#he needs his own therapist which is part of why he takes the hands-off approach with dion

[brain-bumbler]

Thoughts on Bob mentoring Dion?

I really love Dion rofl

I love him too, he's a great character!

At first it sounds like a bit of trouble, Dion is grumpy, I don't think bob would handle a teenager well, but looking deeper I see a lot of potential!

Bob is also grumpy after all, and I think that whole "cocoon of anger to keep people from hurting me" thing is SUPER relatable to Dion

I think Bob and him would at first be awkward but as long as they fall into a rhythm of "tending garden without saying a word" Dion could get used to this kind of therapy.

No one here is pushing him to talk about his feelings, god forbid. He just digs in the dirt and rips up weeds and that's as close to punching something as he's allowed to get.

"Uh, Bob, don't you think mentoring should include more... mentoring?"

Bob smiles. "Give it time. Give him time."

And slowly, without encroaching on Bob's space, Dion's little corner of the garden takes on such an efficient organizational method that Bob adopts some of it for his own garden.

I'm thinking of Dion and Bob working on opposite sides of the greenhouse, and with nothing to focus on by the ground and plants and his own thoughts, Dion just- starts to cry. It comes out of nowhere and he's horrified, embarrassed- but it also feels like such a relief. He looks around to make sure Bob didn't see (Bob is psychic, he knows, but also knows the boy doesn't want attention right now) and finishes his work and hurries off. Processing trauma is like that sometimes.

He's not good with words. But he insists on trying to grow raspberries no matter how many times he fails, and he learns to handle things more gently. He gives his mom fresh veggies to cook with, and he asks Raz to bring him books on some type of psychic plant, and a fresh potted daisy shows up in Frazie's room.

Once the little plant has been given something stable to hold on to, it grows up straight and tall and starts to blossom.

When Bob is sick, one week- alcoholism is a bitch to kick- he comes back and his garden has been carefully tended. The plants tell him they were well cared for, his vines curly happily to see him.

Dion pretends he doesn't know what Bob is talking about. Bob gives him nice terra cotta pots for his new flowering succulents. Dion paints all eight with white and blue stripes and insists they all be kept together in a group, especially the smallest one in the middle.

anyway I like it! : D Bob is a good guy I think they could make it work! If Dion got herbaphony, he'd be bringing Gisu potted flowers because he's like "I can hear them and they didn't want me to rip them up i hope this is okay", and she thinks he's so cute it's worth lugging around a big pot all day.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Locked In

Day 7 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: David “Deacon” Kay x fem!wife!reader

Summary: You surprise Deacon and 20 David with Christmas cookies, but while you’re there, an active shooter enters the station. Deacon tries to concentrate, but can’t until he knows you’re safe.

Warnings: angst, fluff, parts could be viewed as a little suggestive but that wasn’t my intention (oops), David and Deacon are used interchangeably. (set in season 1 or 2; Jessica has a very small role in this)

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

A/N: We’re just pretending that Annie doesn’t exist lol. Jay Harrington as Deacon is the only reason I watch SWAT (not kidding; I don't even like the show, I just love him), so I am excited to try my hand writing for him! I’m open to a part 2 as I plan to keep writing for Deacon!! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

(Picture from Pinterest)

You reach over, your eyelids fluttering open when you feel the cold sheets on David’s side of the bed. Your husband isn’t supposed to be at work yet, and he went to the gym last night, so you’re expecting him to be beside you when you wake up before your alarm goes off. Rubbing your eyes, you slip out of the bed and walk to the kitchen, wrapping your arms around yourself to stay warm.

“Hey,” you say quietly, walking through the kitchen, Christmas lights twinkling in the living room.

David looks up from a book, sending you a soft smile as you approach. He leans back in his seat, raising his hands to your hips as he leads you to stand between him and the table.

“Are you okay?” you ask, laying your hands on his arms.

“Yeah, just- just been thinking.”

“About?”

He stays quiet, his eyes bouncing between yours.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, David.”

“I do, it’s just hard.”

“Hey, I get it. You’ve been through a lot in the last year. You can take the time and space you need.”

“I don’t want time or space from you. But I also don’t want to pile everything up on you. You’re my wife, not my therapist.”

You smile, stepping forward to straddle David’s lap as your arms wrap around his shoulders while his arms lay heavily on your waist.

“Why can’t I be both? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I do. Thank you.”

“I love you, David Kay,” you whisper.

“I love you, Mrs. Kay,” David replies, smiling as he leans up to kiss you.

“You have to go to work,” you mumble against his lips as his arms tighten around you.

“You’re my therapist, write me a note,” David replies, kissing your jaw between each word.

You laugh, which turns to a squeal when he stands, lifting you in his arms and carrying you back to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, laughing when you bounce on impact.

“What do you want for dinner?” you ask.

“Turning into a housewife?”

“What can I say? You have that effect on me,” you joke.

He pulls his uniform out of the closet, hanging it on a hook before approaching the bed.

“You’re distracting.”

“You’re easily distractible. But, I’ll let you go to work.”

You sigh as you stand, kissing David one last time as you walk by him to get ready.

“Have a great day.”

“I always do, when I know you’re waiting for me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After David leaves, you spend the morning wondering what could be weighing so heavily on his mind. You know that he puts on a brave face, but you don’t want him to have to be a rock around you - for you - all the time. Deciding that David could use a little Christmas cheer and a special visit at work today, you walk to the kitchen and start baking cookies. As you bake, you come to a realization of your own, and your first thought is that you need to talk to David about it. Every cookie recipe David has ever told you he enjoyed or eaten too many of is baked and decorated before you’re ready to visit him. You’re sure his team won’t mind the abundance of cookies.

Someone says your name when you enter, and you smile as Jessica approaches.

“Cookies for… the whole LAPD?” she guesses.

“It started as cookies for David, but I think I went a little overboard. Think anyone is interested?”

“Oh,” she pauses to laugh and wrap an arm around your shoulders. “The whole team is very interested.”

You let her steer you through the station, your smile growing when you hear David's voice.

“Guys, look what I found,” Jessica announces when you enter.

David says your name, his eyes wide as he walks to you.

“Are those cookies?” Street asks, standing on his tiptoes to see at the plate over Deacon’s shoulder.

“Figured everyone could use some holiday cheer,” you say, letting Deacon take the plate and set it on the table.

He points between Tan and Luca, demanding, “Do not eat them all.”

Hondo laughs, teasing them more as Deacon hugs you, keeping an arm around you as he reaches forward and takes two cookies.

“Man, you married up,” Hondo says around a cookie.

“Sure did,” David agrees.

“Can I get this recipe?” Chris asks, holding up a tender sugared-gingerbread hybrid cookie.

“No,” Deacon answers, while you nod and wink at her.

“Thank you so much,” Tan tells you.

“Yeah, you have no idea how much we needed these today, Mrs. Deac,” Luca adds, hugging you.

“Of course. Merry Christmas, guys,” you reply.

An alarm goes off, and you step back as the team crowds around the monitors. Deacon reads something, then looks over his shoulder, first at Jessica, who looks up from her phone, then at you.

“Get her somewhere safe,” Hondo commands. “Gear up!”

David takes your hand, and you wordlessly follow him, jogging alongside him as you travel through the station. He opens a door, pulling his sidearm out to clear the room before instructing you to sit. He kneels in front of you, holding your face as he speaks.

“There’s an active shooter,” he informs you gently. “I need you to stay here.”

You nod, but he shakes his head and adds, “I need you to tell me, promise me, that you are going to stay here and stay safe.”

“I promise, Deac,” you say, leaning into his hands.

He rocks forward onto his toes, kissing you quickly before standing. He sets a radio on the table beside you; he doesn’t tell you, but you know it’s in case you need him. A worst-case-scenario savior that he prays you won’t need.

“Go,” you whisper. “Be safe.”

He nods, slowly pulling his hand from your shoulder as he leaves, the door locking behind him.

“Keep him safe,” you whisper upwards.

✯✯✯✯✯

After he leaves you, he joins Hondo and the rest of 20 David, but he barely registers Hondo’s direction as his mind stays on you.

“Deacon, Street, you’re with me,” Hondo finishes, looking directly at Deacon.

They navigate the hallways slowly until Hondo signals for them to stop. He pulls his phone from his pocket, reading a message before turning to Deacon and Street.

“Jessica and Hicks think the DA is the target. He’s holed up outside the armory. Rocker is with him now, but they need an escort,” Hondo relays the information to them quietly. “You two go get the DA, get him secure, then meet me.”

“You got it,” Deacon says as Street nods.

They move carefully, pausing at each corner. Just as they reach the DA and Rocker, a gunshot sounds in the distance. Deacon tenses, trying to deduce where the shot came from.

“Shooter located. Hallway southeast of the armory,” someone says over the radio.

Deacon releases a breath, his tension leaking out now that he knows the shooter is moving away from you. Street puts the DA between him and Deacon, allowing Deacon to lead the way. Deacon decides to move north, away from the shooter and closer to you. Street recommends the same room you’re in, and Deacon quickly agrees.

The door moves, and you grab the radio before moving against the wall. David comes in, and you step away from the wall, dropping the hand clutching the radio to your side. Two more people follow him into the room before they close the door and it locks.

Deacon tilts his head, silently asking you to sit down. You do, and he sits beside you, pulling his glasses off to look into your eyes. 

“Shooter moving toward you, 20 David. By our count, he should be running low on ammo,” Rocker radios.

“Go,” you whisper, seeing Deacon’s eyes widen at the idea of his team under attack.

He nods, but you stop him as he begins to stand. Raising your fingers to his jaw, you turn his face toward you.

“Promise me,” you say. “Promise me that you will focus. You have to be safe for yourself, for your team… for me.”

“I can’t just push you out of my mind like that,” he admits.

“Then remember and think about the version of me that can protect myself. But I can only do that if I know that you’re coming back to me.”

David nods, his eyes glassy as he whispers his promise. You know he means it, and you send a comforting smile to the DA, offering him cookies when the situation is clear.

“That- that would actually be really nice. I could use some cookies today,” the DA says, chuckling.

“Seems that most of us could,” you agree.

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear two gunshots and thundering footsteps echo before the doorknob rattles.

“We’re comin’ in,” David says through the door.

“It’s okay, they’re SWAT,” you inform the DA, who’s backing into a corner. When he sees their uniforms, he relaxes and walks out to talk to Hicks and Cortez. 

David’s arms wrap around you, holding you tight against his chest. 

“It’s all clear. We got him,” David tells you as he leads you back to the team.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” you tell him.

“I always will,” he replies.

When you turn the corner, you see 20 David gathered around the table, looking no worse for the wear as they each grab another cookie. The previously full plate has dwindled to nearly nothing in the short time since you arrived.

“The DA said you offered him a cookie?” Chris asks, smiling as you walk in.

“He looked like he was going to cry,” you defend.

Deacon laughs as Jessica yells her agreement from outside. Deacon’s arm is still around you, and he pulls you closer as the team talks about the DA’s reaction to the situation. They silence suddenly, and you look over to see them staring at the last cookie.

“Can I have the last one?” Street asks you, smiling kindly.

“What? No, man. I’ve known her longer, I should get it,” Luca argues.

“I caught the shooter!” Tan adds incredulously.

They look to you, but Deacon speaks instead. “I’m married to her.”

Everyone else groans and looks up at the ceiling.

“Street, you can have the cookie,” you answer.

He cheers as Deacon looks down at you with wide puppy-dog eyes, an accusation of your betrayal ready.

“There’s more at home,” you whisper conspiratorially.

“You guys want to come to a Christmas party next weekend for more cookies?” Deacon asks; you’d be surprised at his willingness to share if you didn’t know him so well and love him for all the reasons he’s demonstrated today.

“We’ll be there,” Hondo answers, smiling as the rest of the team nods. “And thanks for the cookies today.”

Hondo walks around Luca and Tan, who are still arguing over the cookie, to stand beside you. “You’re pretty brave for a cookie elf,” he teases you.

“Have you ever had to try cookie recipes until you found one that David Kay liked enough to request again? Being a cookie elf is no simple task, Sergeant Harrelson,” you reply.

Hondo laughs, patting your shoulder as he walks by. David smiles at you and offers to walk you to your car. As you leave the room, he looks over his shoulder quickly.

“I’ll be home soon. My shift is ending,” David tells you as he opens your door.

“Okay. Thanks for protecting me, David.”

“Always.”

He kisses you quickly, leaning down to buckle your seatbelt.

“Um, David? Can we talk about something when you get home?” you ask, remembering your earlier thoughts.

His brows furrow even as he nods.

“It’s not important - I mean, it is important but nothing you need to worry about.”

“Of course.”

✯✯✯✯✯

David gets home just a few minutes after you do. You meet him at the door, smiling and raising your arms for a hug as he walks to you. He laughs but humors you by pulling you close.

“Hondo let us leave a few minutes early,” David says into your shoulder.

You pull back to ask him how everyone is, but he doesn’t give you the chance before he kisses you. The kiss is the one you assume he wanted to have at the station after the shooter was captured; it says that he loves you, will always protect you, and will be by your side forever.

David’s arms wrap around your waist, tapping twice to signal you to jump up. You wrap your legs around him, smiling into the kiss as he hooks an arm under your hips and walks inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He carries you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter as the smell of cookies greets you. When you smell the cookies, you realize how prevalent the taste of ginger, brown sugar, and a faint undertone of chocolate is.

When you feel like you can’t catch your breath, you place a hand on David’s chest and lean back.

“You taste like cookies,” you accuse breathlessly.

“I ate the last one,” he whispers.

“Jim wanted it.”

David smiles, pinching your waist before kissing you again, reminding you who you’re supposed to make cookies for.

“Hey,” David interjects, pulling back again. “I know you said you wanted to talk about something, but can I go first?”

You nod, keeping your arms hooked over his shoulders as his fingers trace circles against the skin of your sides. 

“Our anniversary is coming up on the 23rd and I’ve been thinking that I want to do something special. Today made me realize that I was right, we do deserve something big. I think we should renew our vows.”

You smile, pulling yourself forward to hug David. 

“I love that idea. I wanted to ask the same thing,” you admit. “We’ve changed, our priorities have changed, but I’m still wholly devoted to you.”

“Really? We had the exact same idea?”

“Great minds.”

“And great cookies,” David adds, smiling as he leans in. “Merry Christmas to us.”

[amberlynnmurdock]

Aim For My Heart (Part 1)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Summary: One random morning, she buys him a coffee when the barista gets his order wrong–and ever since, Dex has been entranced.

Genres: light angst in the beginning, fluff, making out

A/N: This first part is all fluff! So I hope you guys like it! This is my first time writing Dex so I hope I got his character right :)

TAGS: @danzer8705 @pcrushinnerd (let me know if you want to be tagged or if I missed you)

credit to the owner of this gif!!!

Drip drip. 

Benjamin Poindexter’s brown eyes shoot open at the annoying sound of his sink’s leaky faucet. 

Drip drip.

He attempts to ignore the sound. He shuts his eyes and readjusts himself in bed. He takes a deep breath. 

Drip drip. 

He’s had enough. He can’t stand it. 

Kicking the sheets off himself, Dex huffs out of bed and stomps to the kitchen to fix the faucet. He rips a paper towel off a roll seamlessly and wipes the nozzle. He waits a moment to see if it works. Hand on his waist, he stares at the nozzle of the faucet, almost daring it to drip again. After 45 seconds, he decides it worked. 

He goes back into his room and crawls into bed. In an instant, he falls back asleep.

***

Another dreadful day. 

He can’t remember when his days started to feel like chores he had to get done. Was it when he was put in an orphanage? Was it when his dreams of becoming a professional pitcher were taken away? Was it when his therapist, Dr. Mercer, the only person who ever understood him, passed away? 

When was it? 

It seemed he was accurate with everything else in his life except when it came to pinpointing an exact moment when it started to fall apart. And it’s been falling apart slowly every day. 

Still—he needs to have coffee to somewhat function. He throws the empty coffee bag out in the trash and turns his hands into fists as he rests them on his clean marble countertop. Why do things like this get under his skin? Something as simple as running out of ground coffee? He looks up and is met with his reflection in the microwave. Sometimes, he can barely recognize himself. 

After a few moments, he decides he’ll have to stop at the corner coffee shop, which he hates to do. He hates being around people. He hates pretending to be normal. He hates that he has to put on an act. He hates the fake smile he gives when he orders his coffee; he hates waiting in line. The anticipation of waiting kills him inside. He hates seeing the barista accidentally spill a little of his coffee on the counter. It takes everything in him to not throw the cup away out of spite. It takes everything in him to not react violently over something so small. 

“You will build your life on pillars of order,” Dr. Mercer had once told him. Pillars of order. Pillars of order. Pillars of order.

He’s trying to be better every day. He tries to follow his code, but it’s so hard without someone to guide him, like a North Star. Even though he doesn’t have that anymore, he still tries to be better. He still tries to act normal. Often though, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to live his life on his own without a guiding light. 

No, he thinks to himself. Because people get hurt. Every time. Including him. Most of all, including him. 

As he takes a sip of his hazelnut coffee, he immediately frowns at the taste. It’s not hazelnut at all—it’s mocha. He hates mocha. And he hates the fact even more that he has to go back inside that dreadful place and order a new coffee—one they will probably charge him again for. 

