#but I’ll be damned if she wasn’t monitoring us the whole time— she did her fucking job 😤👏👏👏

[moodyvoid]

One time in the 6th grade, my friend accidentally threw his retainer away during lunch, but didn’t realize it until the trash had already been taken out.

He told the lunchroom monitor about it and he had to go search through the trash bags in the dumpster outside — and of course me and our other friend tagged along to “help out” (we just wanted out of class lmao)

The principal eventually showed up from his lunch break and was like “Why are there students in the dumpster?”

The lunchroom monitor was like “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He replied, “We can’t have students in the dumpster, Carol.”

Which became one of the most repeated phrases among our friend group for the rest of the year. 💀

[yellowsugarwords]

How would Twdg parental figures (plus Molly) react to a young diabetic reader?

here you go, my friend!!! I hope you enjoy :’) I hope I did this request justice lol

Lee: Lee grew concerned from time to time at how quiet and distant Y/N would suddenly become. Finally, one day, he sat down beside them as they were taking a break. “I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N said. They began before Lee even had a chance. “It’s diabetes. I’ve had it my whole life. It’s not a big deal.” Lee felt a knife in his gut at the revelation. The idea that they hadn’t felt like telling him before now broke his heart, but that wasn’t the priority. They were the priority. “Have you eaten enough today?” “Yes,” Y/N sighed, “I just overheated myself, that’s all. I’m fine.” Without a word, Lee passed them the water bottle he had been carrying around in his pocket. “Take care of yourself, or else.” Y/N smiled, accepting the gift. “I promise, no threats needed,” Lee smirked, going on about his day.

Kenny: Kenny’s eyes widened as Y/N told him the truth. “Oh shit, are you okay right now?” Admittedly, Kenny didn’t know a lot about what diabetes actually was. He didn’t have a lot of time to do so before the world went to shit. “Yes, I’m fine,” Y/n said, waving a hand. “But I promised you I would always be honest. This is me doing that.” Kenny hesitated, realizing the gravity of this discussion, and smiled. He ruffled their hair, chuckling to himself. “You better take care of yourself. I’ll have a damn heart attack if anything happens to you.” Y/N laughed and brushed his hand away. “I promise.” Kenny smiled, his heart warm. He would always lay down his life to protect Y/N, and now, they had another thing to pay attention to so he can continue to do so.

Christa: Christa raised a brow when Y/N said they needed to tell her something, but eventually settled down beside them, waiting for them to speak. The instant she learned what was going on, she sighed. “Y/N, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” “I don’t want you to fuss,” they said passively. “Omid was hurt and you were distracted. It didn’t feel like there was ever a right time.” Christa frowned, feeling guilty for causing the teen to feel isolated. “You can always come and talk to us. To me.” In an ideal world, diabetes was manageable. In their world? Without the same tech or access? It would take more time. “Just talk to me, okay? Tell me how you’re doing. I don’t want to be left in the dark.” Y/N smiled warmly and nodded, appreciating how considerate Christa always was. She had no obligation to. “Thank you, Christa.” Christa smiled warmly and placed a hand on their shoulder, thankful they had been vulnerable with her.

Omid: Omid accidentally stumbled across Y/N checking their blood sugar levels and immediately panicked. “What are you doing? Why are you stabbing your finger?” Y/N chuckled, calming him down by their demeanour. “It’s a blood sugar device. I’m fine,” they assured, slowly using the device as they were instructed. Omid wasn’t quite sure who made the technology - let alone understand how it worked - but was impressed nonetheless. He raised a brow and frowned slightly at the revelation. “Look, Y/N, just let me know-” “I know,” Y/N said with a warm, thankful smile. Omid and Christa had always looked out for them since they first met. Y/N appreciated it and wanted to ensure they knew Y/N trusted them with the truth. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” “Good,” Omid said through a smile. “Because I’ll surrender food for you.” “You don’t need to do that-” “Yeah, yeah,” Omid teased, waving his hand and wandering away before Y/N could finish.

Molly: "Oh shit," she managed out after Y/N disclosed the information to her. "Are you okay? How can you monitor it?" She ran a single, frantic hand through her hair. She was clearly panicking, which was sweet in a way. "You better tell me if you need anything, got it?" Molly knew that diabetes was manageable but in a functioning society. What about now? What about here; a city that had been picked clean of practically everything. “Just don’t be stupid and self-reliant, okay? Let us help.”

Luke: “Really?” Luke gawked. “Shit, Y/N, I had no idea.” “That was the point,” Y/N sighed. “I thought nobody needed to know.” “Of course we do.” Luke scoffed. “We’re a family. We need to take care of each other, and that includes you.” Luke huffed, sitting beside them, his short rant finally over. Y/N didn’t speak, waiting for Luke to take the reins. “We just worry about you.” “I know,” Y/N said. “So if you don’t take care of yourself-” “I get it,” Y/N sighed through a giggle. “You guys worry too much.” Luke shot them a raised eyebrow. “Don’t get testy on me now.” Luke nudged their shoulder, smiling to himself. “Just take a minute to catch your breath,” Luke scoffed. “And eat a damn granola bar. No more scaring me while looking faint.” Y/N rolled their eyes. He would never admit it, but Y/N knew that Luke cared about them a great deal.

Rebecca: Rebecca’s eyes widened as Y/N explained why their behaviour was the way it had been over the last week. “Oh my God,” she breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Good God, we were worried.” She wiped a hand over her face, finally calming herself down. “Y/N, we were so worried about you. I’m glad you decided to tell us.” “I didn’t want you to worry.” “How did that work?” Rebecca teased through a smirk, trying to lift both of their spirits. “Look,” Rebecca said, her expression growing serious again. “Just tell us whenever you need some support, okay? We’re here for you.” Y/N felt their heart grow warm at the sincerity. They nodded, thankful they had someone like Rebecca in their corner.

Alvin: Alvin frowned when Y/N waved him over. They could always speak to him, but their desire to was new…and concerning. “What’s going on? Are you feeling okay?” When Y/N finally explained why they had seemed ‘off’ over the last few days, Alvin’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, Y/N.” He kneeled to be closer to their eye level. “Did you feel the need to hide it because we made you feel like you had to?” “No, there’s just,” Y/N hesitated, “so much else going on.” Alvin sighed through his nose. “This is just as important.” He set a hand on their arm as a form of comfort. “Please don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to us.” Y/N smiled warmly, thankful for his understanding. “You hear me?” Alvin finished with. Y/N chuckled. “I hear you.”

Javier: The instant Y/N explained their situation to Javier, his shoulders sagged. “Are you feeling okay right now?” Y/N nodded, surprised at his quick understanding and kindness. “I am. And I’m sorry, I don’t mean to place people at risk. I-” “People?” Javi scoffed. “I care about you over everyone.” He hesitated, releasing a deep sigh. “We’re going to figure this out, okay? I’m going to go chat with David about our resources.” Without another word, he vanished. A part of Y/N thought it was sweet how much he cared, wanting to keep them safe. How long had it been since someone saw them as a person, not a burden? It made their heart warm. It made them feel safe. Protected, even.

Kate: Kate frowned when Y/N finally confessed why they had seemed so ‘off’ all week. “Y/N, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Kate scoffed, ushering them to take a seat while she grabbed them some water and a snack. “No wonder you look so faint.” When she returned to their side, she placed an item in each of their hands and sat beside them. “Why didn’t you tell us?” “I didn’t want you to fuss. Like this.” “I’m not fussing!” Kate said. The defensiveness in her voice caused Y/N to give her a look. Kate realized they might be right. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. You could’ve terrified us if you were unwell, and we didn’t know what was happening.” Y/N tuned their gaze to the snacks Kate provided. “Good point,” they said softly. Kate smiled warmly, settling a hand on their shoulder. “Stay here, rest for a bit, and we’ll meet up later.” Y/N appreciated her understanding of how complicated the situation was.

David: David could feel his heart skip a beat. This was bad. Very bad. Sure, Richmond had Lingard, but without popper food or supplies, this could become dangerous really fast. “How are you feeling right now?” Y/N smirked. They were expecting a question like that. “I’m doing fine, David. I just thought it was important if you knew.” David hesitated, fighting with himself over how to respond - even how to feel - about the revelation. “Thanks,” was all he said, almost like a question. Y/N chuckled under their breath and went about their day. Sure, David would try to not treat them any differently, but he was going to keep a closer eye on them. He convinced himself it was for everyone’s sake, but really, it was solely for Y/N’s.

━━━━━━ 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜!! ₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫   ♡   𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

[peonierose]

Thank you @aallotarenunelma for tagging me in WIP Friday. I have so many WIPs I could probably fill out 365 days well 366 days this year 🥰 So I’ll share some of my current WIPs with you.

Peppermint Kisses

Book: Crimes of Passion

Pairing: Rose De Luca x Trystan Thorne

“Cheer up Rosa. We’re trying to have fun. You do remember what fun is, right?“ Trystan grins and I give him an evil glare. Mafalda, Luke, Ruby and uncle Tommy snicker from the side.

“She actually doesn’t know what that word means. It’s not in her vocabulary.“ Luke teases. I take a marshmallow out of my mug and throw it at him. It hits him square in the face.

“Ugh. Gross.“ He rubs his cheek and we all laugh.

“There’s more where that came from.“ I taunt him and his dark brown eyes widen behind his black rimmed glasses.

Dear John - Part 1

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Keiki Lahela x Koa Haulani

“What are these? They must be really old. And look, they're dated back from the 1940s. That’s during Pearl Harbor.“ She shudders. I pull her closer until she almost sits in my lap. She instantly relaxes.

“Where did you say you found these letters?“ I ask her and she picks another letter out of the pile.

“I found the letters down at Waikiki beach. They were hidden in the sand.“

“Damn Keiki, that's really cool. These letters date back a long time ago. Does it say anywhere who wrote the letters?“ I ask her and she opens up a letter and turns it over.

“Someone named Joy. No last name. She wrote it to the guy she loved. His name is John.“ She turns the letter over again.

We read the letter together, though it almost feels wrong to read lines in a love letter that wasn’t really meant for our eyes.

You make me see in colors

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair x Bryce Lahela

”With the power vested in me I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride. But please don’t turn it into a make out session. That would make for a very awkward scene. Just saying.“

Lunes and I grin.

I take Lunes' face into my hands and kiss her. It feels as if we’re kissing for the first time. Her lips faintly taste like grapefruit.

I smile against her lips. Not wanting the kiss to end.

Sky turns towards everyone.

”I represent to you Mr. and Mrs. Lahela.“

Las hijas de Luna

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair x Bryce Lahela

”Okay that’s good Lu. That’s good. Just keep pushing.“ Meilani says in a soothing voice.

I get to Luna’s side.

Luna shoots me an angry look.

”Where the fuck were you B?“

I wince and then I smile at her for using a curse word.

”Let’s leave story time for after you’ve given birth. What’s important is that I’m here.“

”I’m going to kick your ass for this later.“

I grin and kiss her forehead.

”I wouldn’t have it any other way.“

Meilani grins and her head nurse Valerie standing next to Meilani, keeping track of the heart monitor.

Meilanis voice gets me out of my trance.

”Dad? Wanna do the honors?“

I squeeze Luna‘s hand and stand in the front to catch the first baby.

As I do, a loud cry fills the room and I suddenly hold one of my girls in my arms.

Valerie smiles next to me.

