenomenal and did a good job of lowering your defenses.

The past twenty four hours finally came crashing down on you and the weight (along with Bruce and his natural charm) broke you down.

"I was so worried when I saw the news. Barbara called me in total hysterics asking if I heard from you." Bruce squeezed you tighter and somehow guided you over to your blue couch.

Why did his arms feel so safe? Not even five minutes ago you were confessing to Joker that you wanted to try things out with him yet here you were in another man's arms.

You could hear Florence's favorite quote, "she's a slut!" bouncing off your eardrums.

"I thought that Two Face captured you or worse. I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by and check on you. Imagine my surprise when you answered the door. Y/n, talk to me, are you okay?"

Bruce pulled away just enough to see your face. He tucked a loose braid back over your shoulder. His deep chuckle startled you out of your musing.

"I find myself being so forward with you, please forgive me. I call you out of the blue, I try to take you out to dinner, and even now I arrive at your home unannounced."

You had yet to say anything but that didn't stop Bruce from asking the unthinkable.

"I worry. It's not safe for you here while Dent has a price for your head." That made you look up in fear.

It was the first time you heard Dent's intentions with you. He wanted you dead over a fictional book? The man was insane!

"This might be too forward of me but I can't stand you being unprotected. Come with me to Wayne Manor."

You could've sworn you heard something break in the bedroom.

"What?"

Bruce backtracked seeing your confusion clear as day. "Hear me out. I have the best security money can buy and you'll be taken care of while this whole Two Face situation quells. I'll personally guarantee—"

You cut Bruce off. Judging by his gentle smile he wasn't bothered by it. "Y-You want me to stay at Wayne Manor? With... with you?"

"Yes." He added, "At least until I know you'll be safe on your own."

You shook your head and stood up from the couch. It was a lot to take in and it worried you that you were actually considering on going.

Bruce knew you needed time to think about his offer.

He wasn't sure it was appropriate to ask, (he hadn't been on a date with you for crying out loud) but he couldn't bear if anything happened to you.

He got the distress call from Oracle aka Barbara right as the GCPD and Jim Gordon were dispatched to the scene.

Barbara was indeed beside herself with worry and cried the entire time Bruce tried to process the scene. He came to the conclusion that you had miraculously fled the scene by your partial fingerprints leading down the event stairwell.

But at the back alleyway, your trail went cold.

Batman and all of his advanced gadgets could not find you, so he waited until daybreak to search for clues as Bruce Wayne.

He didn't lie, he was visiting his Foundation chapter near Wayne tower when the idea to check your apartment hit him. Bruce didn't hesitate interrogating the front desk and slipped a hefty sum into their pockets to keep his visit confidential before heading up to the top floor.

He wasn't expecting to see you open the door nor to find you were still in disarray from last night.

He couldn't ask you where you stayed last night but it didn't take a genius to know it wasn't at your place.

Your heels were tossed across the living room, he heard you do it, and the designer gown you wore to the event (he thought it looked outstanding on you) was in a pool of fabric by the door.

They were all indicators that you changed quickly before answering the door.

Something else to the equation was missing but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. Bruce had a hunch that Dent would target you again and as much as your apartment was 'safe and secure', a breach could happen at any minute.

Your life was too precious to leave up to chance.

Bruce would not sleep peacefully until you were safe under, well.. over, the batcave on the Wayne Manor grounds.

"I.. I don't know.." You mustered out. You fiddled with a braid while you paced in circles.

Bruce watched the erratic steps for any emotional clues, but found none. Just a lot of confusion, copious amounts of stress and inner turmoil. You needed to rest.

He sighed to himself and stood up to make his way towards you. He stopped you mid pace by taking ahold of your hands.

They were clammy, but Bruce didn't care. "Please consider my offer, Y/n. Call me and I'll have a car pick you up immediately if you accept." He bent down to kiss your knuckles and noticed the smudged blood on your skin.

It sent alarms to his brain that Bruce Wayne couldn't address. If he were under the cowl, he could coerce you into telling him where you were.

Perhaps if you said yes to staying with him, he could coax it out of you in another way. Right now your brain was overwhelmed and running on fumes. He would take his leave.

You said nothing as Bruce saw himself out. What could you say? You shocked yourself by considering his offer. God, why were you so confused about everything?

"Aren't you going with him?"

You screamed hearing Joker's deep voice in your ear. The whiplash from dealing with Bruce straight to Joker had a girl tripping.

You dragged your hand down your face, exhausted. "Stop scaring me like that.."

"Again. Are you going Y/n?" Joker bit back. Each word was harsh in the air and it put you on the defensive.

"Is this some trick question? Why does it sound like you want me to? I-I said I wanted to go home and I'm here. Why would I leave?"

"Because you're confused. You don't know what you want so... when a golden opportunity is presented to your tired, weary mind, it wants to snatch it up! It's a basic human instinct Y/n, no need to get defensive about it. Just don't hurT your brain trying to decide when we both know your decision."

Joker told himself he was gonna stop invading your space after learning you were claustrophobic. Old habits die hard.

You landed on the couch with a slight bounce before Joker boxed you in with his frame. His arms were beside your head as he leaned in almost nose to nose.

"Deep down you want to go. But you can't have your cake and eat it too. Spoiled little bunny, she can't choose between her rich, arrogant boy toy, or the scary clown she can't run away from. Save us allll the trouble, and go pack your bags Y/n."

Joker's words taunted your heart but as you opened your mouth to deny them, he gripped your chin.

"Go ahead and eat your cake. Enjoy your time with.. Gotham's savior, live it up in his mansion all you want. But know this little bunny.."

Joker's eyes were intense pools of juniper staring straight into your soul.

You couldn't look away even if you tried. His grip on your chin began to hurt but his words cut deeper.

"You'll be back and I'll be waiting."

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #black!fem!reader #heath ledger #joker x y/n #Smut #joker #joker smut #reader insert #yandere #Long Reads #a03 writer #Tsundere vibes #dc comic #batman #romance #angst #his lighthouse

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maxbegone · 1 year ago

Text

happy wedensday, friends! i don't know about anyone else, but this is the first day we've had all week without rain and I am living for it.

thank you @kiwiana-writes for the tag ♥️ I hope the rest of the week treats you well.

He smirks at Henry, picking up his walkie. “Watch this. Shaan, come in, Shaan.”

Alex can practically hear the sigh from here. “Yes, Alex?”

“I see you driving. Mind helping us at the gate?”

“What for?”

“Confidential,” he says.

Oscar clicks through then. “Since when do we do confidential?”

“Since right now for, like, five minutes. It’ll be quick.”

“Wouldn’t bet my life on it,” Shaan tells him, but Alex sees him turn the truck in their direction and calls it a win.

“What was that about?” Henry asks him.

“Just someone I want you to meet.” At his look, Alex gives him a pat on the arm and says, “He’s British, too. Y’all will hit it off.”

When Shaan pulls up, he steps out in all his too-handsome glory and leans against the hood of the truck, arms crossed and looking up at them both. “Care to tell me why you made me make the detour?”

Alex leans against the rail. “Shaan, this is Henry. Henry, Shaan. Discuss.”

Shaan shakes his head. “Alex, if you waited a little longer I would have still been at yours when you two had gotten back.”

“That’s not very friendly of you, Shaan,” he chimes.

“Fine. Hello, Henry. My apologies for Alex. He’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m sure he is—wait.” Alex absolutely does not miss the startled look on Henry’s face or the way his cheeks immediately go red. “I-I mean, he’s been very accommodating.”

“Shame he doesn’t put his energy to use in ways that won’t give me and my wife grey hair.”

“Oh please, y’all love me.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘tolerate.’”

Alex shrugs. “Same thing.” He claps Henry on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go give him a proper hello.”

He gathers their things and makes his way down the ladder, and when he’s finally eye-level with Shaan, he drops the facade a little. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, Leo just wanted me to come by and discuss the plans for the turn of the season. He has some things mapped out and Zahra and I want to make sure we’re on the same page with you all before we begin.” He turns to Henry. “Where in England are you from?”

“London.”

“A fellow Londoner.” Shaan actually smiles. “We’ll get on easily. Is your friend from London as well?”

“Oh, Pez? Yes, we grew up together. I went to Oxford before moving to Brooklyn to work with him at his nonprofit.”

“I went to Oxford as well. I had plans to get my doctorate but I was working in research and things changed.”

“Geez, are all y’all the same?” Alex mutters under his breath. Both Shaan and Henry give him a look. “What, you’re both from London and you both went to Oxford. Did you play polo, too, Shaan?”

“No, I did crew.”

Explains the arms. Still a rich guy’s sport. “Wow. Okay, anyway! Wanna give us a ride back to the house?”

“Is your shift finished?”

He shrugs. “We’ve got five minutes. My dad’s next anyway.”

“Fine,” Shaan sighs. “But only because I’m heading that way to begin with.”

Alex hops into the flatbed and to his surprise, Henry barely even hesitates before following suit.

Dust kicks up behind them as they drive along, Alex with his arms stretched out along the side as if he’s louding in a pool while Henry keeps himself tucked against the wall. They wave to Oscar as they drive past, who shakes his head in amusement.

Alex does a full vault over the side of the truck when they pull up, half showing off, and takes both rifles from Henry.

“I’m gonna go put these back, you head on inside.”

“Are you sure?” Henry asks.

“Yeah, it’s a one man job.”

Henry gives him a smile before jogging to catch up to Shaan, and for a moment Alex wonders if it was a bad idea to have introduced them. Something makes him feel like they’ll get along like a house on fire, and he really hopes Shaan doesn’t sour Henry’s opinion of him too much.

He shrugs it off.

#rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince #wip wedensday

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mr-random-man · 4 months ago

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Our New Home Planet

Okay so listen, I never really post my writing because its usually not something i think is worth posting buttt I really enjoyed writing this so I'm going to post it anyway, WARNING I took little bits from two different fandoms, so none of this is canon accurate! I just like writing about my games and also my favourite characters at the same time so most of this is just fun brain fire and not to be taken too seriously.

also if yall like this don't worry i absolutely plan on writing more

Prologue

The last few minutes I had on my home planet were a bit rushed to say the least, and trying to get my entire life into a bag, grab my dog, and get to my ship in under ten minutes was pretty fucking stressful, I would have of course loved more time to prepare and all that good stuff but I'll be honest when I woke up this morning I wasn’t really expecting a rogue asteroid to hit my home.

I run out the door to my ship Avos as fast as my legs will take me, running as I yell to the first couple of my neighbors I see to get on and most of them quickly comply. As soon as the last person was on Avos I started her up and flew as far past the planet as I could get, I’d have to wait for further instructions from the Cyrodiil before I could truly leave our home behind but I’m definitely getting as far away as I can.

As soon as I stop and put Avos into idle I quickly realize that without the sound of her engines whirring in the background how quiet we truly all had become, I turn around in my seat to face the small table behind me where everyone had congregated.

“we’re quite far out of the set blast range so we should be fine now...I’m not sure how much ya'll travel out into space but you can’t go much further than our homes gravitational pull without permission by the Cyrodiil so we’re going to have to wait here just on the edge for a bit until they contact us”

Looking away I sigh thinking about how slow they were to get back to our safety lead when my job sent the whole team out onto a recovering planet that had suffered a supernova going off too close to them not knowing that it left behind a zombie star that went off while we were trying to take off, leaving our crew stranded without a ship for just under two months.

*Quickly explain zombie star here

Trying to avoid worrying anyone any worse than they already are I try to put on a smile as to not spread my thoughts about their reliability

“…they try their best to be quick”

Judging by peoples faces I didn't do the best. A few people slowly nod at me before putting their heads back down or returning to what they were doing before, I sit still for a moment trying to think of anything else comforting to say but my mind only draws blanks as my thoughts wonder back to everything and well, everyone left back home.

Part of my brain begs me to turn the ship so that I can see earth for the last time in its final moments but I just know that when that asteroid hits if we’re watching we’ll never recover.

After finalizing my decision to not turn around my brain looks for another escape, planning. We could live on this ship for a couple months but we’ll run out of supplies for the fabrication machine pretty quickly with all six of us so we’ll need to find a suitable planet to make a new home on, I know probably three planets out of everywhere I've gone to that I could properly breathe without a space suit or gas mask but those were pretty far so we might have to settle for a planet with no oxygen right now and then short-long term a planet with just enough oxygen so all of us could go out even for short bits with just gas masks on because my ship doesn’t come with enough suits for all of us but definitely enough gas masks…

My thoughts trail off before they’re interrupted by a short jingle coming from the speakers of the ship

“V.A.I.A your Virtual Artificial Intelligence Assistant is online”

“The Cyrodiil has contacted you Mx Clover”

I sigh again but this time with some relief, The Cyrodiil may not always have my trust but in a world ending event It will never not be nice to hear from a source of stability.

“thank you Vaia please bring it up”

A few paragraphs appeared on the large screen above the front window.

Dear citizen, we apologize for not being able to talk to you directly at this time but we are working very hard to insure you and all Cyrodiil citizens safety. Earth is no longer with us, everyone who couldn’t leave the atmosphere within the time period given has been uploaded to the Printing Pod™ and will be reprinted as soon as possible. You as one of the few ships with a large enough crew to launch a rebuilding mission so we are blessing you with the opportunity to rebuild our civilization. If you not only survive but thrive and build us a promising new home, then you will be rewarded with your leaders and loved ones coming to live in our new found sanctuary. More crew will be printed into your printing pod as soon as you are deemed ready for them, make sure you have enough beds, water, food, and bathrooms for all individuals or no new crew will be printed. After this, coordinates to a survivable planet will appear along with further instructions.

You may under no circumstances pick who is reprinted to avoid bias, if you want your loved ones home make a city to fit us all and they will be printed inline with everyone else.

-The Cyrodiil

The coordinates appeared on the screen after their predecessors disappeared along with the instructions

“Thank you for your cooperation, we are sending a civilization packet to you with an upgraded fabrication machine to build all your new city engineering needs! There will also be a step by step guide book series delivered with it about how to build your city and what it needs to grow along with another step by step series on how to govern your city for whoever you choose to be the UNOFFICAL leader of your group! Remember whoever you choose does NOT have any governing authority once The Cyrodiil have arrived and all rulings you make MUST follow the laws and regulations of The Cyrodiil. We look forward to working with you further and watching how your city develops! Any questions you have about Planet: {TERRA} please don’t hesitate to ask your ships AI Assistant! Please wait where you are for the civilization packet to reach you. It will take exactly 24 hours, have an amazing day and good luck!

….….great yeah give the fate of our world to a herbalist and their neighbors, thanks guys.

The silence after the messages were read was louder than any ship engine and I couldn’t say shit because I was stuck in the exact same silence as the rest of them.

I'm not sure if trying to comfort them even though I don’t know what to say or just leaving them to their own thoughts is worse, I open my mouth to speak but stopped have way short of any real words, so I decide to just accept the silence that fell upon us and take a few minutes to sit with the reality of the situation.

It felt like I was watching the time literally fly by, sitting in place looking at the clock on my computer as my brain ran through different thoughts and scenarios. They ranged from missing my garden and bed to how I was going to insure our survival on this new planet, I had never even heard of it which already sounds off because I've traveled to or heard of most planets in our surroundings galaxy and especially the survivable ones… I should probably look into our new home shouldn’t I?