And of course, the line of people. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. Was it the people he didn’t like, or the thought of interacting with them? 

After five whole minutes of waiting in line—Nadeem would be on his ass for being late—Dex finally approaches the same barista at the counter who took his order before. As calmly as he can, he forces a smile.

“Hi. I ordered a hazelnut coffee, but I got a mocha instead. Could I please get a new cup?” Dex asks as he tries to ask the question like he hasn’t rehearsed it in his head a thousand times. He slides the cup across the counter. 

The barista, a young man with red hair and freckles, nods and looks at the screen in front of him. He frowns. Dex’s heart plummets in his stomach. 

“I’m so sorry. We just sold our last hazelnut of the day. We can do—“

“He can have mine,” a third voice interjects. The person it comes from is feminine—light, and friendly. Qualities Dex isn’t used to being around. Qualities Dex pretends to have. When he follows the sound of the voice, he meets a young woman standing a few feet beside him. 

She's younger than him, but not by much. She has the most beautiful smile and kindest eyes he’s ever seen. The smoothest, most perfect face. Yes, she’s perfect, he thinks. Perfect to him. He’s speechless as she holds out her cup of hazelnut coffee for him to take. 

“I didn’t drink from it yet if that makes you feel better,” she said sheepishly as she caught him staring at her. 

“Then what will you have?” Dex asks her. 

“I told myself I’d do one kind act today and not expect anything in return. I’m okay. You can have my coffee,” she smiles again, and Dex’s chest feels as warm as the cup in his hand as she hands it to him. Their fingers brush for the smallest of seconds and it’s entrancing to Dex. He smiles at her—not forced at all. She’s already on her way out as she wishes him a good day. He watches as her shrinking figure exits the coffee shop. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he ever sees her. She's the first person to show him an ounce of kindness in a long time. Her hair swayed back and forth as she walked out the door and it flew behind her as the wind came in. She's the most beautiful person he’s seen in a long time. 

And she was so nice to him. That feeling was addictive. 

“Sir?” The young barista called. “I need to take the next guest’s order.”

Dex ignores him, ignores all the people in the coffee shop he pushes past. His gaze is stuck on her path. He follows where she left, her coffee in his hand. He exits the coffee shop. How could she already be gone from his reach?

  He sees her down the block as she makes a right turn. 

Dex isn’t far behind. 

***

The next time he sees her, he owes her a coffee. 

He made sure to get to the coffee shop earlier than normal the next day. He ordered two medium hazelnut coffees from the same barista who had taken his order the previous day. Dex feels lighter in his step—a rare surge of confidence in his entire body. He even decided to wear his FBI bomber jacket. He normally liked to hide what his profession was but thought that maybe it would impress her… and hopefully not scare her. He brushed his dirty blonde hair neatly and even sprayed on cologne. 

He waited at a table near the front and kept an eye on the clock. He had enough time to bring her coffee and make it to work before nine. He watched the door like a hawk, watching carefully as each person entered the shop.

And then finally, she came in. 

She wore a long trench coat and tall boots. Her hair was freshly windblown and she looked slightly flustered, like she was in a rush. Good thing she wouldn’t have to wait in the already growing line to order coffee. 

Dex sees as she audibly sighs at the sight of the line. 

“I owe you a coffee,” Dex calls out confidently as he rises from his seat. She looks over at him, frazzled at first, until recognition settles in her features and she seems to—dare he think—calm down. He’s made her calm down. 

“You don’t,” she says carefully, eyes glancing at the FBI logo on his jacket, “but something tells me if I don’t accept this coffee, you’ll put me on the Most Wanted list.”

Dex laughs—a real laugh—and hands her the cup of coffee. Their fingers brush again. He’s entranced by her touch, again. 

“I could never,” Dex says. “I didn’t get to say thank you for yesterday. So thank you. You have no idea how messed up my day could’ve been without my morning cup.”

“Trust me, I do,” she smiled. “And you’re welcome. And thank you—for my cup today,” she blushed as she fumbled over her words. Dex felt that familiar warm feeling spread through his chest the longer he looked at her. 

“I’m Ben Poindexter… or Dex,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand. She accepts it with ease and shakes his hand. She introduces herself and smiles. Dex repeats her name in his mind to memorization. 

“On your way to work?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” she answers, “late, honestly. But now that I got my coffee early, I can spare a few minutes. Where’s the uh—FBI office?”

“Just a few blocks down. Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all,” she smiles. 

Dex holds the door for her and lets her walk out first. He scans the area outside—normally he doesn’t check for threats (like he should) but now he has a reason to make sure the surrounding area is safe. 

They both begin to walk down the block. He matches her steps. 

“What do you do?” Dex asks. 

“I work at a therapist’s office. Client relations—not as daunting as being an FBI agent—is that what you are?”

“Special Agent,” Dex gently corrects. Dex perks when she mentions she works at a therapist’s office. “It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen some shit,” she replies, shivering a little.“I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, it can get tough,” he sighs, “but you get used to it after a while. Do you like working at the therapist’s office ?”

“I do. You learn a lot about people. I’m not a doctor, but I help where I can.”

“You must have a lot of patience,” Dex muses. He enjoys the cool breeze hitting his face. She looks like she's fighting against it. If the cold weather were a physical being, he’d choke the living life out of it for making her uncomfortable.

“I try to,” she smiles again, crossing her arms across her chest to keep warm. Dex feels a strong urge to wrap his arm around her, but he doesn’t. 

Dex already knows where her work building is—he followed her yesterday up until a certain point. He’s passed his office already. He doesn’t care. As long as he knows she makes it to work safely—he doesn’t care. 

The rest of the walk, they make small talk. Dex doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, the entire time walking, he’s thinking of ways to ask her out on a date. Do I run into her at the coffee shop again? Do I ask her right now? 

Finally, she stops in front of her building. She takes a sip of her hazelnut coffee that Dex bought for her and smiles at him. Dex catches her smile and looks away, almost shy.

“Thank you again for returning the favor, even though you didn’t have to,” she held up her cup in a cheersed way. Dex shrugs, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “Was it a good cup?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Hit the spot.”

If it wasn’t good, Dex thinks he might’ve taken it out of her hands and thrown it against the building. Nothing should ever disappoint her, or not live up to her standards. He’s relieved she enjoyed it. 

“Could I—ask you out for dinner, sometime?” Dex stutters slightly, as he feels his heart pound against his chest. From the way she smiles at his question, it puts him at ease. 

“You could… but are you going to?” She teases, squinting her eyes a little at the handsome blonde FBI agent before her. Dex laughs and looks down sheepishly, before meeting her eyes again. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me this Friday night?” Dex officially asks her, smoothing any nervousness in his voice. Confidence.  

“Yes,” she nods. “I would love to.” Dex can’t help the blush that creeps on his cheeks. She’s holding her coffee as she searches through her bag for her phone. She almost drops the cup before Dex—with lightning reflexes—catches it before gravity can win. 

“Oh my goodness,” she gasps. “I would’ve been so sad if I dropped it! Thank you—again," she breathes. Dex smiles and holds the cup for her as she looks for her phone. 

“It’s no problem,” he says. 

She asks for his phone number and sends him a text so he’ll have her number saved. Dex is impressed by the way she takes the initiative to his contact information. She must really be interested—though definitely not as interested as he is. He feels his phone buzz in his jacket, confirming he received her text. 

“Well, have a good day, Dex,” she says in a sing-song way, a way Dex will never forget. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

***

She wasn’t one to go to someone’s house after a first date, but Dex might be testing that theory for her. 

She’s watching him carefully over the leather-bound menu. Stealing glances and looks every so often as she pretends to look over the list of red wines. Squinting her eyes, studying his face. He’s completely focused on the menu—he almost looks confused as he reads it. It’s a confusing menu because the place Dex chose has four Michelin Stars. She doesn’t mind though. It buys her time to keep looking at him. 

His skin looks soft…but it’s the way his jaw cuts that brings a sort of harshness to his look. No less handsome, however. She’s not sure if it’s because she knows he’s an FBI agent, but his presence is commanding, whether he realizes it or not. Commanding and sweet at the same time. Even the way his hands look strong and have surely held a gun against someone (because isn’t that what FBI agents do?) are now holding the menu so softly… it’s mesmerizing to see such hands that are capable of doing rugged things hold a leather-bound menu so gently. It only makes her wonder what else he could handle with gentleness—or roughness. Whatever she wants. 

“What are you thinking of getting?” Dex asks her, his silky voice bringing her out of her train of thought. She inhales sharply and quickly scans the menu again. 

“I think a glass of cabernet,” she replies, “and the burrata to start?”

“I was thinking the same,” he grins, warm brown eyes looking into hers. She glances away quickly—the way she feels when he looks at her is unsettling by how much she likes it. “You look really beautiful, by the way.”

And of course… he had to make it worse. There was no use in fighting the blush on her cheeks. She smiled. 

“Thank you.”

The waiter took their orders, and Dex watched her carefully as she spoke. She was pleasant. She smiles at the waiter—but not the same kind of smile she gives to him. Dex leans back in the velvet chair and sighs in content. He never thought he would get this far with her. 

When it was finally the two of them, Dex cleared his throat. 

“So, you do client relations at a therapist’s office? What does that exactly mean?”

“I greet them, I bring them into the room before the doctor gets there. I ask them questions and fill out their intake form. I’m basically a glorified receptionist except sometimes I get to ‘play’ therapist,” she explains rather sheepishly. Dex thinks anyone would be lucky enough to be greeted by her. If he were a patient, he’d ask to never see the doctor. 

“Do you want to become one?” He asks with curiosity. 

“I think one day,” she answers. “I like talking to people. Never mind doing it to help—sometimes just a person to talk to is all someone needs.”

Ain’t that the truth, Dex thinks to himself. “I agree. I used to see a therapist myself.”

“Really? There’s no shame in it at all.”

“I know… well. We’ll save that conversation for another time.”

“Have you always been in the FBI? I’m not even sure I know what the requirements or credentials are,” she asks. 

Dex laughs, “It’s a lot of background checks and training before you start. And no, I haven’t always been in the FBI. I was in the army before.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, wow. Thank you for your service. Now I definitely think you’ve seen some shit. And I can see why you’d go to therapy. Why did you stop? You said you used to see one.”

Dex sighs uncomfortably. She picks up on it immediately. 

“Never mind. You said another time. Have you always wanted to be in the FBI?”

Dex smiles a little, appreciative of the way she stopped the conversation about his therapist. 

“I used to want to be a professional baseball pitcher,” he admits. 

“I love that. Do you still play?” 

“Not really,” he says softly. “Other interests came to mind. Life.”

“I know what you mean. Life.”

A comfortable silence falls between them—they catch each other gazing into the other’s eyes and laughing at the same time. Dex can’t remember the last time he felt so enamored with someone, so comfortable and so attracted. He’s grateful for running out of coffee that morning. He’s grateful the barista got his order wrong. Most of all, he’s grateful for the young woman who sits across from him at this restaurant. And he’s grateful for the way she’s smiling at him. 

***

It didn’t take much convincing for her to agree to go to his place after dinner. While she promised herself she wouldn’t let it get too far, she was curious to see where the night would go. Dex held her hand the entire walk back to his apartment. She cuddled against his arm, an attempt to feel more warm. Dex pulled her in closer. 

He lived in a humble building just outside of Hell’s Kitchen. His apartment was even more humble: small, but very nice. White walls. White marble countertop without a spec on it. Everything was in its place from the spices to the napkins. Everything was labeled. His couch was placed perfectly in the middle of the room. Picture frames were all aligned on the walls. He dimmed the lights a little. 

From where she stood, she could see his bedroom door slightly ajar. She caught a glimpse of his bed with white sheets—his bed was perfectly made. From how organized and clean he seemed to be, she thought he would freak out to see her mismatched decorations and colorful bedsheets. 

“This is such a nice place,” she said aloud.

“Thank you. I don’t ever have guests, so I’m sorry if it’s a little boring.”

“Not at all,” she moved to sit in the corner of his gray couch. She placed her bag on the floor, and Dex picked it up to move on the coffee table. 

“It’s better to keep it clean off the floor,” Dex murmured as he sat down next to her with two glasses of red wine. He gave her a soft smile as he handed her a glass, which she gladly accepted. They clinked glasses and took a sip, all while holding each other’s gaze. 

“Can I tell you something?” Dex asks suddenly. 

“Of course.”

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Dex gestures to the two of them. “It takes a lot in me to do this. I—I really wanted to ask you out. And I’m happy you’re here. I just—“ he feels himself breathing fast. It’s an awful habit he has, getting overwhelmed by every little thought in his head. Bring a beautiful girl into the mix—it was a terrible concoction for his mind to handle. His mind won’t allow him to enjoy this pleasure because it’s already thinking of ways it could go wrong. Like she’ll never want to see him again.

“Hey,” she whispered, placing a hand on his knee to calm him down. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out in embarrassment, covering half his face with his hand. 

“Don’t need to be sorry,” she said softly. 

“I just don’t want this to be the last I see of you,” he admits. “I had such a good time at dinner and here you are now—“

“Dex,” she began, “I had an amazing time at dinner with you. Truthfully, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have agreed to come to your place. I’m happy I’m here. If it’s all the same to you, I definitely don’t want this to be the last I see you.”

“Absolutely,” Dex agrees immediately, turning to face her more. “I’m so happy you’re here too. I’m happy you gave me your coffee that morning and it’s led to this.”

She smiles. “Me too.”

Her hand is still on his knee. Dex is reminded of it when he feels that area of his leg getting warmer from her touch. He glances down at her hand on him and memorizes the image. He doesn’t want to imagine too much, imagine her hand slowly trailing up his thigh… 

To stop his thoughts, he places his hand on top of hers and trails his fingers up the length of her arm, until he reaches her neck and brushes his fingers through her hair. He brings her closer to him, some force guiding him with confidence. Her eyes are half closed as he slowly brings her in for a kiss. A kiss. 

He first brushes his lips against hers, almost as a way to ask if this was okay—if the way he was guiding her to him was okay. She doesn’t protest. Dex kisses her softly at first, memorizing the way her lips feel on his. And then he kisses her with a newfound force. She opens her mouth for him to enter his tongue and Dex breathes her in. He places his arms around her waist and lifts her up and into his lap so she’s straddling him on his couch. She has her hands on either side of his face as she kisses him just as passionately, holding him in place. He runs his hands up and down her back, pulling and pushing her to and fro himself. 

He pulls back, breathless, and looks up at her. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, running his hands in disbelief through her hair. “Everything about you is perfect.”

She kisses him again and again. Dex’s heart is pounding like it never has in his chest, so much it hurts, so much he thinks his life depends on kissing her. After a while, he pulls back again. 

“Let me take you home,” Dex whispers in her ear. “I don’t want to get too far, and we’re treading that line.”

She can’t help but laugh, even though she agrees. “Okay. Walk me home.”

Dex holds her hand the entire walk home. When she says they’ve arrived at her apartment building, she kisses Dex one last time and makes him promise he’ll text her as soon as he gets home.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Dex smirks, enamored by the look in her eyes. 

“I do,” she argues, “I do now.” 

“Goodnight,” Dex whispers. 

He watches as she walks into her building and enters the elevator. Dex moves across the street and waits to see which apartment light turns on. When he sees one turn on, he immediately falls into a dark alley and pulls out a mini telescope. 

He found her. And he watches her. Through a small slip of her curtain. He watches as she moves around her kitchen and living room. She changes into a silk robe in her bedroom. 

He stays there for another two hours until she’s turned off the lights and headed to bed. 

“Goodnight,” Dex whispers to her from afar. 

[rolandrockover]

I Love Myself For Hatin' You

Welcome to partner therapy with Joan Jett's I Hate Myself For Lovin' You (1988) and Kiss' You Love Me to Hate You (1989), where, if you take a look at both titles, the complex of problems should become instantly clear, but you will inevitably ask yourself just where to start.

For the purpose of my endeavors at least, this should not be my problem so much as that of Desmond Child, whom I hereby appoint to take on the role of the therapist, because it was he, after all, who literally twisted the words in the mouths of our two lovebirds. Which basically says it all, but hey, why stop when it's so nice?

So, even if Joan Jett takes on the rather masculine and less squeamish part here, she complains not insignificantly about the central subject of her passion, which (un)fortunately only works in alternating current, but if she does so, then she does it in style and cuts a pretty good figure in the process (1). On top of that, she seems painfully aware of her own dysfunctionalities, which lends this already delicate situation a not exactly unwelcome masochistic framework.

Paul Stanley, on the other hand, representing his band, takes a kind of complementary approach to the matter and comes across a bit like a professional, loophole-tested first-class creep. Relatively speaking, of course. The mind games therefore seem to come more from himself, but of course he presents himself as the unfortunate victim and blames everything on the evil woman, and apparently also finds a perverted kind of pleasure in it.

If they're both into that sort of thing, they have my blessing, and even if on the surface they don't seem to be particularly happy together, they complement each other perfectly and match extremely well nonetheless.

And that suits my needs for a reasonably successful transition just fine, because the verses and choruses of I Hate Myself For Lovin' You and You Love Me to Hate You could be said to work kinda similar, because although they have little in common with each other they are pretty much interchangeable without affecting the functionality of the other song in any way. On the contrary, I would say.