I look at my little girl, and a whole new love enters my heart. I wasn’t prepared for this feeling.

It’s as if my heart is going to burst from all this love. Making space for new people entering my life. I still can’t believe Luna and I created these beautiful babies.

I take my daughter's little hand in mine and kiss it.

”Hi there, beautiful. Look at you being all pretty huh?“

Valerie keeps sniffing.

”A new member in your Ohana.“

I nod and keep rocking the baby and when she opens her eyes she looks at me and stops crying.

”It’s your awesome dad. So cool right? Look at your mom. Super strong and going at it.“

I’d love to see what you are working on if you’d like to share (no pressure):

And anyone else is welcome to join and share 🩷🩷🩷🩷

@inlocusmads @jerzwriter @the-pale-goddess @trappedinfanfiction @storyofmychoices @noesapphic @cariantha @cadybear420 @rosepetals1 @lilyoffandoms @aria-ashryver @zealouscanonindeer @kristinamae093 @amortentiaopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @surrrenderronniebabe1 @a-cloud-for-dreams

[englass]

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess. 

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between. 

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance. 

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

…… 

… Huh… 

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong… 

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her… 

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders… 

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own. 

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take-- 

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’ 

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it. 

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

… 

He thinks he already does.

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Live In Nanny

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny. 

TW: Yandere themes, breeding kink (our villain is ready to make the reader a mommy), dub con 

AN: literally just took Hero All Might and flipped him upside down. So baseline form is big buff boi and villain form is lanky but retains the strength.

Single father with a nine month old child, seeking live in nanny services. Negotiable pay. Negotiable time off/vacation days.

Toshinori was impressed with your interview. You had over 8 years of experience working with children between babysitting and working at a day care. Plus Izuku took to you immediately. It was just a bonus that you were easy on the eyes.

You agreed to begin immediately, trying not to let on that you were in desperate need of money and a place to stay. You didn't have much to move in. And, in comparison to the huge room you had been given, it seemed like you owned even less. You figured your new boss must get paid well. His house was huge, the largest you'd ever been in.

Your room was next to baby Izuku's. Settling in to a routine with the baby was easy. You weren't sure exactly what your employer did for a living, his schedule was sporadic, he would be in and out throughout the day. Whenever he was available he would stop by to love on the infant. It was clear that he was doing his best as a single parent, but house keeping wasn't his strong suit. You tried your best to help out with the chores and grocery shopping, after all he was paying you graciously and giving you a roof over your head.

The only bump in the road so far has been getting Toshinori's permission to take the little one on walks through the nearby park. According to the father, errands were one thing but what was the point of going to park? Izuku can't even walk, there wouldn't be any benefit. Eventually you convinced him, after rambling about how good it is for babies to be exposed to different levels of stimulation. You could show Izuku the ducks and dogs, plus he could see all the pretty spring time flowers.

The older man was worried, he feared that his child, and you for that matter, would be targeted by his enemies. Plenty of low life's would love to make a move against the notorious villain. But you wore down his resolve. So long as you would tell him before you went. Thankfully he could play it off as being a bit of a helicopter dad. He always has a spare crony he could send out there to watch over you two.

---

"What are you both doing," your bosses laugh filled the air.

You were in a very flattering position, palms on the floor stretching through your hips, ass hiked up with a tempting arch to your back. Then you pushed yourself forward, giving the giggling baby raspberries before returning to your original position.

"Baby yoga!" You smiled, oblivious to the growing bulge in the villains pants. "Right now we're doing downward facing dog and cobra."

He watched you cycle through the motions, hypnotized by your movements.

You took such good care of him and his baby. Ever since you got here you went above and beyond (very plus ultra of you). You even packed his meals to go when he had to rush off to a job. And you did it all with a smile and his kid bouncing away at your feet. The man allowed his mind to drift to the thought of you with his babies, Izuku on your hip and your round belly ready to pop.

You made an amazing nanny but you would make an even better housewife.

---

It wasn't until a week after Izuku's birthday that you learned about your bosses occupation. You were at the park and a stranger approached you to coo over Izuku.

"Such a little cutie, this is Toshi's kid, right?"

That caught you off guard, how did this person know Toshinori? You knew he was a protective dad and there something about this woman felt off.

"Well, either way, this is for you," she smiled as she passed you a manila envelope. "A little birdie wants you to have it."

You skeptically eyed the parcel as the woman disappeared through the park. You shoved it into Izuku's diaper bag before rushing back home.

You decided to peek into the envelope after settling 'Zuku down for the night. You curled onto the chair in his nursery, using his nightlight too sift through the documents. Various photos of Toshinori, your employer, amongst high profile criminals. Photos of the most terrifying villain among his infamous exploits. And finally a piece of paper with a single web address and access code. This was the most damning piece of evidence, All Might - the villain himself - joking amongst his companions before transforming into the man you knew as Izuku's father. Without this video you would have never even guessed. All Might was known for his unassuming nature, his slender frame concealing his god-like strength. Still he looked terrifying, like make children cry type terrifying. Toshinori on the other hand was massive but his sunny attitude made him approachable. For all these months you had been working for a criminal. A criminal with a child. You had been living with him, laughing and raising a baby, taking care of him and his family. Oh god, your late night fantasies of your boss, a total DILF, were fantasies of a sadistic monster.

The betrayal and shame brought you to tears. You should call the cops. Take Izuku far away from this place, from being exposed to his fathers atrocities. But you were torn, he was a good dad, he always put his son first and provided him with only the best. He would tear the world apart for Izuku even if he had to put a target on your back. You shook as you muffled your cries, trying not to wake the baby you cared so much for. Eventually you wrote yourself out, falling asleep in the nursery.

By the time Toshinori made it home it was close to two in the morning. As usual he tip toed into his sons room, shocked to find you curled up in the rocker asleep. He was quiet, surprisingly more so than in his slender form. As you made his way to wake you he was surprised to see your phone still unlocked, you had fallen to sleep with that video on loop. Underneath your phone was the envelope, he didn't need to look to know what was inside. He hadn’t woken either of you, managing to shut off your phone and pick you up with or so much as a peep. He decided rather quickly that he would wait for you to make the first move. At least in the mean time he could pretend you didn't care about his lifestyle and that you wouldn't try to leave him or his son.

"Toshinori," you mumbled as he was about to settle you into your bed. You were half asleep and groggy from crying.

"Go back to sleep, darling, it's late," he paused to sway with you, just like he did when putting down 'Zuku for a nap. He was shocked that it worked and finally escaped your room. You let him lull you back to sleep, further affirming his belief that you would stay.

---

The next morning you creeped downstairs. Izuku wasn't in his crib, meaning Toshinori was him. You found them both in the kitchen. The sight of the pair would usually warm your body but now shivers radiated down your spine.

"Look who's up, buddy, say good morning," he bounced the child, beaming like the happiest father.

Taking a deep breath you decided to rip off the band aid. "Mr Toshinori, I have to resign."

His pause was so long you wondered if he heard you.

"Did the video upset her that much, Zuzu?"

He looked at you with the same warmth he always did. "There's no need to be formal, you were fine calling me Toshi just the other day. Take a seat, I made pancakes, just like you like'em."

You complied, his unchanged demeanor intimidating you into submission.

"There's no need for you to quit," he started. "Nothing has changed aside from your level of awareness."

"I can't work for you knowing that you hurt people."

At that his smile faltered, "Darling, if you truly felt that way, you wouldn't be here. You would've slipped out early this morning."

You were silent. He was right, in a way. Trapped between what was right and what was best for Izuku. You'd never be able to do anything about your boss's criminal activity, even if you did and All Might was locked away, Izuku would suffer the most.

"Give yourself a few days to adjust, okay? If you still want to quit after that, we can reassess."

There's was a glint in his eyes that hinted he wasn't asking.

---

"I'll be back this evening," Toshinori told you a as he kissed Izuku's forehead. He was uncomfortably close as he returned the baby to your lap. "There's plenty of groceries so you don't need to go out today. I have a coworker out front, so don’t worry if you see someone outside."

"What are they doing?"

He placed a hand on the top of your hair, petting you like some cat.

"He'll just keep an eye on things. I need someone to make sure you stay put."

---

A week flew by with your employer pushing off the discussion of your resignation. He wouldn’t leave you unsupervised so just walking away wasn’t an option, besides could you really leave Izuku? 

Then the child came down with some type of bug and was absolutely miserable for several days. You couldn’t get much sleep as a result, even if his father was home for most of the day. 

---

Izuku finally fell asleep around three in the morning. You napped beside his crib out of fear he would wake up if you so much as changed positions.

Then you woke in Toshi's arms as he carried you down the hall.

"Where are we going," You whined, anxious to be away from the child.

"I told you to rest, instead I find you in the nursery."

"'Zuku is sick-"

"But he's asleep, there are baby monitors, not that he won't wake the whole city up with his cries. You've been up for nearly two days with him, time for bed."

But he wasn't taking you to your room. Instead he dropped you on to his bed.

"What are you doing?" You snapped.

"I don't need you sneaking back. I can keep an eye on you here. I'll take care of him if he starts crying." He rolled in next to you.

The bed was huge but so was your boss. "Stop wiggling."

"Well I can't get comfortable."

“Fine,” he said and pulled you into him, “now stop it and get some sleep.”

You burned with embarrassment, turning silent after several attempts at protest. Just as you began to drift off, Toshinori's hand moved to beneath your shorts. You shut your eyes, pretending not to notice. He probably didn't even realize what he was doing. Then his fingers grazed the spot where your skin met your panties.

"I know you aren't asleep yet, darling."

You didn't respond, opting to keep up the façade.

"Mmm, are we playing pretend? I don't mind."

You gasped, pushing at his hand, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "I'm just helping you wear yourself out. You've been taking such good care of the baby, let me return the favor."

He jerked your hips, pressing you tightly against his bulge.

"You've been such a good mommy."

God the way you could feel your body responding made you hate that he was a villain.

"'M not-" You gasped as he did his fingers into your thighs. "His mom."

"You sure about that? I know how much you care about him. Always rushing to him when he’s cranky, never taking any days off. You make sure he's a happy little baby and you take such good care of his daddy. Isn't that's what mommies do?"

A moan slipped through your lips, "Stop."

"Are you sure? It seems like your having such a good time," he teased, sliding his hand to find your wetness.

Your body jerked involuntarily. He wasted no time tearing off your layers. Your determination quickly fading.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he pushed a finger in to your warmth.

You shivered at the sensation. Before you could register his actions there was another digit. He skillfully maneuvered his fingers to prep walls.

"What a tight like cunt," The man cooed. "So perfect and pretty. Just waiting for me to claim."

You gasped as he curled his fingers in you. Tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

"Atta girl, I think you're ready to take daddy's cock."

You shouldn't be surprised when you saw how absolutely hung your boss is. There was no way the whole thing would fit inside of you.

Without hesitation All Might slowly began to press inside of you. The head of his cock already made it feel like you were tearing.

"Wait wait wait," You cried. "Too big."

He paused, reassuring you, "I know you can do it baby. You're okay."

You shook your head violently.

With a sloppy squelch he withdrew. He disappeared momentarily, give you much need time to breathe. Then he was back and you felt a cool, slick fluid rub against you. He applied a generous amount of lube knowing full well that if he played his cards right you'd happily be his forever.

Regardless there was still a painful pressure as he forced himself deeper.