Searching the planets name into my ships data base Vaia spoke

“Planet; Terra. 268 planets away, with a lush moss floor and many plant species similar to trees Terra is extremely similar to your home planet, the only clear differences are the lack of large bodies of water on the surface suggesting an expansive underground system of lakes or oceans, the slightly lower oxygen content, and the presence of an aggressive humanoid race of reptilian creatures. Unfortunately no other data is available on the creatures as when the Cyrodiil sent a exploration group to see if the planet was worth colonizing and they came across the creatures the whole crew lost their metal facilitates, apparently the idea of other intelligent life humanoid life is something most humans can’t handle as all 15 Cyrodiil employees have been in intensive care since leaving the Cyrodiil to cancel any further investigations into the planet...until now I suppose! approximate time to reach destination will be 16 days but given the direct orders we’ve received we will not be moving untill tomorrow so I'll adjust the time to 16 days and two minutes”

Nodding along as I take in the info, I pause at her last statement

“And two minutes?”

Her AI features changing to a smile

“Well they never take more than two minutes to deliver”

I also crack a small smile with her words

“Ever the perfectionist you are”

So the journey looks to be more than a few days, I guess we’ll have time to cope with our home exploding before we have to start making a new one…nice.

I shut down the screen with the instructions and stand up walking over to the others, they all look up at me expectantly and my face falls slightly knowing exactly what’s going to happen

‘oh god please don’t look at me like that… I'm not even a good leader! just because I own a ship doesn’t mean I'm built to be a captain- I'm not ready for this shit-’

is all I can think but as Onyx the sweet old lady who’s lived next to me for ten years looks to me says those damned words I already know my fate is sealed

“so.. what…what are we going to do?”

“fuck.”

#the last of us #abby anderson #ellie williams #oxygen not included #goofy aah #outer space

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almea · 5 months ago

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I thought the 2.3 story would be longer than it was because of the trailer, but I think it was a good length, especially after the monster that was 2.2.

I fucking CRIED that Dan Heng's dream was just for the five of them to continue travelling on the Express together forever. Between this and his line in 2.2 about his companions being "once-in-a-lifetime treasures" he is truly the softest boy. I read a fic where I think Himeko told Dan Heng that he could travel with the Express for as long as he wanted, and he thought to himself that he wanted to stay forever, but "forever" means something different to him than it does to the others, and that line has lived in my heart ever since and these last two versions have really shown how that author really nailed the part of Dan Heng that loves the crew so much.

I love the jokes about how trigger happy Dan Heng is with the Jade Abacus in 2.2, but I do also think it's very sweet and a little sad because it feels like his desire to keep the crew safe can get very desperate and frantic. It's also feels like the only reason Dan Heng seems so cool and levelheaded all the time is because he usually has to keep March and Stelle from going too crazy, but when they're gone he's just like. No thoughts, head empty, if I get even an inkling that they're in trouble I am going to make the most reckless choices I can in the moment to protect them and it's all anyone can do to try to stop me.

It's so fucking sad???? That no one knows what exactly happened with Gallagher. Like, Siobhan doesn't know what happened to her friend. This is a crime!! I don't know if we're ever going to see him again in the future, but if we do, I will cry. I didn't really have any thoughts about Misha or Gallagher in 2.0 or 2.1, and then 2.2 happened and now I'm in tears every time either of them are mentioned in the story lmao.

Seeing Stelle be an absolute gremlin who's being babysat by March and Dan Heng from Firefly's perspective was such a treat. She's so unhinged and it was like. Ah yes. This is exactly how I act when I'm playing the game. Opening every chest I see, looking for birds, breaking every destructible item. Getting to hear more of Stelle's voice was also a blessing and a gift.

The last cutscene was soooo beautiful. I loved the shots of everyone in Penacony. It just feels like such a nice way to wrap things up.

And the Firefly and Stelle parts, oh my god. Stelle praying for Firefly's to be okay was so cute. I wasn't expecting that and they just hit me with Stelle looking so adorable. And then Firefly princess carrying Stelle?? First with Sam and then without it?? In that moment Firefly really decided she was the hero of the story and Stelle was the heroine. I just love them so much. Seeing them so happy and relieved together made me so happy too.

There is something there about Stelle first entering the dream by falling from the sky and crash landing, and then ending the story flying through the sky and going even higher with Firefly.

And then they go from that to stabbing me in the heart with the final goodbyes in Penacony. I just. I'm so fond of the Penacony Trailblazers and seeing how the crew honours them was so sweet. I love that Razalina was the one writing those messages in the Dreamscape Pass because that means she's kind of been with us since the beginning. I want to believe we'll get to learn more about her one day, maybe in a Penacony Trailblaze Continuance. I saw a theory that she's Black Swan that was pretty compelling, so Black Swan temporarily travelling with the crew has potential.

I can't believe they made Acheron's farewell skippable. I can't believe there was an option to just go back to the train without saying goodbye to her. I picked the second option first because I thought the sentiment of "If that was the first time we met, then the next time we meet will be a reunion" was very sweet, but I went back and picked the first option afterwards because I figured it was going to be an Impact 3rd reference and I wanted to see it even if I wouldn't really Get It. I wasn't expecting the scene to be so much longer and so touching, with not one but two absolutely beautiful CGs of Acheron. And they made it skippable.

All the new visitor unlocks popping up one after the other after finishing the story was so funny. Especially Sparkle because, girl, you just gave everyone a heart attack because of your bomb threat and then you invited yourself onto the train???? And then I read her text messages, cried hysterically, and was like, okay, you can come visit whenever you want.

When Sparkle created the illusions of the Stellaron Hunters in Acheron's trailer, I had the thought that maybe my dumb theory that they were the ones who hired her to come to Penacony had a chance of being true, but I assumed it was Elio who hired her because she had a part in the script, but no! It was Silver Wolf! Silver Wolf, who was just worried about her friend and wanted to take measures to keep her as safe as possible! I always believed Silver Wolf was secretly very soft for the people she loves beneath all her attitude and I was right!

Silver Wolf and Sparkle being gaming friends is so random and I love it. It's this version's "Blade has a driver's license" for me. I can't believe they dropped this lore on me without adding new voice lines for them about each other. I'm holding out hope for the future…

My mono-Quantum team is Qingque, her boss, Silver Wolf, and her gaming buddy. It's so perfect.

#Annie plays HSR #hsr 2.3 spoilers #I will eventually get my Stellaron Hunter thoughts out #But I have so many thoughts to parse through #The number one thought is me constantly crying over how much they love each other though

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meltotheany · 1 month ago

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hello, friends! how are you doing? i know it’s been a little bit since i’ve done a blog post, but i went to michigan very improtu in august and stayed throughout september to be with my family! it was honestly a much needed, and very happy, trip! and i feel like it was just a much needed reset for me overall, too! but my family is doing well, and i feel so thankful i got to go into fall with them this year! but because of that, i haven’t been reading as much as i normally do! but i am still here today to talk about and review the eight things that i did read these last two months! ❤️ ✨ Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4) by Sarah J. Maas ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (reread) 1.) Throne of Glass ★★ 2.) Crown of Midnight ★★★★ .5) The Assassin’s Blade ★★★ 3.) Heir of Fire ★★★★ “I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me to.” maybe it’s because i know the end of this story, but the way i was foaming at the mouth during the manon and dorian scenes. who am i? when did i become this? okay, that just had to be addressed whatever this feeling was quickly, but let me move on. QoS is the book i remember being my favorite in this series, so i went into it with some really high hopes, which all got met while also exceeding any and all expectations simultaneously. this reread truly was hitting differently, and i really am not sure why, but i am very tempted to give this five stars. i think what is holding me back is that part one feels like a three star read, and those three stars are completely because of manon and lysandra. but part two? now, that feels like a six star read to me. i feel like this is already treading on spoiler territory, so i don’t want to say too much more, but i really think sarah just writes such good characters that are a true joy to follow and cheer for. and i will always just love seeing girls get their revenge, even if that revenge comes in many different forms, and shapes, and ways. extra bonus moments i loved this reread: aelin saying manon is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen (oh, what could have been), asterin (also one of the best side characters sjm has ever written), chaol’s “you deserve to be happy”, elide’s heritage (and every scene with her and manon tbh), kaltain and her piece of a warm cloak in a cold dungeon (i am actually tearing up while typing that), a ghost leopard (and some much deserved territory). trigger + content warnings: possession, loss of a loved one, grief, slavery, violence, gore, blood, murder, death, vomit, captivity, talk of forced breeding / rape, a lot of insinuation of rape, talk of pregnancy, talk of still birth, torture, captivity, medical experimentation, a suicide mission (sacrifice of life) ✨ Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5) by Brandon Sanderson ⭐⭐⭐⭐ .) The Way of Kings ★★★★★ 2.) Words of Radiance ★★★★★ 2.5) Edgedancer ★★★★ 3.) Oathbringer ★★★★★ 4.) Rhythm of War ★★★★★ i did this reread of this novella just for a little extra refresher before wind and truth drops this december, and i am very glad that i did! We follow some new and old characters on a new expedition going to an island, to heal one of the best creature companions, and maybe also looking for an oathgate, while someone on this sailing crew could maybe be sabotaging the mission as well. but my favorite part of this was reading about two characters with disabilities that have changed their lives, finding normalcy on their own, but also finding a bond and understanding on a different level together. for me, it was really beautiful, and i don’t want to go too far here, but i do personally feel like brandon is truly putting in an effort and consistently writing good disability representation (again, this is just my opinion but i do appreciate seeing it, and seeing a range of it both physically and mentally, throughout the stormlight series in particular) !! this is a really beautiful story, but this is filled with lots of cosmere lore, which is why i think i...

#Book Blog #Book Blogger #Book Review #Book Reviewer #meltotheany #Reading Wrap Up #Wrap Up

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bipherpol · 5 years ago

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i’m not entirely sure when i’ll get around to posting it so i’m gonna ramble a minute about the leverage au currently sitting in my WIP folder

for those unfamiliar, leverage is (was) a delightful show that aired on tnt for five seasons and started back in 2008 about a group of thieves who were basically ocean’s eleven but robin hood. every episode had a caper, every episode had a corrupt/evil asshole who needed to be taken down a peg or fifty.

(if you haven’t seen it and you enjoy media about con artists/thieves/capers, media about found families and media involving a fuckload of competence porn, please watch leverage. it’s great. i love it.)

anyway

so the straw hats are the main crew.

luffy is the resident bleeding heart and a hitter who decided he wanted to be a thief because he spent too much time with shanks as a kid who definitely is a thief and a grifter and was a terrible influence on luffy (according to garp, who works for the fbi.) while they haven’t appeared at all in the plot i have so far, ace and sabo are on their own crews and are a hitter/thief and grifter/thief/hitter combo respectively. (sabo’s crew, naturally, is based off the revolutionary army and specializes in conning corrupt politicians and getting them taken down.)

nami is. well. nami. she’s a thief and a grifter and is behind at least 50% of the planning for every job. in a bit that may or may not be a take-off of the episode “the san lorenzo job” where they take down crocodile in alabasta, she pretends to be vivi’s fiancee much like sophie does in the episode for michael vittori. because reasons. (bellemere was also law enforcement but, while she encouraged the girls to be on the right side of the law, wasn’t as pushy as garp) (RIP bellemere but arlong’s the fucking mob in this fic so.)

zoro is. zoro. primarily there to beat the shit out of people. can steal and do sleight of hand and can pull grifter duty if need be but would rather just hit people.

sanji! is a grifter and a hitter and a thief and his vinsmoke backstory is mostly canon barring genetic enhancement bullshit and he did ditch them and get raised by zeff, who is (was) a thief in his own right, much like archie does for parker in leverage, only with way less issues because zeff doesn’t do the ~real family~ shit archie did. so. (related: yes the vinsmokes will come up at some point. no, they’re not all irredeemably evil in this universe because the genetic modification shit didn’t happen which means they’re all just products of judge’s bullshit abuse but that’s an essay and a half so i’m gonna leave that be for now.)

robin! grifter. information. can also beat the shit out of people. primarily a grifter. best one on the team and is very good at getting things/information/money/etc out of people. her backstory isn’t canon but i’m working out the details on how to best write her into things because i don’t want to have to necessarily wait until croc to get her on the crew. also behind a decent amount of the crew planning.

franky is the hacker, naturally, and splits the gadgets dude role with usopp. it’s franky. like. what else was he gonna do.

usopp! partially gadgets dude. also the team forger. the best forger in the country, really, but usopp wouldn’t know an ego if it bit him in the ass.

chopper is literally there to patch them up after fights and rarely pulls double-duty as a grifter if need be.

brook is also there! grifter, primarily. is very good at playing upper class if they need him to.

jinbe (like i would forget jinbe) is also a hitter and can grift if need be and mostly meets luffy in the first place because ace is like “this is my little brother he’s a little shit” and jinbe’s like “......where the fuck did my wallet go” and luffy’s moved, like, twice, and not out of jinbe’s line of sight. so jinbe likes him and joins the straw hats.

aside from the straw hats!

again, sabo’s crew is essentially the revolutionary army. what else would he do.

law shows up, def, and yes the heart pirates too. (i can’t leave bepo out, i just can’t.) mastermind, doctor, grifter when need be. (bepo is actually the team grifter for them but nobody believes them because bepo is cute and adorable)

smoker and tashigi are law enforcement, of course.

i’ve mentioned shanks, who is a grifter/thief/hitter and definitely used to be on a crew with buggy and trained under rayleigh and shanks definitely has the rest of his major crew. also did/does the occasional job with mihawk when he can drag mihawk out of “retirement”

and then! the other thing that i really really want to write in this universe at some point!

so, in leverage, season two, episode seven is called “the two live crew job”. the plot is a rival crew shows up and takes the painting the team was going to steal and then someone tries to kill the main crew’s grifter so they fake her death and steal a thing out from under the rival crew to extort them into giving up the painting they wanted in the first place.

naturally, when i hit “the two live crew job” in my (...fifteenth?) rewatch to work on this universe, it was about the same time i hit water 7/enies lobby. you can probably guess what’s next.

“the two live crew job” in this universe is straw hats vs. cp9.

(quick crew rundown for cp9: lucci - grifter/thief in that order, kaku - thief/grifter, kalifa - hacker/grifter, blueno - hitter/grifter, jabra - hitter, kumadori - grifter, fukurou - information) (all of them can also double as hitters, but jabra’s best skills are punching people and baiting lucci so. it’s also blueno’s focus, though he can also grift better than jabra.)

idk how all the details for that mess would work yet but i want to do it, so.

i did mention vivi, who is, aside from nami’s fake fiancee and sort-of their client, can work as a thief and a grifter and may or may not help the crew on occasion. because i love her.

hancock - grifter. (like there was any doubt, really.)

you get the point! anyway, so the straw hats do it because luffy is luffy and wants to help people and thinks laws are mostly bullshit so they rob the fuck out of rich people and ruin their lives a little bit and help out the people who got screwed over by them.

at some point, there is an alliance a team-up with the heart pirates because law’s exasperation at luffy’s ability to fuck up his plans remains one of the best things

aaaand i think that’s it for now. obviously, it’s not a perfect au but i’m working on it, so.

#my nonsense #anyway i'm gonna be honest i wanted to kind of do this and rewatched the show for better ideas on it #and then i hit two live crew and went 'okay now i have to write it' so.#anyway don't mind me

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scmg11 · 3 years ago

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hi!! love your writing, been following u on wattpad for a while! can u please write a florence x reader fic where reader is a singer and just released a love song and when asked in an interview if reader was in a relationship she was just like “lol no i wrote this about my celebrity crush” (florence) and then it blows up and florence finds out? idk what else you can take it from here hehe thanks :)

Florence Pugh x Reader

Mystery girl

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope I succeeded in satisfying what you asked! My requests are open so ask away! Don’t forget to tell me what you guys think about this story! Feedback is always nice! 🤓

Warnings: none, just pure fluff.