However, there is still a momentum of (musical) agreement, and that would be a small but nevertheless unmistakable part between the two vocal bridges and choruses, which forms the perfect axis for such a switch. But no more horizon seems necessary for this eternally unmatched courtship like between the moon and the sun anyway.

Whether Desmond Child played them off against each other or simply did them both a favor, I can't decide. Only one thing is pretty certain:

He made a small fortune out of both of them. More with one, less with the other.

Side Note:

(1) It's not too often that another song contains more ass-wiggling than one by Kiss.

You Love Me to Hate You (1989)

I Hate Myself For Lovin' You (1988)

[with-love-from-hell]

Nullify

{ft. Satan}

Part 6 of the Fortification Series  (based on this request)

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

Written for a GN!MC (you/yours, they/them), though the partner is written as male.

WC: ~3.4k

TRIGGER WARNING: Each part contains graphic depictions of various types of abuse, please see specific content warnings for each individual part.

CW: emotional abuse, verbal abuse, yelling, manipulation, sexual coercion, cheating, gaslighting, light skin-picking, swearing, physical abuse, negative self-talk,  graphic violence and gore, torture, urination

Series Masterlist

Note: Though I do have a masters degree in Psychology and clinical training in treating survivors of abuse, I am not your therapist, nor is this fic intended to take the place of professional help. If you are experiencing any type of abuse, please seek support from a professional. Utilize the Victim Connect Resource Center to get connected to the appropriate helpline.

Satan tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for you in the RAD library. He was tucked away in his usual corner, trying desperately to focus on the book in his hand. Usual something you suggested to him would keep his attention, but right now, all he could focus on was what had been keeping you for so long. 

The study session he set up was supposed to have begun nearly an hour ago, though Satan knew it was typical for you to be late. At first, he was very insulted by the behavior, thinking that any time set aside for you should be cherished. His time was valuable, after all...even if the only thing he would be doing was reading in the library anyways. Over time though, he grew accustomed to the fact that you would typically be between ten and twenty minutes late to everything, and adjusted the way he set up your study sessions. 

However, as the clock approached the 55 minute mark without so much as a text message to indicate your whereabouts, he began to grow concerned. 

Satan stood and paced around the nearby shelves. One by one his thoughts flew by, the content of which becoming darker and more terrifying with each passing moment. 

Did they just so happen to forget about today? It was every week at the same time, so I doubt that. Maybe one of my brothers carted them off somewhere...or did one of my brothers leave them by themselves? Maybe another demon showed up and cornered them...What if they’re hurt somewhere and need help??

 Just as he was packing his bag to leave and find you, one of the large doors to the library creaked open in the distance. Satan snapped his attention to the direction of the sound of the door shutting hard against the thick wooden frame. Familiar footsteps approached quickly from the distance. Soon enough, you rounded the corner, panting hard with sweat beads sparkling on your brow.

“H-hey. I’m so, so sorry I’m late!” you managed to stutter out the words while trying to regain control over your breaths. Satan sighed in response, the action coming off as annoyance to you, when in reality it was a deep breath of relief that you were okay. You gulped, hoping you hadn’t annoyed him too much with your tardiness. “I un-understand if you don’t want to tutor me today because of me being late.”

 Satan glanced up at you, giving you a half smile. “Its no trouble- we will just have to have a shorter session today. Though I must ask- what kept you, Mc?” 

Your body becomes visibly tense. “I...I was with {name}. He insisted that I help him with his final Beast-Keeping project.”  

Satan quirked an eyebrow at you. “What exactly did he need help with? The Beast Keeping course isn’t all that difficult.” 

Shifting your weight between your feet, you cast your eyes away from him. “Well, I mean...no, it’s not. But...he needed my help with his final write up of the assignment, since he didn’t do much of the observations last week.” 

“Is that so? Why didn’t he do it himself?” Satan muttered, moving his books back to the table and motioning for you to take a seat. You oblige, removing your own materials from your bag. 

“Well, He was out with a few of his friends on Monday, on Tuesday and Wednesday he wasn’t feeling good, and on Thursday he had dinner duty. Plus, this weekend he went on a trip to Hell Dome to watch the Fangol tournament...So I did the observations for him. It only makes sense that I do the write up if I have all the information.” 

Satan pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first time you neglected your work in favor of basically doing your boyfriend’s work for him. In fact, this was why you needed the extra study sessions with Satan in the first place. Because of how much time and energy went into making sure his assignments were perfect, your own grades started to slip, causing Lucifer begin breathing down your neck. Satan stepped up to save you some grief, but he was becoming increasingly annoyed by how the man you were dating used your passiveness against you. 

“Mc...You’re struggling to complete your own work- why do you keep doing his for him?” 

You frown. “I...I was just trying to be supportive, you know?” 

“There are other ways you can be supportive without running yourself into the ground by doing all his work.” Satan noted, annoyance clear in his tone. 

“But...It’s my job as his partner to take care of him.” 

Satan’s brow knitted in confusion. “Pardon?” 

You rub your forearm sheepishly. “I mean...I’m not a good partner if I cant show him I can take care of him. There’s been many times where I’ve messed up and neglected his needs, so-” 

“Name one time.” 

“...huh?” 

Satan crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you. “Name one time that you ‘neglected his needs’.” 

“Uhh...” You wrack your brain, trying to think of something to say in response. “Well...there was the one time where I went to the human world with you and Lucifer for a retreat when I had planned to help him with his laundry. And then when I made dinner during the retreat at the castle and he didn’t like it. Oh, and I also spend some Friday nights with all of you, when he said he’d rather have me at purgatory hall with him so we can have some intimate time.” 

“Mc, none of that is neglecting his needs.” Satan sighs running his hand through his hair. “You do everything for that man and prioritize him in everything, and not once have I seen him make you a priority. It honestly seems to me like he’s just using you.” 

Your frown intensifies and you drop your gaze away from him. “But...If I don’t make sure he’s happy...He’ll leave. He talks all the time about how he could find someone better. Without him I’m nothing.” 

Satan stares at you, mortified by your assertion. “Mc, that is absolutely preposterous.” 

You shrug in response, picking at a scab on your arm. 

Satan shakes his head, snatching your hand in his. “You’re much more than a mule for him to pile his workload onto.- You’re intelligent, kind-hearted, caring, brave, and have a great sense of humor. If he thinks he can find someone better than you, then there must be a pile of manure where his brain should be.” 

You let our a soft giggle, but the frown quickly makes its way back on your lips. “Thank you for saying that...but he’s right about everything. If I didn’t have him, I’m not sure who would really go for someone like me.” 

“Wait a minute.” Satan squeezes your wrists gently. “Right about...what, exactly?” 

“That I’m inconsiderate, prudish, useless, boring, ugly...” You pause, suddenly feeling stupid saying all of these things out loud. You start to wonder why someone who claimed to love you talked to you that way. 

“Mc...seriously?” Satan huffs, anger growing at all of the things the man who claimed to love you had said about and to you. As you go on about the things he’s said and done, Satan feels the swell of wrath in his chest only grow more intense. You detail the ways he was clearly manipulating you into doing everything for him, and calling you a bad partner when you try to resist his desires- no matter how outlandish they were. Satan’s breaking point was the brief mention of him withholding affection if you declined to gratify him sexually, and how he had cheated on you multiple times under the guise of you not “putting out” enough. 

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Satan murmured in a near growl, but tried his best to hold back his wrath. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was mad at you. “Mc, why do you stay?” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment before replying in another shrug. 

He sighs. “There’s plenty of people who would cherish your company more than this ignoramus...and I am one of them.” 

You blink back your surprise. “What..?” 

Satan’s cheeks tint a deep pink, not having prepared himself for the confession he’d been holding in for so long. “I like you. A lot. And it hurts me to see you love this man who clearly treats you no better than a bag of trash. You deserve to be treated delicately, and encouraged to be your own person, rather than what he wants you to be...and you didn’t need to fix my family for that fact to be true.” 

Your jaw hangs open slightly, not knowing what to say in response. Perhaps the years of your boyfriend tearing you down has made you blind to the fact that other people can- and do- like you beyond what you can offer for them. 

Satan squeezes your hand in his. “I can’t force you to end the relationship- nor can I force you to date me instead. But I hope you take the time to think about the words I’ve said today. You’re more than what’s he’s made you believe you are.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before turning your attention to your study materials. Not much was done considering all of the time that had been used up by being late to the session and the conversation with Satan that ended up deeper than you anticipated. By the end of it, though, you were finally having second thoughts about the relationship, believing finally that perhaps you did deserve better. 

--------------------------------------------

A week had passed since your conversation with Satan. Much to his dismay, you still remained within the relationship with your boyfriend. He watched him scold and criticize you for the poor marks he got on his Beast Keeping assignment- though the reason was not because of the quality of the work you had done. Satan had tipped the professor off to the fact that the man had been cheating on his assignments, reducing his grade so significantly that he would never be able to raise it past failing. 

Since then, he had been non-stop berating you each time Satan saw the two of you together. It was clearly grating on you too. The way your eyes were stained in a permanent state of blood-shot and the deep bags underneath indicated to him that you had spent many nights up sobbing because of his words. He silently wondered when you would have enough. Though, little did he know, that day would come sooner than he anticipated.  

The sound of yelling drew Satan’s attention away from his book. It was coming from the courtyard just outside the window he was sitting near in the Library. Satan closed his book and approached the window to see what had drew in a crowd of demons. He froze upon seeing you and your boyfriend in the midst of all the staring eyes, though something about it seemed different. Your boyfriend looked angrier than ever, his words coming out of his mouth so intensely that spittle was flung into your face, given how close his was to yours. You looked hesitant, but your stance appeared much more confident than the usual demure stature you held. 

Satan quickly packed up his bad and darted out the door, ready to come to your aid should you need protection. He didn’t think the man would be so bold as to try to physically harm you, but he didn’t want to risk it. As he approached the two of you in the courtyard, his heart fluttered as the firm sentiment he instilled in you escaped your own lips. 

“I deserve better than this. I already told you, and I’m not going to say it again- We’re done.” You crossed your arms over your chest and straightened your back further, the action clearly indicating conviction in your statement. 

Satan smiled at you from behind your boyfriend, catching your eyes briefly. His eyes shimmered with pride at your ability to stand up for yourself and tell this loser to fuck off. You make a point to glance toward the Library before turning away from your boyfriend, walking away in the opposite direction. If Satan hadn’t known better, he would have missed the signal you gave to meet him in your usual spot.

“Get the fuck back here!” your ex-boyfriend shouted as he stomped toward you. You turned in time to see he had raised his arm up as if to strike you, and felt your heart drop to your stomach. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prepared for the impact of his hand striking your face. 

When the impact didn’t come, you open your eyes to find the man gone. The rest of the demons murmured amongst themselves, but nothing intelligible could be gained from their conversation. You happened to notice that Satan, too, was gone. Without further hesitation, you quickly paced to the meeting spot to find Satan, wanting so desperately to be rid of the terrible feeling you had in the pit of your stomach.

---------------------------

Within seconds, Satan had snatched your ex’s hand out of the air and jerked him backwards to the ground. Before the man had time to react, Satan uttered an teleportation spell that sent both he and the man to the front steps of Diavolo’s castle, preventing you from seeing what he was intending on doing. Satan dropped gracefully from the portal while the man fell from mid-air, slamming face-first on the marble steps leading into the large front doors. 

The man groaned, setting his jaw as he rolled over. Satan towered over the man as he regained his bearings, chest heaving as the wrath he felt began to boil over. The audacity this man had in trying to hit you when you tried to leave- he only thanked whatever higher power at work that he had been there to stop it from happening. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, demon form slipping out effortlessly between growls and labored breaths. 

The man’s breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Satan morph into his demon form, and then into something...different. It was almost ethereal; well, if it wasn’t so terrifying, that is. A black mist-like fog encapsulated his entire being, and all that could be seen from where he lay atop the steps was the demon’s intense green irises, and elongated fangs that were pulled up in a snarl. The man felt his heart rate become rapid, the urge to flee increasing- but it was as if he was frozen in place. The air became thicker and thicker as the fog increased its radius, sucking all of the air out of the area in along with it. The man struggled to breathe, beginning to gasp for air as he finally found his body movements return to his control. 

An attempt to flee turned into the man’s face hitting the ground once more as Satan’s gripped his leg with his tail, ultimately tripping the man. The serrated scales tore the skin of his calf as Satan dragged him back toward him. He lifted him upside-down in front of his face so that their eyes met. He was so close that he could smell the iron off Satan’s breath- as his gums bled profusely from his growing teeth. 

“L-let me go!” The man screamed desperately, darting his gaze around for anyone who could be of assistance to him. 

Satan hissed in response; the sound sending chills down the mans spine. He refused to meet any of the man’s words with a dignified response. He only wished to strike true terror into his soul, and engaging in conversation- albeit an intimidating one- didn’t much appeal to him. 

Satan’s tail gripped the man’s leg tighter, eliciting screams of pain deep from within him. The ripping of flesh beneath his grasp only fed into Satan’s theatrics, earing a satisfied, toothy grin. He continued constricting the mans leg until his tail met bone, and then- in an action as quick as snapping one’s fingers- the man’s tibia was snapped in two. 

The man bellowed in pain as Satan dropped him to the ground. Upon seeing his mutilated leg, the man lost all sense. He scooted backwards away from Satan, mumbling please to be released as he lost control of his bladder. A trail of urine followed him as he backed all the way against the castle door, desperately trying to put as much space between he and Satan as physically possible. 

A scoff was all that was given in response to the man’s actions. Satan began flexing his claws in anticipation for their use. 

How pathetic. 

Satan whipped his tail toward the man, pulling him to his feet by the arm and yanking him forward. Before the man could protest, Satan slashed his claws against the man’s face. Blood and chunks of flesh flew from his cheeks as he wailed, painting the beautifully polished marble steps a deep scarlet color. Satan nearly purred at the sound of his agony, finding deep pleasure in his pain. The man continued to beg as Satan clawed at the man’s face and chest until he was nearly unrecognizable, with the exception of the badge on his RAD uniform indicating he was an exchange student. 

When the man had lost enough blood to the point where he was barely conscious, Satan dragged his body back up to the front doors of the castle. He left him in a pile of flesh  and sinew, blood soaking the marble as it cascaded like waterfalls down the steps. the action was similar to that of a cat who had killed its prey to display for their owner- a way to display his pride in being able to protect you.

Satan watxhed the mans body for a moment while he calmed himself back down. Just as his breathing stopped, Satan's demon form dissipated and a wave of relief washed over him. He made his way back to RAD with the help of another teleportation spell, feeling exhausted from the mauling dealt out to your ex boyfriend.

As Satan entered the library, he immediately noticed you pacing the floor, picking nervously at the skin on your arms. When you saw him, you followed your immediate instinct and captured Satan in a tight hug. After pulling away and noticing his blood-soaked clothes that had subsequently stained your own attire, you figured you were in for another lengthy conversation in place of your normal study session. To your surprise though, Satan took you by the hand and lead you back to the House of Lamentation to spend the evening with him- in whatever capacity you would have him in.

Before leaving, you notice him glance at a notification on his phone before shutting the device off. You couldn't see all of what it said, but the message appeared to be from Lucifer, asking about the mutilated remains of your boyfriend on the steps to the castle.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[sarcasmandships]

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

[angstyclowns]

Please don’t let me go.

Part 2 to this! Thank you all so much for 2K followers!

Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki did not lose. Not in battles, not in competitions, friendly or not, and he would not lose you.  He refused to. He would not let you go. He loved you too much. He was too selfish to let you go. He fucked up, he’d own that. He fucked up badly, though he wasn’t certain he knew how to fix it. He could hear your sobs throughout your den, making him whine. 

You hadn’t done anything but cry since those blasted words left his mouth and he was beginning (Pshh beginning, he always worried about you) to get scared.  Groaning, he shut off his phone, thanking any and every being out there an old friend of his was willing to take his shift (He had to send her a gift basket for her and Deku). His duffel landed on the ground with a thud before he was running to your guys room, opening the door with zero hesitation. You looked up to him with such heartbreak in your eyes. Fuck, his chest hurt. 

Katsuki was never good with words, you and him both knew this, but he still had to make it right. He had too. Fuck his eyes were stinging as he approached you, making him collapse onto his knees in front of your nest. You watched him, not saying anything. 

“Please, fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Any of what I said. You don’t deserve it-deserve it. You deserve so much better than me- But I don’t want to let you go-” He was crying now, making you cry as well. You understood he was stressed, and you probably weren’t making it any better. Both of you were stressed and anxious and- fuck. 

This wasn’t healthy communication. You and him both knew it. You needed to fix this. With time you would. Right now though, right now you were focused on the arms wrapping around you, and thats all you would focus on for now. 

---

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about with this upcoming pregnancy? This is a safe space.” 

Katsuki smirked at the therapist. playing with the ring on your finger as he held your hand. 

“What is there to say? I’m pumped. The Bakugou genes live on and I’ve got my pretty omega by my side.” 

While marriage counselling sounded terrible on paper, it wasn’t. It gave you both an outlet and coping mechanisms when hurdles appeared in your relationship, and made you both overall a lot happier. 