"You're doing so good, taking me so well."

He was slowly increasing the speed off his hips. All you could manage was incoherent whines as his momentum bounced you back and forth.

"Toshi, Toshi," You panted.

"I don't think so baby girl," he slapped your thigh. "You know what I want to hear."

You couldn't be rational, not when he was pounding into you. All you knew was pleasure in this moment. How could you not give the man what he wanted when he was fucking you dumb.

"Mmm daddy, hurts so good."

"Ah- fuck yeah. I knew you were a little pain slut. You want me to fuck you like a whore and then treat you like my little princess?"

You nodded, gasping for air.

"You've been such a good little mommy, I think you deserve this little treat huh?"

You didn't respond, stubbornly refusing to tell the man what he was desperate to hear.

He shifted to a painfully slow pace as he would pull almost completely out just to slam back into your abused whole.

"And here I thought you wanted to cum, I can always stop here, finish myself later-"

"No! No no no, don't stop."

"Then repeat after me: I'm such a good mommy."

As you stayed silent until he began to move at a snails pace. So close to losing your high.

"O-kay, okay, I-I've been a good mom-mommy," You cried tried to buck against the giant.

And just like that your boss was pushing you back to the edge of an orgasm. You were sobbing from pleasure and frustration.

"I know,” He growled. “Fucking good girl, taking care of our baby while daddy's working. You're gonna look so pretty knocked up. All glowing and swollen. Bet your tits are gonna look so pretty when they get full. Gotta keep you stuffed with my cum so our little boy can have a sibling."

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #4

xxx dead on your feet

part 1; part 2

Mellisa McCall has seen a lot of things in her time as a nurse. She’s seen a lot of Things in her time as Scott’s mother. She’s grown somewhat used to it--as used to it as one can be. She’s barely phased by monsters anymore. At some point, she’d come (foolishly) to think that with everything she’s seen and been through, there wasn’t anything that could come through the hospital doors that could rattle her.

She was wrong. 

Not even the sound of Scott’s desperate pleas over the phone could have prepared her for what came in: Stiles, soaked through with rain, pale and cold and still. 

She’d thought the sight of those blue lips would haunt her.

She quickly learned that what will haunt her is the sound of herself breaking his bones, his ribs cracking beneath her hands as she did compression after compression until they made her stop and switch, though she stayed as close to Stiles as she could without being completely in the way, only stepping back when someone yelled, Clear! 

The sight of Stiles’s skinny frame jerking slightly from the defibrillator had almost made her sick.

The sound of Stiles’s heartbeat on the monitor and the sound of him taking a breath had, the relief hitting with such intensity after so much tension and worry that it made her stomach do somersaults and, with Stiles alive and at least somewhat stable in the hands of her co-workers, she’d had to excuse herself.

And that’s how she came to be here, crying on the floor of the break room with the lights off with a trash can that smells like puke sitting on the linoleum beside her, in case she needs it again. She’s falling to pieces, and for now she’s letting herself because she knows that soon there will be a lot more pieces that need picking up. She’ll put herself back together before then, so as not to add to the pile. But for now, she cries.

xxx 

Stiles wakes up gasping, chest tight with panic as one hand flies up to his neck. He doesn’t know where he is, but that man, that--that thing--could still be nearby and if he is then Stiles has to get out of here and he has to warn Scott, and--

Someone is holding him, two hands gripping his arms so tightly it hurts and Stiles is not going down without a fight. He jerks and lets out a yell, only to hear his own name yelled back at him.

“Stiles! Stiles, it’s me! It’s your dad! You need to calm down, son!”

Stiles blinks, ignoring the stinging pain at the inside of his elbow. “Dad?” 

“It’s me, Stiles, I’m here!”

“Scott--where’s Scott? I--I need to see him! I hafta…I hafta…” 

“We can get him here. Oh, damn it, your IV came out. I’ll call someone…Stiles?”

Stiles feels strange, light-headed but through his whole body, and the edges of his vision are starting to get fuzzy. “Gotta…” His tongue doesn’t want to work, but he makes it. He needs to get the words out before everything goes black. “Gotta warn him…”

xxx 

Stiles dreams of blood, an ocean of it under a maroon red sky. The waves crash over him again and again, and he doesn’t have time to come up for air. It fills his nostrils and his mouth, coppery and sharp. 

His teeth are sharp, too, growing until they cut into his lower lip and his own blood is added to the mix. 

The taste makes him smile.

xxx 

The next time he wakes up, there’s a hand on his wrist, gentle, and he recognizes the warm tingling sensation of pain being drawn from his body. He frowns, turning his head slightly with a small groan. 

“Stiles?”Scott says softly. “Hey, you awake?”

Stiles forces his eyes open, blinking, and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus in the low light. 

“Heyyy…” he says sleepily, the last remnants of unconsciousness still clinging to the edges of his mind. 

Scott sighs, hanging his head with a breathy chuckle. “Oh, thank god. You really scared me, you know.”

Stiles just hums in response. Scott continues.

“Hey, your dad said you wanted to talk to me. That maybe you wanted to…warn me about something?”

The fog clears as suddenly as if a switch has been flipped and everything comes rushing back: his jeep, the man, the fangs--

“It was a vampire,” Stiles says, and Scott’s brows furrow, his mouth turning up at the corners. Stiles doesn’t wait for him to speak. “I’ve got two holes in my neck, Scott. I felt his fangs. I felt the blood leaving my body. And he said--he said to tell you that the…Children of Lamia are coming. Whoever he is, he’s not alone, Scott, there are more like him coming.”

Scott blinks. “Oh my god. Oh my god. This must be what our parents have been keeping from us--oh my god this is all my fault. I should’ve had my phone on, I should’ve--”

“Scott,” Stiles interrupts. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“Stiles, when I found you, you--you were barely alive.” Scott blinks back tears. “And when you got to the ER, you died, Stiles. Mom cracked your ribs giving you CPR.” His hand is still on Stiles’s wrist, which explains why Stiles hadn’t noticed the broken bones. 

“I…I didn’t know that,” Stiles says. The momentary clarity is already, infuriatingly, starting to get clouded by fatigue. “‘m okay now, though, Scott. You got me here. You saved me.”

“And you're exhausted. Why don’t you get some more rest.”

“What about the vampires?” Stiles asks, but he can already feel his eyes slipping shut.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Stiles forces his eyes open, looking at Scott. “And what if…what if I’m--”

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott says firmly.

Stiles nods, and it’s only moments before he slips back into sleep and dreams, once more, of blood.

xxx end

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[pikapeppa]

Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

******************************

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot. 

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight. 

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon. 

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through. 

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either. 

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.” 

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking. 

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon. 

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face. 

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door. 

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still… 

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?” 

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?” 

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did. 

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read. 

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair. 

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said. 

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke. 

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this. 

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner.  “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping. 

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower? 

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes. 

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too. 

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin… 

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this. 

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

[rhysanoodle]

Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder​​ 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Word Count: 2053

AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Three days later, Azriel was frustrated.

He had gone to every single point on the map, but he had been unable to deduce anything of significance. Perhaps Elain’s magic had truly been fuzzied by whatever shielding Koschei had in place, because if these locations held any hints as to how to enter his stronghold, Azriel surely couldn’t detect them.

Which aggravated him to no end.

As he touched down in Velaris that evening, he headed straight for the riverfront estate, needing to debrief with Rhys as soon as possible so he could blow off some steam.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been shocked that the entirety of their family was gathered in the dining room for dinner, but what he was surprised about was the presence of Lucien and Vassa. And not only their presence, but also … Vassa was sitting with Elain. And the two of them were getting on thick as thieves.

Rhys had mentioned that Elain would be provided company in his absence, but … This was not what Azriel thought he had meant. He had expected one of her sisters to step in, but clearly some bond was forming between the Seer and the Human Queen which had not been there the last time he had observed them together.

We need to talk, he sent down that lingering thread Rhys left open for him.

His High Lord looked up from his meal, a glass of wine dangling in his hand. He gave a nod and excused himself from the table, ruffling Nyx’s hair as the infant grabbed futilely for his father, breaking down into a series of sobs before Feyre shushed him.

That boy was attached. He always loved to be held, something which Azriel was slowly warming to, but Rhys gave into him most of all. Which in turn made Nyx a blubbering mess whenever they had to be separated. 

Azriel didn’t know how the two did it. Children had always been some vague, far off concept for him. Something his future mate might want. But now that one of his family had finally brought a child into the circle, Azriel wasn’t sure he was ready, even after almost six centuries.

“What did you find?” Rhys asked, shutting his office door to give them some privacy.

“Whole fat lot of nothing,” Azriel grumbled. He should have been able to find more. If anyone could, it would be him.

“Easy. This isn’t your fault,” Rhys soothed him, and Azriel fortified his mental defenses.

“How is it that he can obscure so much from even my shadows?”

“You do remember that this is a death-god we’re talking about, right?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered subtly. “I know that we’re under a lot of pressure to find him quickly, but it makes sense that his defenses are difficult to crack.”

“Do you think Elain can do it?” Azriel finally voiced aloud his other concern. That all of this was for nothing. That they would be forced into such close quarters, endure all of the pain which came along with it, only to fail in the end. Vassa would return to her master, and they would fall apart again. He didn’t think Elain would continue to take his peace offering if they parted ways under such stressful circumstances.

“I think if anyone can, it is Elain,” Rhys replied carefully. “I also think we have a tendency to underestimate her. It is clear that she has power, though she is loath to use it when unnecessary. But the Cauldron gave her at least one gift. Who’s to say that she doesn’t have more? Or that it will not guide her in her scrying?”

“But you always have one of us monitoring her.”

“Though she might be powerful, she is untrained,” Rhys responded. “You were in the room when Nesta scried on the Mask. Koschei may not be a Cauldron-forged object, but he surely has tricks up his sleeve. I’ll be damned if Elain falls into some sort of trap without being given a way out.”

“And have you told her this?” Perhaps, Azriel thought, it would lessen her resentment of him being there. Perhaps, they could at the very least bond over the fact that he was there not only to gather information straight from the source but also to protect her.

“No, and you’re not to tell her either.” Rhys picked a piece of lint off his jacket. “If she’s frustrated with her circumstances then perhaps that will fuel her will to produce results. Subconsciously of course. It’s not like I don’t think she’s trying her hardest. It’s just that with whatever wards Koschei has, we need any edge we can find.

“What happens when Elain finds out? Are you not at least a little bit worried that you keep everything from her?” Because it was not just this. Elain had had no say when Rhys had ordered Azriel to stay away from her in the first place. Nevermind all the other things they had shielded her from over the years.

“No.” Rhys bared his teeth at Azriel’s assumption. “She won’t find out, and even if she did, she’d surely understand why we had to keep these things quiet. It’s for her safety, hers and the court’s. She is wise enough to grasp this.”

“For someone who has warned us not to underestimate her, you seem to be doing a great job of it yourself,” Azriel retorted, perhaps a bit unwisely, but his brother’s behavior was fraying his last remaining nerve.

“We’re done here,” Rhys replied icily. “Report back here tomorrow to resume her training.”

Azriel fought against his wings flaring at the cool dismissal. He suspected that Elain was not a fan of having every decision made without her consent, yet he was bound to follow orders from his High Lord. It chafed on every raw edge of him.

He could have simply winnowed back home but instead he walked out, passing the dining room on his way to the front door.