Word count: 4356 words.

Y/N was on her way to The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon’s theater to perform her new song and for her interview with Jimmy, smiling up while shaking her head when she heard the familiar melody on the radio. Her brand new love song became an hit in almost a week, gaining millions of streams in less than 24 hours. It’s been three weeks since the singer published the song and everyone on Instagram, Twitter and so on was trying to figure out who the brunette wrote the song to. Everyone knew the brown eyed girl was single, she told them on an Instagram live when a fan account asked if she was in a relationship with someone. So the world was curious to know who the current best love song in the industry was about.

The car stopped in front of the theater and the driver let Y/N out, who stopped in front of the awaiting fans, took a couple photos with them and signed a few photos they had with them. She loved her fans dearly, they were the reason she was there after all, so the girl did everything she could to make them feel important. Once inside, the singer was escorted in the changing room to get her ready for makeup and to her dress up. A crew guy told her her performance was scheduled in about 40 minutes so she warmed her voice while her team got her ready.

35 minutes later the brunette came out of the changing room, sporting a fancy suit with really high heels, her hair down in perfect waves and makeup highlighting her brown eyes, just in time for a crew member to put her earbuds in before she got called on stage to perform her song.

During the commercial break she got rid of the earbuds and her makeup artist touched up her lips gloss. She waited patiently her signal to walk out of the back stage, hearing Jimmy present her and then she walked through the red curtain with a big toothy smile on her face and waved at the eager audience standing up and clapping and screaming her name.

"Y/N Y/L/N EVERYBODY! Come sit! How are you?"

"I’m good! I was a bit anxious for my performance to be honest! But it went well, so I’m okay now."

"It went well? It was AMAZING, am I right?" Jimmy asked the crowd and they erupted in a mess of enthusiastic screams and fervent whistles that put a grateful smile on the girl’s face, thanking the people warmly. "See? So your new single, it’s a bop! Everyone loves it!"

"I have to admit I thought it would flop." Y/N told Jimmy earnestly with a grimace on her face and Jimmy fixed her with an incredulous look.

"What? Really?"

"Well yeah, I thought ‘no one is gonna like me gushing about my crush’, but here we are."

"The most streamed song in three weeks, Rolling Stone defined it one of the best love songs of all time and it already went two-times platinum! Only in three weeks!"

"Wait no, only one platinum, my agent told me the news last week, and I still can’t believe it!" Y/N clarified confused at Jimmy’s slip up, but when Jimmy didn’t say anything else and just smiled at her with his signature smile, Y/N gasped loudly and covered her mouth, her eyes watering when a man with her song’s cover framed with a sign reading her song went two-times platinum walked up to her and gave it to her, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

"Surprise!" Jimmy told her enthusiastically meanwhile the audience erupted in loud claps and whistles, congratulating her, spreading a warmth throughout the singer’s body.

"This is amazing, oh my god!" She used her pointer finger to wipe away a tear that escaped her left eye, "oh no! I promised to myself not to cry in television!" She quipped causing a laugh to bounce around the room.

"Not bad for thinking it would flop eh?" Jimmy teased her good-naturedly.

"Not bad at all." The singer replied incredulously, still staring at the gift, "I still can’t believe it!"

"We can’t believe you wrote the lyrics and the music all by yourself!"

"Yep! I… I was thinking about this song for a while and at one point I told myself to just let it all out, set my mind free and that’s what came out." She pointed to her song’s cover and smiled brightly.

"Let’s not forget about your perfect voice!" The audience cheered at that and Y/N faintly blushed at the warmth her fans were conveying.

"Thanks!"

"On a serious note tho, you said you didn’t think about people liking your song…" He trailed off tentatively.

"I did." Y/N answered with a nod.

"And you also said that the song is practically you gushing about your crush."

Y/N groaned covering her face embarrassed and leaning her head back on the couch, hearing Jimmy and the crowd laugh at her reaction, "I did!" She mumbled in her hands, pulling them away when she felt her face was blush free.

"So I have one more question for you… is it true that you wrote a love song about someone?"

"Yes… I mean aren’t the majority of the songs in the music industry about someone?" She tried to deflect the subject, already feeling her face getting warm all over again.

"So who is it about?"

"That wasn’t your question!" She smiled at him and attempted at cracking a joke to distract Jimmy from his probing, effectively making him laugh but he wasn’t relenting.

"Oh c’mon! Tell us!"

"I can’t! She’s probably watching our interview!"

"Oh yeah? Interesting!” Jimmy hummed while rubbing his chin conspiratorially with a small grin and Y/N groaned softly causing the host and the audience to laugh again, “just give us some hints! We want to know the lucky girl who has the privilege to have one of the best love songs talking about her!"

"That’s what I’m trying to avoid honestly." Y/N grimaced awkwardly, scratching the back of her head.

"Why?! You’re a real catch! Anyone would give everything they have to be that girl!" A ton of yelled yes and approving screams came from the crowd, Jimmy pointing at them with a wide smile to prove his point. "Is she someone I had on the show?"

Y/N contemplated her answer, not wanting to say too much about her big fat crush on Florence Pugh, fearing she would read about it and she would hate her. But a couple of innocent hints wouldn’t hurt right? "Yes, once."

"Mh, so I’m assuming you’re friends with her?"

Y/N let out a strained laugh, "I wish! I met her only once! I already considered her my celebrity crush before, but once I met her it became a real big crush!"

"Oh that’s a twist! If you don’t want to tell us who is it, then tell us a little bit about her. What does she look like? Is she in the music industry too? Is she younger or older than you?"

"I’m just sticking to the basics, I don’t want her to find out and hate me for writing a song about her." The crowd let out a loud ‘ow’, "anyway, we’re the same age, she sings but it’s not a singer, and the only thing about I’m gonna say on her looks is that she changed her hair color a few times but now she is blonde and that she has the most mesmerizing green eyes I’ve ever had the privilege to stare into abs the cutest accent." While she talked Y/N had a dreamy look in her eyes and a dumb smile on her lips and Jimmy and the audience stared at her in awe.

"Damn, she’s whipped! Mystery girl, if you’re watching this interview let me tell you, you’re so lucky, she’s a real catch!" Y/N blushed at his words and smiled down at her hands in her lap, playing around with her rings, then Jimmy focused on the next question.

The next day Y/N woke up to her phone buzzing frenetically on her nightstand, groaning at the annoying sound her device was emitting, before deciding to see who was interrupting her sleep. She squinted at the brightness of her display, letting her eyes adjust to the light before focusing on the thousands notifications from Twitter and Instagram. It seemed like her fans watched her interview on Jimmy Fallon and were trying to guess who her celebrity crush was. She chuckled and shook her head at her phone. Damn they’re wild!

She scrolled a bit on Instagram, the majority of the posts were clips of her talking about Florence and her fans guessing who the mystery girl is.

She opened Twitter and gasped, "holy shit! I’m trending!" She snickered while scrolling through her fans’ tweets making their guesses, when breath left her lungs completely at the tweet her eyes laid on, "fuck."

@florencepughswife: guys, it may be Florence! Think about it, everything she said screams Florence! @Florence_Pugh @Y/N.Y/L/N.

The tweet was 20 minutes ago and it already had 20k likes and 10k replies. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit. She hastily locked her phone and threw the device on her bed like it burned her hands, collapsing on the mattress with a soft thud and groaning in her hands covering her face. If Florence finds out and hates me, I’m going to change my name and escape to Europe.

The day went by pretty quickly, she went in the studio to record a couple of songs for her upcoming album, satisfied with how it was going.

She collapsed on her couch with a contented hum and slid her phone from her back pocket, wanting to control her emails and notifications. She stayed holed up in the studio for hours, forgetting the world outside, so she neglected her phone and forgot all about the ‘guessing who the mystery girl is’ on Twitter, but the reality came crushing down on Y/N when she saw she had thousands of new notification, one of them standing out amongst the others, leaving out of breath and with her heart beating fast in her chest.

@Florence_Pugh: I had my phone buzzing with notifications all day. @Y/N.Y/L/N your fans are saying that I’m the mystery girl you wrote your song about. If it’s true I’m flattered. Hmu for a private show xx.

Y/N stared at her phone bewildered, blinking up at the device but not moving a muscle, afraid that if she moved she would wake up from this dream. Then her phone ringed with an incoming call, making her jump in fear and swear under her breath, then answering the call with a quiet voice, "hello?"

"Y/N!!!! HAVE YOU CHECKED TWITTER?! IT’S BLOWING UP SINCE SHE TWEETED YOU!!!!"

"Shhhh! Mila you just bursted my eardrum!"

"Sorry!" The latina grimaced in regret, "but still!!!! She tweeted you!"

"I was just reading about it. So it wasn’t a dream?"

"It’s all real dumbass! It’s your moment! You have to reply to her!"

"Are you out of your mind?!?! No!" Y/N widened her eyes in fear, "I’m not going to tell the world I wrote that song for her and I’m not going to come clean to her!"

"Why not?! I mean I understand you don’t want to expose yourself to the world, but I think you should tell her. She may like you back."

Y/N snorted at that, "oh yeah, sure."

"I’m not joking. Besides… She asked you for a private show…" Camila trailed off with a mischievous tone, wiggling her eyebrows and even if the brunette couldn’t see her she could picture her doing just that.

"Don’t even start Mila."

"C’mon you’ve been pining for her for a year now! And now you have the opportunity to take her on a date!"

"Who said anything about a date?" Y/N asked making it look like she was still opposing to Camila’s idea, when in fact she was already relenting.

"I did, just now. Reply to her, for me." Y/N could see Camila jut her lip out in her infamous pout at her and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Fine!"

"Yess! I want to be your bridesmaid at your wedding!"

"Camila, you’re traveling with your imagination a little bit too far."

"You’ll see and you’ll thank me.” Camila stated confidently, making her friend laugh, “I want to know what she replies to you."

"Okay, bye Mila."

"Bye dummy."

Y/N sighed and opened Twitter, "okay, let’s do this." She clicked on the screen to reply to Florence’s tweet.

@Y/N.Y/L/N: @Florence_Pugh I’m sorry for the amount of notifications! I like being mysterious so I’m not going to anything else, but I’m totally okay for that private show 😉.

Y/N pressed the ‘tweet’ button before she could think about it too much, letting a breath she didn’t know she was holding when the tweet was published.

The tweet was liked, retweeted and replied to by thousands of people in mere seconds and she smirked at her fans freaking out at her replying to Florence.

Her smile dropped when she got a new notification, "holy shit!" She sat up from the bed and started pacing back and forth.

Florence DMed me! Y/N slapped herself to let out of her daze when she stopped her pacing to stare at the opened chat. You dumbass! Do not leave her on read, answer her!

Florence Pugh: Hey cryptic songwriter 😜

Y/N Y/L/N: Hi 🙃

Florence Pugh: Now it’s only the two of us, tell me who is the mystery girl you wrote the song about 😉

Y/N Y/L/N: Straight to the point I see!

Florence Pugh: Well you’ve piqued my curiosity, I want to know if I’m the mystery girl!

Y/N bit her lower lip and contemplated on telling her. I mean, I can tell her. What do I have to lose? If she hates me, we will never talk again and we will go on with our lives forgetting about it. But if she likes me too… no I will not go there and get my hopes up.

"Fuck it, I’m telling her." Y/N said out loud resolutely and started typing a new text.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll consider telling you who the mystery girl is after my private show that you so eagerly requested 🤓

Florence Pugh: Really?!?!

Y/N Y/L/N: Yes. If you want to, we can arrange something here in my house. I have a music studio where I can perform my song to you.

Florence Pugh: Like right now?!?!

Y/N Y/L/N: Eager are we?

Florence Pugh: Stop mocking me and answer me Y/L/N!

Y/N smirked and snickered while shaking her head amused, her butterflies going crazy in her stomach and her brain freaking out about the fact that she was texting with her crush.

Y/N Y/L/N: You’re so bossy!

Florence Pugh: I am not!!!

Y/N Y/L/N: You are!!! But I swear I’m not mocking you! Anyway, I just got home from the studio, you can come over whenever you want. Here’s my address, *insert address* 🤓

Florence Pugh: I’ll be there in 20 mins!

Y/N decided to not reply at the text and nodded at the phone, smiling brightly while rereading their convo for a few seconds before reality came crushing down on her. FLORENCE IS COMING HERE! Oh fuck!

Y/N put her nose under her armpit and smelled it, grimacing and running into the bathroom to take a quick shower, discarding clothes on her way to her ensuite. She came out of it 10 minutes later, running into her walk-in closet to choose what to wear. She opted for a pair of black jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a plaid shirt, her hair down in soft waves and wearing light makeup.

She tied her place up a bit and just when she threw her last underwear discarded on the floor in the laundry basket, she heard the doorbell ring, the sound echoing around the silent house.

She turned her head around to fix the door for a few seconds with her heartbeat pounding hard in her ribcage and echoing in her ears. Calm down, act cool and don’t make a fool out of yourself.

She gave herself a pep talk before walking towards the door and opening it, wanting to faint in front of the stunning beauty that was Florence Pugh. She was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a yellow hoodie, her blonde hair down in perfect curled waves and light makeup. She had a smile that reached her mesmerizing green eyes that Y/N couldn’t help but mirror, "hi Y/N." Her deep voice caused chills to run down Y/N’s spine and she suppressed the shiver that was dangerously ready to come out and spread throughout her body, not wanting to act like a puppy in love. But you are.

"Hi Florence, come in." She stepped aside to let the girl walk in and closed the door, locking it. Y/N swallowed thickly before speaking up once again, "c’mon, my studio is upstairs."

She let Florence sit on the comfy couch in her music studio and started singing. During her performance she didn’t know where else fixing her eyes onto, so she opted on being a little courageous and stared directly into Florence’s eyes, who never let her eyes leave Y/N’s ones and listened intently with a small smile on her lips, tapping her index finger on her thigh to the beat of the song.

When she finished, she turned the speakers off and sat on the chair close to the mixing console.

“You sing really, really good. And your song is beautiful, it became one of my favorites.”

Y/N smiled shyly and thanked her. Y/N wanted to tell Florence so many things but she stayed quiet, not really knowing where to start, so silence engulfed them, but it wasn’t awkward.

“So, you wanna tell me who the mystery girl is now?”

“Mh…” Y/N pretended to think about it, before throwing a smug smirk at the blonde, “nope.”

The actress dropped her mouth open in disbelief, “what?! You promised you would have told me after your private show!”

“I never promised anything and in my text I said that I would have considered it.” Florence jutted her bottom lip out in her distinctive pout and Y/N just right about melted while freaking out at the cute sight she had in front of her.

“Please.” Florence pleaded with a baby voice and Y/N was sure her body combusted and re-assembled together at the same time.

“Fine.”

That pout was quickly replaced by Florence Pugh’s million dollars smile and the actress waited patiently for the girl to tell her, hope settling at the base of her stomach. When Y/N just wrung her fingers without speaking up, Florence told her softly, “tell me, just rip it out.” This painful anticipation and the nervous state the brunette was in was giving her so much hope that the actress wanted to walk up to her and kiss her before she could tell her the truth.