You purred as you leaned on your alpha, making the therapist smile. 

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m no longer needed here. You both seem to have impressive communication now, and I can’t see this changing when your pup arrives. Though, keep in mind when that time comes, you both will need to be top of your game.” 

You watched Katsuki nod, completely entranced by the therapists words. If you would’ve told yourself about this Katsuki a year ago, when your huge fight broke out, you would’ve laughed in your own face. But now, watching Katsuki work hard to prove he was the alpha you deserve?

Your heart fluttered and the butterflies in your tummy grew restless. While a pup would be a big challenge, you and Katsuki were ready for it. 

And he would be with you every step of the way. 

Shouto Todoroki

His choice was made before his subconscious even had the chance to boot up. His throat closed up and his phone was crushed in his palm when it tried dragging his attention from the fact at hand. It was dropped with little remorse as Shouto quickly ran in the same direction you did, stopping you from entering your guys room. You chirped in surprise when he turned you around, pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You wanted to fight him but Shouto didn’t let you. He didn’t let you go when you squirmed, he only tightened his grip (Not hurting you). He didn’t know when it happened, but tears were starting to drip down his cheeks. 

Shouto didn’t get angry. But he got upset. He felt so guilty. Just seeing your heartbroken face replay on his mind was torture. Just knowing he had just did the same thing his father did to his mother. He was dismissing your worries and genuine concern because of his job. 

“I-I don’t see how messed up this is. But I want you to tell me- show me. I want to be a better alpha for you. Bonding you wasn’t and won’t ever be a mistake to me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to. I want to know why it’s such a big deal.”

You broke down as Shouto held you, not finding the words to explain anything just yet. You would need time to do so, and he would give you that time. 

He just wanted to tell you he made his choice. 

In fact, there wasn’t much of a choice at all, and he hoped-- prayed-- you could feel that. 

---

“Shouto, we need you to start up the scenting again. You’re rep is dropping and-” His P.R. manager was halted with a finger, the half-and-half hero quickly dialing your number on a new-- not crushed-- phone.  

“Sho? Aren’t you at work? Why are you calling? Did something-”

“Scenting things that aren’t for you, thats a breech of privacy and demeans our relationship, right?” Shouto cut you off, sending a silent apology to you. 

You paused on the other end. “Yeah? We had this conversation a couple weeks ago. Are you okay?” 

He smiled. “Fine. Just reminding myself.”

You both said your quick goodbyes before Shouto turned to his P.R. manager. “My omega said no.” 

“Who cares what your omega thinks?! Your-”

“I’m nothing without my omega. I care what my omega thinks and what my omega says go. If her word isn’t enough then mine will be. I said no.” 

Silently, Shouto patted himself on the back as he turned, trying to leave for patrol. You would be proud of his newly shined spine. 

“Your-”

“Oh, before I forget. ” Shouto turned, facing the manager who was red with rage. It made him smirk. “You’re fired.” 

Keigo Takami

Patrol was rough. Brutal. He couldn’t focus. 

He had told you he was more important. He wasn’t. 

He was a broken shell of a man. Hawks was this fucking persona he put up, and in that moment those words came from him. Not the Keigo that you dug so hard for. Not the Keigo that you ached for late at night, just wanting to hold him in your arms. 

He was blurring the lines between Keigo and Hawks, with Hawks breaking through as the dominant. He didn’t want that. Not at all. He wanted Keigo to still be there. Be there for you. 

Fuck this. 

He was going to be there for you. Fuck the hero rankings. Fuck the commission. Fuck anything that kept him from you. 

Turning around, he ignored any calls of his name, soaring faster than he had all evening to get to you. He could see you through the windows of the balcony (You both lived on the top floor, enough enough ceiling to floor windows looked nice). You were looking ahead of you blankly, wrapped in one of his sweaters. Fuck you looked like you had gone through the ring. Hair messy and eyes blotchy. 

You didn’t even look over when he tumbled through the door, literally crawling to you. 

Keigo would admit he had never cried since he was six. He was twenty-three now. That was seventeen years. 

He would also admit he cried at your feet. Angry, painful sobs that rocked his body and made him hurt. He didn’t care though. He’d do it all for you.

He tried pleading that he was nothing without you. Hollow and empty. 

To be fair though, he wasn’t even certain he was doing anything other than incoherent babbles.   When your arms wrapped around him and allowed his wings to cocoon around you both, he figured he made some sense. 

For you, he’d go through all the pain seventeen years of hiding would bring him.

---

“Baby bird!” 

Keigo didn’t normally call out to you like he found himself doing, but recently, he’s found himself doing a lot of stuff he never imagined himself doing. 

Domestic life with you was such a nice feeling. 

Having you in his arms every morning, working with you as he got ready for work, watching you yourself get ready for your day. Just you. 

You were perfect in everyway and it made his chest tighten with love every time he saw you. 

You turned the corner with a smile, waving to him before gesturing for him to follow. He did so with a quirked brow, following you to one of the ex-guest rooms. You were giddy, bouncing slightly in your place with your scent so happy and boisterous it made Keigo purr. 

When you decided he wasn’t moving fast enough, you ran back, pulling him forward and into the nursery. His son was laying there, fast asleep in a makeshift mini-nest, bright red wings wrapped around himself as a blanket. 

You cooed and held onto Keigo, watching as your alpha picked up your son, holding him to his chest. The young boy merely ruffled his feathers, quickly recognizing the scent and nuzzling into his dad’s chest. 

While he went through seventeen years of pain in the span of two, he had you by his side. And now, he had his son. His son which you had gifted him. 

He didn’t know what he was thinking back then, but truly no one was more important than you. 

And he would take that with him until the day he dies.

[hikarimiyanaga]

Loving You (Part 5)

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Because exams make me stressed. But I did get through some of them. And I think I only have one more to go! So here comes an update!

Warning : Omegaverse. Beta!Reader x Omega!Wanda Maximoff. Curse Words. Mentions of Bullying. Indication of Self-Harm.

Also, just tell me if I need to add more warnings so I can edit as quickly as I can.

Taglist : @mitchiesdungeon / @upsidedowndanvers / @trikruismybitch / @fayhar / @madamevirgo

-

Monday comes and you stretch your body. You were spent yesterday. There was an emergency at the firm, so your Mom and your sisters had to be there. So you spent half of the day cleaning the house with your Ma but then she also had to go because the emergency got bigger so you had to go do all the cleaning and chores by yourself. You also didn’t get to talk to Wanda because your phone was inside your room all day. The morning was a blur and you snap out of your daze when someone talks to you.

“Did I do something wrong?” Wanda asks before you could even go to your locker. You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head.

“What? No.”

“Then why didn’t you talk with me yesterday?” You yawn.

“Do I have to?” Wanda gets taken aback as you push past her. She looks shocked at your question. She thought that things were going well? Did she really do something wrong? She clutches her chest as she goes to her first class. Pietro pushes you away from your locker and you let him. It was like the old times where people just shove you or push you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you an idiot?” You don’t answer. You just get your book and close your locker. “Y/LN!” He grabs your arm and you have had enough.

You haven’t had enough sleep.

Your body hurts like someone just smashed it with a sledgehammer.

People are suddenly talking to you.

Your own family doesn’t trust you.

Janine just tried to bully you again last week. You had a nightmare about all the things she had done last year.

You got mad so suddenly because people think you’re trying something when you just want a quiet life.

You’re falling faster and you can’t risk it if Wanda is not your soulmate because you knew that if you do fall then that’s it. A one-time deal that you had no say in.

You dread every day that you get older because it’s just a step away in proving to everyone that you won’t get accepted to colleges.

You’re a Beta who doesn’t deserve to live.

Tears fall and you take a deep breath. Pietro lets go and you thank the stars. You don’t need anyone trying something with you today. You were silent as you wipe your tears away while going to your class.

-

“Y/LN.” Natasha calls out during lunch and you sigh. You were inside the library and people still somehow found you. You look up to her and sigh as you pack up your things and get your bag. She drags you outside and you just let her. Will this be the day that the Avengers would finally bully you? You just hope they don’t drag along Wanda… damn it. It’s your fault again. Your stomach falls as Natasha drags you to the cafeteria. Will they publicly humiliate you?

“Natasha! What are you-“ Natasha stops as you both get to their table.

“Explain.” You stop as Wanda hides behind Pietro.

“What?”

“Why are you suddenly being a dick?” Angel holds out her hand for them to stop.

“Why are you wearing a jacket?” You pull down your sleeves to hide your wrists and both Wanda and Angel lunge at you, you try to push them away but Natasha tackles you down. She holds you down as Wanda and Angel look at your wrists. They let go as they gasp. You stop resisting and sigh. Natasha checks and glares at you.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” She shouts at you and you don’t even flinch. You look at her with blank eyes and she gulps. What the hell happened?

“Get off me.” You mumble and Natasha complies. You get your bag and get the letter that you received yesterday. “Here.” You hold it out to Wanda and she shakily gets it. You stand and try to leave but Angel stops you. Wanda opens it and cries as she reads. She hugs you and gives Angel the letter. You don’t hug her back.

“What the hell!? Who the fuck sent this!?” Angel shouts and Natasha snatches the letter out of her hand. “You fucking assholes!” Pietro holds Angel back as the Avengers read the letter. Their faces get angrier by the second.

“Who the fuc-“

“Does it matter?” Wanda pulls away and you snatch the letter up. “It’s the truth anyways. Hope you had-“ Angel slaps you and you scoff. “Is that-“ Pietro grabs your collar. He snarls at you.

“This isn’t the truth! For fuck’s sake!”

“It is.” You mumble and Wanda grabs your hand. She drags you to the courtyard and pushes you on the bench that you two always hung out on. She straddles you and you immediately feel calm. She whispers comforting words and you can’t help but hug her. You realize your actions while in daze and you can’t help but cry. You whisper your apologies over and over but Wanda just keep shushing you and rubbing your back.

-

You groan as the school bell rings. You went to the nurse and got your wrists bandaged up. You’ve been out of it and only went to classes like a drone.

“You okay?” You nod at Angel and get your things into your bag. It’s a good thing that your hand just wrote notes automatically since you knew that nothing got inside your head. “Let’s start tomorrow, okay? Rest up.”

“Thanks.” You mumble as you get out of your last class. You realize that two people were waiting for you and Angel.

“Hey, babe.” Angel greets and Natasha smiles as they hold hands. They kiss and Angel turns to you. “Bye, Y/N, Wanda.”

“Bye.” You both say and wave at them as they leave. You sigh as you face her.

“Wanda. I’m really sorr-“ She hugs you and you hug her back.

“Don’t be. Just.” She pulls away and flicks your forehead. “Tell me next time.”

“About?”

“The letter and the thoughts.” You nod and sigh. You both walk outside.

“It’s just.” You sigh as you run a hand along your hair. “My thoughts got out of hand and there was just no one else in the house.” You clench your fists. “They spiraled before I noticed.” Wanda holds your hand and you calm down.

“That’s why tell me. I’ll run to you if you ever have them.”

“Why?” She smiles and pulls you closer to her.

“Because I meant what I said. I don’t think I could live without you.” You kiss her and she kisses you back.

“Aren’t we moving too fast? We just met a month ago.” She chuckles and pulls away.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.” She intertwines her hand to yours. “This feels right. You feel right.” You smile at her words.

“I love you.” Wanda’s heart beat faster and you smirk as she blushes. “I love how your hand fits with mine. How your scent calms me down. How kissing you feels like I’m on cloud nine.”

“Sweet talker.” She kisses you.

“No. Just being honest.”

-

You go to school next day with your bandaged wrists exposed and you feel everyone stare at them. You go to Wanda’s locker.

“Hey.” She smiles at you and closes her locker. She takes your hand and you kiss her.

“You’re not covering them.” You hum as you both go to your locker.

“Mom and Ma got angry which is why I’m going to Therapy later. Sorry I can’t meet with you.” She shakes her head as you take your books.

“Your emotional health takes priority.” You pout as you close your locker.

“But you’re my cure.” She pushes you away and you chuckle.

“Shut up.” She mumbles as you take her hand.

“Y/N? No jacket?” Angel asks as she, Natasha, Steve, Bucky and Pietro approach you two.

“Nope.” You show them your wrist and shrugs. “Why bother?” Angel smiles. “By the way, can we start on Thursday for the project? I have a session today and a date tomorrow.”

“Oh? So it’s official now? You two are dating?”

“Oh. They are if they’re not then I’m going to beat up Y/N.” You chuckle as Wanda rolls her eyes.

“You’re only older by twelve minutes, Pietro, don’t push it.”

“Older is older, Wanda.” You laugh as you all get to class.

-

Lunch comes and Wanda picks you up from your classroom. You both go to the cafeteria.

“Finally eating like normal people?” Angel asks as you and Wanda sit on their table.

“We do eat.”

“Sandwiches and juice. The cafeteria offers much more.” You shrug as you eat.

“Convenient is convenient.” Angel shakes her head at you.

“Y/LN.” Tony calls out and you look at him.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry for being sexist assholes.” You stop and so does everyone else around you. They wait with bated breath. “We judged before we even knew you.” You smile at him and before you could even reply, Natasha says something first.

“Sorry for getting jealous. I don’t like it when anyone else asks for Angel’s number.” You chuckle and nod.

“Thank you for apologizing.” Tony holds out his hand and you accept it.

-

“Y/N!” Alsie calls out from her car and you turn to Wanda.

“That’s my ride. See you tomorrow?” She nods and you kiss her.

“I love you.” You grin.

“I love you too.”

-

“So what do you think was the cause?”

“Two phrases. It was ‘always your fault’… and-“ You mumble the last part and your therapist, Dr. Martin lean towards you.

“Y/N. Speak up, I’m af-“ You cut her off.

“Wanda is just pretending.”

“And you believed it?” You laugh.

“Yes. That’s why I was in a daze. I believed every line and every word.”

“Why is that?” You sigh.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Everything that was happening.” You take a deep breath. “People were being nice to me. My sisters suddenly visited. My mom and ma started getting interested in my life… I guess everything was changing and I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Or rather you were afraid of it.”

“Yes.”

“I know changes are a scary thing but they are inevitable. You have all these happenings, what do you think is the root of them?”

“Wanda.”

“Who?”

“Well, she’s-“ You take a deep breath. “I think I’m falling for her.”

“Think?” You shake your head.

“I already am.” Linda smiles and you sigh. “I just- I think it’s too fast. Everything that’s happening.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m just a Beta! I don’t deserve-“

“And that’s why you’re so afraid. You’re second gender.” You nod.

“It’s the reason why I got bullied. Why teachers are ignoring me. Why people avoid me.”

“Why you also got disconnected with your own family.”

“Yes. I believed that I deserved everything because of something that I cannot control.”

“It’s good that you do remember our past sessions.” You chuckle.

“Things are changing and I have to accept them for what they are.”

“Yes. And you’re second gender?”

“Is something I did not choose nor should be ashamed of.”

-

“How’d it go?” Alsie asks as you stretch your body after leaving Dr. Martin’s office.

“Good.” Alsie nods then stands.

“Where’s the letter?”

“Why? What do you need it for?”

“Things.”

“You’re going to find who wrote it, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You comply and give her the letter.

“Tell me who it is before you destroy their life, will you?”

“Why?”

“I might want to get in a punch or two.” Alsie grins and nods. You both get out and go home.

-

You go to school the next day and stretch as you walk down the hallways. You see Wanda and smile as you approach her.

“Hey, gorgeous, good morning.” “Morning.” She yawns and you take her hand.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just tired.” Pietro chuckles as he approaches you two. “Mom made her clean our garage all night.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why?”

“She was caught sneaking out.”

“For what?”

“You. I wanted to see you.” You grin and kiss her.

“You could’ve just video call me.” She pouts.

“That’s not the same.” You laugh.

“I guess not.”

-

You hum as you sit on the bench. You just finished your date with Wanda and you were both on a stroll around the park. Wanda straddles you. You hug her and she hums.

“Don’t you have curfew today?” She frowns at you.

“Do you want me to leave?” You shake your head.

“Of course not, but I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be a bad influence.” You kiss her. “When I meet your parents, I want them to know my intentions with you.”

“What intentions?” You hum.

“That’s for them to know and for you to find out.” She pouts and you chuckle.

-

You yawn as you and Angel hover your laptop. You were at the cafeteria with the Avengers. You’ve brought your laptop for the day so you two could start the project. Both Wanda and Natasha are fuming with your and Angel’s closeness but you just ignore them. This project costs about quarter of your grade in an AP class. Both you and Angel love them. Really. But priorities need to be put first.

“You two are serious about that project, huh?”

“Quarter of overall grade.” “AP Class.” You both answer and Natasha sighs. Wanda holds your hand and you look at her.

“What’s up?” She shakes her head and you give her a small smile.

“Just wanted to.” You chuckle and kiss her hand. You spend the whole lunch holding her hand whilst paying attention to Angel and making plans for the project. “Y/N.” She calls out and you look at her. She was holding up your meal’s spoon with food on it. “You need to eat.” You sigh and nod. You accept the food and hum. She smiles as you finish it. You kiss her cheek and get back to Angel. She eats her own food as she makes random patterns on your palm.