Elain looked up from her meal with a question in her eyes, and Azriel shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, he had nothing. No, he wouldn’t be debriefing her tonight. No, he wasn’t allowed to stay. Perhaps she would pick up on at least one of the things he wished to convey to her.

Once outside, he shot into the sky and spirited himself to his bed. Nightmares chased him from sleep during the precious little he was able to manage in the first place.

***************

Elain tossed and turned in bed. Azriel had left tonight with nary a word after speaking with Rhys. She couldn’t help but wonder why.

Rhys had returned to the dining room a minute later, under a decent guise at regaining his composure, but Elain could still tell something was off. His smiles sometimes didn’t quite meet his eyes, and she couldn’t help but feel like something said between the two males had sparked an argument. One that wasn’t merely easily soothed over with drink and merriment.

Interesting.

So interesting in fact that she asked Azriel about it the next afternoon.

“What happened between you and Rhys last night?” she asked, taking a casual sip of her tea.

“I reported in, and then I left.” Azriel tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his shoulders were tense, giving away that something was indeed amiss, as she had expected.

“Then why did Rhys seem so on edge all night? And why didn’t you join everyone for dinner?”

“He didn’t like what he heard.”

“Rhys hears things which don’t agree with him every damn day. What was different about whatever you told him?”

“Cauldron, how am I supposed to know?” If Elain didn’t know any better, she would say Azriel was very, very close to snapping at her, something he had never once done in all her years of knowing him.

She decided to let it slide. For now. But her curiosity would not be completely stifled. “So you truly found nothing?”

Azriel shifted in his seat. “Not a thing. I’m not sure if those points on the map weren’t important or if Koschei is so cloaked that even my shadows can’t suss out whatever he’s hiding there. I—”

“It’s not your fault. Either I got it wrong, or like you said, he’s too cloaked in mist and shadow. I'm even struggling to get a read on him, and I’ve got powers given to me by the Cauldron.”

“This is my job,” Azriel practically growled.

“You’ve said that before. It doesn’t change the fact that certain things are out of your control. You’ve been doing this for centuries. Surely this can’t be the first time you haven’t seen immediate results. Why is it bugging you so much now?”

“Shouldn’t you be scrying?” Another deflection. Elain clearly wasn’t going to get anything else useful out of him in this mood. She would just have to attack it again at a later date.

“Fine. Perhaps whatever I see today will actually be useful.”

She’d meant it to sting. Though whether it was targeted at herself or Azriel, Elain was unsure. They were both failing in their own ways. Two sides of a deeply flawed coin.

Azriel stiffened but said no more before beginning to leaf through his reports.

Elain closed her eyes, ignoring the shuffling sounds coming from the spymaster’s direction and stilled her mind, giving herself over to wherever the visions were willing to take her.

***************

“Sweet, fertile thing. Cauldron-blessed creature. Why are you spying on me?”

The voice was honeyed yet rotten, echoing. Not Koschei. No, Elain had practically been inside Koschei’s head last week. This was something wholly different.

And the creature. As Elain’s vision came into focus, she beheld the insipid being. It was tall, slender and ghastly white. Its body was completely bare and bald with the exception of multiple claw marks trailing scars down its chest.

It was staring straight at her, as if completely aware of her. How was that possible?

“Oh, come now, don’t be scared.” The creature smiled, its widened maw baring rows upon rows of jagged teeth. 

Elain tried to run but found that she couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak. She had never felt so … trapped by a vision. She found herself tunneling within, trying to find her way back into her own body.

“Tsk tsk,” the creature stirred, overly long fingers rubbing together as he drank her in. “I am not your enemy. You did not come seeking me, but I have found you. I have some information which may be of use to you. Come see me.” And it was then that Elain realized that, no, its voice was not echoing. Its voice was a multitude.

She gazed around, doing her best to gauge its surroundings, but was met with only ruddy stone.

“Until we meet again,” the creature murmured.

*************

Elain found herself jerked back into her body, shivering. Nobody had ever been able to see her when she had scryed before, nobody had ever acknowledged her. She had been under the assumption that she was a bystander, a nonentity merely peering into their lives, but what if … what if Koschei was also aware of her presence? What if he sensed every single attempt she had made in the past weeks and was sitting back in his lair laughing at her weak intrusions. Had he sent her those random locations in which Azriel had come up empty handed?

“What is it?” Was that an edge of panic in Azriel’s voice?

Elain struggled to find her own voice, the feeling of being trapped in her own body, in her own mind too fresh. Too … reminiscent of another night on which she’d had no control over what happened to her.

Elain shook her head, unable to stop staring at her own trembling hands, and Azriel was on her in an instant. “Elain, what did you see?” he demanded, and his sudden nearness, the heat radiating off his body only mere inches from her own, thawed something inside her.

“Something spoke to me. It seemed to know what I was doing, what I sought,” she croaked, and Azriel’s face blanched.

He shot up from his position next to her, and gestured towards the door. “Come on. We’re going to see Rhys.”

***************

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[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (8)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(Still no Tech this time, please don’t be mad! But hey we’re in L’manberg now! That’s pog right? Plus we officially meet Wilb and Fundy! But remember y’all, if this chapter doesn’t do well then I can’t write chapter 9! So show chapter 8 some love!! <3)

—————

MOAR ART!

I tried drawing Reader! -> She.

And xoxoyukixoxo-art-dump on here drew her too! She looks so SICK! SHE!

----

He’d been watching her for some time now. 

Not all day and night like some weirdo but he’d noticed instantly when she’d ‘logged on’ so to speak. The first thing to make him curious was him wondering how she arrived here in the first place, but when he tried teleporting to this new person it strangely hadn’t worked. He’d simply not gone anywhere, which was beyond puzzling. He should be able to teleport to anyone on this server. That little tidbit, the not being able to teleport to her, was the second thing to make him curious. So curious in fact that he spent a very long time just looking for her. When the ability to teleport to her was no longer an option he’d found searching for someone was much harder, but in the end he’d found her. And good lord was she a big one. Not taller than endermen or anything bigger but she definitely towered over the villagers she lived with.

He didn’t know how she ended up here since you needed an invite to be allowed on the server. And he knows she wasn’t invited, because he knows ALL the people who are invited. Hell, at one point he even tried banning her (an action which kicks players from the server) but… nothing had happened. He’d been hidden and watching her when he’d done it and she’d not even noticed, just kept on planting flowers around one of the villager’s houses without a care in the world.

He’d unbanned her and nothing changed again. Then he’d tried using other commands on her. Teleport, clear, give, and even Kill. Not a single one did anything. That made him nervous. He’d never encountered something like this before. It was unheard of. If this player decided to become hostile, or End forbid, GENOCIDAL… it would have very disastrous consequences for the other players on the server..

He decided then and there to monitor her deeply until further notice. 

Which turned into him popping up by her village and sneaking in to watch her and what she did day in and day out for a few months. And honestly.. She seemed pretty benign. 

All she really did was change up the village she lived in and decorate. When not doing those things she would do other hobbies like cooking and potion making. She’d also leave the village sometimes to just explore. He took those chances to go inside her home and snoop around. He also noticed aggressive mobs were pretty neutral towards her for whatever reason. That only ever happened if a player had a clear relation to a mob (aka a hybrid) or if the player had creative… Which it looked like she had. But she also didn’t look fully human.

“What a strange being you are..”

-0-

Before you knew it the next day had come, bright and early. 

You’d had to go back to the Overworld around sunrise to get ready to greet Tubbo. You’d explained to Azo that you’d try to come back as soon as you could but for now you had to go on a trip for a while. She was sad to see you go but said okay and to hurry back. Your heart broke all over again, feeling terrible that you had to leave her alone but there was nothing you could do. You’d bring her with you if it were possible but you knew her entering the Overworld would turn her into a zombie instantly. And that’s not a fate you’re willing to make anyone go through.

But you left her a chest with some golden carrots, some apples, and even some of the stew you’d made for Tubbo and Tommy. She liked the stew, so you left her a few bowls and even some juice to drink in case she got thirsty. You hugged her goodbye and told her you’d bring her a gift back. She nodded happily and then you sadly had to leave through the portal. Which you made sure to destroy after exiting it. Didn’t want anything wandering through. That would be a disaster. 

Once you were back in the overworld you went home and sat on your bed and just thought. More than anything you just wanted to step in and prevent Schlatt and Quackity from winning. But you didn’t know if doing that would have dangerous consequences or not. You’d seen so many movies where a small change in the past ends up having massive effects in the future. Damn butterfly effects. Stopping them from winning the election could end up causing a civil war within L’manburg. Or Tubbo, Tommy, or Wilbur could end up hurt or even lose a life. Or something even more devastating could happen. 

...But you hated the thought of Tommy and Wilbur getting exiled. It wasn’t fair or just. Especially while getting shot at and chased down like dogs. Schlatt and Quackity really pissed you off with that part. Seeing Ponk and Punz just instantly turn on the two original founders left you feeling utterly appalled. Schlatt hadn’t even been sworn in as president yet! He’d not taken an oath or anything! None of what he ‘decreed’ should have been taken as law! None of it was legal-

You pause. None of that WAS legal.. right? Did the citizens even know that? Were they aware that simply winning an election wasn’t the instant inauguration that Schlatt and Quackity made it out to be? Surely there was more to L’manburg than simply the bare bones parts that were shown on youtube in your original world. There had to be actual systemic structure for this whole ass small country. You wanted to believe there was, because the alternative made you facepalm. But at this point you honestly just didn’t know. You would need to have a discussion with Wilbur and Tommy (Wilbur more so since he was the adult in this situation).

You needed to talk to Wilbur asap.

-0-

Tubbo and Tommy came to get you bright and early, the blond looking more anxious than he was trying to let on. Seeing the usually so upbeat and grinning boy so nervous made your stomach churn. So you’d pulled him into a hug, not even letting him finish his greeting to you before you did. He went silent and was tense at first. But you took in a breath and said in as reassuring a tone as you could physically muster,

“Don’t worry kiddo. Things WILL be okay. I’ll make sure of it, alright?”

Tommy was silent, but you could hear the choked gasp of breath the boy took in, and you felt how his lanky body seemed to relax in your hold. He awkwardly put his arms around your back, seemingly not used to this, the whole hugging thing. At least not such heartfelt ones. He’s hugged Tubbo, Wilbur, and Philza but this one just felt different. It felt safer. Like if he stayed here nothing could hurt him. It was weird but.. nice. Part of the boy didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to leave this new safe place. Here hugging you there was no fear of losing the election, no worries of wars with the DSMP, there was nothing bad. Just a pleasant warmth he felt like he could just fall asleep to.

But the bigger part of him knew he’d never hide away from his problems. It wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t some baby coward who hid behind mommy for protection when shit got tough. (missing how his subconscious referred to you as ‘mom’) He was a MAN! Nevermind he was barely 16! He was practically an adult (in his own eyes)! He’d fought in a war for independence! He’d battled for his and his countrymen’s freedom! There’s no way he’d cower away from this damned election! 

With a new fire in him, largely in part to the confidence you seemed to have for him and L’manburg, he eventually pulled back from the hug and gave you one of his signature bright grins. He said thanks but there’s no way he was worrying! Like you said, things were gonna be fine! You gave him an encouraging smile in return and agreed, then added that if anything DID go wrong you’d stick by them and make sure it all got resolved. The teens looked grateful for your support. But then you bid the villagers goodbye for now and told the iron golems to make sure to keep them all safe.