“How about I show you?” Florence stared confused at the singer who got up and opened a drawer and pulled out a what the blonde deemed her songs journal, watched her taking a deep breath and walking towards her, then stretching her arm with the hand holding the journal out to her.

“What is this?”

“This is were I write down ideas for potential songs, some lyrics and what I want the song to be about or the melody I imagined in my mind. Go to the last 10 pages and they will satisfy your curiosity.”

With eagerness Florence opened the journal while she felt the girl sit beside her on the couch, their knees touching. With bated breath she flipped through the journal and skimmed her eyes through Y/N’s notes. In the first pages there was a list of her looks, eyes, hair, her dimples and so on, then her personality traits, some of the lyrics that made in the song, some that were new to her and her name scribbled everywhere in the pages with hearts draw beside it. She looked up from the pages and met the brunette’s anxious brown orbs, with their proximity she noticed she had some amber threads in them, making her glued to them.

“So…” Y/N let Florence out of her daze, the blonde’s eyes flicking to her lips briefly before refocusing on those mesmerizing brown hues. Did she just looked at my lips?

“So, I’m the mystery girl. I’m your crush you gushed about in your love song.” Florence spoke out, her voice lower than usual, wrapping her head around this new information while her stomach did somersaults at the implications of this news.

“Oh, you watched my interview.” Y/N looked down shyly, a hand on her chin tore her eyes from her hands playing on her lap and made her meet the actress deep green hues, full of determination.

“I pretty much watch, read and listen to everything you do.” Florence told Y/N earnestly and the singer felt her cheeks warm up at the words.

“Oh, so are you a fan?” Y/N quipped with a soft laugh, that died down in her throat when Florence leaned in just an inch, their faces just a breath apart.

“More like someone who has a crush on you.” Y/N gasped loud enough to be heard from Florence due to their proximity, who chuckled deeply at the reaction. “You don’t even know how over the moon I was when I watched your interview and received a bunch of notifications with your fans and my fans saying it was probably me you were talking about. It was like I was dreaming.”

“I felt the same when you mentioned me in your tweet. I couldn’t believe you didn’t hate at the thought of me writing a song about you. I was ready to change my name and fly out in Europe.”

“Well I don’t hate you, so you don’t need to do that.” Florence chuckled alongside Y/N, their noses touching just a second with the movements their head made while laughing, both hearing the other’s intake of breath at the sensations the touch triggered in their bodies, butterflies flying around their stomaches, shivers running down their spines, skin tingling with anticipation.

“We’re very close.”

“Great use of words darling!” Florence laughed hard and Y/N snorted at her poor use of words and delighting at the wonderful sound coming out of the blonde’s lips. “You seem just fine writing one of the best love songs in the music industry, but now it seems you don’t know how to talk anymore.”

“Well excuse me smarty pants but you being so close to me it’s making me feel my brain mushy and I pretty much think I forgot every word I know. I’m surprised I’m not essentially just mumbling a bunch of incomprensibile words.” Y/N told Florence seriously but the blonde chuckled at the singer freaking out in front of her.

“Just because I act so cool it doesn’t mean I’m not panicking inside my head.”

“Damn you and your acting skills.” Y/N quipped with an angry face, her eyebrows furrowed together and her nose scrunched up and Florence couldn’t resist herself, she kissed the tip of the singer’s nose, the brunette face falling instantly. “I-I-“

“Relax, darling. Breathe.”

“You can’t do that Pugh!”

“Why not?” Florence asked amused at the singer, repeating the gesture and hearing the girl gasp at the contact.

“Because my brain is short-circuiting!”

“So is mine, but I’m trying to act cool.”

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned and leaned their foreheads together.

“So are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait longer?” Florence asked boldly, covering up her blush with nuzzling their noses together to distract the singer.

Y/N perked up at that and smirked mischievously, “well miss Pugh, here’s the deal. I’ll kiss you, if you accept to go out with me on a date, like right now.”

Florence mirrored Y/N’s sly smirk and sneaked her hand on the singer’s nape, massaging her hair softly, hearing the singer humming in satisfaction, “I’ll say yes only if you kiss me.”

Y/N gasped at the brave request but she would punch herself if she denied her crush, especially after what she asked her to do, so with the last sliver of courage, she leaned in and kissed Florence, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss, mouths moving slowly and softly, savoring the other’s taste, both humming happily into the kiss.

They separated a while later to take a needed breath before diving in in a more passionate kiss, changing angle to let their lips touch more deeply, Y/N’s tongue tracing Florence’s lips to ask her to deepen the kiss, the blonde granting it immediately, both moaning softly into the other’s mouths when their tongues met halfway and sliding over each other in a passionate kiss and setting electric sparks throughout their bodies. Florence’s hand in Y/N’s hair gripped her scalp harder to pull the brunette impossibly closer, the other one caressing her cheeks gently - a stark contrast to what was happening in their mouths - while Y/N’s left hand caressed the blonde’s back up and down, the right one stoking slowly the back of her neck, feeling goosebumps appear at the touch and smiling at the feeling, their stomaches full of crazy butterflies flying around and their brains focusing only on the sensations the kiss was triggering within them.

They separated after what felt an eternity to catch their breaths, smiling shyly at the other, noticing their cheeks were flushing red due to the intensity of their kisses. “So it’s a yes? Are we going out on a date?”

“Yes, but it can wait a little bit longer.” Florence plainly said in a low and aroused voice before using her hand that was still in Y/N’s hair to pull her in and kiss her deeply again, Y/N not objecting Florence and meeting the actress halfway to interlock their lips once more.

430 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it��s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Just wanted to say 2 things:

1)Love the fic where he proposed over a cup of tea…so sweet💗

2) we all know how H has asthma sometimes so…could u write something w/the reader helping him with an attack idk or during an interview/concert/family gathering do as u pls

A nice day

XOXO

firstly, thank you so much that’s so sweet of you <33 and secondly, um yes i would love to give this a go at writing for you! hope you enjoy;

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, completely terrified of the uncontrollable situation. He was having an asthma attack concocted with a panic attack and it was brutal.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered as he watched Harry breathe heavily and loudly on the floor. His friend was currently on his hands and knees trying to gasp for air, whilst dressed in his notorious Fine Line outfit.

It was the big night. The one night only at The Forum for the release of his new album Fine Line, hence the costume. He had been nervous all day, with shaking hands and a tendency to forget simple things. You had been with him all day; having a slow brunch together out in the Hollywood Hills and then just chilling around for the afternoon. You didn’t want to anything to strain his voice, so talking hadn’t been an option. That left you either to sleeping and cuddling, whilst watching a movie, or sex. Now you were all for sex, but Harry complained that he liked talking to you during it and so that got shut down pretty quickly. You didn’t forget what he whispered to your ear though just before you cuddled into watching Bambi;

“Keep your moans for later, you’ll be fucking needing them for what I have planned.”

But that was over two hours ago now. Harry had been whisked away to start getting ready, what with hair and makeup first. You’d left him to it, telling him you would just lounge around and wait for him. It was when he was getting into costume had you announced you were just going to go down the street to get some coffee from Dunkin’ - seeing as there were few of them back in England, where you most commonly lived with Harry. The problem was you hadn’t come back yet, and it was an hour later.

“Harry mate, you need to calm down.” Kid Harpoon told him carefully, kneeling down next to his good friend. Nothing was working though and Harry was too breathless to ask anyone for his inhaler.

It had started by thinking about how nervous he actually was for tonight. It was such a huge show and one of a kind too. He was playing his new album and it wasn’t even 24 hours old yet. There was so much pressure weighing him down that he couldn’t breathe - he was suffocating in the anxiety of his own mind and he couldn’t escape at all. Then because he was in so much of a panic his asthma hit him and added another reason to his breathlessness. It was finally made worst when he realised you weren’t by his side to help him. You weren’t there to quickly eliminate the asthma and focus on helping him overcome the panic attack, instead he had his mates surrounding him - crowding him - and they didn’t know the first thing to do.

“Sarah, where’s Y/N?” Mitch shouted, making Harry squint the thought away. He didn’t want to think about how something back might’ve happened or might be happening to you. Where were you? Sarah’s response did no better to help him.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry bud. Talk to us.” Jeff spoke, crouched down in front of him. Harry shook his head, tears running from his eyes as he began crying. The sobs were really harsh and embarrassing. The tears were heavy and mixed with snot running from his nose to pool on the floor below him. He was not doing well at all, coughing when the asthma choked him up. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was in a small box and it was only getting smaller. He felt as if he were going to die. Genuinely.

“Does he look like he can talk, dickward.” Adam’s voice came from the other side of Harry, messing his head up even more. There was so many voices and he couldn’t focus on just one, but he didn’t want to. He wanted yours. He needed yours. You.

Whenever this has happened before he was always luckily in the comfort of his home, or the tour bus and always with you. So this was unfamiliar and terrifying. He was beginning to think you’d left him or you’d gotten seriously hurt, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was stuck - paralysed to this position as his lungs collapsed in on themselves and his brain sped the same speed as a train. You were his comfort person and it was only ever you that he wanted in situations like these. Just you.

“Move out of my way. Move!” Harry thought he heard you and your voice, but he hated that his mind could be playing tricks on him in desperation for what, or whom, he truly wanted.

He felt someone crash on the floor in front of him and the almighty smell of lavender and soap hit him all at once. This time, he was glad to have someone sit so close to him, because it was you.

“Harry look at me, hey, hey. You’re okay. Look at me bubs.” You spoke calmly, trying not to sound panicked yourself, even if you were heavily worried. You watched as he looked up at you, eyes ridiculously red and puffy whilst his nose was dripping like a leaking tap. You wanted to rub his tears away and dab away the snot, but your main priority was on his breathing first. “Okay good, okay.”

Your hand went into your bag and picked out his inhaler. You shook it a few times, before putting it into Harry’s mouth. “On three, one, two, three…” Harry tried is best to breathe in and you pushed down on the canister. “Good, bubs, really good. Okay again, one, two, three…” You repeated and then a third time until you could tell that the wheezing of his asthma attack had disappeared.

“T-than…” Harry tried to mumble out, but couldnt because he was still in panic and his throat was so dry.

“Sshh you’re okay.” You turned to one of the crew members and asked for them to fetch you a bottle of water. You asked people to clear out of the room and leave you with Harry for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t settle in front of all these people. You sat on the floor, crossed legged, and brought Harry to lay his head in your lap with his body trailing behind. You offered him one of your hands to squeeze if he wanted to, which he appreciated, cupping both of his around yours. Your other hand laid to stroke through his gelled hair - that would no doubt have to be redone now.

Instead of going straight into talking to him, you sang his favourite lullaby to him in aid of calming him down. It always worked, or at least helped a little. You sang quietly, noticing the beat of his heart soften with every line you sung. You were by no means a professional singer like him, but he liked the way it was so imperfect and mellow. It calmed him to hear something so simple and so you. Whilst you sang the crew never came back with your requested water and you thanked them, before you were the only ones left in the room.

After you finished singing you noticed how calm Harry was, almost still - the complete opposite to how he’d been all of 10 minutes ago. It was amazing what the power of you could do to him.

“What colour are we feeling?” You and Harry had created your own little system by which you would let each other know how you’re feeling by a colour of the rainbow. You’d designated a meaning to all of them that only you two could understand and used them on the days when you weren’t feeling great, to help understand each other’s feelings better.

“The whole bloody rainbow.” Harry mumbled out and you passed the water around so he could take a few sips, to which he thanked you graciously for.

“Oi, you can’t have that as your answer.” It was a rule that you could only use one colour to some your most intense emotion in that moment, otherwise there was kind of no point to the system.

“But it’s true. I feel grey with confusion, blue with sadness, purple with frustration, yellow with fear and even light yellow with cowardice. Yet I feel pink with happiness and light red with love.”

“What about red red?” You teased, not being able to help yourself.

“What? Lust? Always, for you that is.” You leant down to kiss his head as he cracked a joke, showing you that your Harry was still there beneath all this worry.

“Tell me what the colours represent in real life.”

“Purple because I am frustrated that I had to have a panic attack right before the biggest show of my career. Yellow because I am frightened that nobody will like the album and it will be a complete fail of a night. Grey because I can’t choose one colour and focus on it. I.. I—”

You could tell he getting himself worked up again, so cut him short. “Bubs stop, you’re okay. Listen to me.” You tucked his hair behind his ear as if to open it up for him to hear better. “Don’t ever be frustrated with yourself for something like this. You are allowed to have moments of weakness; you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. Did this compromise your show? No. Did this show off how strong and brave you are? Yes. That’s what is important, therefore we can swap purple for dark yellow because you were brave. Which means yellow can also turn to dark yellow because you are so brave for doing something so huge and so wonderful. People already love the album H. Can’t get enough of it. Everyone will sing along to every word, I can promise you that. Or at least I will. You are amazing, so never undersell yourself. That’s important to me and for you. Bubs, you are so amazing for what you’re doing here tonight and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Yes, a panic attack isn’t nice and it isn’t convenient, but it just helps show how much you care about tonight and it going a success. That must count for something.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and that was okay. He was most likely getting his thoughts together and mentally preparing himself for the greatest night of his life. You bent your body over so you could hug him, since his back was to your front, and just give him a squeeze to reiterate how proud you are of him.

“Y/N.” Harry spoke quietly, as your body encased his. You embraced his warmth and inhaled the beautiful scent that he was wearing. He both smelt and looked phenomenal.

“Yes bubs.”

“You know I love you right?” Of course you did, but it still made your heart flutter as crazy as the first time he said it to when he tells you now.

“I do.”

“And you know you’re it for me right?”

“Well.. I—” You didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

“Because you are.” Harry turned himself around, making you sit up so he could move. He was lying with his head facing upwards now, face looking less red and puffy, and staring right into the souls of your eyes. He looked magical. Beautiful. He thought the same of you. “And,” he moved his fingers to take off his S ring from Gucci, that probably cost more than your annual salary, and place it onto your ring finger of your right hand, “I give you this as a promise to share my last name with you someday.”

Seeing the initial of his last name sat on the finger opposite to the one he claimed he would one day put two more rings on, brought you to tears. “Harry…” You didn’t know what to say, you were speechless. You had never expected for him to do something as monumental as this and had never experienced it before to know how to react.

Of course you’d always dreamt of marrying him and being his for eternity, but never thought of it possibly becoming your reality. Now, Harry was completely devoting himself to you and only you and it suddenly all felt like the dream was settling in place.

“I swear to you Y/N, i’ll love you until the next lifetime and i’ll find you again. I love you so much, I can’t even tell you how much because it is so infinite. You’re so kind and patient with me and you see me for me, not for the Harry Styles, just Harry. I’ll never let a day pass without you on my mind and I think it’s because you were always meant to be mine. My heart is yours.” He smiled once he noticed you were crying, moving one of his hands up to wipe the tears away.

“How do I top that?” You whispered to him, but mostly to yourself. Both of you laughed.

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I do. I do love you Harry.” You nodded and then he sealed your confirmation with a kiss to his lips. You rested your hand upon his cheek, placing the coolness of the S ring upon his cheekbone, as he placed his hand under your chin to guide you into the kiss. He tasted divine and you smiled knowing that you got to have him like this, taste him like this, for the rest of your beating hearts’ days.