-

You groan as you and Angel spend your last class, just researching for the project.

“Miss Wanda that much?” You glare at her and she snickers.

“Shut up.” You grumble and focus on your research.

-

“That was good.” You hum as you pack up your things and laptop.

“We’re already halfway done.” You both get out and both Natasha and Wanda were waiting for you two. And you flinch as Natasha approaches you.

“Y/LN. Here.” She gives you a book and you look at it.

“Wha-“

“An apology for the last time. I got jealous and was immature. I should’ve trusted you and Angel more.” You sigh.

“You should.” You cross your arms. “She’s your soulmate, woman.” She groans.

“I know. My instinct just told me that you were a threat.”

“Why? I’m only a Beta.” Wanda hits you softly and you smile at her. “Besides.” You take Wanda’s hand and kiss it. “I only have eyes for her.”

“Okay. We get it.” Angel gets Natasha’s hand. “You two are running for the cutest couple.”

“I’m pretty sure you two won that last year.”

“Well now, we have serious competition.” Angel smiles and she holds up her hand. You slap it with yours. You both laugh. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you too, Gel!” She and Natasha waves at you and Wanda before leaving. Wanda holds in her laughter and you turn to her.

“Gel?” You scoff at her as you two walk together.

“It’s a nickname!”

-

“What’s that?” You hum and raise an eyebrow at Alsie. It was already Saturday before you knew it and you had a date with Wanda tomorrow since she was busy today. “New book? That’s not your usual genre.”

“You mean her usual documentary, mystery or thriller?” You glare at Valerie who smirks. You sigh as you keep reading.

“Someone gave it to me.” Your two sisters look at each other and they both hum.

“Wanda?” You shake your head and they get taken aback. You had more friends?

“Then who?”

“Romanoff.”

“Natasha? You’re friends with Natasha Romanoff.” You nod and they gasp. You close your book and glare at them.

“WHAT?” They get up in front of your face and you shield yourself with the book. They barrage you with questions and your eye kept twitching as you get more annoyed. The hell is wrong with them? “Stop!” They both back off as you glare at them. “What’s with you two?”

“You know her parents?” You raise an eyebrow as you nod.

“They just switched to our firm last week.” Oh.

“The emergency?” They nod. Alsie gets up and Valerie nods at her.

“They were the reason why we were all needed there.”

“Even Ma?”

“Ma was there to calm the employees down.”

“Ah.” Alsie comes back and holds out a brown folder to you. It says Romanoff Airlines on the side and you take it. “This is?”

“Open it and read it.” You nod and Alsie turns on the TV.

Romanoff Airlines. Opened in 1956 and has been one of the Pioneer Airlines in both Europe and America. This is because of their partnership with Stark Industries who provide the latest technology to Air Transportation through them.

Current Owners: Melina Vostokoff and Alexei Shostakov. Both are Russians and ex-spouses. Although they are divorced, they still live together with their two children.

Heirs: Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova. Both are adopted and have decided to take their biological parents’ surnames but are still living in America and with their adoptive parents.

Natasha Romanoff. Currently attending high school. Can speak many languages (Exact number was not extracted), is friends with Tony Stark, Vision Stark and many others. Is a helper of martial arts clubs. Martial Arts Expert. Is a gifted student, passing all of her classes with flying colors. Decided not to take any AP Classes because it was ‘time consuming’.

Yelena Belova. Currently attending middle school. Can speak many languages. Martial Arts Expert. Gymnast. Gold Medalist.

You read everything before closing it.

“You okay?”

“Why switch to our firm?”

“Apparently because their previous firm was shady and we were recommended by Natasha.”

“Did you ask her why?”

“Yep. She just said that we know why.” Their words click inside your head and you look shocked.

“Me?”

“Most likely.”

“Huh.” You give the folder back to Alsie and hum.

“You good?”

“Yep.” You say as you open your book and continue reading.

A/N:

Because Angst makes me feel things.

I don't think I would ever write a series without an ounce of angst.

Thank you for Reading!

[urimaginespimp]

Happiness (This Love pt 7)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set during TFATWS (mostly ep 3)

Note: Angsty confrontation ahead, and some references to Mr. Perfectly Fine because its a bop.

previous part

——–

Bucky and Sam were trying to hide it, but they were fascinated with the amount of collectable expensive cars surrounding them, which Zemo claimed to be his.

“I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can recreate an army of people… like the Avengers.” He stated, peeking out from the car where he was slouched down taking stuff, he needs for a trip.

“I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join a party. We’ve already started.”

“First stop is a woman named Selby.” Zemo stated, now walking out with his stuff, before pausing to face the two men’s way again.

“But before that, it would be way safer for us if you get one of your old teammates with us. Preferably the witch.” He explained.

“We haven’t been able to reach Wanda for some time now.” Sam admitted.

“That’s unfortunate to hear, but I meant the one James was so enamored with.” Zemo clarified nonchalantly.

Sam’s lips twitched, trying not to crack a smile as Bucky glared at Zemo.

“We haven’t been in contact with her too.” Bucky answered in a low voice. He was getting irritated at the fact that Zemo even suggested to bring you into this.

“Actually, I have.” Sam spoke up. “But new Asgard is not a drive away.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Zemo grinned as he led them out to his private jet.

The entire way over to New Asgard, Bucky was quiet. He hadn’t told anyone, even his therapist, but the look in your eyes when he outright rejected you back in Tony’s Lake house was the last thing he sees every night before he falls asleep.  The same set of eyes that would’ve loved him for a lifetime.

Would you even be glad to see him? He couldn’t help but feel anxious.

——–

It was already dawn when they arrived at New Asgard. Val greeted them having received a message from Sam as well after Y/N was unresponsive.

“Well, you, I expected.” she nodded at Sam. “Can’t say I’m pleased to see you, Mr. Change of Heart.” She looked at Bucky as if assessing him fully and Sam snorted at what she just called him. “And you I’m unsure of because I’ve never seen you before.” She nodded at Zemo.

“Val, it’s really great to see you, and holy smokes, Asgard looks rich as hell.” Sam was temporarily sidetracked. From what he last heard, New Asgard was a fishing port.

“This isn’t even half of how the old Asgard really was, but this is all actually because of Y/N’s effort.” She answered proudly.

“Where is she, anyway?” Sam asked. Bucky and Zemo simply assumed you were still sleeping given the time. But the light-almost silent steps on the pavement approaching behind them made all three men look behind.

Bucky felt his throat drying up when he saw that it was your form walking towards them. Here you were, lips red, hair even longer, in a small black strap dress, holding your heels on one hand, as you walked home. Your attention was set on your feet, as if they were the most fascinating thing you’ve seen, as they walk bare along the pavement. And he couldn’t help but note that there was a strong energy around you.

“Dude, stop staring. You’re gonna embarrass yourself.” Sam whispered at his side.

His low voice caught your attention, making your head snap to finally look up and slowdown from walking.

Sam was already smiling at you, undoubtedly glad to finally see you again, and you returned the grin. Then beside him, stood the man you’ve been trying to get over all these months.

His hair was shorter, reminding you of the James you’ve met when testing the time portal. Only difference is that while James was eager to talk and see you, this one in front of you wasn’t even looking up.

Looking at the third man with them, you stopped in your tracks.

“Sam, what the hell is this man doing out of prison, and on Asgardian property?” That was the first thing to come out of your mouth. Sam lightly hit Bucky on the arm to explain.

“We need him to help us find this group of super soldiers.” Bucky answered, finally looking up to meet your eyes. Turning your attention to him, he was surprised you didn’t even offer a small smile.

“Wakanda will get word of this, Barnes.” you told him, not breaking eye contact. You were mad. Wakanda owed him nothing yet they took him in and helped him. Now he was saying they not only broke their king’s killer out of prison, but is also working with him.

Behind the three men facing you, Val was standing with her arms crossed on her chest, close to losing it. She mouthed Barnes at you.

You sighed and walked up to Sam, exchanging a hug, a silent conversation of how much you’ve missed each other. Breaking away from him, you started walking past them, ready to get it over with and head to your house.

“What do you want? As you can see, I just got back and I’m in need of rest.” you asked, still walking.

“Look, you can go back to your parties right after, but we really need you for this. Please.” Bucky spoke up once again. Of course, he’d think you were merely partying your way through nights. But you were just too tired, and frankly, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything to him.

Turning to face them again, you were ready to turn them down but Sam was looking at you with the same pleading expression. How could you turn down someone who’s been nothing but nice to you? And you do feel guilty for not checking up on him as frequently as before.

Sighing, you faced Val and gave her a small nod, indicating to her that you were going. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Fine. Just let me get ready.” heading into your home, you took a deep breath. You thought seeing him again would just make you feel like the pathetic, desperate woman you once were, but this time you couldn’t shake the feeling of hostility creeping up your chest every time you met his eyes.

So maybe you do kind of hate him now.

——–

You were across Zemo, catching up on the sleep you’ve missed on his private jet.

Bucky was seated just across from your left, and he couldn’t help but look at your sleeping form. You looked at peace, and it reminded him of the nights you both had in Wakanda where he’d ask you to stay with him after a nightmare, and the rare times when you’d fall back asleep first.

Then something he picked up from the conversation earlier started to cloud his thoughts. You had kept calling him Barnes. He had never heard you call him that until earlier. It sounded so… strange coming from you. It almost made him hate his own last name.

“You know, I’ve always found her of impeccable beauty.” Zemo spoke in a quiet voice to not disrupt your sleep. Bucky clenched his fist while Sam raised a brow at him. “Now, I never said I’m attracted to her. My heart is forever for my family, but I’m not blind.” he clarified, and noted the former winter soldier’s reaction.

“James, judging from your reactions every time I talk about her, I’m guessing you’re very fond of her.” He took a sip of his drink, waiting for a response – one Sam gladly provided.

“Oh yeah, if kissing her, then pushing her away and leaving her after a funeral is what you’d consider being very found, then by all means, Bucky’s crazy for her.” Sam glared at Bucky, making him uncomfortably shift in his seat.

“Now why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam shifted the conversation.

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this…” He opened a book on his lap. “I don’t know what to call it, but I see Y/N’s name in here, and oh this part seems important… who is Nakajima?” and before Sam knew it, Bucky was up on his seat, with his metal arm on Zemo’s throat.

The act made you stir on your sleep, and sure enough, your eyes fluttered open, only to see Bucky threatening Zemo.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” He said in a low voice.

“What the hell is happening?” you broke the silence, making everyone turn to you. Bucky finally let him go, and returned to his seat, not looking at you. He felt almost ashamed that you had to see him act that way. He could only hope you hadn’t heard Zemo say your name was on that notebook.

“I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo stated, but then unexpectedly turned his attention to you. “I just can’t seem to understand why her-”

“Don’t push it.” Bucky cut him off.

“Miss Y/N. If you don’t mind me asking. How did the avengers manage to bring everyone back? We hardly get enough news in prison.” Zemo asked you with genuine interest.

“The simplest answer is through a time machine.”  you nodded at him.

“Well that I know, but how did you know it would work?”

“We had volunteers to test it out. As a matter of fact, I was one.” Sam and Bucky were now looking at you in interest. They didn’t know about this part. “The first one was Clint, and he only had a few minutes to a timeline of his choosing. When that was successful, it was my turn to go and stay a little longer to make sure we wouldn’t experience any complications if we do so.”

“Where did you go?” Bucky found himself asking, and you turned your attention to him.

“I…” you couldn’t tell them you actually went to his time as a soldier in the camp. “I don’t want to talk about it.” you shut the conversation down and excused yourself to the restroom, leaving them confused.

Opening the door slowly to get out, you paused when you overhear Bucky saying something. “I uh… I went on a date for the first time.” he told in a low voice. You decided to remain behind the slightly ajar door. You hated how it made you feel a little pang in your chest.

He was getting his life back out there while you’ve only managed to only push the hurt deep down instead of addressing and getting rid of them. Maybe once you get back home, you’d give in to Val’s pestering about online dating.

“And?” You heard Sam asked in deadpan tone. It was only followed by silence.

“How about Miss Y/N? You would’ve been perfect together.” Zemo commented.

“Shut Up.” You heard him retort.

“No, let him speak. I mean he has no idea about what happened between you, but I kinda want to hear this.” Sam interjected.

“It’s just that judging by the wandering looks you’re failing miserably to hide, and her being so… uncaring towards you, I could only assume you did something that cost whatever bond you had.” Zemo carried on.

You couldn’t listen to them any longer. You knew what he was going to say next – that he just didn’t feel the same. So you slowly shut the door close again and decided to splash a little bit of water on your face.

When you got back, they were now in entirely different conversation. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?” you heard Zemo ask, followed by a quick pause. “That is why we’re going to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s skull island.” Sam asked confused.

“It’s an island nation in the Indian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky answered him.

“It’s kept it’s lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves.” Zemo explained further before looking at Bucky. “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You could see he was dreading having to do so. And normally you would’ve already assured him that everything was going to be fine, but this time you opted to be silent and look out the window, missing how he and Sam also turned to your attention, surprised of your seemingly lack of concern.

His heart dropped.

——–

You came in Madripoor acting as the Smiling Tiger’s most trusted henchwoman. When he had to act as the Winter Soldier and follow Zemo’s orders to attack, you had to look away, and only hope that he was fine.

You were now in Sharon’s place after she unexpectedly saved your asses while on the run.

“Here. You can use my room to get ready. There’s hot water in the shower and feel free to use anything on my vanity dresser.” She handed you a black jumpsuit similar to what she had on, only that this one didn’t have sleeves like hers.

Taking it from her, you said thank you and turned to where she pointed her room is.

“I suggest going red on the lips.” She added just before you were about to close the door.

“You’ve read my mind, Sharon.” You smirked.

——–

Sam just promised Sharon he was going to try to get her name cleared, when you stepped out of her room and into where they were, now all ready for the auction party.

“You look beautiful, Miss Y/N.” Zemo raised his glass to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Why, thank you punk. Been loving the coat you got on.” Everybody looked great. Bucky was looking dignified in a well pressed suit, and it was taking everything in you to not ogle.

Bucky was gripping the couch hard. How could you converse with Zemo so freely, when you haven’t even uttered a word to him save for a few quick glances. But hew knew Zemo was far from wrong. You were breathtaking.

“Val’s told me you’ve been going out every night. You dance often?” Sam asked you.

Taking your position next to Zemo, you smiled and decided to tell them what you’ve been working on.

“Well since I’ve secured New Asgard’s future already, I’ve devoted my nights to going about the nightlife nearby. Yeah, I dance every now and then, but that’s only when I know the rest of the night will be free of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“Any trouble, really; robberies, killings, but the most common ones are assault. So, I go out dressed just like the others to blend in, but I rarely take part in the partying.” you explained to him.  Sam gave you a smile. He was proud of you.

“Well for the rest of tonight at least, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Go dance.” Sharon smiled at you before getting up to start welcoming guests. “Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party.”

——–

The party was in full swing. You had no idea where the others have gone among the swarm of intoxicated dancing bodies in the room.

“May I get you a drink?” a man asked, appearing in front of you. He was tall, had pretty green eyes, dirty blonde hair, and a charming smile.

“You may… if I get your name first.” You smirked, which he returned.

“I’m James.”

“You’ve got be shitting me.” you found yourself whispering.

“I’m sorry?”

“Any other name I can call you, handsome?” you reached over to act like you were fixing his collar.

“How about Jay?” he smiled at you.

“Jay works just fine.” smirking, you let him lead you to the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky saw the whole ordeal. He couldn’t make sense of the feelings that kept creeping up on him, but all he knows for now is that he didn’t like what he saw one bit. And with all the smirks that’s graced your lips, he begins to realize he hadn’t seen your usual winning smile.

“Don’t break your teeth with all that clenching, Buck.” Sam was now standing beside him. “Come on, even Zemo’s dancing. What’s gotten that robot brain of yours all mad?” he pat Bucky’s shoulder.

When he was unresponsive, Sam followed the direction where he was glaring at. And sure enough, it was where you and the guy that approached you were standing close to each other, enjoying a drink and conversing.

“Okay, let me ask you something.” Sam started. “Do you, or do you not have feelings for her?”

It took him a while to answer. “I don’t know.” He finally muttered, still glaring your way. “I’m robot brain, remember?”

“Okay, fair enough… But man, you know she would’ve understood if you told her that you want to figure your feelings out first. You didn’t have to be all so casually cruel to her like that. Rhodey said she spent the 5 years during the blip mourning and waiting for you.”

The last part of what Sam just said caught Bucky’s attention.

“What did you just say?” He was caught off guard.

But before Sam could repeat himself, Sharon came with the information they need.

——-

Arriving in Riga Latvia, you got a few cuts and bruises from the fight that ensued while you joined Sharon in keeping an eye out as the guys talked to Nagel. The four of you were now walking to Zemo’s place when you spotted the first bead. You knew whom it belongs to. Glancing Bucky’s way, he was already looking at you. He must have seen it too.

“We’re gonna go on a walk.” He spoke to Sam and Zemo and nodded at you.

“You guys good?” Sam asked in concern.

“Yeah, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” You assured him. Turning away to look for other vibranium beads, it didn’t take long for Bucky to be beside you.

“It was just a matter of time, Barnes.” you said as he picked up another one placed by the corner.