Then you three were off to L’manburg.

-0-

Walking into L’manburg was weird. You’d only ever seen parts of it via the videos you’d watched from the various minecraft youtubers. But being there in person was wild, seeing all the buildings and pathways was interesting though. Tommy and Tubbo changed into their ‘presidential attire’, which were just those vaguely old school British military uniforms they wore at the start of the L’manburg thing. You still ruffled their hair and cooed over them, saying they looked like official little men. They got all huffy and Tommy swatted your hand away, making you laugh. Tubbo suggested showing you around before the election began, which you thought was a good idea. So the pair escorted you around L’manburg, showing you the main places plus their houses and favorite spots. You gave Tommy a Look and asked him if he really lived in a dirt hut.

“It’s DIRT Tommy, not even cobblestone. Just a dirty dirt hut,” you said with a sigh.

Tubbo snickered while Tommy tried defending himself. But he honestly was just making excuses though thankfully he got cut off by Wilbur showing up. He was in the same uniform as both teenagers and you saw him giving you a wide eyed look as he walked up. You could tell he was used to not being around someone so much taller than him. Which you guess made sense since he’d been hanging out with teenagers, a girl, and his own son mostly. You think Dream is taller than him but you don’t know how often they’re around each other peacefully to notice height..

“Oh, hello, you must be Reader! Tommy and Tubbo have told me about you!” the brunet man said with a charming smile. 

You returned the smile and held your hand out for him to shake. He gave a firm handshake and you said he must be Wilbur and that the boys had mentioned him to you. He gave a sly smile to the two boys and asked if that was so, and said he hoped they’d said good things about him. Not liking his teasing tone Tommy cut in and said he told you about Wilbur being a bitch! You laughed and Wilbur punched Tommy in the shoulder, laughing when the boy loudly claimed he was abusing a child!

Wilbur rolled his eyes at the blond boy and asked what the occasion for you visiting his lovely country was. You gave a relaxed smile and said you just wanted to come out and support ‘big man’ and Tubbo on this exciting day! Wilbur smiled and perked up when Tubbo said they were giving you a tour of L’manburg. Wilbur asked why the shortest boy didn’t say so before and gestured for you to follow him, saying the best person to give a tour is always the president! You liked his charming enthusiasm but you could still see the nervousness just lurking under the surface for all three of them. You hated that their worry was justified. 

-0-

Wilbur took over showing you around, Tubbo and Tommy right behind him adding little comments here and there to irk him. You ohh’d and ahh’d at the polite times, even saying how cool the place was. You even got shown Wilbur’s ‘ball house’ and their extensive nether pathways briefly. You got a bit distracted in the Nether, wondering if Azo was okay. Though you supposed she was a tough kid, what with having survived in the Nether her whole life so far. But she was just a little kid, still a toddler. She shouldn’t have to survive. She should be living.

“And I guess that’s the whole tour! I hope we’ve given you a good impression of my country~” Wilbur said with a smile, thoroughly snapping your attention back to the present.

You were thankful they couldn’t see how your eyes widened when you realized you’d totally zoned out during the last leg of the tour. Instead of worrying you just gushed and said you’d been really dazzled! The trio grinned and you ruffled Tommy’s hair and said you could expect no less from the big man himself and sweet Tubbo. The pair were happy to hear you praising the country they’d worked so hard to have, with Tommy even playfully swatting your hand away from your hair and saying anything he helped with would be the best. Wilbur gave a very big brother reply of ‘oh really?’ that was dripping with doubt, which started to set Tommy off.

The two started going back and forth, causing you to roll your eyes. Yeah they definitely had the brother vibe about them. Though Wilbur lost interest in arguing when he spotted someone a bit aways behind you and Tommy. He perked up and waved, calling out ‘FUNDY!’ to get his son’s attention. You all glanced over to see a fox hybrid in a uniform that was the same as the boys around you, only the coloring was off. Fundy’s was more pastel colored while the others were darker/more saturated. Wilbur waved him over and you noticed the way Fundy’s muzzle scrunched up when Wilbur threw an arm around his shoulders, but you said nothing. Not really your place but from what you remember of the smp videos… Wilbur wasn’t the ideal father figure to his furry son..

“Fundy, this is Reader! She’s a friend of Tubbo and Tommy’s! She came to support us today,” Wilbur said with a smile.

The fox quirked an eyebrow at you and asked a mildly incredulous voice if your name was actually ‘Reader’. Tommy told him to shut up and pointed out that his name was ‘Fundy’ so he had no room to be criticizing anybody’s name. Fundy raised his paws in surrender and said fine, whatever, no need to jump down his throat about it. You chuckled and said it was okay, it was a rather odd name. And you liked his name, it was cool. Tommy actually boo’d you while Fundy smiled, glad at least someone stuck up for him. Though that reminded Fundy to ask Wilbur if he’d seen the ballots…

Wilbur’s mood darkened and he gave a clipped, “Yeah, I saw them.” His tone making the other L’manburg citizens feel uncomfortable. You spoke up, asking what was wrong with them? Had someone tampered with them or something? Fundy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck and said yes and no. Yes someone had changed them but it wasn’t really ‘tampering’, just altering to fit with the new campaign runners. She gave his upset father a side glance, his triangular shaped ears going back when he saw the way Wilbur’s eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw clenched. Seems the current president was still pissed off that his son and first lady had decided to run against him together..

“Well we had to change the ballots to include all the people running, and even an ‘other’ option… Yeah,” Fundy said lowly.

You couldn’t help the way you raised an eyebrow at that and said, 

“Isn’t that just the standard for ballots? Designing ballots to not show all the people their options would just be criminal.”

Wilbur didn’t seem to like your (in his opinion) unwanted input and said however L’manburg designed their ballots was none of your business anyways, especially since you weren’t even a citizen. You could feel yourself narrowing your eyes at the brunet, though nobody could see it, and replied that you didn’t need to be a citizen to point out that not putting all the names of those running on an ELECTORAL BALLOT was hugely unethical and borderline malicious hindrance to the citizen’s right to free choice. This little snit between you and the current president had dropped the mood low, with the three boys beside you looking more than uncomfortable. 

But thankfully Tubbo found his voice and before Wilbur could retort to your statement he turned to you and said the election and debate would be starting soon and that he’d sit in the audience with you. This reminded Wilbur that he needed to practice his speech and debate responses with Tommy so he straightened his posture and adjusted his coat before giving you a faux smile and then telling Tubbo they’d see him afterwards. You kept a polite smile on your face as the four led you to an open part of the village center where a large stage/platform had been built along with seating in front of it. Wilbur jerked his thumb towards the stage and told Tommy to come on and the blond boy said he’d be right there in a moment. The brunet looked put out but nodded and stalked off, leaving the four alone in the audience area.

Once he was out of earshot you turned to Tommy and gave him a disbelieving look and said in a hushed tone,

“Tommy, you and Wilbur weren’t ACTUALLY planning to tamper with the ballots were you?? That’s insanely unconstitutional! The people of L’manburg have a right to know and be able to choose whichever voting option they want. If they don’t have that option then it’s not a real election, it’s just the illusion of choice.”

The blond looked uncomfortable, sweating and avoiding eye lens contact with you. He felt ashamed because… well that HAD been the plan. At least Wilbur told him it had been before Quackity found out. He’d not been sure about the plan but he hadn’t done much to argue with Wilbur either. He’d convinced himself it wasn’t that big of a deal, but seeing how shocked and offended you looked that they’d even thought about doing that made him feel like a bastard. You saw how nervous he looked and sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing softly before reassuring him you weren’t angry.

“I’m not mad at you Tommy, I’m just disappointed that this was something you went along with. You have to know how wrong that was? Imagine you were a regular citizen and you voted in the election but later found out it was all rigged, you’d never had a choice regarding your country like you’d been led to believe. Wouldn’t you feel wronged?”

Tommy seemed to deflate at your words but gave a remorseful nod, neither of you noticing that your words seemed to have also struck a chord with both Fundy and Tubbo as well. You gave the blond boy a reassuring smile, saying that part of being a member of government was respecting the people’s choices. Even if you think it’s stupid and wrong. You have to let the people choose for themselves. The ability to choose is sometimes the only difference between merely existing on this bitch of a world and actually Living~

Tommy seemed to have taken your words to heart, making you smile at him before pulling him into a half hug and saying sincerely,

“I’m proud of you Tommy, Tubbo too. You’ve both done so much for this country. More than any child should ever have to. I wish more than anything that you’d not HAD to sacrifice and lose so much. But I’ll be here to support you both going forward. I just don’t want either of you doing anything unethical. You’re both better than that.”

Tubbo almost teared up and came over and let his face rest against your side in a show of affection. He’d never had anyone say they were proud of him before and honestly.. he didn’t know how badly he needed to hear it until you said it. Tommy leaned into your hug, close to tearing up like his best friend but he blinked rapidly until the tears faded.

None of them noticed the envious way Fundy stared at them, feeling jealousy bubble in his stomach at the way you seemed to care for the two boys. He felt childish for feeling that way but he couldn’t help it. You clearly cared about the two in a maternal way, that much was obvious. But you weren’t treating them like babies either. You were respectful and loving at the same time. Fundy wondered if that’s what it was like to have a mother..

“TOMMY! COME ON! THE RALLY STARTS SOON!”

They all broke away when they heard Wilbur yelling down at them from the podium. Tubbo sighed and Tommy straightened his hat before giving a cheeky smile. You told him to go give his best, and no matter what happened you’d be proud. This pumped the blond boy up and he gave a cheer before ruffling Tubbo’s hair and turning to the stage and running up around the side to get to the top, you and the brunet watching him go. That’s when you remembered the fox hybrid that was still standing close by. You offer him a calm smile and say kindly,

“So, Fundy was it?”

------

tagged folks: @salinesoot​ @lady-bee-fechin​ @kacchasu​ @putridjoy​ @lunawritesstories​ @galaxypankitty3030​ @paradigmax​ @zachariethememerie​ @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake

[iam93percentstardust]

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

~

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

~

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

~

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

~

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

~

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 17

This is finally chapter 17 ! I'm so sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy it !! Good summer to all of you 🌴🐉

Chapter 17 : I’ll personally take care of making him understand that you belong to me

- Ophelia !

I opened my eyes sharply.

Stretched out full length on the mattress, my back sticking unpleasantly to the fabric of my top, I stared at the black ceiling to come to my senses, my jerky breathing breaking the serene silence of the night.

What the hell was going on ?

My heart rate pounding wildly, I felt like I had run a marathon as my chest heaved with frenzy as the images of this incomprehensible dream circled in my head.

Spear.

It was him, I was sure. I had seen him, his face so young, evolving through different scenes from his past. Seeing him like that had confused me. Proud, playful, oblivious to his surroundings, he was a whole different person from the one I knew now. But ... I had also known him that way. Strange as it may sound, Lance had been my first support when I arrived at HQ. The rest of the story was unfortunately only inglorious.

Especially when I thought back to my buried feelings.

Except that this dream, was it really one ? The little girl had conjured up the deepest memories of the last of the dragons, but what did that mean ? And above all, why ?

My gaze was caught by something that seemed to escape my parted lips. My eyes widened, I watched in amazement as tiny ice crystals smeared the air around the edge of my mouth. When I realized what this implied, my breathing quickened again and very soon, I thought I recognized the light cold breath that the dragon had made me experience a few days earlier.