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

Text

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years ago

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 14) - Keep Close

Summary: The Ackles have the Padalecki’s over for dinner and let it slip that they’re engaged. Things seem to be going well but the anniversary of the accident is coming up and the reader comes up with the Ackles taking their first vacation together as a means of distracting Jensen as well reconnecting with Ray...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of sex, mention of a dead parent/spouse, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I’m stuffed,” said Jensen that night, the kids running around playing soccer in the yard after dinner.

“I need that chicken recipe,” said Jared.

“I’ll write it down for you guys,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “You can do it with breast too if you like that better.”

“I want exactly this like, everyday from now on,” said Jared. Gen rolled her eyes and Jensen pulled out his phone. “Want me to take a pic?”

“I don’t need your freakishly long arms just yet,” chuckled Jensen. He turned around and took one of the four of you at the table before handing off his phone. “Mind getting one of us?”

“Your mom harassing you for engagement photos already?” asked Gen.

“By the time we were leaving they were both asking for photos and being obnoxious. Better than they were though,” said Jensen, smiling beside you. Jared took a few more and handed the phone back.

“I still can’t believe your parents would act like that,” said Gen. “I mean obviously I’m super happy it got fixed but that’s so unlike them.”

“They made a mistake is all,” you said with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to finish this beer in the pool.”

“I think I’ll join you,” said Jared. He stood up and had a look on his face you caught too late. Before you knew it he had you picked up and was jogging over to the deep end and jumping in with you.

“Jared!” you said when you popped up. He giggled and swam off to the shallow end. “After I helped pick up the plates ya big lug.”

“We got it,” said Jensen, carrying over two beer cans and handing them to you. “We’ll join you guys in a few.”

About ten minutes later Jensen was leaning against the side of the pool in his bright red swim trunks, handing you the other half of his cookie cake piece.

“So any big plans for the wedding?” asked Jared, sat on the pool steps with Gen.

“I have a thought,” you said, turning to Jensen. “I haven’t discussed it with Jensen yet.”

“Vegas. Shotgun wedding,” he laughed. You shook your head and he grinned. “You’re thinking the farm, aren’t you.”

“What do you think? It could be outdoor or indoor, whatever it needs to be depending on the weather.”

“I’d love that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “That’d be perfect for us.”

“You own a farm?” asked Jared.

“Yeah, ten minutes from the brewery.”

“Dudes. You can open bar with your own beer. Oh and dibs on being a groomsmen.”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen,” said Jensen.

“I don’t know on that,” you said. Jared’s face fell and you shook your head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be one. Of course you would. I just don’t have a lot of close girlfriends. I think it’d be weird if Jensen had a ton and…”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” said Gen. “We didn’t have an even number at our wedding.”

“We got time to figure that stuff out,” said Jensen, holding your waist. You finished the last bite of cookie and hummed.

“So you two having a kid?” asked Jared. Gen whacked his chest and he shrugged.

“Jesus, Jare. Don’t ask that.”

“They’re our best friends and godparents to our children...although I guess Y/N didn’t know that she inherited that until now but come on, I know you’re wondering too.”

“Shut up,” said Gen, crossing her arms. “Obviously if they decide, they’ll tell us when it happens.”

“Yeah, I think there’ll be at least one,” you laughed. Gen lit up and turned to Jared.

“Last time they said they were having a baby guess what we did? I can’t handle no more babies,” said Jared.

“Can you even get that thing up anymore?” teased Jensen, sipping on his beer.

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

“That shit still works just fine.”

“Just fine?” shot back Jared.

“Oh my God. You’re both good at sex. Y/N be grateful you’ve missed this same conversation over and over for the past sixteen odd years,” said Gen.

“I’m still taller,” said Jared with a smirk.

“I can last longer,” said Jensen with one of his own. They narrowed their eyes at one another and Jared stood up.

“Go wrestle on the grass,” groaned Gen. They both huffed and got out of the pool before starting to playfully wrestle. “See, what you may not realize yet is you have another child right there.”

“Yeah but he’s hot,” you said, Gen laughing while you sat beside her. “Do you guys really talk about sex with each other?”

“Yes and no. The boys are you know, boys. They’d combust if they didn’t tease each other. I wouldn’t say there’s like, intimate details or anything ever shared. They’re both pretty private about that sort of thing. Dee and I would talk but more so say we had fun the night before. Shit we probably talked about sex toys more than anything.”

You stopped mid sip of your beer and she laughed.

“When your guy is thousands of miles away for that long out of the year, you gotta get off on your own. You get pretty good at phone sex too. You’re lucky. Jensen won’t be staying away so long ever again he said.”

“No, no. But uh...before Jensen I’d had the same boyfriend forever and he was as vanilla as could be. We didn’t do that stuff really together.”

“I can text you some links to stuff. It’s not like you have to go in some scary store or anything. It’s discrete and I think a small vibe would be great to start with. You can use it during sex or foreplay or whatever. Just you know, have fun.”

“Jensen and I kinda got busted by the cops a week or so back for...activities in the backseat,” you said. She started to laugh and you groaned. “Thankfully it was his friend that caught us so he let us off the hook but...it was kinda fun.”

“Good,” she said, sighing as Jensen pinned Jared down. “Hey so yeah about that wedding thing. Jared had two more groomsmen than I had girls. It doesn’t have to be matchy, matchy, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know if…” you trailed off. “I lost my friend group when I broke it off with my last boyfriend. We’d been together for over ten years and I kept turning down his proposals and they didn’t like that. I have some nanny friends but not a lot and no one I’m really close to. I don’t know if I’d even get more than five people to come for me. Everyone else is his family and friends and I didn’t think about that until just now. I mean what would they think, seeing that? I don’t know if I even want anyone there now.”

“I think what they’d see is someone they care about marrying someone he loves. Just because we’re Jensen’s friends doesn’t mean we’re not your friends too. I know we’re still getting to know each other but we’ll be as close as those two eventually. Ruthie was texting me and we’re having a girls night the next convention in Dallas. You literally have a built in crew ready to go from the show, the girls and the guys. You are so coming with me to the next night I have with my local girlfriends and you got our family. You even got Dee’s parents. You have more than you know, sweetie.”

“I never had a best friend growing up except for my mom. Until Jensen,” you said. “I’ve never really been good at the friend thing.”

“Were you bullied in school?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone besides Jared but my dad wasn’t a good person. He hurt me and so I was afraid of getting in trouble so I didn’t talk to other kids all that much until I got old enough to understand what he was doing was wrong and that’s how I ended up being adopted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do anything about it now. But I can have it not control my life too. I’ve been pretty good since I was nine in that department. My mom dying sucked and things have been up and down but I like where I am now. This is easily the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Jens’s not perfect.”

“I know. But he’s good enough. He gave me a certain confidence to live my life, like really live it.”

“He’s alright,” she smiled. “You know I have an idea about this bridesmaids thing you might like.”

“You?”

“Oh I would for sure but I meant more so I know two little girls that wouldn’t mind. Maybe there’s a boy too,” she said.

“I’m gonna need you to be my wedding planner at this rate,” you said.

“Job accepted,” she said. “I say we go farmhouse modern style.”

“Gen. I got engaged like two weeks ago. We have time,” you said. “We don’t even have a date.”

“At the very least can we go dress shopping?” she asked.

“I’m going to regret this,” you sighed as Jensen stepped back in the water.

“Get yourself a stronger man, Padalecki. That one is weak,” he said. Jared followed him right after and went to tackle him when Gen caught his arm.

“Boys, not in the water,” she said.

“Chicken?” asked Jensen.

“Losers pick up the tab for when we go out this weekend for dinner. Deal?” asked Jared.

“Well in that case, you’re on.”

Two Weeks Later

“Jensen,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair while he absentmindedly burnt some eggs. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah. We ought to pack up the kids, get on the road soon if we’re gonna hit the beach.”

“I’m gonna drive, okay?” you asked. He nodded and you got out the eggs again, making up a new batch. “Do you want to talk to Ray?”

“Why?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the counter.

“Anniversaries of traumatic events can be triggering,” you said. “My mom died two days ago. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t trigger me anymore. But it did and this is the first time...the first one is the roughest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I ought to talk to him.”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll give him a call and get the kids ready while you guys talk, okay?” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. You kissed his cheek and hugged him before you went upstairs for your phone. It rang a few times but Ray finally answered, noise in the background.

“Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hey. Yeah. We’re...we’re pretty good. Today’s the first anniversary of Jensen’s-”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Listen, I know it’s a Sunday and you don’t work the weekends but would you mind talking to him for a few minutes? We’re going down to Galveston for the week in a bit but he’s off this morning.”

“I’d talk to him even if he wasn’t your fiance but especially because of that. You know we’re actually down here ourselves for a few days. Just got down yesterday. If you guys are around...maybe we could get together for that swim.”

“I’d like that. You okay?” you asked.

“I always get a little down on the day but Sarah understands. You understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put Jensen on and um, maybe we can meet at Arillo’s for dinner?”

“We got a reservation there ourselves tonight. How many in your crew? Five? I’ll call and ask for an update.”

“Yeah there’s five of us. Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible as a teenager after mom. You loved her as much as I did.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to apologize for that. You got too much pain in your life. I’m glad you found the good stuff too.”

“Are Geroge and Taylor there?” you asked.

“Yeah kids are here. Taylor’s got some internship but she does it online half the day and George is some research assistant thing for one of his professors but same kinda deal. We leave them to work in the morning while Sarah and I have some fun. Want me to let them know you’re coming?”

“Probably a good idea. Not sure how they’ll react,” you said, Jensen poking his head into the bedroom. “Here’s Jensen.”

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll see you guys soon.”

You handed the phone to Jensen and finished up packing while he sat on the bed. You tried to leave him be but couldn’t help listening in.

“Yeah I’m anxious...I don’t want her to drive down today...you know why...I guess...probably...I don’t want to be freaking out for three hours in the car...because it’s today...I know...I know...so I have to suck it up...I don’t want to have a panic attack in the car with the kids...no I haven’t...I’m scared I will though...yeah...I understand...dude that sounds so stupid...that’s not medically anything...no I don’t have my doctorate...I don’t wanna ask her...I said I don’t want to, not that I wouldn’t...I know...I will...maybe I’ll try that too...yeah, Y/N said the first year is the roughest too...I’ll let her be in charge until we get down to the beach today. I think I’ll feel better after the car...yeah I kinda figured out what she was doing planning a trip on today of all days...I need it...really? Yeah, I’m looking forward to meeting up down there too...thanks Ray.”

You finished with your suitcase and had his open for him when he walked into the closet. He swallowed and handed your phone back.

“All good?” you asked.

“Ray thought it might be a good idea if I had something of yours with me on the way down, to keep on me since I’m...anxious this morning about being in a car.”

“Something of mine…” you said, looking at your side of the closet. “Why don’t you pack up and I’ll get you something before the road, okay?”

He nodded and twenty minutes and about three bathroom trips later the SUV was packed up. You hopped behind the wheel, Jensen tapping the arm rest from the passenger seat.

“Here,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out a bracelet. It was fabric, the kind made from craft string, white, rusty orange and a light tan color mixed together.

“I’ve never seen this,” he said as he held it between his fingers.

“I got it on vacation with mom and Ray. Last one we went on,” you said, tying it around his wrist. “You have it.”

He stared at you as you turned the engine on, watching you backout.

“This is too important for me to take,” he said quietly.

“It’s fabric. I want you to have it, okay?” you said, pulling onto the street and closing the gate. He nodded and you turned the radio on low. “Coffee run?”

“Yeah. Coffee sounds good right about now.”

You were only about fifteen or so minutes away from the beach house you’d rented. The kids were either taking naps in the backseats or watching a movie on the ipad. You risked a glance at Jensen, his fingers absently toying with the bracelet while he looked out the window, the radio on low.

“How you doing big guy?” you asked as you pulled off to the exit ramp.

“Pretty good now,” he said softly.

“Mind navigating for me?” you asked. He hummed and picked up your phone from where it sat in the console the past few hours. About twenty minutes or so you were stretching outside of the car, Jensen opening the front door of the house with the code you’d been given. The kids climbed out and were good about each taking their own backpacks while you and Jensen gathered up the rest.

“Come here,” he said, leaving the bags by his feet and kissing you against the side of the car. You grinned and he picked you up in a big squeezing hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said. He set you down and kissed you again. “You seem like yourself again.”

“I needed that push, get over that fear. But now, I can enjoy my day with my girl and my kiddos and apparently we are having dinner with Ray and his family tonight?” he asked.

“If that’s alright,” you said.

“One hundred percent,” he said, Arrow jumping up and down nearby. “Honey, go use the bathroom in the house if you have to go.”

“No I’m excited!” she said. “Can we go play on the beach? Pretty please?”

“Hm, give daddy fifteen minutes and then we can go?” he asked. She turned to you and grinned.

“We’ll go really soon sweetie. I promise.”

“Hey guys,” said Jensen an hour later, the five of you down on the beach and mostly watching them build a sandcastle together. “Y/N and I want to tell you something.”

“Is it that you guys are getting married?” asked JJ, patting some sand with her shovel. You glanced at Jensen and he shrugged. “You were talking to Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared about it last night, right?”

“Well, yes we were,” said Jensen. “I suppose we were a little louder than we thought. But yes, Y/N and I have decided to get married. We’re not sure when exactly but in the next year I can say.”

“So we have a mom again?” asked Arrow, fixing her corner of the castle that kept caving in.

“Well you guys are kinda lucky. You’ll get two moms,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“We missed mom’s day,” she said with a sigh. “Right?”

“We’ll catch it next year, promise,” said Jensen. “Do you guys have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Do we call you mom now?” asked JJ.

“You guys call me whatever you want,” you said.

“Can we call you mom?” she asked. You nodded and she went back to playing in the sand.

“Anything else guys?” asked Jensen.

“Can I get a giraffe?” asked Zeppelin while he figured out how much water to add to the sand to get it to stick together.

“No sweetie. They wouldn’t fit at our house,” said Jensen.

“Darn it,” he said.

“I can tell you’re all so invested in this topic,” chuckled Jensen.

“Oh! Can my flower girl dress be purple?” asked JJ.

“Your dress can be whatever color you want it to be,” you said.

“Awesome,” she said. “Or black and purple. With lightning stripes.”

“Ah, I knew the classic rock would finally pay off,” said Jensen.

“Maybe Daddy’s suit can be black and white stripes, like a tiger,” you said.

“Like a White Snake music video more like it,” he laughed. “We’ll figure all that stuff out. We wanted to make sure you guys knew was all and if you have any questions or were nervous or anything you know you can ask either one of us.”

“Mom makes you happy again. Of course you gotta marry her!” said Arrow. “Oh and get her a pony. Girls like that.”

“Would you care for a pony, sweetheart?” asked Jensen as he shook his head.

“Are we talking mustang kind of pony?” you asked.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, kissing your cheek. “Let dad get a picture of you guys. We’re on vacation after all.”

Five Hours Later

“Jensen,” you said, changing into a light summer top and a pair of denim shorts after your shower. He was standing by his suitcase undressed, trailing his finger over his scar. “Honey?”

“A year ago was the worst day of my life and today was a really great one. I get to meet Ray more and even Sarah and the kids who all sound great and...I’m really happy I’m still here to see all this.”

“Me too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Wear your red underwear.”

“Is that a request?”

“I like how you look when you take it off,” you said, gently smacking his ass as you went to go fix your hair.