Turning into an empty alley, Bucky called out into the open while holding the bead in between in thumb and index finger. “You dropped something.”

And you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you smiled at an old friend.

“I’m here for Zemo.”

——–

“He’s a means to an end.” Bucky explained. And you remained by the corner as they conversed.

“Eight hours, White Wolf. Then we come for him.” Ayo stated. Turning to you, she offered a friendly smile. “The princess misses you. She said you’re in need of some…” She glanced Bucky’s way “…comforting.”

“You’ll be expecting a visit from me soon. I’m bringing you and Okoye some Starbucks.” you promised. You’ve been in touch with Shuri through chats, and she knows all about what happened between you and Bucky.

When Ayo left to go back with the other Dora Milaje, it was only you and Bucky left in the Alley.

“Y/N we need to talk.” he said before you could even turn to head back to where Sam and Zemo were.

“Barnes.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” you could see he was irritated.

“What?”

“Quit calling me Barnes. You never called me that. It was always Bucky.” He snapped at you. “Call me Bucky.”

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” you could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Like you’ve said that day. We can’t start fresh when we’re constantly reminded of something we’re trying to forget. Calling you that would just bring about memories and feelings I’m trying to get rid of.” you answered honestly, looking him in the eye.

Hurt flashed on his eyes from what you’ve just said, but he couldn’t blame you. “Fine. Then call me James.”

You gave him a pained smile. “That won’t do.”

“Why?”

“I actually met James.” you finally told him. Looking at his reaction, one could tell he wasn’t expecting that.

“When I said back in the plane that I volunteered to be the second test subject for the portal, Nat and Steve got me in an old war nurse’s uniform underneath the suit and sent me back to a time where you were just rescued by Steve… and you actually got me to talk to you.” This was the first time you were talking about it. You didn’t even tell Steve what happened on your time there. All he knew was that you met and spent time with Bucky.

“They suggested it because they knew how much I was hurting from losing you. And I came there with the intention to leave with closure. But I ended up promising James I was gonna wait for you.” you tried to blink the tears that was threatening to spill away.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t even thought about what you had to go through after losing so many people when the blip happened. It was merely a few seconds for him.

“I don’t need your fake niceties. I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night when you had nightmares. I gave you almost two years of my time just helping you get back on your feet. I loved you, and I didn’t expect anything in return. I just wanted to let you know.” You harshly wiped a tear that escaped.

“But then you just had to fucking kiss me and for once, make me think we could be something…” you chuckled bitterly. Bucky remained quiet, just listening to you. “… only to tell me right after it was a fucking mistake and that you want to start fresh alone. How do you think that made me feel?”

“Y/N I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.” He started to walk towards you, and stopped when he was only one to two steps away.

“I fucking hate you, Barnes.” You found yourself saying unexpectedly, wounding him further inside. But then you shook your head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I can’t think straight through all of my fury.”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you if you do.”

You took a deep breath, realization hitting you. “You know what, I don’t think I could make this all go away by making you a villain. I’m still hurting, yes. But I guess it’s the price I pay for being delusional for what, seven years? I could’ve stopped at one. And now I’m just trying to face reinvention.”

“I didn’t realize -” you cut him off for once.

“I heard you went out on a date for the first time. I’m proud of you.” You genuinely smiled at him. “And I realized that I want to seek happiness too.” There was a glint of relief in your eyes, maybe from finally letting it all out.

For the first time since seeing each other again, Bucky saw the old you come into the picture – soft, caring eyes, and an infectious smile with a hint of mischief behind them.

And for the very first time, the feelings that kept creeping inside him every time you were around had made themselves known.

So imagine his horror when he heard the next thing you said paired with a gentle smile.

“I’m letting you go, Bucky.”

He was in deep trouble.

——–

tags: @eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes

[yougetoneshot]

Suicide Squad: Reversal

What if team 1 and team 2 switched missions?

Focus is on Team 1: Flag, Harley, Captain Boomerang, Savant, Mongal, Weasel, Blackguard, TDK, and Javelin

Everyone lives AU

Chapter One

Flag looked around at his team and lamented his choices in life. His eyes fell on Harley, the therapist turned supervillain with a penchant for hyenas and large hammers. She was clapping excitedly at the despair of the man across from her struggling with his seatbelt.

“This thing’s a werewolf?! Yo, I don’t mess with werewolves, get me outta here!”

Captain Boomerang’s roaring laugh filled the entire helicopter as he joined Harley in enjoying Blackguard’s panic.

“Sit down! He’s not a werewolf. He’s a weasel.” Flag snarled to quiet down the situation. Blackguard was his least favorite addition to his team which was saying something considering weasel, the beast villain he’d just believed was a werewolf, was equally as useless. He’d begged Waller not to add him but she insisted his strength would be an asset despite his low IQ. At least the weasel didn’t talk.

“Get ready for the drop.” The pilot called back to Flag who nodded and ushered the others to stand as the back of the helicopter opened over the water.

“Go!” He yelled as the first of his team leapt from the chopper. Javelin, whose name pretty much encompassed his entire personality aside from the added foreign accent, hit the water first. He was followed by TDK, a villain Flag actually didn’t know anything about but trusted Waller enough that he must have some strength of benefit to the team. Savant, the forgetful genius fighter, and Mongal, the alien tyrant, jumped next. They were followed by Harley and Boomerang who made a competition over who could do the best dive. Flag had to shove Blackguard out before he and weasel jumped. As they all hit the water they heard the sound of weasel struggling against the current.

“Did no one find out if he could swim?!” Flag growled into his communicator. The team back at base remained quiet as he moved to help Savant save the unsavory beast from drowning.

“Is he dead.” Waller’s irritated tone buzzed over coms as Savant shook his head.

“He’ll live.”

An explosion lit up another part of the island and Flag furrowed his brow. “Waller-“

“It’s fine. Keep on mission, Flag.” Her tone sounded knowing so he pushed any concern for it aside. He had to trust her. What other choice did he have?

The rest of his team trudged onto the beach and groaned about being wet. He once again lamented not having a proper military team as Harley and Boomerang began convincing Blackguard he was covered in leeches. The dim witted villain was frantically and a bit too loudly checking himself for the leeches as Flag moved towards them. “Shhh! Stop messing with him or you’re going to get us all killed! We don’t have much time before a patrol comes by. We need to get deep into the jungle and make camp.” He grabbed Blackguard by the shoulder to stop him from ripping his clothes off. “There are no leeches on yo-“ Flag’s sentence halted as he spotted it- not a leech but definitely something akin to it stuck to the back of Blackguard’s neck. “Don’t move.”

“What?! Why?!! What is it?!! There are leeches aren’t there?!-“

“I said don’t move!” Flag pulled a knife from a holster around his thigh and began prying the small mass from Blackguard’s skin. The criminal howled which prompted Flag to slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up or I’ll let this thing stay on your neck.” He finally provided enough leverage to pop the creature off of Blackguard’s neck and send it careening into the sand where it dug down into the dune like a tremor.

“…what was that.” Harley’s eyes were locked onto the spot in the sand that the creature had sunk into.

“Just a leech. Now come on, we need to get off this beach.” He waited for his team to all make it off the beach before he noticed a light in the distance.

A sharp pain in his shoulder then another in his leg sent him sinking to the sand. He heard shouts down the beach and yelled at his team to run as Harley moved towards him. “Go! Stay on mission!”

Waller echoed Flag’s order into Harley’s earpiece.

“Come on. He’s right, Harls.” Boomerang tugged her back into the foliage as soldiers surrounded Flag. “They ain’t gonna kill him, right?” Harley looked up at her Aussie pal and he tugged her down to hide in the brush.

“I dunno but we’re dead if we stay here.” He whispered into her ear as they watched Flag be apprehended.

“This changes nothing. You will still need to find the Thinker and infiltrate Jotunheim.” Waller’s voice hissed through their earpieces. “Don’t take this as some opportunity to bail. I can still monitor you from here without Flag’s supervision. One wrong move and I’ll blow your heads off. Now move.”

As Waller finished her threat, Harley looked around at the group who were all looking at her. “What are you looking at me for? Do I got something on my face?”

“I think they’re looking at you to lead us.” Boomerang whispered in her ear.

“Leader? No. Uh uh. I ain’t a leader.” She turned to Boomerang to argue in a less than hushed tone. “Boomer, I don’t know the first thing about leading a bunch of idiots!”

“Hey!” Blackguard hissed. “We can hear you.”

“Oh sorry, I meant six idiots and a lummox.” She sassed but then quickly realized he thought she was complimenting him. Harley turned back to Boomerang. “We are so doomed.”

“I believe in you, Harls. What would you do if you didn’t have a team?”

“I dunno. Probably get disguises?”

“Then that’s a start. Let’s go find some disguises.”

-

The group had little issue getting into town and breaking into a department store. Even here on this tiny island, American corporations had made their mark in the most American way- overpriced apparel.

“Alright everyone. I want you to look your most Corto Maltese-esque-ian.”

“What?” Half of them chimed in and she shook her head frustrated.

“Just don’t look like a tourist, yea?” She shooed them away to pick their own disguises. After a while, Javelin approached her in bright plaid overalls with no shirt underneath and a vibrant pink hat.

“..that is… PERFECT!” Harley clapped excited then noticed weasel next to him with a large novelty mustache stuck to his face. “Oh my, I didn’t even recognize you. That’s so good. Keep it.”

“I dunno, Harley none of these clothes fit me.” Blackguard walked over in what was clearly a child’s tshirt that hugged him like a crop top. Harley suppressed some laughter but nodded. “No. You look great. Promise.” She nudged Boomerang as he was shuffling through some AC DC shirts to find his size. He lifted his head and spotted the very tight children’s clothing clinging to Blackguard. He was less than successful at containing his laughter.

“He loves it.” Harley nodded.

“Then why’s he laughing?”

“Oh it’s just a joke I told him earlier. Nothing to do with you.”

“..oh.. okay!” Blackguard joined the other two members who were done picking their disguises.

Mongal returned in a large fluffy red dress and Harley gave her two thumbs up. Savant came back in plain jeans and a white v neck. Harley stopped him and plopped a ball cap on his head that said “World’s Best Grandpa” before giving him approval. TDK finally returned dressed like a cowboy complete with chaps and a cowboy hat. Harley had chosen checkered black and red jeggings paired with a workout top that said “would rather be sleeping” and a red leather jacket. Boomerang had finally found the appropriate sized AC DC shirt- sans sleeves as he tugged them off and tossed them aside.

Harley looked over the group one last time before placing her hands on her hips confidently. “Let’s go catch a Thinker.”

-

Outside the club, Harley briefed the group in the small van they’d stolen from a very cooperative Pepsi delivery guy. “Okay, the plan is to blend in and wait for this Thinker guy to show up. He should be here anytime in the next three hours so we gotta stay alert. That includes you.” She gestured to Javelin.

“Why do you single me out?”

“Because that devilish accent of yours could get us caught. Best if you stay quiet.”

“But-“

“No. Your voice is now a precious gem that you must protect at all costs. Not another word.”

He nodded sadly as Harley turned to the rest of the group. “Let’s go.”

-

The group walked into the club and despite having a giant weasel with them, managed to get on great with everyone there. Most of the drunken patrons thought they came from a costume party and Weasel was wearing some kind of Halloween costume. Harley had the group split up to look for the Thinker. She paired them up with Mongal and TDK taking the back door, Boomerang and Savant at the pool table in the corner, Blackguard and Javelin on the dance floor, and she took the bar with Weasel by the entrance.

After about an hour, Harley started to become bored. As entertaining as it was watching Weasel get drunk, Boomerang lose at pool twice in a row to Savant, and Javelin teach Blackguard how to do the Cupid shuffle, she was getting antsy for a fight. Lucky for Harley, a fight was walking in as Corto Maltese soldiers walked in escorting the Thinker.

“I’ve got eyes on the Thinker.” Harley nodded over to Javelin who was by the jukebox. He then pressed a few buttons and Ballroom Blitz blared through the club. “Time to party, boys!”

Harley ran full speed at the nearest soldier and slid down between his legs to pop up behind him right next to the Thinker. She gave him a smile. “You might wanna duck.” Harley grabbed the back of his head and pushed it down as Javelin nailed the soldier posted behind the Thinker with his javelin from across the room. Boomerang took out the first two soldiers and Savant used his pool stick to prevent more soldiers rushing in from the entrance from getting closer to the group by targeting pressure points on their bodies with absolute precision.

At the back door, Mongal and TDK were having a blast letting a soldier walk in only to hang them by their vests on the tall coatrack mounted to the wall and knocking them out. Weasel ran around downing all the drinks of the patrons who’d abandoned them to leave the establishment. The entrance began to flood with more soldiers until Blackguard lifted the large jukebox and hefted it at the doorway with complete ease, halting the music and leaving the room in complete silence for a few moments.

“…you telling me you coulda done that the whole time?!” Harley choked out in shock. “I didn’t know he could that- did you know he could do that?!” Harley looked around at some of the rest of the group who shook their heads. “That coulda been very useful to know, just sayin.”

“Who are you people?” Thinker questioned irritably.

“Hey!” She shook him by his shirt collar. “We ask the questions round here!” Harley began shoving the Thinker towards the back exit as the team followed. They all squeezed back into the Pepsi delivery fan with Thinker placed in the middle of them.

“Okay, Bumble Ball Head, you listen good, you’re gonna take us to Jotunheim.”

“You’ll never make it past the front door. They already know what you’re trying to do. Your little friends on the beach have already been taken care of too.”

“..wait.. there were other people on the beach? Did we leave somebody else?!” Harley began counting the group as Thinker furrowed his brow confused.

“Are you not the Americans? The ones with the shark man?”

“Wait there’s a shark man?!” Harley squealed. “You mean to tell me Waller sent another team with a shark man and he wasn’t on my team?!”

“I don’t like sharks.” TDK brought up nonchalantly. “They could bite your arm off, you know?”

“Yea but not if you was friends with them, right?” Harley proposed and TDK shrugged.

“Fair point.”

“You’re all mad.” Thinker interjected.

“Well, that ain’t nothing new.” Harley chortled. “Now, tell me about the team at the beach. What happened to them?” Harley furrowed her brows as she raised a knife. “And if you ain’t telling me the truth, I’ll start cuttin off them pegs in your head.”

“They were apprehended and taken to the capital. With the exception of the shark man who is now a delightful new subject for me to experiment on.”

“Oh, you are just a piece of work, you know that?!” Harley waved the knife at him then looked at the group. “Listen, I ain’t much of a planner but seems to me like we could use all the help we can get getting into Jotunheim. We should go rescue the rest of the team to help us.”

“If they’re even still alive. El Presidente isn’t exactly keen on Americans. He’s likely already publicly executed them by now.”

“Well ain’t you just a bucket of rainbows!” She bonked him on the head with the back of the knife before looking back at the group. “It’s worth checking to see if any of em are alive.”

“I agree.” Savant nodded. “We got power in numbers, especially if the others are just as gifted in their abilities.”

“Right, anyone oppose?”

Mongal raised her hand slowly and Harley blinked a few times while pouting out her lips. “Yes?”

“I think we left the werewolf.”

Harley looked around at the group and sure enough the Weasel was not there. “Oh, fudge!” She sighed and nodded for TDK at the back to go back inside and fetch him. He returned with an unconscious and smelly Weasel, tossing him inside the van before it drove off towards the capital.

- Stay tuned for Chapter 2! -

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 4

Will

Cult girl attends her grandmother's funeral and is approached with a highly unorthodox last will and testament.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation and abuse, verbal abuse, death, slight emetophobia, body-shaming, ED mention, pregnancy and family planning

There was no use recounting anything from the leading up to the funeral. You spent that first night wine-drunk, munching on foie gras, watching Arrested Development and diagnosing each character to the best of your psychological abilities. You remembered cry-laughing at the same jokes you had memorized, and reminiscing on all the insane shit your own personal Lucille Bluth pulled on you. That was the highlight of the week. It was all downhill from there. 

Firstly, you were sick. That Sunday, you wrote it off as a hangover. Then, the hangover returned with a vengeance, just to add salt to the already open wound of having to pretend to mourn your abusive grandmother. At least the physical pain would give your acting an air of sincerity, you thought. 

Hannibal dressed in a solid black tux: it was almost uncanny to see him outside of any of his normal checkered suits. You selected a plain black dress and a strand of pearls.

The funeral was to be held at the same country club Anna’s wedding was held. Your grandmother was like a pharaoh, insisting that the empire she built know that even in death, she reigned supreme. The country club was her pyramid. 

Anna asked if you wanted to say a few words. As much as you wanted to get up and tell all her country club friends about the time she reported you as an abducted child at age twenty-two when you refused to leave your boyfriend and move back in with her, you knew that it wasn’t in good taste. You racked your brain for any story that could be considered remotely funeral-appropriate, but none came to mind. 

You spent the entire funeral trying not to roll your eyes too obviously at the stories of abuse her country club friends somehow remembered fondly. Your soul just left your body throughout the entire process and you were unsure if it would ever return. 

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. Then, it did. 

The beginning of the end was when your grandmother’s estate lawyer pulled you and Anna aside to conduct the reading of the will. He showed you to a side room, then excused himself before closing the door behind him. 