No, it wasn’t possible.

I shouldn't be able to develop Lance's powers without his presence ... right ?

Straightening up on my bed, I was leaning on my right arm when a strange sensation took hold of me. Slowly lifting my sleeve over my shoulder, I was speechless when I saw the dragon's familiar icy welts as he let them roam my body. Except that for that, we had always needed a physical contact, it was the very reason which had made us discover this phenomenon.

Fascinated, I let my fingers run over the thin blue lines that cornered my skin. I had the strange sensation of feeling him brush against my arm.

My hand immediately tightened on my flesh when something came back to me.

That night, when I had been in his memories, if that had really been the case, Lance and I had brushed against each other in the Crystal Room. By the time our arms had made contact, I was sure the young man had reacted, seeming to be looking for me without actually being able to see me.

But how could he have felt me ​​physically if what I had seen were memories, moreover of which I wasn’t a part ? Raising my arm to my face, I felt the adrenaline slow down. I had to leave these questions hanging.

At least until daybreak.

*

As soon as the sun shines, I got up to take a shower, hoping to chase away even a few moments the images of those dreams that had haunted me all the rest of the night. I finally didn’t manage to fall asleep again and it was with more than deep circles that I headed for the shared showers.

As soon as I left my room, I was surprised to find a very early-morning Nevra who was also visibly leaving his den, his door being a few meters away from mine.

When he saw me, the vampire raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving me a slight mocking smile.

- I know one who didn't sleep very well.

Great. I rubbed a hand over my tired eyes, hoping to regain my composure.

- Not so much, indeed. Is it showing that much ?

- Well, not that you look less in shape than usual, that would be complicated, but you seem rather tired yes, he said to me without being able to hold back a laugh at my annoyed expression. But you still look very pretty, don't worry.

Already ready to give him a bloody answer, his last sentence stopped me in my tracks. Damn but what an idiot, why did I feel my cheeks blush ?

Locking my door, I remained resolutely turned towards the wooden door in order to hide my dismay.

- I see that I can count on you to reassure me, in any case, I say while feigning indifference.

I heard his laughter echo between us once again.

- You know I'm a trustworthy person.

Without realizing it, I began to smile in turn. I loved the rare moments in which he forgot his cold mask of the right arm of the Sparkling.

- By the way ... he began, his gaze suddenly fleeing, seeming to hesitate on how he was going to phrase the rest. Have you been better since the other night ? I worried a lot, I didn't understand what happened. Eweleïn only told me that she already knew about it and that she was monitoring your condition closely.

- Oh, yes ... I'm so sorry for what happened and I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble. But I think I’ve nothing left. I wanted to thank you for taking care of me, I don't know what ...

- Don't talk nonsense, he cut me off. Maybe I was stupid to you, but I certainly wasn't going to leave you like this.

Running a hand through his hair, I saw concern grow on his face, so often marble.

- And I don't want to sound intrusive, but you'll have to explain to me what happened. I’ve never seen anything like it happen.

His eye, similar in color to mine, observed me so intently that I couldn't bring myself to lie to him.

- Okay, I'll explain it to you, I whispered. Just give me a little time.

- Good, he smiles at me before recovering quickly. With all this, I was almost going to fail in my task. Huang Hua would like you to attend the next Sparkling meeting.

I stared at him for several seconds, not knowing how to react.

- Huang Hua wants to send me on a mission ?

His lips twitched slightly.

- I can’t tell you more at the moment, but I don’t hide from you that it doesn’t enchant me very much considering what happened to you the last time we saw each other.

- Nevra…

I no longer knew on which foot to dance with him. Since our discussion, I had the impression that a lot of things had changed between us but I didn’t know how to perceive them.

- The meeting will take place in an hour in the Council room, don't be late.

The vampire dismissed me without giving me time to answer anything.

Excited at the prospect of potentially taking part in a future mission, I showered in fourth gear, almost forgetting what had happened that night. But it was the lump in my stomach that I knocked on the front door that I had only borrowed a few times.

Opening the door cautiously, I entered the majestic room. I could not restrain my gaze from browsing the large tree which stood proudly between these walls, the immense window which overlooked the gardens of the HQ or the immense prostrate table in the center of the room. I hadn’t often had the opportunity to enter here, but each time I was amazed by what was hiding there.

It was mind blowing.

It was only after my little inspection of the premises that I became aware of the people already here. Facing the large window, Huang Hua stood erect, arms crossed, staring into space. Her tanned skin bathed in natural light caught my gaze of admiration as her fine features turned to me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Her warm gaze relaxed me immediately.

- Andraste, there you are ! she said to me with a smile of genuine astonishment. Unfortunately I haven't had the opportunity to see you lately, how are you ? I’ve been kept informed of your condition…

I stood stunned for a few seconds at the warmth and sincerity I could read in her at that moment. Since when hadn't I seen her like that ?

- It's going much better, thank you. If that's any reassurance, my back seems perfectly healed. Well, for now, I added with a wry laugh.

Until my wings decide once again to do what they want, I hear.

- You see me delighted, I hope we can discuss a little more calmly later, you and me.

Pointing me to the seats, she added :

- Please sit down.

Let my gaze slide over the people seated in front of the huge table. Surprisingly, I recognized Leiftan, Mathieu and Koori very close to me. I wasn't the only guest, which relieved me. I also like almost all of the Sparkling members.

All except two of them, who were visibly missing.

Pulling the first seat I could find, I settled myself between the kitsune and Chrome. The big wolf smile fills my whole field of vision.

- Hi Andraste! You're going to attend your first Sparkling reunion, I'm super happy, he said while pointing out his canines.

My smile widens automatically in the face of his good humor.

- Hi Chrome, I'm happy too ! But still a little stressed, I won't hide it from you.

- Don't worry, everything will be fine.

The large door opened again, letting in the two missing limbs. My heart raced even more when the two men sat down in front of me.

- Perfect. Lance, Nevra, we were just waiting for you to begin, Huang Hua announced. As you know, several strange phenomena have occurred in recent months, the barrier between Earth and Eldarya has never been thinner. Several people have reported to us the sudden appearance of a building in the middle of the lands of Genkaku.

Without understanding why, I felt Koori tense up at hearing that name.

- Andraste, Nevra told me about an important point.

The vampire spoke in turn.

- Seven years ago, you told me about very tall human buildings in which people lived or worked. Heum...

- Are you talking about buildings ? I stopped him. Are you saying that a building has appeared on Eldarya ?

I couldn't believe my ears, it wasn't possible. How could a building have landed here ? What if people were inside ?

Mathieu and I gave each other a horrified look. It really didn't bode well.

- Exactly, he concluded. Nothing like this has ever been reported between our two worlds but we have to make sure that it’s indeed a human building. That's why we would need Mathieu and you to go there. Obviously, you’ll be accompanied by other members of the Guard.

Turning to the kitsune, Nevra added :

- Koori, we’ll also need your presence. You’re the only one here who knows the lands of Genkaku.

- Yes, I understand. You can count on me...

The face of the leader of the Sparkling clouded with a compassionate expression.

- I'm sorry to ask you this, I know it won't be easy for you, but we can only count on your presence to guide them in these lands.

- I know Huang Hua. There’s no problem, I’ll accompany you.

- As far as Tenjin is concerned, we'll have to be careful, Lance continued. He’s bound to learn for our coming and we will probably not be welcome.

When the dragon spoke, everyone seemed to be listening to him with some form of respect. I was fascinated by the presence that saw him unconsciously.

It had been two days since the dragon and I had seen each other, the latter being too busy with the upcoming mission departure and his duties as Chief of the Guard. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about my dream, and actually didn't even know whether to tell him about it or not. Knowing him here made me nervous and hearing his voice made my stomach contract. The last time we saw each other was in his bed…

Red rose to my cheeks once again when his gaze brushed mine. I couldn't tear myself away from him for several seconds.

- Lance is right, Tenjin is our main obstacle to getting to the kitsune lands of Genkaku, the vampire said. He's unstable and is very likely to come after us when he sees Koori. That’s why I’m accompanying you as well. It’s rare that we send multiple Guard Chiefs, but this mission’s likely to be more perilous than the usual ones.

Turning to the aengel in his turn, he added, his face suddenly darker :

- I hope we can count on you. You are an outstanding navigator and your abilities have been proven to us more than once. Finally, if you want to stop your « redemption ».

Leiftan clenched his teeth at this last remark, the tension was most palpable between the two men.

- Nevra, we already talked about this. If you have things to settle with Leiftan, it’ll be within the framework of the private one, said Huang Hua.

- You can count on my presence, but I’ll not use my powers, it’s my only condition.

Nevra was about to reply when the fenghuang stopped him with a wave of her hand.

- Perfect, if everyone agrees, the team for this mission will therefore consist of Nevra, Lance, Koori, Mathieu, Leiftan and Andraste. An objection ?

- None, replied Huang Chu. I hope you’ll come back with some new human study topics, that's all I'm asking.

When the meeting is over, the assembly leaves the room in turn. As I was about to climb the stairs to the exit, the delicate and warm hand of the ancient phoenix grabbed my wrist.

- Andraste, can I talk to you for a moment ?

I nodded while stopping my run.

- Eweleïn kept me informed of your physical and mental state. Do you feel like doing this mission ?

- I think so. To tell the truth, I start to circle around the HQ aimlessly. It’ll do me good to feel really useful and to change horizons, even though I know it won't be easy and even dangerous. I’ve practiced a lot and I manage to reuse my powers a bit, not like before, but they are there. Perhaps, in case of real necessity, they will manifest themselves normally. At least I hope so.

A soft smile lit up her face.

- Very well, I count on you to take care of you and to come back to us safe and sound. Unfortunately, Mathieu and you are the only people able to tell us more about this building, I’ve no choice but to send you there with your agreement, of course.

Plunging into her reassuring gaze, I had the fleeting impression of finding the Huang Hua that I knew.

- There’s nothing to worry about. Anyway, I'll be well surrounded, I’ve nothing to fear, I said with a smile.

As I closed the door to the Council Chamber behind me, I lost myself in thoughts of this last exchange. Huang Hua confused me without knowing why. Lifting my head, I fell on Lance who seemed to have been waiting for me. With his arms crossed, he pulled himself away from the wall he was leaning against to walk slowly towards me.

- You're not going to be able to get to Genkaku like that.

Puzzled, I raised an eyebrow.

- Can you light my lantern ?

As he approached dangerously, my whole body tensed in anticipation of what he planned to do. I was no longer in control of myself in his presence and that irritated me.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed my arm firmly and turned me around to rest my back against his chest. His lips caressed my ear in his deep voice.

- You are not sufficiently trained in combat and you are far too pretty for Tenjin not to try to keep you to himself. I don’t like it.

- And how do you plan to fix it ? I questioned him, my breath suddenly more choppy.

- Since I can't force you to stay at the HQ, I think I'll have to train you for combat. I'm going to be pretty busy, but I'll find time for your training.

Slowly letting go of my arm, he added :

- For the rest, I’ll personally take care of making him understand that you belong to me.

(Chapter 18)

[hotchseyebrows]

thoughtfulness in little things

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil

thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm

they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)

read it here on ao3!!

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”

-

Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.

word count: 3000

Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans. 

Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.

Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”

She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs. 

“Explain, baby girl.” 

She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”

He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down. 

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct. 

“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles. 

They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”

She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.

He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”

She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”

He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”

“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him. 

He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.

She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer. 

“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her. 

"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.

"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."

He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."

She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.

Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns. 

She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.

"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"

He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.

She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little. 

"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.

She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"

"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.

He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.

For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.

He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate. 

It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different. 

He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"

She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say. 

He laughs. "Hey you."

She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.

He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.

"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."

She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.

She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."

She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."

"Yeah?" 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.

"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).

They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.

"Hi baby," he responds.

Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."

He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?" 

She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas." 

He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.

He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders. 

"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.

They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.

"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”

"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat. 

He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."

She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck. 

She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss.  "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.

She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway. 

"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."

“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile. 

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”

Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.

Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.) 

When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 2

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: Your second day as an intern continues.....

You were trying not to make it obvious that you were hurrying down the hall. But you were pretty sure you were failing miserably. As you continued, without looking back, a hand suddenly grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into an on-call room.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, stumbling through the door. You looked to see that it was Steve—Dr. Rogers. “Dr. Rogers—“

“Dr. Rogers?” He repeated, sounding a little hurt. “This morning it was Steve. Now it’s Dr. Rogers.”

“Dr. Rogers, we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened, you sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I’d like to hold onto.”

“No. There will be no memories. I'm not the girl in the bar anymore, and you're not the guy. This can't exist. You get that, right?”

“You took advantage of me and now you want to forget about it.”

“I did not take—“

“I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking.”

“Well, maybe not today. But last night, last night I was very good-looking. I had my blue shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage.”

“I did not take—“

“You want to take advantage again? Say Friday night?”

“Did you just— No! You're an attending. And I'm your intern. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’ve seen me naked.” 

Steve simply smirked. “Well, I have.” 

“Dr. Rogers. This is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?”

You quickly left the room, leaving Steve staring at the shutting door with a sigh. He stepped out and over to the nearest nurses station.

“Oh, no,” another doctor came up, handing papers over to a nurse behind a desk. “I’ve seen that look before… I know that look, I think I invented it.”

“Oh shut it, Tony,” Steve said, coming up beside him.

“You know you—“

“I said shut it, didn’t I?”

“Okay, okay.” Tony held his hands up in defense. “I’ll shut it. Just don’t come whining to me when it all blows to hell.”

~~~

Deciding you needed to get your mind off Dr. Rogers, you went up to the OR gallery. You were sitting with other interns, watching Scott Lang prep for surgery.

“He’s going to faint,” one of the interns commented. “He’s a fainter.”

“Naaah, code brown,” another one added. “Right in his pants.”

“He’s all about the flops. He’s going to sweat himself unsterile.”

“Ten bucks says he messes up the McBird,” a third one said.

“Twenty says he cries,” Natasha, who you were seated by, said.

“I’ll put twenty on a total meltdown,” the second intern added.

“Fifty says he pulls the whole thing off,” you interrupted, fed up. Everyone looked at you, silent, while your eyes remained on Scott. “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where’s your loyalty?” 

There was a brief pause before Natasha continued, “Seventy five says he can’t even ID the appendix.”

“I’ll take that action,” Val responded, others agreeing.

“Okay, Lang,” Maria Hill said in the OR, which you could hear in the gallery. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Here it comes,” you whispered, trying to be hopeful.

“Scalpel,” Scott requested, hand out.

“Scalpel,” a nurse replied, putting the instrument in his hand.

As Scott took it, the interns cheered from in the gallery. Dr. Hill quickly motioned for them to shut up.

“That Hill, she’s trouble,” Val commented, causing some interns to laugh.

“More pressure,” Hill advised as Scott got ready to cut. “Human flesh is a tough shell, dig in.”

“Pick-ups,” Scott requested after cutting.

“Pick-ups,” the nurse responded.

“Clamp.”

“Clamp.”

“Met some bone. I’m there.”

“Damn, he got the peritoneum and he opened him up,” a male intern commented.

“I told you,” you gloated. “He’s going to pull it off.”

“Scalpel,” Scott requested.

“Scalpel,” the nurse responded.

All of the interns watched with bated breath as Scott preformed the procedure.

“Appendix is out,” Scott stated, tossing it into a tray while the interns cheered.

“Not bad,” Hill commented.

“Thank you.”

“Now all you have to do is invert the stump into the chum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings but be careful not to—“ a rip sound came through “—break them.” Hill groaned. “He ripped the cecum. Got a bleeder. You’re filling with stool, what do you do now?”

“Uh.. uh….”

“Think. You start the suction, and you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Coulson, give him a clamp.”

“BP’s dropping,” a nurse informed.

“He’s choking,” Natasha stated.

“Come on, Scott,” you whispered.

“Today,” Hill urged, getting irritated. “Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let's go. What are you waiting for, suction?” Beeping started.

“Getting too low folks,” the nurse said. “Dr. Hill…”

“Get out of the way,” Hill said, pushing Scott over to take his place. “Pansy-ass idiot. Get him out of here. Suction… Clamp.”

“007,” the male intern from before stated.

“007,” another intern repeated. “Yep, that’s a total 007.”

“What’s 007 mean?” Val asked.

“Licensed to kill,” you answered.

~~~

A few hours later, you and the rest of your intern group had found a basement hallway with empty beds along it. You all decided it was a nice place to lay low for a moment.

“007,” Scott muttered. “They're calling me 007, aren't they?”

“No one’s calling you 007,” you and Clint responded.

“I was on the elevator and Quill whispered 007.”

“Oh, how many times do we have go through this, Scott, five, ten?” Natasha was fed up. “Give me a number or else I'm going to hit you.”

“Quill whispered 007 and everyone laughed.”

“He wasn’t talking about you,” Val said.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” You asked.

“Yes.”

“007 is a state of mind,” Natasha said.

“So says the girl who finished top of her class as Stanford.”

All of their pagers went off, causing them to look down at them.

“Oh man,” you grumbled. “It’s 911 for Savannah Chase. I gotta go.” You ran off, leaving the rest of them there.

“Maybe I should've gone into geriatrics,” Scott continued. “No one minds when you kill an old person.”

“Surgery is hot, it's the Marines, it's the macho, it's hostile, it's hardcore,” Natasha said. “Geriatrics is for freaks who live with their mothers and never have sex.”

“I’ve got to get my own place.”

“Same,” Clint agreed.

~~~

Running into Savannah’s room, you immediately noticed that she was sitting up, reading a magazine.

“Took you long enough,” Savanah said.

“You’re okay?” You huffed, trying to catch your breath. “The nurse paged me 911.”

“I had to go all Exorcist to get her to even pick up the phone.”

“Wait. There’s—There’s nothing wrong with you?”

“I’m bored.” She shrugged. “I thought you could help me.”

“You little— I’m not your personal assistant.”

“You don't have to wig out. The pageant's supposed to be on cable, but this crappy hospital doesn't get the channel. If that cow Casey Childs is gonna walk off with my crown, I have to see it. Can you call someone?”

“Okay. This is an actual hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep, and stop wasting my time.”

“But I can't sleep. My head's all full.”

“That's called thinking. Go with it.” 

You stormed off. If this is how the patients were all the time, you didn’t know how much longer you could last. And it was only your first day, of your intern year.

~~~

Hours later, you were standing at a nurses station, working on paperwork for a patient, while you overheard another conversation.

“4B’s got post-op pneumonia,” it was a male intern from before. “Let’s start antibiotics.”

“Are you sure that’s the right diagnosis?” A male nurse questioned.

“Well I don't know, I'm only an intern. Here's an idea, why don't you go spend four years in med school and let me know if it's the right diagnosis. She's short of breath, she's got fever, she's post-op. Start the antibiotics.” The intern walked over to you, clearly checking you out. “I hate nurses. I’m Peter. I’m with Sam Wilson, you’re with Gamora, right?”

“She may not have pneumonia, you know. She could be splinting, or have a PE.”

“Like I said, I hate nurses.” Peter began to walk away.

“What did you just say? Did you just call me a nurse?”

“Well, if the white cap fits…”

You groaned as your pager beeped, turning away to not have to see Peter anymore. “Damn it, Savannah.” You left, not an any hurry to get to Savannah’s room.

“She seeing anybody?” Peter asked Clint.

“I don’t know,” Clint replied.

Peter whistled. “She’s hot.”

“I'm friends with her. I mean, kinda friends, I mean, not, you know, actually friends, not exactly, but we're tight. We hang out. I mean, really only just today—“

“Dude.”

“—but—“

“Dude. Stop talking.”

~~~

You took your time getting to Katie’s room. As you walked up the hallway towards her room, you noticed nurses rushing in. That’s when you finally picked up your pace.

“What took you so long?” A blonde female nurse yelled as you entered the room, overwhelmed by the sight before you.

“She's having multiple grand mal seizures, now how do you want to proceed?” A male nurse asked. You froze at the doorway, unable to move. “Dr. L/N? Are you listening to me? She's got Diazepam, 2mg Diazepam, I just gave her a second ago, Dr. L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do. Dr. L/N!”

Still panicking, you picked up Katie’s chart. “Okay, she’s full on prazepam?” You asked.

“She’s had 4mg,” the female nurse responded.

“Did you page Dr. Gamora and Dr. Rogers?”

“Yes!”

“The prazepam’s not working,” the male nurse stated.

“Phenobarbital, load her with Phenobarbital,” you ordered, still struggling to move from your spot. The scene before you, extremely overwhelming.

“Pheno’s in.”

“No change,” a third nurse said.

“You paged Dr. Rogers?” You repeated.

“I just told you—“

“Well page him again! Stat!”

“What do you want to do? Dr. L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do!” The monitors started beeping. “Heart’s stopped!”

“Code blue, code blue! Code blue, code blue!” The first nurse shouted.

The nurses pulled out the defibrillators as your brain finally began to work again. You quickly took the defibrillators away from the nurse.

“Charge pulse of two hundred,” you ordered.

“Charged,” the nurse responded. “Clear.” You used the defibrillators on Katie’s chest, only to get no response. “Still defib. Nothing. 19 seconds.”

“Charge to 300.”

“300.” You tried again, only to fail. “27 seconds.”

“Charge to 360.” You tried again, with still nothing. “Come on, Savannah.”

“49 seconds.”

“At 60 seconds you’re supposed to admit her—“

“Charge again!” You ordered, the nurse not following. “Charge again.” The nurse does and you try again. On the monitor you see Savannah’s blood pressure (BP) register. “Anything?”

“I see sinus rhythm,” the first nurse replied.

“Blood pressure’s coming up,” the second nurse added.

“Alright now. Pressure’s returning. Grid’s coming back—“

“What the hell happened?” Dr. Rogers asked, running into the room.

“She had a seizure,” you responded, “and—“

“A seizure?”

“Her heart stopped.”

“You were supposed to be monitoring her.”

“I checked on her and she—“

“I got it.” Dr. Rogers started checking Savannah. “Just—just go.” You turned away, heading out. “Someone give me her chart, please?”

As you walked out of the room, you weren’t feeling the greatest. You were still overwhelmed and disappointed in yourself. Gamora was waiting for you not far outside the room.

“You get a 911, you page me immediately,” Gamora stated, “not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency, immediately, you are on my team and if somebody dies it's my ass.” You kept walking, needing some fresh air. “You hear me, L/N?”

“Y/N?” Natasha called out.

You kept walking, ignoring everyone. Natasha followed you as you exited the main doors. It was raining outside, but you didn’t care. You leaned over and threw up on the patch of grass outside the hospital. Natasha watched from the doorway. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your mouth and headed back for the doors.

“If you tell anyone, ever…” You threatened Natasha as you entered the hospital.