“I am so grateful I found you,” he said to himself. You smiled and brushed your teeth quickly before checking yourself over and taking a selfie. You sat up on the counter and opened instagram, still silently grateful you’d always had it on private. There was nothing bad on it but Jensen and Jared had tagged you before and all of the comments always seemed to be negative.

“How do I look?” asked Jensen, walking in wearing a short sleeve navy button down and his red underwear.

“So sexy,” you giggled, Jensen digging through his other bag and finding his khaki shorts.

“Can I get away with sneakers and a backwards baseball cap at this restaurant?” he asked.

“Totally. We always eat outside. It’s near the pier,” you said, putting up your post.

“Taking more pictures I can show off of you again?” he asked, grabbing your brush and getting some control of his damp hair back.

“Nobody even sees my instagram hardly,” you said.

“You know the internet knows we’re dating, right.”

“I’m pretty sure your fans still aren’t okay with that fact, even if they know.”

“Oh you’re mistaking the nutjobs for actual fans. The real ones, those guys are cool and nice. I actually got a lot of care packages and things from them last year. Still do. They really are good people. Those other ones that leave nasty comments? Fuck them. That shit don’t bother me anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying family and friends know. Can I show off the woman I love to the world?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in front of you, his head cocking.

“Yeah,” you said. “Better late than never.”

“Okay,” he said. “For now though, I’m looking forward to this dinner.”

“I hope it goes well. It’s George and Taylor I’m more worried about. They were kids when I decided to stop coming around. I only knew them maybe two years, if even that. I know they were upset.”

“Give them some credit. Ray raised them too after all.”

“I’m all set!” said Zeppelin, walking into the bathroom with his paw patrol shirt and nothing else on.

“At least I was gonna wear underwear,” chuckled Jensen. “Little dude. Get some undies on and shorts in the next two minutes or else…” he trailed off as he came in and hugged Jensen’s leg.

“I love you, daddy,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Can we get a giraffe now?” he asked. Jensen rolled his eyes and you released him.

“Let’s go finish getting you dressed, buddy.”

“So you guys were Sarah’s fosters?” asked Jensen towards the end of dinner, all three kids passed out asleep in the stroller or on the bench besides you while you picked at your shared dessert. Neither George or Taylor had said much aside from introducing themselves.

“Guys,” said Ray, nudging Taylor. “I’m sorry for our children’s rudeness. I was afraid of this.”

“Shut up,” they both said, Sarah sighing.

“The kids were both big fans of Supernatural. They grew up watching it with me. It was something we bonded over at first in fact,” she said.

“Oh,” said Jensen, a smirk forming on his face. “Sam or Dean girls? George come on buddy, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t happening,” said Taylor, her eyes squeezed shut.

“So you guys don’t want to hear about the movie, gotcha,” he said, both of them snapping their heads up.

“He really is a dork,” you said.

“Movie?” asked George.

“Someday. You can count on it,” said Jensen. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you guys and ask what mom was?”

“You boys are a little young for my tastes but honestly the guy who played John was very attractive,” she said.

“Even I’d hit that,” said Ray, Sarah laughing to herself.

“You can see Ray wins his ladies over with his charm,” you said, glancing at Taylor and George. “Like you guys could literally ask anything you ever wanted about the show and get an unfiltered answer if you want.”

“Did you really keep the car?” asked George. Jensen nodded and held up his finger.

“When we’re back in town, you guys come over and you can take a spin in it,” he said.

“Okay, he’s cool with me,” said George. You cocked your head and he smiled. “That was the car from the show I always told you about.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about batman or something,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry I wasn’t…”

“You always sucked at pretending to be happy,” said Taylor. You looked down and nodded. “We get it. You had to do your own thing.”

“Don’t hate me for leaving?”

“Maybe when we were little,” she said. “But we’re older and we get that you probably felt like a fifth wheel.”

“Yeah. A lot really,” you said. “It worked out though.”

“She’s a Dean girl by the way,” said Ray, cracking up as Taylor whacked his arm.

“Dad! Oh my God no I’m not! I like Sam!” she said.

“Want to talk to him?” grinned Jensen. Her face went red and you heard a quiet chuckle at the table. “You’re right, we’ll save that for in person.”

“You basically are marrying Dean Winchester without like, the trauma,” she said. Jensen tensed up but kept a smile on his face. You knew Ray caught it when he gave him a simple nod.

“Trauma’s not inherently bad,” said Ray. “Everyone at this table has gone through some.”

“I know, dad,” she said quietly. She looked at George and he nodded. “Our parents were in a house fire. So were we. I was five and Georgie was four.”

“She carried him out and went next door for help,” you said.

“I was in a car accident last year,” said Jensen. You turned your head. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was in the car. He’d flat out told you that aside from family and a few friends, no one besides you knew. “I almost died. My wife did but for other reasons. You can still have trauma and a really good life.”

“Very good point, Jensen,” said Ray. “You two rugrats wouldn’t be around if mom and I had moped around in our misery forever.”

“Was he always such a sap?” asked George.

“From the day I met him,” you said, Jensen grabbing your hand under the table. “Would you mind watching the kids for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said. You excused yourself and brought Jensen along with you, walking out to the beach area, the breeze cool but light.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I can talk about it now. I went from having the worst year of my life to one of the best. Nothing bad’s gonna happen for saying what really happened. I want to let all that shit go and have the rest of that really good life I was talking about.”

“For someone who keeps a lot inside I sure have noticed a difference in you the past few weeks.”

“To quote both of the loves of my life, I gotta let that shit out more regularly,” he said. You smiled and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, giving him a kiss.

“You know that’s what we call growth, babe.”

“I very easily could have gone the opposite way this year.”

“But you didn’t, cause you tried even though it sucks sometimes. I love you but I extra love happy you and you’re definitely a happier guy now than when I met you.”

“So are you, honey,” he said. “Must make a pretty good team or something.”

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“We should honestly get like, married or something, you know?” he teased.

“First I have to know though, are you willing to do cookie cake for a wedding cake?”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he said. “The real questions is, are you willing to deal with the eventual dad bod that will happen as a result?”

“I love this bod, but I don’t love you for this bod,” you said.

“Thank you for today,” he said softly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. He grinned and kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly. “What are best friends for?”

“Everything?”

“Hell yeah they are Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 15 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen series #jensen x reader #rpf #rpf series #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic

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salty-rey · 3 years ago

Text

Saving Lives

Bad Batch Fic | Sequel to Come Back

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (hinting)

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Bodily injuries, blood, story time!

A/N: Hello! I wanted to write something that elaborated on the relationship between the sniper and combat medic. It’s rather rough, proof-read once (thank you Grammarly), and I may not captured Crosshair’s personality perfect. I hope you enjoy, and I will be back with another story!

Roughly two weeks have passed since the last mission, and during those long days, you were recovering from being shot. Being bedridden was not ideal, almost driving you stir crazy. Especially whenever you tried sneaking out of the barracks, there was always one member of the Bad Batch there to stop you.

Wrecker freaked out when he caught you slowly shuffling towards the bathroom, asking why you were out of bed in panic. He only helped you after explaining your destination, waited outside before actually carrying you back to your cot.

Echo spotted you slowly making your way to the kitchen area before redirecting you back to bed like a concerned older brother, staying by your side and offering his arm for support in case you felt weak. Quite the gentleman.. At least he went back to get whatever food you were craving.

Tech found you attempting to do some stretches since you were stuck in bed for Maker knows how long. He lectured you on the facts that your wound may open again if you attempt any movement during a specific time frame. Even when you decided to lay back down he was still lecturing!

As for Hunter, he entered the barracks, catching you standing on your feet. You were in the middle of putting your chest piece armor back on when you winced at the slight sting of your wound. The Sergeant went full dad mode on you, scolding you for moving when you’re still recovering. Now you knew how it felt like to be Omega, which caused you to accidentally say, “Okay, dad.”

You watched Hunter’s back stiffen, an unreadable expression crossing his face before he turned around, leaving you alone in the barracks. What was that? You thought before sighing, slowly removing your chest piece.

Speaking of Omega. Maker, bless that little girl.

When you were initially knocked out after returning to the Havoc Marauder, Omega refused to leave your side. The boys tried to reassure her that you would be alright, but she wouldn’t budge. After a couple of hours, you woke up, disoriented at first, before spotting the little girl fast asleep on a chair at your bedside. Hunter was awake at the time, and he explained everything while you rested. The boys learned that it was indeed a trooper who shot you and not Crosshair because Omega was persistent in backing you up in your story. You watched the Sergeant carefully picking the youngest member up and carrying her to her makeshift bedroom.

You were awake when Omega rushed into the small barracks, eyes wide before spotting you. She first cried tears of joy, happy to you see that you were okay. Hearing her crying caused Hunter and the other boys to rush in, worried that something was wrong before relaxing after you explained why Omega was crying.

Since that moment, Omega stayed and kept you company. Whenever she wasn’t informing you of the group’s next objective, she would ask if you needed anything like food or water. You felt bad having her grab something to eat for you, and you mentioned it to one of the boys whenever they pass the barracks.

“I’ll let her know. She is looking after her teammate though.” Hunter commented before leaving.

One day during the weeks of recovery, Omega came to your bed per usual and sat down. You were reading on your datapad before glancing up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she first started off, looking a bit nervous.

“Sure, what’s up?” You asked after putting your datapad down.

“I heard stories of the Bad Batch back on Kamino, but I was hoping to hear how you became part of the team. Since you’re not a clone like us. I-if you don’t mind!” The child asked bashfully, causing you to smile.

“Of course! Heh, no need to be shy,” you grinned before relaxing against your pillow. “I was formally part of the 501st under General Skywalker, still as a combat medic. I helped aid their soldiers and taught any clones who wanted to become a medic. But I was taken out of that battalion and introduced to these guys after Wrecker’s accident.” You said, pointing to the left side of your face.

Omega frowned at the mention of the deep scar on the more giant clone’s face.

“Do you...know how he got it?”

“Not the specific details. Just that his fondness for exploding things up got the best of him at that moment,” you answered. “But that is a story for Wrecker to tell you himself. After his incident and intense care, the Kaminoans and High Command thought that it would be best for the Bad Batch to have a medic at all times. And that’s where I came in.”

“What was it like first joining them?” Omega asked, scooting her chair closer, eager to know more.

You laugh nervously before answering awkwardly, “A nat-born joining a bunch of mutated clones who have a distaste for regs? It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, Omega. At least, for some time.”

“Wait. Hunter and the others were mean to you?” Omega looked shocked, unable to imagine any of her older brothers being cruel. She began to turn towards the door, ready to get up and give the boys an earful.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, targon.” You quickly said, grasping her hand to stop her. “They weren’t mean to me. Just...indifferent.” Omega looked confused still, but she was no longer about to charge out of the room. Seeing that the girl was relaxed, you let go of her hand.

“The boys are thick as thieves. Having a complete stranger joining them for Maker knows how long it was off-putting. But, one by one, they slowly welcomed me into their merry band. Well, all except Crosshair.” The mentioning of his name caused you to frown, your hand gripping the sheets.

Omega noticed your shift of emotions, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. “You two were close.”

You couldn’t help but softly laugh a bit. “Not at first. He was the hardest one to be accepted by. It took us potentially dying just to get close.”

At that, Omega’s eyes widened, her jaw-dropping, and you knew that you had to tell her the story now, or she will never leave you alone.

“Keep up, medic. Or I’m going to leave you behind.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

It has been several months since you have joined Clone Force 99. And each mission has been quite eventful. All dangerous, non-stop action and heart-pounding moments. You had seen your share of action before joining this group, especially when you were with General Skywalker and his boys in blue. But the 501st pale compared to the Bad Batch. Then again, the Bad Batch is sent to suicide missions, unlike the 501st, so the comparisons aren’t fair.

Such missions that you were on right now.

Infiltrate a Separatist’s stronghold, eliminate the enemy commander and destroy their entire base. Nothing new but this time, you found yourself on a thick rainforest-like planet. It was the dead of night, using the shadows to your advantage. While the boys handled the assigned target, you and Crosshair were tasked to eliminate any remaining outside forces and retrieve a getaway vehicle.

You have been paired with Crosshair in the past, but they have never been pleasant. The sniper all but ignored you or let out harsh remarks, insulting even, but you did your best not to let it get to you. All attempts to befriend him or have him loosen up a bit around you. It was all in vain, though, and even the rest of the batch members have told you to simply give up.

“It’s not you,” Hunter said one day as they were currently jumping through hyperspace. “He’ll come around. Just you wait.”

But it has been so long now. When will it happen? You were getting tired of the glares and sneers, but you refused to give in.

Focusing back on the mission, the two of you reached the edge of the forest, locating the hanger currently guarded by battle droids.

“Those dwarf spider droids may be a problem,” you stated, spotting the said droid following the standard clankers.

“You should have stayed on the ship if you’re going to get cold feet. You’re useless on the battlefield,” Crosshair sneered under his helmet. You remained quiet, refusing to glance at him. To give him any satisfaction of his words stinging you intensely.

“Just give me some cover fire. And don’t hit me,” you stated before donning your eyeshield then rushing in with your dual pistols.

Having done this countless times, taking down the droids has become second nature to you. So, one by one, the droids fall, caught off guard from a sniper shot from the thick forest. They were also surprised to see a single soldier rushing them with nothing but two pistols.

Once the separate hangar was secured, Crosshair silently joined you, neither one speaking. No “thanks” or “great job.” Then again, the Bad Batch weren’t the ones to compliment each other. Do the job, and get out alive.

“Crosshair, (Y/N). What’s your status?” Hunter’s voice came through the comlink.

“Just cleared out the hangar. We’re getting the getaway vehicle right now,” you responded as Crosshair began to hotwire one of the landspeeders.

The landspeeder came to life, and you quickly hopped on, not wanting to test to see if Crosshair would actually leave you behind. The speeder raced down towards the rest of the crew’s location, staying on time with the plan. As the wind whipped through your light armor clothing, you began to hear a faint beeping sound. Leaning down to the ground, the beeping was getting louder and faster.

“There’s a bomb!” You shouted with realization before rushing towards Crosshair.

The sniper didn’t have enough time to respond because you tackled him off the ledge of the speeder. You had thought that you reacted quick enough, but the planted bomb exploded, launching the two of you further into the air. You felt your hands slip from Crosshair’s armor, separating the two of you.

Then, you landed hard onto the ground, and you felt something snap within you. You couldn’t scream, the air being knocked out of you as your body tumbled and rolled to a stop. Summoning whatever strength you had, you slowly pushed yourself up with your arms before sharply sucking in some air, pain flaring on your right side. Carefully feeling your side, you came to a quick conclusion before gasping.

Crosshair?! Looking around, you spotted the nonmoving clone a few feet away from you, and your stomach dropped at the sight of him. The silver-haired man was lying on his back, his helmet knocked off his head, and you spotted blood oozing from a cut above his eyebrow. Not only that but his right arm and left leg were awkwardly twisted.

Fighting off your own pain, you crawled towards him before pushing yourself on your feet. The world spun, almost causing you to fall backward, but you quickly regained your balance. We can’t stay out in the open. That explosion will attract more droids to our location.

Placing his helmet back on his head, you hook your arms under his shoulders.

Dragging his body deeper into the forest was no easy feat. You were panting and sweating, your head was pulsing, and the pain on your side was overbearing. With every shift, you felt your bones poking at your lungs, causing you to slow down before resuming.

There!

You spotted a large tree, and underneath the roots, the ground sunk and became hollow. It was a perfect hiding spot, and droids are dumb; they never look up or down.