“Hello, [F/N].” Liam greeted, trying to cut through the awkward silence that came with first seeing each other after four straight years. “I’m very sorry about your gran. She was a great woman.” 

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.” 

“No she doesn’t.” Anna muttered. “And it’s Liam.” 

“I don’t mind ‘Lee’.” Liam contested. “My mum called me Lee. I actually quite like it.” 

Anna was in one of her ‘I’m so upset, please ask me why’ moods. She sat on one of the heavy armchairs with her legs crossed and eyes to the wall. You weren’t going to bite. 

Liam wasn’t so cautious. “Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” She pouted, not even dignifying her husband with a look. “I just think it’s interesting that I put the funeral together all by myself and someone couldn’t even be bothered to speak.” 

You shot Liam a look that said ‘way to go, jackass’. 

“Yeah,” You said, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “That must suck.” 

Anna glared at you. “You really have nothing to say? Really?” 

You tensed up. “Let’s see, which charming anecdote would you have me tell? How about that time when she made you wear a fat suit for an hour after you complained about how the low-carb ice cream tasted like chemicals?” 

Liam looked in shock at his wife. “Did she really?” 

“Once.” Anna confessed, holding up one finger. 

You turned to Liam, as if you were sharing some hot gossip. “That was all it took to give her an eating disorder when she was thirteen.” 

Hannibal was just a fly on the wall. Anna noticed his lack of reaction. 

“And I bet Hannibal knows all about this, huh?” Anna said, throwing her hand in his direction. “Because he just needs to hear all of our private family business, right?” 

You stood up from your seat. “First of all, I take offense at the implication that my fiancée isn’t family.” 

An evil smile spread on Anna’s face. “But he wasn’t always your fiancé, was he, [F/N]?” 

“Holy shit, you cracked the code.” You said, flatly. “There was a point in time when Hannibal and I weren’t an item. Real shocker, that one.” 

“You know what I mean.” She sneered, then approached Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, is it true that before you and [F/N] became romantically involved, you were her therapist?” 

Liam looked scandalized. Hannibal was just as put-together as always. 

“That is true.” He said, feeling no shame whatsoever. 

Anna turned back to you. “Now don’t you think that’s just a smidge unethical? For a therapist to date their much younger patient?” 

You narrowed your eyes. You carried yourself with the lightness of a woman who finally had the moral high ground. “So you want to talk about what’s ethical, huh? I suppose that means you’ve told Liam about pineapple.”

All the blood drained from her face. You crossed your arms and held your head up a little higher. 

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned. 

“Look, could we just pretend to be a normal, functioning family for ten minutes?” Anna pleaded, as if there were anyone other than herself to blame for provoking an argument.

“That’s on you two.” Liam, rightfully, pointed out. He gestured to himself and then to Hannibal. “Neither of us have said anything.” 

The estate lawyer must have gotten his juris doctorate alongside a master's in impeccable fucking timing, because that was when he decided to make his entrance.

"I'm sorry for the wait, everyone." He announced. "And I'm sorry for having to pull you aside in your hour of mourning. Usually the last will and testament is handled through email to the beneficiaries, but your grandmother was quite adamant it be approached this way."

"That definitely sounds like her." You said, exchanging glances with Hannibal. You'd talked about this for what felt like hours the week prior. She was going to pull some last-minute bullshit to humiliate you from beyond the grave. Give all the inheritance to Anna and leave a snide comment about you in a legal document. You knew it was coming. All you could hope was for it to be quick.

The lawyer pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "She specifically asked for her two living grandchildren and their significant others to be present."

"Did she say it like that?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Or was it more like, 'Anna and her husband, and [F/N] and her therapist'?"

"Mrs. Young," Hannibal said, taking your hand. "Until you tell your husband about pineapple, you aren't allowed to judge us."

Anna glared at you. "What the hell? He knows, too?!"

"Yeah." You answered. "I tell him everything."

"Okay, who or what is pineapple?" Liam interjected. "And why do I get the feeling I'm the only one not in the know, here?"

"That's cause you are." You confirmed. "And you have your lovely wife to thank for that."

"Everyone!" The lawyer called out. Clearly, he'd seen his share of dysfunctional families. "Please, let me just read the will and you can continue arguing afterwards."

"Y'know what? Fair enough." You said, crossing your legs. "Let's rip off this band-aid, shall we?"

The lawyer opened the envelope and produced a single page. He cleared his throat.

"I, Beatrice [L/N], being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions-" He began reading the long first sentence. "Including but not limited to, a collective sum of $45 million, the family home and my shares of the country club, to the first of my granddaughters to give birth."

You expected nothing. You expected something. But you never could have expected this.

"Can you please read that last part again?" You asked, unsure if what you heard was the result of a stroke.

"The entire inheritance goes to the first one of you to have a baby." The lawyer clarified, trying to make it sound like a reasonable arrangement.

"That makes sense." Anna said, nodding.

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "How in the fuck on fire does that make sense to you?"

"Well, the money would be going to a good cause." She rationalized. "To raise the baby, right?"

You shook your head. "No, this is insane. Grandma has always had this weird obsession with bloodlines, and now she's trying to incentivize us to carry it out."

"What happens if neither of us can, y'know?" Anna asked.

The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose. "If neither granddaughter is willing to produce a child, the entire inheritance will go to the Eagle Forum, so my ungrateful grandchildren can learn about family values."

"She hated the Eagle Forum!" Anna objected. "She wouldn't dare."

"She absolutely would." You pressed your fingers into your forehead. "That's upper-class white moderates for you. And she doesn't have to be around to see when they name a fucking wing after her."

"The Beatrice [L/N] center for denying women bodily autonomy." Hannibal said. "It's quite fitting."

"[F/N], we can't let that happen." Anna pleaded. "We can't let Eagle Forum get a penny of that money."

"Why the hell not?" You said. Though on principle, you agreed, you knew this was just another one of your grandmother's power grabs. At the end of the day, she chose to leave her money to the Eagle Forum. And it would be her name on that check, not yours.

"Oh my god, you actually hate babies more than you hate conservatives." Anna stood with her mouth agape.

"Don't put words in my mouth." You snapped. "I don't hate babies. I hate grandma for trying to threaten me into having one. I hate grandma for pinning us against each other and making sure it stays that way."

"What do you have against giving me a little niece or nephew, huh?" Anna folded her arms.

"I'm fucking done." You said, throwing up your hands. "This will be the last you ever see of me."

Of course, that's what you said the last time.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hi guys and gals! Part 7 sees friendship strengthened, decisions being made and love ultimately hurting. As always, please enjoy the next part and let me know what you think is going to happen in part eight! I actually love hearing from you all so please don't be too shy to reach out and message me - I love a good chat LOL Love always, Steph xx

Part 7 | settima parte

warnings; love sucks man. word count;  1850 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 09/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

“bella amelia, cosa ho fatto per meritarmi questa telefonata?” (beautiful amelia, what did i do to deserve this phone call?) Jorginho spoke his second-native tongue down the line to the British girl, calling him way past her self-appointed bedtime of 9pm.

“Jorgi, ho bisogno del consiglio di un amico” (Jorgi, i need the advice of a friend). Amelia, almost desperately, pleaded down the line to the boy who became her therapist.

It had been a few days since Amelia & Jack’s facetime where they sat and listened to the countless offers the successful girl had waiting in her voice message inbox. Being the person that she is, Amelia needed to distract herself from obsessing over the messages so she threw herself into her job. Spending too many hours over her paid allocation at Juventus training ground, getting administrative work done for the season ahead.

Was this her way of nesting? Or empty-nesting? Was she subconsciously preparing the club and her boys for life without her? Getting them ready with a season's worth of set pieces and tactical plays that would secure them an outstanding 37th victory? On the flip side, was she preparing for her new role in England which she had yet to accept. There was no harm in her taking her intellectual property back over to the motherland. The two clubs did not compete in the same tournaments, perhaps only the Champions league - but who's to say that whatever club she does pick will make the Champions League? There was no doubt Juve would be there - all of her preparation would ensure they would be. Whoever took over her role simply just had to show up and keep the boys in line.

“ok tesoro, parlami.” (Ok darling, speak to me). The Italian settled onto his couch, espresso in hand, waiting to hear the younger girl's problem.

“So I've spoken with Kyle & Jack now, and have told them of my predicament. They both are very heavily favouring one side - but I need a voice of reason. If you happen to express the same sentiments that they both did, then maybe that's all of the reassurance I need to make this final decision.” Amelia switched back to her native tongue.

After spending the better part of an hour discussing in great depth the offers that she was receiving from the 5 english clubs, Amelia felt just as confused as she did before calling the Chelsea boy. No surprise that Jorgi was team Come to the Prem & Join Chelsea, but the italian midfield maestro had also brought her back down to earth from cloud nine and reminded her of what, or who, she was leaving behind.

“Now I don't like telling you what to do, but you need to discuss this with Fede, Amelia. He doesn’t deserve a lot of things, but this is something he does.”

So that's where Amelia found herself the next morning. Sunday’s in Italy were reserved for espresso and long walks in the sun. This particular Sunday must have been reflective of the internal turmoil she was facing, uncommon for the season, the sky above her was overcast and a light drizzle had started to set in on her walk to the charming Italian’s townhouse.

______________________________________________________________

“pensavo fosse un mito che gli inglesi portino con sé il tempo the” (i thought it was a myth that british people bring the weather with them) Fede said as he opened the door, and his arms, while looking down the two steps at me.

“Very funny” I said as I gave him a hug. He always was so good at hugs. I’m going to miss them. Snap out of it Amelia - you don’t even know if you’re going to go yet. Oh she knows she's going. She also knows what club she's going to. No she doesn't, you be quiet. I’m here rooting for her Italian romance. If I had an angel and devil on each shoulder, their conversation would speak my internal monologue as such.

Walking through to his kitchen, putting on a coffee and saying hello to his dogs, Fede stood in the doorway and watched me move around his kitchen as though it was my own.

“I’m convinced you got British bulldogs because you just can’t help but love the English” I cheekily smiled up at him from my crouched position in the middle of his kitchen, giving the two bullys the best head rubs.

“Sure, you keep thinking that Amelia” Oh, the way he says your name Amelia, so foreign, so romantic. He says it the same way any other Italian would say it, he’s nothing special. Be quiet, let them have their moment.

“Lets go and enjoy these out in the courtyard, is your sun shade still up? It should hold out the rain right?” Amelia spoke rushedly as she poured two espresso cups and walked towards his back door.

“Tesoro, why are you so unsteady today? Is something troubling you?” Fede spoke worriedly, noticing my little nervous habits coming out to play and speaking faster than my mind could comprehend. Better to just get this over with i think, for once we agree on something.

“Ok i need to tell you something, and i need you to let me get it all out before interrupting me. Can you do that? This is something i’ve been working up the courage to speak out loud, let alone speak it to you”

Fede took a sip of his espresso, holding my eye contact, before putting his cup back on its saucer and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He thought he was ready for what i was about to say, expecting it to be yet another long winded speech as to why i want to put a label on our situationship. Oh boy, how wrong he was.

“After the success of the european tournament, i have received a lot of praise and recognition for my skills”

“And you deserve every bit of it amore, every bit and even more” Oh dear, could my heart hurt anymore?

“Fede, I asked you not to interrupt me…”

“Ok ok, sorry, continue”

“So, I have received a lot of recognition both here in Italy as well as from my home country of England. In saying that, I have received a few offers from clubs in the premier league that want me to bring my approach, the italian approach, to the english game. It's a real step up in my career and it's something I am seriously considering. I’ve spoken with some of the boys back home and also Jorgi, they all think that this is the next step for me. I’m far too comfortable here, I can't grow in my comfort zone. I think I'm ready for a new challenge.”

I held eye contact with the 27 year old, I wasn’t about to let him know just how vulnerable I was feeling here in front of him. Something Fede could always do was read me, and read my emotions. If he knew how exposed I felt, how easily I could be swayed over this decision, then he would make it his life's mission to do so. I had made my mind up that I was going, but there was also a part of me that decided if he was to give me what I was after I would be open to the possibility of staying.

“So it seems that you have asked for the opinion of everyone else in your life, and made your decision, before even considering mine.” He slumped back in his chair, and rubbed two fingers over his lips while looking off into the small courtyard garden.

“Fede, I have made my decision. But I wanted to talk to you about it, I owe that to you. You have made my time here so memorable, so fantastic, so filled with love that I wouldn't even consider not including you in this.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay? Do you want me to ask you to be my girlfriend? To tell you I love you? To move in with me? Let me know what you need from me to reconsider this decision” He began to get frustrated with me, pulling the cap off of his head and running his fingers through his hair.

“That’s exactly it Fede! I don’t want to ask you to do that, you should ask me to be your girlfriend on your own! I don't want you to tell me you love me if you think that's what I want to hear - I want you to feel like you love me! I don’t need anyone to tell me what I want to hear, what I want to hear is what you truly feel. And if there is something i have learnt about you in the last few years is that you can’t hold back your feelings with anything! If you were in love with me it would have burst from you a long time ago. I think that you do love me Fede, but as someone to come home to instead of no one at all.”

“You know Fede, i don’t have any regrets over this. You mean just as much to me now as you did the very first time we crossed that boundary and blurred the lines. You’re just my type, you only call me late at night, you can’t decide if you’ll be your own man or mine. I hate to say it, but you really are just my type. This decision has nothing to do with you, it’s something i have come to make all on my own.”

I had stood up now, looking down at the 27 year old. I needed him to understand exactly what I was saying, how serious I was. This was the moment I could get it all off my chest, instead of just letting the relationship play out on his terms.

“I leave on Friday, I let the club know this morning. There's nothing that can be done now Fede, this is my decision. Please respect it, and me”

He stood up, his almost 6’1” frame towering over me. Looking down, face of steel, I could see everything I needed behind his eyes.

“hai ragione ti amo Solo non nel modo in cui meriti di essere amato” (you're right, i do love you. Just not in the way you deserve to be loved). He pulled me into his chest, both arms wrapping around the back of my shoulders, left hand holding my head in the crook of his neck. My arms wrapped around his back from below his arms, holding him tight enough that they crossed over and I could grab the sides of his rib cage. This was the closure I needed.

“I’ll give Jorginho a call and make sure he looks out for you”

“How do you know what club I'm going to?”

“I saw the way your eyes sparkled when you mentioned its name, it was the same sparkle that used to come out when you said mine…”

Part 8. | parte otto

[colossalcriminal]

My Therapist Knows About You - s.r

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: Spencer is in need of a mental remedy and Y/N always ends up at couples therapy alone. Neither of them think twice about it when they both show up to the same appointment due to a schedule mix up. Group therapy can’t be that bad, right?

Content Warnings: Therapy, unhappy relationship, swearing, this is unedited. Angry season 7 Spence.

A really short thing of an idea I had that was executed really badly because I realized it wouldn’t work.

The FBI wasn’t the worst at taking care of its employees, and Supervisory Special Agent Y/N L/N from the Critical Incident Response Group never thought she’d have to go through the embarrassment of having a therapist recommended to her. She’d been to therapy multiple times, but that wasn’t quite the mortifying part. It was the fact that her fiancé’s childish behavior when visiting her at work prompted Agent Coleman to introduce them to couples therapy.

Andrew didn’t bother showing up to the appointment which seemed obvious when Y/N was anxiously tapping her heel on the tile flooring, Spencer staring at her, praying for her to stop due to the echo of her movement accelerating his own anxiety.

“Dr. Evanston’s 11:00am?”

Both of them stood, barely furrowing their brows at the coincidence but simultaneously shrugging at it.

Maybe there are multiple Evanstons? Maybe the other is here on the wrong day? 

When both of them entered the same room, Dr. Evanston greeted them with a kind, unwavering smile. “Small group we have. Please, take a seat.” Both parties were slightly confused, neither of them signing on for group therapy, but they took seats opposite each other nonetheless. “Why don’t we start by introducing ourselves?”

Y/N cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m, uh, Y/N. I was supposed to be attending couples therapy with my fiancé, but he didn’t bother coming.” She let out a dry chuckle, toying with the sleeve of her blouse. “And that's it.”

“Why did he not come? How do you feel about him not attending?” Evanston queried.

“Uh, he just doesn’t gel with it, I guess. I’m a little disappointed. I thought he’d want to work on us but it’s obviously a bit one-sided. I also thought he’d be here to support me after I was in a hostage situation but whatever.” She nodded to Spencer, silently begging for him to speak.

“I’m Spencer, Spencer Reid, just Spencer.” The good doctor stumbled on his words. “My friend and colleague faked her death and came back and I’m having a hard time coping with it.”

The therapist sighed, already wondering how a session with two field agents would go. “And how did that make you feel?”

5 weeks later.

They’d attended their weekly appointments diligently, each agent more excited to see the other. It was a bummer for Spencer one week when Y/N was off in Alaska on a case.

The pair had become good friends, the BAU member always arriving at the ‘clinic’ first, waiting outside with two coffees in hand until CIRG agent joined him. Both of them walking in together, sharing what disastrous events they’d gotten into at work, and sometimes during the weekend.