~~~

Just after hour 24, all the interns were paged to the conference room. Looking around, you could tell everyone was exhausted. Natasha was sitting next to you, you furrowed your brows in confusion as you watched her.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m suturing a banana,” Natasha answered, “with the vain hope that it wakes up my brain.” Scott laughed from beside them. “What’re you smiling at, 007?” Scott immediately stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, I get mean when I’m tired.”

“You know what? I don’t care,” Scott said. “I comforted a family, and I get to hang out in the OR today. All is well.”

“Does anybody know why we’re here?” Clint asked.

“We’re probably all getting fired,” Val suggested. “And we’ve only been here for 24 hours. They’re going to get rid of the whole class and start fresh.”

“Well good morning,” Dr. Rogers greeted as he entered the room with Gamora. “I'm going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon, I'm going to ask interns for help. I've got this kid, Savannah Chase. Right now, she's a mystery. She doesn't respond to her meds. Labs are clean, scans are pure, but she's having seizures. Grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die, if I don't make a diagnosis. Which is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need you to find out why Savannah is having seizures. I know you're tired, you're busy, you've got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand. So, I'm going to give you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Savannah needs surgery. You get to do what no interns get to do. Scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure. Dr Gamora's going to hand you Savannah's chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Savannah's life, we have to do it soon.”

All the interns grabbed copies of her chart and went their separate ways. You stayed sitting at the conference room table, trying to avoid helping with Savannah’s case.

“Hey, I want in on Rogers’ surgery,” Natasha stated, turning to you. "You've been the intern on Savannah since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer, we have a fifty-fifty chance of scrubbing in.”

“I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery,” you replied. “You can have it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get.”

“I don’t want to spend any more time with Rogers than I have to.”

“What do you have against Rogers?”

“If we find the answer, the surgery’s yours. Do you want to work together or not?”

Natasha grinned, nodding her head. “Oh yeah.”

~~~

“Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure or acidosis,” Natasha stated while you and her were seated at a table in the medical center’s library. “It's not a tumor because her CT's clean. Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Rogers?”

“Nope,” you replied. “What about infection?”

“No. There's no white count, she has no ceteal lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap, just tell me.”

“You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way.” Natasha gave a slight nod. “We had sex.”

Natasha’s mouth opened in surprise before she quickly closed it. “What about an aneurysm?” She continued, trying to do as you had asked.

“No blood on the CT, and no headaches.”

“Okay. There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma… was he good? I mean, he looks like he would be, was it any good?”

“What are the answers?” You ignored her questions. The truth was, he was good. REALLY good. The best sex you’ve had in, well, ever. “What if no one comes up with anything?”

“You mean if she dies?”

“Yeah.”

“This is gonna sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery.”

“She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever. You know what her pageant talent is?”

"They have talent?”

“Rhythmic gymnastics.” You both laughed.

“Oh, come on.”

“What is rhythmic gymnastics? I don't know - I can't even say it, I don't know what it is.”

“Isn’t it like something with a ball, and a—“ You suddenly went still, realizing what was going on with Savannah. “What? Y/N, what?”

“Get up!” You jumped up. “Come on!”

You explained to Natasha, as you both ran to find Dr. Rogers, that you believed she had an aneurysm.

“—the only thing she could possibly need is a—“ Natasha was saying as you found Dr. Rogers heading onto an elevator. “Oh, oh, Dr. Rogers! Just one moment, um, uh, Savannah competes in beauty pageants—“

“I know that,” Dr. Rogers responded. “But we have to save her life anyway.”

“Okay, she has no headaches, no neck pain, her CT's clean, there's no medical proof of an aneurysm—“

“Right.” Dr. Rogers stepped into the elevator.

“—but what if she has an aneurysm anyway?”

“There are no indicators.”

“Ah,” Natasha stopped the elevator, “but she twisted her ankle, a few weeks ago when she was practicing for the pageant—“

“Look, I appreciate you're trying to help, but—“

“This is not helping!” A doctor in the elevator shouted.

“She fell,” you tried. “When she twisted her ankle, she fell.”

“It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head,” Natasha explained, “you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn't even think to mention it when I was taking her history, but she did fall.”

“Well, you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million!” Dr. Rogers said. “Literally.”

The elevator door finally was allowed to close. You and Natasha looked at each other with a sigh before turning away. You’re caught by surprise when you hear the elevator ding. Turning back around, you see Dr. Rogers stepping out.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Where?” Natasha asked.

“To find out if Savannah’s one in a million.”

~~~

Getting Savannah’s scans done and back seemed like an eternity for the three of you. When the scans were finally up, it turned out that you had been right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dr. Rogers commented.

“There is it,” the tech operating the scan pointed at the dark spots on the monitor.

“It's minor, but it's there. It's a cerebachnoid haemorrhage. She's bleeding into her brain. Let’s go.” Dr. Rogers led them out of the room and down the hall. “She could've gone her entire life without it ever being a problem. One tap in the right spot—“

“And explode,” Natasha said.

“Exactly. Now I have to fix it. You two did great work. Love to stay and kiss your asses, but I gotta tell Savannah s parents she's having surgery.” They reached the nurses station. “Savannah Chase's chart, please.”

“Here you go,” a nurse said, handing it over.

��Oh, and Dr. Rogers,” Natasha said, "you said that you’d pick someone to scrub in if we helped.”

“Oh, yes, right,” Dr. Rogers responded. “Um, I'm sorry I can't take you both, it's going to be a full house. Y/N, I'll see you in OR.” You looked at Dr. Rogers, who’s blue eyes felt like they could see right through you. Natasha was also looking at you, waiting for you to give her the surgery. “Good,” Dr. Rogers continued, “thank you.” Then he took his leave.

Natasha looked back at you, clearly pissed. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You said that you didn’t want to work with him anymore, that if we worked together and found the answer, you’d give me the surgery.”

“Natasha…”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Don’t Natasha me. He looked at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and you couldn’t say no! You’re already wrapped around his finger and I’m not going to be a pawn in the game.” 

She stormed off. Leaving you standing there, knowing she was right.

~~~

Natasha and Val were sitting back in the empty corridor with the spare beds, again. 

“Val,” Natasha complained, trying to get Val to stop making excuses for you.

“Maybe Y/N couldn’t—“

“Val!”

“I’ll tell him I changed my mind,” you said, coming into the corridor. “You can—“

“No, no, don’t do me any favors. It’s fine.”

“Natasha—“

“You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark.”

“I’m not—“

“Oh yes you are. Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm gooey places. No, screw you. I don't get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss. You know, some of us have to earn what we get.” Natasha stormed away, again.

“Wait…” Val said from behind. “You slept with someone… who did you sleep with?!” You groaned, resting your head in your hands. “Was it Stark? I’ve only met him once but he’s hot. But I’d only hit Banner and Hill too. Oh! Was it—“

“I’m not doing this.” You shook your head and walked away.

“I’ll find out soon enough!” Val laughed.

~~~

You went searching for Dr. Rogers, determined to give the surgery to Natasha. You found him shaving Savannah’s head.

“I promised I’d make her look cool,” he said upon noticing you. “Apparently being a bald beauty queen is the worst thing that happened in the history of the world.”

“Did you choose me for the surgery because I slept with you?” You quietly asked.

“Yes,” he quickly answered before a long pause. “I’m kidding.”

“I'm not going to scrub in for surgery. You should ask Natasha. She really wants it.”

“You're Savannah's doctor. And on your first day, with very little training, you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case to the finish. You… you shouldn't let the fact that we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot. Besides, it was very good sex. It should have given you a boost.”

“Dr. Rogers, I— ugh!” You quickly left, leaving him to chuckled to himself.

~~~

Clint and you were outside of the medical center, needing some fresh air. Clint sat on a bench as you paced in front of him.

“I wish I wanted to be a chef,” you said. “Or a ski instructor. Or a kindergarten teacher.”

“You know, I would've been a really good postal worker,” Clint said, dazed. “I'm dependable. You know, my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment. A superhero or something. If they could see me now…”

“When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I'd never make it. So, the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good.”

“We’re going to survive this, right?”

“We can only hope.”

~~~

You were standing at a nurses station, trying to fill in a patient chart, as Dr. Fury, the Chief of Surgery, was taking to Peter Quill, the intern.

“She’s still short of breath,” Fury stated. “Did you get an ABG or a chest film?”

“Oh, yes sir, I did,” Peter answered, a little bit too cockily.

“And what did you see?”

“Oh, well, I had a lot of patients last—“

“Name the common causes of post-op fever.”

“Uh… yes, sir.” Peter quickly pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

“From your head. Not from a book. don’t look it up, learn it. It should be in your head. Name the common causes of post-op fever.”

“Uh...the common causes of post-op…”

“Can anybody name the common causes of post-op fever?” Fury shouted to the whole floor. Everyone stopped, one girl pulling out her own notebook.

“Wind, water, wound, walking, wonder drugs,” you stated, causing everyone to look at you. “The five W’s. Most of the time it’s wind, splinting or pneumonia. Pneumonia’s easy to assume, especially if you’re too busy to do the tests.”

Fury gave Peter a pointed look before looking back at you. “What do you think’s wrong with 4B?”

“The fourth W, walking. I think she’s a promise candidate for a pulmonary ambulus.”

“How would you diagnose?”

“Spiral CT, VQ scan, provide O2, dose with Heparin, and consult for an IVC filter.”

Fury turned back to Peter. “Do exactly as she says, then tell Wilson that I want you off this case.” He turned back to you and Peter walked away. “Very impressive, Dr. L/N. Can’t wait to see more. Welcome to the gang.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

~~~

You were scrubbed in and waiting in the OR with the rest of those who would be on Savannah’s surgery before Dr. Rogers was. The OR and gallery were full, wanting to watch the one in a million brain aneurysm.

“Alright everybody,” Dr. Rogers said, coming in with his red-white-and-blue scrub cap on. “It’s a beautiful night to save lives. Let’s have some fun.”

You watched in awe as Dr. Rogers performed the surgery. It was the greatest thing you had ever witnessed and you longed to be more apart of it than you were. After the surgery was over, you sat outside the OR in a happy daze. 

“It was a good surgery,” Natasha said as she stopped in front of you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Natasha sat beside you, sighing. “We don't have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there's like a moment—“

“Yuck.”

“Good. You should get some sleep. You look like crap.”

“I look better than you.”

“That’s not possible.” 

Natasha then took her leave. Dr. Rogers then came out of the OR. He stopped at the desk for some paperwork while you stared at him, still dazed.

“That was amazing,” you said with a shy smile.

“Mmm,” Dr. Rogers hummed in agreement, still working on the papers.

“You practice on cadavers, you observe, and you think you know what you're going to feel like standing over that table, but...that was such a high.” Dr. Rogers looked at you and nodded. “I don’t know why anybody does drugs.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Dr. Rogers smiled back a bit. “I should go do this.”

“You should.”

He started walking backwards, unable to take his eyes off you just yet. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you around.” 

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​