Not wasting any more time, you slid both you and Crosshair into the hole, and once settled, you immediately went to work.

Crosshair slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times as his vision cleared. He tried sitting up, but that caused his head to ache more than it already was. Raising a hand, he felt bandages wrapping around most of his head.

“Leave it alone unless you want to bleed again.”

Crosshair looked over, spotting you sitting nearby, weapons at hand. “What happened?” The sniper groaned, lowering his arm down.

“The landspeeder had a bomb planted and exploded. You broke your arm and leg and had a concussion.” You answered, receiving another groan from the clone after he noticed those said injuries wrapped up in wooden splints. “I’m guessing if the vehicle was activated improperly, it would self-destruct. No wonder the GAR had issues with this Separatist; they thought of everything. Hey! What are you doing?”

Crosshair had begun to sit up, using his good arm to push himself from the floor. “What does it look like?”

“You’re not fit to move around, Crosshair! And neither am I.” You shouted, shuffling towards him, putting your hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop. “I broke 3 ribs, and I can feel them poking my lungs. Hunter knows of our situation, and they’re working right now to find a way to pick us up.”

Crosshair pushed your hand off of him with his good arm, his glare piercing you. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“Apparently, someone does. As your medic, my word is final when it comes to your wellbeing.” You snapped back, putting your hand back on his shoulder and pushing him down. “I’m not letting you toss your life away, all because you want to be stubborn!”

“Don’t act as you care about us clones!” The sniper growled, struggling underneath your hold. “We’re exposable for you perfect nat-borns!”

Your grip on his shoulder loosen, and your glare slowly softened. “Is that why you hate me? Because I’m a perfect nat-born?” You questioned almost a bit too calmly, which startled Crosshair a bit. He wasn’t expecting this reaction from you. No glares or quick remarks. Just silence.

“I am not perfect, Crosshair. No one is perfect. Nat-borns, regs, defects, we’re all the same. Living and breathing, filled with emotions and flaws. What we do with ourselves is what makes us unique.” You said before moving away from him. “I chose to be a medic because I was tired of seeing everyone dying around me.”

Crosshair slowly raised an eyebrow, his face slowly relaxing. “What...do you mean by that?”

You spare him a brief glance before leaning against a stomp, steadying your breathing. And so, you began your tale.

You were born into slavery and having no memories of your parents, too young to really. Among the slaves were children such as yourself, and you called them brothers and sisters. However, one by one, they either died in accidents, killed by their masters, or sold off to buyers. Finally, after years of servitude, you managed to escape, sneaking onto a shuttle and never looking back.

“The moment I left the shuttle, I was given another chance. A chance my brothers and sisters would never have. That’s when I decided to become a medic. Then I volunteered to be a combat medic because I wanted to save lives.” You finished your story, your breathing steady.

“Even if you were created to fight for someone else’s war, that doesn’t mean your life is meaningless. Believe it or not, but I do care about your life. And that of your brothers’. Losing a loved one is never easy, and I don’t want to see any of you go through that.” You fell silent before taking a small breath. “I didn’t tell you my life story so that you can pity me or for me to win you over. Just to tell you my reasoning in life. What you do with my story is up to you.”

Silence fell between the two of you. Neither one dared a glance at the other. You didn’t like opening up old wounds, telling others your story. The only one who knows is Anakin because the two of you share a kinship of being former slaves.

An hour has passed, and your comlink came to life. Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch contacted you, informing you that they have returned to the ship and are en route to pick both of you up. Their arrival was quick, and so was being carried into the Havoc Marauder.

They had succeeded in their part of the mission, even if they were now chased by any remaining droids. It wasn’t an issue, though, once they left the planet and jumped into hyperspace.

“After that, we were flown to the closest medical station, and we were both healed up.”

Omega was speechless. She had heard stories of the Bad Batch’s missions back on Kamino through word of mouth from the troops, but nothing detailed. This was quite the tale, and she felt a lot of emotions. The first thing that the girl managed to say was, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. The important part is that we both survived, and after that, Crosshair wasn’t so harsh on me. In fact, he always had my back. It was his idea to outfit my old armor to that of Clone Force 99, officially making me one of them.” You replied with a soft smile.

“Thank you for telling me your story. I hope we get Crosshair back soon because I would like to know what he was thinking throughout that moment.” Omega said, causing you to smile sadly.

“Yeah, me too...”

Omega noticed your sadden expression at the thought of the sniper, awkwardly shifting in her chair. Hoping to lighten up the mode a bit, Omega asked you, “So, why is your nickname “Freckles”?”

Your cheeks warmed up and you softly laughed, looking embarrassed. “When the rest of the boys checked up on us, I was being removed from a bacta tank. All I had on was my top and tight shorts. They saw that my mostly covered areas like my thighs were littered with freckles, and that’s where I got my nickname. It was embarrassing.”

“Yeah! But Crosshair was the one who pointed it out!” The booming voice of Wrecker came as the boys now stood at the doorway.

“From what I remembered, you were the one who whistled at her in the first place.” Tech pointed out. “Quite improper if you ask me, since she is part of our team.”

“Need I remind you that you were the one who recorded the whole thing,” Hunter added in. “Don’t you think that’s improper?”

The boys began to bicker among each other, except for Echo who simply listened to the retelling of that moment with intrigue. All of this just made you blush harder, covering your face with the sheets. Because you also remember Crosshair looking you up and down, before smirking and saying “Nice freckles.”

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

Teeny Tiny Secret

After months of trying, you and Colson finally get those two pink lines… the day before tour starts.

Request: “I know that requests are closed, but I HAD to share this before it left my mind. When you have an opportunity, could you please write a story where y/n is in super early (not showing or anything) stages of pregnancy and on tour with mgk. She & Colson make a plan to keep it from the bandmates for now. It becomes difficult when he becomes super over protective (not letting her carry anything, not wanting the guys to crowd her), unconsciously put his hand on her stomach, and ordering non-alcoholic drinks for her. The band suspects something. Y/n talks with him to try to get him to calm down a little. It works until the guys ask you both about it directly and Colson's the first to crack.”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Y’all are all up in that spring baby fever… this is like my 3rd or 4th baby request recently

Word Count: 2211

You and Colson had been talking about having a second kid for months but stopped trying a few weeks before tour started. You didn’t think it had worked until you woke up three days before tour and rushed to the bathroom, morning sickness wrecking your body. Colson felt you getting out of bed and followed a few minutes later, tiredly. When he found you hunched over the toilet, his whole demeaner changed.

You knew for sure the day before tour, after multiple pregnancy tests you had gone to see an OBGYN for confirmation. Sure enough, you were pregnant. The universe sure knew the definition of ironic timing.

Colson’s immediate reaction was to have you stay home. “All the traveling and partying isn’t gonna be good for him.” He said, pacing around your bedroom while you laid on the bed. “Tour life is not good for babies.”

You raised your eyebrow, “him? It’s been one day and you’re already setting unrealistic expectations for our unborn child.” You joked, a small smile on your lips.

Colson’s mouth gaped before he continued, “Y/N, we need to be serious about this. You can’t come on tour if you’re pregnant.”

You rolled your eyes, “Colson, I am not letting you leave me here while I am pregnant. I’ll be fine. I won’t drink and I’ll take it easy. You just have to make sure the guys don’t smoke around me and we’ll be fine.”

His eyes went wide. “Shit, the boys.” He paused to think as confusion crossed you. “If the boys find out about this they’ll freak out and then the whole tour is gonna be a shit show.”

It was kind of funny how much more worried he was than you were. “Babe, come here.” You motioned for him to come sit in the bed with you to which he complied. You leaned your back against the headboard, expecting him to follow. Instead, he laid so his head was next to your stomach. He pressed a small kiss into it, making your heart fluttered, the reality of the situation hitting you and making you insanely happy. “Why are you so worried?” You asked him softly, combing your hand through his hair.

He reached, moving your shirt up so he could kiss your bare stomach. He mumbled against your skin, “I think I wanna keep this a secret for now.” You hummed and he continued, “just for us, y’know? I wanna enjoy this.”

You nodded, “I’m still coming on tour with you, though. I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

He smiled against your stomach, finally moving up to sit next to you, pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. His hand went to your stomach, rubbing circles into the skin. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have a fucking baby.”

You smiled against his lips, a thought popping into your head, “can we tell Casie at least?” His eyes lit up at your suggestion, a quick nod of his head affirming the idea.

The next day was hectic, as all first days were. You had gotten a list of everything you could and couldn’t do from your doctor, and the all-clear to fly for the first trimester. So, you and Colson found yourself with the crew at LAX airport bright and early in the morning. Ashleigh passed you an itinerary, letting you know that you would all be meeting the bus in Cleveland, where the first show was.

Colson’s arm hadn’t left your waist since you got to the airport, holding you to his side all morning. Occasionally you could feel his thumb rubbing circles near your stomach, something that was definitely becoming a habit of his. At one point he ended up standing behind you, hands resting on your stomach as he held you against him. You tried not to give anything away, but you found it adorable how excited he was. He wanted to be as close to the unborn baby as possible at all times, his hands constantly near your middle.

Eventually you arrived in Cleveland, walking down the long hallway to the baggage claim, taking in the small Cleveland hall of fame that the airport had created. You spotted your suitcase and went to grab it, but Colson beat you to it. “I got it, babe.” He gave you a look that let you know you wouldn’t be carrying anything.

You sighed, “I can get it Colson.” He shrugged, grabbing his bag off of the carousel next. The man now had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder and two suitcases in his hands. “Seriously, it’s not that heavy.”

He shook his head, “I’m not letting you carry anything heavy. I can do it.” You sighed but let him, knowing you wouldn’t win this battle.

Unbeknownst to you, Baze had seen the whole interaction and was very confused.

Later, once you had arrived at the arena, you were hanging in the dressing room with Slim and Irv on the couch. You guys weren’t really talking about anything in particular, mostly just cracking jokes about Rook’s outfit for the night.

When the younger boy heard Slim say he looked like “if Willow Smith and Gerard Way were put into a blender,” he came over, blunt in his hand.

Rook started jokingly arguing with Slim and you were all laughing at his distress. In the middle of their argument, however, Colson came over and grabbed the blunt out of Rook’s hand. He put it out in an ashtray before returning to you, squeezing himself between you and Irv.

Everyone, including you, stared at him, dumfounded. “Dude why the fuck-“ Rook started, only for Colson to cut him off.

“You shouldn’t smoke in here.” He shrugged, arms wrapping around you. He squeezed your waist, letting you know why he really did it. You were somewhat thankful; smoke was bad for the baby. But there are less obvious ways to have gone about that.

Rook grumbled but didn’t attempt to light another one. Slim looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You shrugged your shoulders, pretending to act innocently naïve to Colson’s behaviors.

Eventually the three boys travelled from the couch, leaving you and Colson alone. “Babe, you gotta try and be a little more subtle about that shit.” You mumbled, turning to face him.

He scrunched his eyebrows, “he shouldn’t be smoking around you. What else was I supposed to do?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, but that wasn’t subtle. If you keep treating me differently, they’re gonna figure out that something’s up.”

Colson lets out a breath through his nose, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want anything to happen to…” he trailed off, trying to keep a low profile.

“I know you’re just being careful. It’s sweet, and I really appreciate it. But either we tell the guys what’s going on or we figure out how to be more subtle.” You thought you guys were being quiet, but once again Baze was standing just within earshot, hearing your entire conversation.

Colson demanded you stay backstage instead of in front of the gates like normal tours. “I don’t care if they think something’s up, you are not getting anywhere near that crowd.”

This was something you could actually agree on, not wanting any crazy fangirls to try and reach over the barricade and hurt you by accident (it had happened before). So, you were stood backstage before the concert, like normal, only this time you had a spot next to the stage picked out just for you to watch. Colson came over to you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You giggled at his happy demeanor, feeding off his energy. “Good luck kiss?” You offered to which he happily nodded. You pulled him in by his shoulders, intending to give him a soft kiss. Colson being Colson, however, decided that this was the perfect time for an extremely heated make out session.

You didn’t complain much as his hands explored your waist, paying special attention to your stomach, where a small bump would soon be forming. His lips against yours were heaven.

“Okay loverboy!” Ashleigh called, making him pull away from your lips but he kept himself close to you. “You’re on.”

He nodded towards her, giving you one last peck before running off to the stage. Before he left, his hands lingered on your stomach just a little longer than normal, his eyes glancing down to it for a split second.

Then you watched the love of your life run towards the stage, a grin on his face. “I love you!” You called. He turned to you right before he got on stage and mouthed the words back to you, knowing you couldn’t hear him anymore. You smiled, the sight of him living his dream making your heart melt.

Slim was on the side of the stage closest to you, and had caught the last moments of your intimacy, including Colson’s attention to your stomach. He perked and eyebrow at the sight but shook it off as Colson being into some weird new thing.

After the show, everyone was hyped up on adrenaline and alcohol. The crew decided to move the party to a nearby club. Colson wanted to take you back to the bus and stay there with you all night, but you made him go. “Colson, I have been in this condition for all of 3 days. I am fine. You just finished the first show of your tour. We,” you pointed between the two of you, “are going out to celebrate, even if that means I can only drink water or pop.”

He rolled his eyes but gave in, letting you drag him down the street towards the rest of your friends. When you got to the club, you grabbed a table with Ash, Irv, Baze, and Slim while Colson took Rook to get drinks for everyone.

When the pair got back, they started handing out drinks. Colson set a glass of water in front of you, causing the group to raise eyebrows at you two, which you just shrugged off, sipping the water. As much as you would have loved to get wasted with your friends, you knew it would hurt the baby. You tried to act as nonchalant about it as possible, realizing that it was gonna be hard to hide your secret if you got water every time you went out.

This was going to be a long 9 months.

“I wanna dance.” Ashleigh said, grabbing Irv and Rook and dragging them to the floor. You grinned, about to stand up and join them when you felt a hand on your thigh. You turned towards Colson, who was currently stopping you from having fun, giving him a glare.

He shook his head slightly at you, leaning close to you to whisper in your ear. “There’s a lot of people here, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, whispering back, “can you ease up a little bit, please? I’ll be careful. I want to have a little fun before I’m not able to move at all.”

His face was stern, the two of you having a silent argument with your eyes. You pleaded with him, trying to get him to crack but he just shook his head.

Meanwhile Baze and Slim watched you two, trying to figure out how the hell you were communicating without actually talking. “Is everything okay with you two?” Slim asked, pulling your attention to the two men.

You nodded, smiling, “yeah, we’re great.”

Baze cocked his head, “you sure? Because he’s” he pointed at Colson, “acting like you’re pregnant or something.”

You felt Colson’s hand on your thigh tighten, his entire body stiffening. You giggled, trying to play off the comment. Baze started laughing the moment he saw Colson’s expression, which you turned to see was like a deer caught in headlights. Slim’s eyes went wide, “holy shit, for real? Congrats guys!”

You laughed, rubbing Colson’s shoulder, “good job, babe. You did a great job at keeping this between us.”

He looked down at you with a sheepish expression, “sorry, I thought we were being subtle.” He mumbled and you laughed.

“Cols, I was being subtle. You were acting like I was gonna die if someone so much as touched me.” Slim and Baze chuckled at this, and you turned to explain. “We found out for sure yesterday and didn’t want anyone to get freaked out or throw off the tour or anything. So, Colson here,” your head nodded towards your boyfriend, “thought we could keep it a secret for now.”

He frowned, his friends still laughing at him. “Dude, you are the worst secret keeper ever, man.” Baze said. “It took one push and you cracked.” You giggled, nodding your head in agreement. “But seriously, congrats guys.”

“Thanks, B.” You said, “but listen, both of you. If anyone on this tour tells me what I can and can’t do because I’m pregnant, I’ll cut their dick off.” The two boys nodded in understanding.

“Am I really that bad at keeping secrets?” Colson asked, still upset that he spilled.

You giggled and nodded, “Yeah, darling. You are.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson imagine

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curiosity-killed · 3 years ago

Text

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

#should I wait and proofread and edit this tomorrow? yes.#am I doing that? no <3 #idk what to tag this as #uhhh #tgcf spoilers #lang qianqiu #I don’t think this can reasonably be called meta #since I am unsure if it is even readable #tgcf #long post

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flosbelova · 4 years ago

Text

they don’t know about us

i’m back with another story lmao. also, after writing this, i realized how ironic it was. whoops.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

florence pugh x reader

summary: you and florence have been dating in secret. however, when she’s involved in a dating PR stunt to promote her new movie, you start to get worried and wonder if your relationship will ever meet the public eye.

fluffy with a hint of angst.

warnings: language, smutt-ish (18+)

word count: 3.2k+

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you and florence have been dating for almost a year now. surprisingly, no one has found out. sure, the paparazzi have followed you guys around, but you were always careful not to look like a couple. but because everyone loves rumored romance, fans had begun speculating about your relationship. however, both you and florence have denied these “rumors” and state that you’re just “very good friends.”

but the thing is, it kills you every time you have to deny our relationship with florence.

you and florence met at an after party from an award show and instantly hit it off. within a couple weeks, she had asked you to be her girlfriend and you being a paranoid person, you told her that you’d think about it. she looked hurt at first and you felt stupid for turning her down the first time, but you came to your senses and finally said yes.

ever since then, you have both lived quietly in peace. you noticed that florence seemed to be content with the way things were: “secret.” and since it didn’t bother her that much, you figured that it shouldn’t bother you either.

when florence started filming “don’t worry, darling,” you would visit the set often and stay in her trailer. no one ever really batted an eye because you were usually in the corner and no one ever noticed you. when she wasn’t in a scene, she’d quickly run to her trailer and attack you with kisses. God, your make-outs felt like they could last an eternity. but they were usually cut short as a crew member would knock and tell florence that her scene was coming up.

fast forward to now, it’s time to promote the movie. however, because hollywood is hollywood, articles immediately came out stating that florence and her co-star, harry styles, were hollywood’s new “it-couple.” this killed you inside, obviously. but you chose not to say a word to florence because you wanted her movie to be big and for her to get more recognition.

press after press, magazines after magazines, interview after interview, photo shoots after photo shoots, articles after articles, you fucking name it. “harry styles and florence pugh: hollywood’s favorite couple.” God it killed you to see it. it was EVERYWHERE.

your family and friends that knew about you and florence kept messaging you asking if you two had broken up. you had to explain over and over that it was just for press and nothing else.

but then, you thought about it. was it really just for press? what if she started developing feelings for him? what if she actually leaves me for him? am i not good enough? why do we have to be secret? would it kill her reputation if we said anything?

these questions were racing through your mind like crazy. finally, after much thinking and trying your best to meditate on it, you decide to ask florence the question.

—

it’s sunday morning, it’s a rainy day in LA, what an odd sight. you get your coffee and take a sip, enjoying the sound of rain hitting the roof and windows. you loved the rain.

you hear footsteps coming from behind you and feel soft arms embrace you. florence rests her head on your shoulder.

“good morning baby,” she says in her adorable morning voice.

you turn your head to face her and give her a quick peck on her nose. she scrunches her nose and oh god, your heart might as well have jumped out your chest. she was so cute every single time she’d scrunch her nose.

y/n focus. you have important questions to ask florence. fucking focus.

you let go from her embrace in which you heard a whine from your girlfriend. you walk to the kitchen and put your coffee down on the counter and ask florence to sit down.

“babe, can you please sit down? we need to talk.”

you can tell that florence was caught off-guard with the expression on her face. she sits down across from you and looks at you with a worried smile.

“y/n, is anything wrong?”

you can hear your own heartbeat at this point. in fact, that’s all you hear. suddenly words aren’t coming in your brain. focus y/n. focus. you take a deep breathe and come clean.

“okay, i know we’re a secret and it’s fun being sneaky and all, but i gotta admit, it’s killing me. i also have to admit that this whole PR stunt relationship with harry is killing me. look harry’s a great guy and all but—“

“i know,” florence says cutting you off.

“oh,” you say feeling somewhat assured.

“y/n, you can’t hide anything from me. your face said it all,” florence says.

“your face said it all,” damn your expressive face.

“oh,” was all you could utter.

“i’ve started to notice when you started to get distant. in that moment i knew that it bothered you.” florence says afflicted.

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t think clearly. did i really get distant?

“y/n? are you gonna say something?” florence asked anxiously.

“um, what are we gonna do? i mean, what are you gonna do? are you gonna say something? it’s been two months since the movie came out and people are still talking about it—“ you ramble.

“y/n,” florence cuts you off again. “you know how this shit works. it’s the ‘hollywood culture.’ things like this aren’t gonna die down in just a couple of months, especially for something this big.”

“then what’s gonna happen with us?” you ask hopelessly.

“nothing will happen. we just have to wait until this dies down, sweetheart.” florence says, reaching for your hand, trying to sound reassuring.

you pull your hand back. it’s clearly shown in your face that you’re conflicted and angry. “florence, i don’t want to wait for this to die down. i’m tired of us being kept a secret. i’m exhausted of having to explain to my family and friends that we’re still a couple and that this stuff is just for press. i’m tired of having to worry if you’re developing feelings for him. i’m tired of having to worry if you’ll leave me for him. my heart aches every single time i see you both on the cover of a magazine when i go grocery shopping. i love you too much to let you go.”

florence furrows her brows and looks choleric. “why can’t you just understand that i love you? why can’t you understand that this stunt is JUST a stunt to me? maybe because you’ve been so busy being so distant and jumping to conclusions. y/n, i’m exhausted too. i really am,” she says, her voice breaking. “do you know how much it breaks me because you’ve been so distant? this past month, i’ll try to hug you, and you barely hug back. and when i try to make conversation with you, you barely respond. i miss you y/n.”

your eyes are filled with tears at this point and look up to see florence with tears falling down, clearly heartbroken and in agony. on instinct, you walk towards her and pull her into a tight hug. florence hugs you back and instantly breaks down in your arms. you stroke her hair and kiss her on her forehead.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quietly.

you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you made her feel this way. it’s true, you had been distant. you had been so caught up with worrying about the “what if’s,” and didn’t think for a second about what florence might have been feeling. this movie rested on her back and she had to do whatever she could to make sure that this movie was gonna get the recognition it deserved. even with this whole stunt, florence never questioned your relationship for one second. you did.

God, i feel like a dumbass.

you grab florence’s face and wipe the tears from her eyes. it pained you to see her cry, even when she was acting. only this time, she wasn’t acting. this was real. this was a real life situation.

florence smiled weakly at you and quietly said in almost a whisper, “i’m gonna say something soon. it’s about time that people knew.” she sniffs.

your heart dropped to your stomach. you started to regret even letting her know. i should’ve just kept my mouth shut.

florence clears her throat and continues, “it’s good that you brought this up. for weeks, i’ve been thinking how to bring this about to the public— i even confided in harry and asked for his advice,” she laughs softly.

you look at her with worry in your eyes and florence easily reads you like a book.

“don’t worry, darling. i got this handled,” florence says smiling. “also, pun heavily intended.”

you roll your eyes and chuckle lightly and hug her tightly once more.

—

a week after your conversation, you check your phone and notice that it’s filled with a couple notifications. you wondered why since your phone usually had tumbleweeds passing by. you noticed that your calendar had a very important notification. you went to check and oh shit.

how could i forget?

it’s your one year anniversary with florence and you completely forgot.

what the fuck is wrong with me?!

florence barges in the room with a big smile on her face and a tray full of food. she sets the tray on your bedside nightstand and kisses you on the cheek.

“good morning, baby! happy one year anniversary! look i made you pancakes with chocolate chips— just the way you like it— and look! i cut the strawberries to make them into hearts!” she squeals.

you looked at her dumb founded and all you could do was grab her face and kiss her passionately. she moans quietly and moves to straddle your lap without breaking the kiss. you move your hands from her face and move it to her waist and pull her in closer.

florence grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in much closer, breaking any other space in between the both of you. you feel her tongue run across your bottom lip to test the waters and you slightly open your mouth and let her tongue slip in. you let out a soft moan as her tongue touches yours. she breaks the kiss to catch her breath for a moment and proceeds to leave trails of kisses down your jaw to the crook of your neck. you feel her nibble on your neck and you couldn’t help but moan.

the sound of your moans have to be on florence’s top list of favorite sounds because what she did next made you jump.

as she continued to leave wet trails of kisses across your neck, florence slides her hand under your shirt and squeezes your boobs and runs her thumb over your nipple.

you move your chest more towards her, but as soon as you do so, she removes her hand and moves it back to your face and presses her lips gently on yours. she pulls back and looks at you alluringly.

you give her a pout. “damn we were about to get to the good part, why’d you stop?”

she strokes your cheek with her thumb, smiles, and shrugs. she gives you a quick peck on your lips.

“eat your breakfast,” she says to you.

“you’re a damn tease,” you say annoyed.

she winks at you and gets up from your lap. she leaves the room and you grab your tray and follow her to the kitchen. you took the plates from the tray and set them on the island table.

“why’d you get up? i made that to be eaten in bed! do you not get the concept of breakfast in bed?” she asks sarcastically.

“my bad. do you want me to go back?” you respond.

“no, you already made the effort to bring the food here, so we might as well eat.” she says.

—

“okay, i have a confession to make. i kinda forgot that our anniversary was today,” you say embarrassed.

florence chuckled, “i know.”

“well to make up for it, can i treat you out to lunch?” you ask nervously biting your lip hoping for a satisfactory answer.

florence had always been vocal about eating out because she didn’t want your relationship to be exploited. and because LA was always buzzing with paparazzi, you and florence usually chose to get food delivered or, florence would cook both your meals.

but to your surprise, florence says, “yeah. let’s do it.”

—

you drove to this restaurant in west hollywood that most celebrities were known to go to. they always had good services and their appetizers were scrumptious.

when you walked inside, you noticed how many eyes were on you and florence. you wondered why and then you realized… florence was holding your hand.

you tried to let go but florence tightened her grip and whispered in your ear, “it’s okay,” and gave your cheek a quick peck. you knew damn well people noticed that.

when you finally got to your table, you noticed how many heads were turning. your heart started beating fast, chills went down your spine, and your hand started to sweat.

after you got your meals, you nudged florence’s arm.

“baby people are looking.”

she looks up at you as she brings her food to her mouth and says, “let them look.”

you went back to your food and tried to focus on eating, but of course, you couldn’t. so, you checked your phone and you guessed it, your phone was buzzing with notifications from your friends and social media mentions.

“baby, put your phone down and eat. we’ll get out of here quicker if you finish your food quicker.” florence says, taking your phone and setting it next to her.

you sigh and continue eating.

after you both finish, you look out the window and noticed all the cars and people passing by. the view from the outside was so nice. the sky finally cleared up and LA was back to being sunny.

you didn’t notice it then, but florence had snapped a picture of you admiring the view from the restaurant window.

“alright, y/n, wanna get out of here?” florence asks.

“yeah, let’s go home.” you respond.

you insisted on paying the bill since it was your treat, and made sure to tip your waiter extra money.

after paying the bill, florence stands up and grabs your hand. your eyes widened for a quick second because she was holding your hand in public, once again.

that same night, florence posted the off-guard picture that she took of you and posted it on her Instagram with the caption: “my favourite view. happy one year my love.”

you decided to check your Instagram and saw that your photo was the first thing you saw on your feed. you did a double take because you couldn’t believe that florence had actually posted you.

you checked the comments and it consisted of avid fans who were excited, shocked, and in disbelief.

“OH MY GOD I KNEW IT”

“HOLY SHIT WHAT??”

“wait, what about her and harry??”

“i thought her and harry were dating?? i’m so confused”

“florence!” you scream out from the living room.

“yes, darling?” she screams back from the kitchen.

she walks towards the living room and as soon as she gets near the couch, you stand up, and try to hug her eagerly, but instead you both fall to the ground. you quickly get up and help florence.

“i’m sorry, but what the hell?” you ask in shock.

florence furrows her brows and looks annoyed. “what do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ you tackled me—“

“you actually posted me?” you interrupt.

she changes her mood and says, “oh that? yeah i did. i decided it was time, and believe me, i was getting tired of the stunt too.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you kissed her so quickly that she almost fell. “i love you so fucking much.”

—

the next day, your phone was still buzzing with notifications but this time, it was double the notifications. you decided to check your phone and saw articles supporting your relationship, saw other articles that explained hollywood’s infamous PR stunts, and unfortunately, you noticed that some articles were trying to paint florence as some sort of “cheater.” this angered you to your core.

why the fuck would they accuse her of cheating? that’s a whole wad of bullshit.

you get up from your bed and walk to your kitchen. florence was already there preparing coffee. she turns around and yelps.

“Y/N!” florence yells.

you laugh. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you walk towards her and give her a big embrace. once you pull back, you don’t let go just yet. you give florence a quick kiss and finally let go.

“my phone has been buzzing all morning” you say annoyed.

“yeah mine too,” florence says, looking defeated.

you notice her expression. you grab her hand. “baby what’s wrong?”

florence let’s go of your hand and waves off her annoyance, “i saw an article that called me a cheater and i’m not gonna lie it ruined my morning.” she turned around to the island table and took a sip of her coffee.

you felt your anger rise up, but you calmed yourself. you wrapped your arms around florence’s waist from behind, and hugged her until she felt better. as soon as you do this, she turns around and wraps her arms around you, returning the embrace.

“i’ll be okay. my publicist called me this morning and said that she cleared up any rumors or accusations.” florence says, sighing.

“okay, that’s good,” you say, stroking her hair. you gave her a kiss on her cheek. “is everything gonna be alright?” you ask.

“yeah. i’m sure they will.” florence says in a hopeful tone. “whatever happens, i’ll be okay; we’ll be okay.”

you kiss her gently and whisper, “i love you, flo.”

“i love you more, y/n,” florence returns, and presses her soft lips onto yours.

—

a couple of weeks passed and you and florence’s ‘incident’ was basically last year’s issue. magazines and articles had finally shut up and stopped accusing florence of being a cheater.

you had wondered why they would even call her that since the relationship between her and harry weren’t even real to begin with. almost everyone knew that it was a PR stunt anyway, and yet, they still called her that. fucking hollywood.

however, you had noticed that florence’s mood had improved more within the weeks since she was finally able to post you. any chance she got, she would post you. as much as it embarrassed you, you kind of enjoyed the attention. you enjoyed finally being able to go out in public, hand in hand with your girlfriend, kiss her, without a care in the world. you both promised to always tell each other anything, and both of you would do your utmost best to fix them. all was well in the world. you loved each other and didn’t give a fuck about what other people had to say. and that’s all that mattered. you both loved one another.

the end

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh fanfic #yelena belova #dont worry darling #harry styles #writing #fan fic #wlw

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