As much as they both hated to admit it, they shared a similar disdain for the diamond ring resting on Y/N’s finger. Spencer had grown fond of his new companion, well, a little more than fond. His small crush had formed when he began changing his entire morning routine every Wednesday in order to be early with coffees and pastries on his person just for her. It evolved when she seemed to be running through his head at all hours of the day. He eventually started caring for what he wore, always thinking the same “What would Y/N think of this?”

Y/N herself knew her relationship with her fiancé was over. They were lucky to speak more than 3 words a day to each other, and she was relieved to be detached from him. She knew it meant she’d have more time with Spencer, but blamed her failed relationship on her premature age, claiming “Getting engaged at 23 was never going to last.”

She took her sunglasses off, tucking them into her purse as she approached the granite steps, eyes landing on a familiar pair of old, ragged converse that brought a grin to her face. “Here’s your coffee and pastry.” Spencer presented proudly with a boyish smile.

“Thank you, Spence.” She accepts the gifts, proceeding to walk inside with him.

They sit side by side, already getting into an active flow of conversation until an employee politely interrupts. “Sorry to inform you, but there’s been a schedule mix up. Neither of you have appointments on Wednesday. Ms. L/N’s appointment is every Monday at 3:00 for couples and Dr. Reid’s is every Thursday at 12:00. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Without a word and small frowns tugging at their lips, they nodded, dumbfounded before leaving. Standing outside, the cold November air hits them, and they both felt their hearts sink knowing they wouldn’t have a legitimate reason to see each other. “I’m going to cancel my appointment.” She piped up. Spencer tilted his head, urging her to continue. “I ended things.”

Y/N raised her left hand, ring finger bare. He'd ceased to notice after his hate for the ring grew so much he refused to look anywhere near her hand. “I might cancel mine, too. I guess, I just don’t feel like it.”

“I’m going to need a new reason to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“Really?”

“Dinner’s on me. It’s a date.”

A/N: I hate this fic x

[zerokogane]

I need to scream about certain fics so here are some of my favorite persona 5 fanfics (be warned most of these of not all are going to be shuake and ongoing)

Pt 2 https://zerokogane.tumblr.com/post/652917516478349312/lappel-du-vide-xov-persona-5-archive-of-our

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995579

Ongoing, shuake, rated M, 300k+

Description:

What do you mean?” Ryuji tilted his head.

“It’s called Just Die. It reduces the SP needed for Insta kill skills like Mudoon or 'Please Die for Me' to zero.”

Ryuji and Ann blinked and blinked again trying to figure out what Morgana is trying to say. He watched as the gears churn in their head and they come to an epiphany, their faces growing horrified at the implications.

“Wait, you are saying. Joker can insta-kill literally everything in this palace. WITHOUT using SP at all?!” Ryuji clarified in astonishment because there is no way there isn’t a catch to this. “Without repercussion?!”

“Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Or the NG+ au where Akira knows more than he lets on, the Phantom Thieves start to suspect one of their own, and Akechi is in for a wild ride.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767610

Series 6/7 completed, no ships, ratings vary per part. 700k+(all 7 parts)

Discerption or first part in series :Forewarned

When Akira Kurusu is ten years old, his parents die in an accident.

One year later, he comes to Inaba. He doesn't expect to find family there, and he doesn't expect to find a hidden world of monsters inside the TV.

He finds both.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227510

Shuake, ongoing, rated T, 300k+

Discerption:

In the Present...

...Akira and Goro are the famed Detective Princes of Tokyo! They've solved countless crimes and brought justice across the city, gaining allies and confidants wherever they've roamed! As election season approaches in the distance, and ominous warnings are whispered into their ears, will they be able to weather the storm to come?

In the Past...

...two young boys, abandoned by society and family alike, find each other. Will they be able to handle everything else they find, in the years to come?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989186

No ships, ongoing, rated T, crossover with bnha(sorta ? jokers in their universe but he doesn’t know why ) 280k+

Discerption:

“Foolish mortals!” Yaldabaoth’s shadow fell over them like a death shroud, “The sin of rebelling against a god is severe. As punishment, I banish you to other worlds unknown!”

Something changed in the air, like the snap charge of electricity after a thunder strike. No, this was more than that. The world shifted and changed and contorted, the weave of fate was unnaturally pulled by the God Of Control, creating fractals in the flow of time and space.

Joker’s teammates gasped as bizarre, otherworldly doors came into existence.

One, a pair of silver doors with alien markings, cracked open just a hair to reveal a large, terrifying eye. Another, a glowing paper door that would be at home in any vintage Japanese mansion. The third, a grand golden gate decorated with eyes and horned demons, bubbling black sludge dripped from its maw like tar. The final one was a fluctuating cloud of purple and black mist.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656152

Shuake, ongoing, rated T, 250k+

Discerption:

From a young age, Akechi Goro was forced to accept that life is not fair. When the world is full of injustice and seems determined to throw that in your face at every chance it gets, what are you supposed to do? Sometimes you just need to tear the whole damn system down.

Meanwhile, Kurusu Akira just wants his friend back. He never meant to become a delinquent, much less the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but he supposes he’s never been very good at staying out of other people’s business.

(A soulmate au where writing gets transferred to each other’s skin. As a result, they become long-distance friends… until Akechi lets his jealousy and anger get the better of him, that is.)

( if you turned off by soulmate au’s trust me it’s good and it’s not as big part of the story as you would think, or not used in the “normal” way....idk your just gonna have to trust me one this one if the story sounds interesting cause it’s really good rant over)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781733

Ongoing, shuake, rated M, 300k+

Discerption:

"Love is knowing your target, putting them in your targeting reticule, and together, achieving a singular purpose against statistically long odds."

In which Goro Akechi joins the team during Kaneshiro's palace arc instead of Makoto.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30827231

Ongoing, will be polythieves but we don’t know the specifics yet, rated M, 29k+

Discerption:

Yaldabaoth had been told of the Mythical Trickster. He had laid out the plans for his game expertly, all the pieces and threads in place, ready to pull the Trickster into the trial that would determine humanity's fate.

His plan, however, did not account for what he actually received: Twin Tricksters.

No matter... surely, this would not lead the game too astray. Would it?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818682

Ongoing, no ships with Akira but there is ann/shiho, rated M, 44+k

Discerption:

When Suou Akira is arrested for a crime he didn't do and sent to Tokyo for probation, all he wants to do is live as quietly as possible and return to his family in Sumaru City. Of course, things don't work out the way he wants them to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31362848

One-shot completed, shuake, rated T, 7k+

Desertion:

'Akechi takes back his initial thought about this being an absolute pleasure to watch as the man, who was only a few mere feet away from Akira, whips his hand and flinging the freshly brewed two hundred and five-degree boiling hot coffee straight into Akira’s face.

Directly hitting Akira’s Glassless bare face.'

Or the one where Akira deals with a nasty, entitled customer and Akechi is perpetually in denial.

(For Akeshuake Hurt Comfort Week, Day Three, prompt: Illness/Injury!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30837995

One-shot completed, Shuake, rated T 21k

Discerption: Pretending is part of Goro's daily life, masks hiding his true intentions and feelings are things he uses very often.

However, the idea of lying about his relationship status never occurred to him.

Yet, now he is in a "relationship" with Leblanc's barista to trick his colleague and the therapist who doesn't know that they don't know each other.

And between medical appointments, dates, and his personal investigations, Goro must now manage the storm that is his emotions when it concerns Akira Kurusu.

Where is the line between pretended and true love after all?

or

A Fake dating couple therapy story where Goro and Akira use lame excuses to date.

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part THIRTY

Previous Post Is HERE

This is the last outline post!  But like I said before I’m probably gonna take a run at NaNo with this story this year because of how thoroughly it got out of hand lmao and probably will keep doing smaller art posts and shit at this point.

And again there’s already ideas for a sequel in the works, although that’ll probably trickle in MUCH more slowly for the time being.

Next week I’m probably going to take a break from Tumblr altogether bc of Real Life Stuff and the fact that this project turned So Big.  Maybe.  Possibly.  Don’t take me at my word lmao

This is a text heavy post and I apologize but there was a lot to cover; each section is separated by headers.

Content warning for mention of hanging used as a metaphor.  

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Astramorus’s Sentencing 

Astramorus is stripped of his rank within Hylia's Church, although he's allowed to keep his home at the sky commune since he and Catena had shared it since before her death and Zelda isn't cruel. She assigns him a Shiekah escort-and-therapist on Impa's recommendation, someone he's not allowed to leave the Sky Temple Commune without until further notice, and Astramorus tells her it's generally much more generous than he expected even considering the help he'd offered.

Link doesn’t go home with him, at Astramorus's insistence.

"Listen to me, Link," he says, touching Link's face gently. "For all that I'd LIKE to undo the last twelve years of our lives, do it better, you're still healing from everything I did wrong."

"Uncle Seren was-" Link starts.

"Giving me the rope with which to hang myself," Astramorus finishes. "I still took it in hand, son. We both need a little distance to start, you to heal and me to sort my own head."

Link frowns at him. "You need to heal too," he says. "You wouldn't have taken that rope if Mama had been here to stop you."

"Probably not," Astramorus agrees. "But that's why her Majesty is assigning someone to follow me around, isn't it?"

[Image Description: Link throws his arms around Astramorus, to his father’s surprise.  When Astramorus hugs him back, looking like he’s ready to collapse into the hug, Link opens one eye and tells him sternly, “Take CARE of yourself, Father, or we’re gonna have WORDS.”  “Mhm,” Astramorus mumbles. End ID.]

(Hilda, it should be noted, tells Astramorus and Link that they’re both welcome to visit Lorule Castle at any time, trying to hide her eagerness until finally admitting; “You both know what having Serenumbra in your head is like.”  And Astramorus and Link agree with that and promise to meet there in a few months, once they’ve had that time to sort themselves out.)

As for Serenumbra, for now Eltani decides to let him “enjoy” some solitude in the Gerudo City prison while she deliberates more thoroughly on what to do with him.  He did quite a lot, after all.

What to do About Ghirahim

Eltani and Zelda Sr discuss what to do about Ghirahim more privately, with Aldway, Impa, and Vaba (Eltani's oldest advisor) there to offer input.

"You say he froze upon being presented with the mere image of his old master," Aldway says. "I'm not sure I trust that."

"It wasn't like-" Zelda starts, then starts over. "He was like a frightened child, darling." She pauses, reevaluates. "Or like a dog expecting to be beaten."

"Like Link?" Aldway asks mildly.

She shakes her head. "Much worse than even that, my dear."

"Even knowing he's half mortal he has trouble stilling his tongue towards me," Eltani notes. "Faced with his former master, he was struck silent."

Vaba speaks up. "You say that Serenumbra called the thing he summoned a god's nightmare, correct?"

"The boy Link saw a figure he couldn't hope to live up to. Your Majesty saw a figure from history you've tried to avoid being since you were her age. Whose nightmare was Demise? Dinravi didn't know his face, and you tell us Ghirahim stepped in the way. Dinravi only faced a copy of Ghirahim's master because he was reflected from Ghirahim's half human heart."

They decide to let him stay.

What Dinravi Would Like to do About Ghirahim

And in the meantime Dinravi and Ghirahim are having their own discussion somewhere else in the castle, partly because Eltani asked Dinravi to keep Ghirahim away from where they're discussing and partly because of course they are, it's been a lot, the last day and a half or so, between Ghirahim saving Dinravi from assassination and Dinravi punching Nightmare Demise in the face. And finding out that Ghirahim is definitely around half human now, there's also that.

There's a bit of an awkward silence, at first. It's so, so much. Ghirahim is stealing a lot of glances and Dinravi seems to be collecting himself.

And then Dinravi asks: "Can I kiss you?"

Ghirahim stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, mouth small in surprise, bright red, and then he smiles a little and looks away and says "You still don't... my prince, you don't need to ask PERMISSION to do whatever you PLEASE with me."

Dinravi goes quiet. "... Is that how it was with him? Demise?" he asks. His face is gentle and open, nonjudgmental, but Ghirahim sputters.

"Of course it was," he says, "is there a problem with that?"

Dinravi studies him. "Apparently there is," he says. "Because you're shaking."

Ghirahim jolts in horror and stares at his hands, which are indeed trembling, almost as badly as at the sight of Nightmare Demise, and he screams: "DAMN this frail useless human body!!"

Dinravi takes a step backwards, watching him, and says, "Ghirahim." And at getting his attention, he asks, "Does this mean that you came to me, tried to seduce me into conquest... Knowing that might mean you, too?"

Ghirahim stares at him for a breath, vulnerable, then looks away, frowning. "Of course I did," he says.

Dinravi sighs. "Of course you did," he echoes.

"I was FORGED for this," Ghirahim says helplessly. "To serve Master Demise, or the one who inherits from Him. Whatever that might mean."

"Ghirahim," Dinravi says gently. "You're almost half human now. I believed in your choice before, when we were thinking you entirely demon, but... Being human means getting to choose."

Ghirahim is adrift and he looks at the floor, the ceiling, out the window, and finally back at Dinravi, trying to find solid ground.

His voice is small. "Please kiss me?" he asks. Dinravi smiles and steps forward, leaning into him, brushing his lips tenderly with his own. Ghirahim whimpers and surges forward, and Dinravi puts his arms around him and steadies his stance, chuckling, soothing him, kisses him again. Ghirahim gasps as his knees buckle and he slides downward, almost ragdoll as Dinravi catches him again.

"Are you okay?!" Dinravi asks, holding him against his chest.

"I'm fine," Ghirahim whispers, hanging on for dear life. "C-can- Can we take this somewhere your MOM won't stumble on us, or worse one of the BRATS running around the castle? I'm about to become very embarrassing if we keep this up." He gives Dinravi a significant stare, face crimson. "Maybe with a bed?"

Dinravi's eyebrows shoot up. ".... Would you like me to carry you?" he finally asks.

"I think you're going to have to," Ghirahim admits.

We're going to give them some privacy. XD

[Image Description: Dinravi is tilting Ghirahim into a kiss, the sun setting through the window behind them.  Ghirahim’s eyes are open but he’s pliant in Dinravi’s arms, one hand curled against his chest.  Dinravi is smiling, eyes closed and his grip gentle but rather thoroughly in control of the situation.  End ID.]

Back At the Sky Commune

Maurice and the other priests/monks at the Sky Temple Commune had some word of what was going on by the time Astramorus returns, and Maurice has more or less been put in charge now, in recognition of his years of service and care of the commune’s day to day.

He’s a bit annoyed at Astramorus about the whole thing, if he’s honest, which he is, but he also does care about his former superior, and once Astramorus has settled back in and the Sheikah escort is being shown around he approaches him in his quarters, finding him by the window thrown open, chin resting in his hand, looking out of place in the kind of civilian clothing Astramorus has barely worn his entire life.

“So what are you going to do with yourself, Astramorus, once the Queen’s man has decided you’ve moped around here enough?” he asks.  Maurice is kind but he’s also gruff.  Birds don’t tend to care about your word choices, and Maurice spends much more time with pigeons and cuccos and loftwings than with people.

Astramorus shrugs, not turning from the view of the blue sky.  “Honestly Maurice, I was raised by Hylia’s Church.  Mayhap I’ll find something else, but.  Well, it was kind of the Queen to let me keep these quarters for more reasons than memory of my wife.”

Maurice bristles his mustache, and then he says, “You know... she stripped your rank.  There’s nothing about your sentence as I read it that says you can’t start over from the beginning.”

Astramorus finally turns to him, and Maurice is struck by how... well, how much happier the other man looks.  He’s lost nearly everything, and yet it’s like a great millstone’s off his neck.  And Astramorus smiles:

[Image Description: “Maybe,” Astramorus says, smiling against his hand.  He looks relaxed and happy, and maybe like he’s considering it seriously.  The sun shines on him gently.  End ID.]

What Now, Link?

And perhaps at the same time, now that he’s said his goodbyes and everything’s settled down, Marla finds Link sitting on a balcony rail of Hyrule Castle, looking out at Castle Town and looking pretty peaceful himself.

She comes up behind him and folds her arms against the rail, smiling up at him.

“So, Link, we finally got your father to listen to you,” she says, and she’s thinking of that conversation at the Shrine of the Furious God when she says it.  “What now?”

Link shrugs.  “I suppose I’ll stay here for a little while,” he says.  He wants to see Gray recovered, and to spend more time with the Royal Family, and it’d be nice, if he’s honest, to rest a while himself.  “The Queen says my mother’s family are probably still running around the continent somewhere, so I might look for them after that.”  Adventuring runs in the family, apparently, because Zelda Sr. only has some idea of where his grandparents have gotten off to, only some idea of where to find his mother’s younger siblings.

“Sounds like a plan,” Marla says.  She looks out at Hyrule Castle Town for a quiet moment, enjoying the sound of Link breathing.

“Do you think,” she says, “That we could take a few weeks to check back at Windfish Isle?  I have this horrible suspicion that the Mayor has filled Tonbo and my house with fishing nets and I’d like to let him know to find someone else to live there before the walls take on a permanent stink.”

We’re staying with you so we should let them know goes unspoken, but Marla has known for a while she’s tying herself to Link for the rest of his life the same way she’s tied herself to Tonbo for the rest of his life, and the world’s a bit wider than it was when she and Tonbo left with Link, and if Link’s going to be in the wide world, Marla and Tonbo should be too.

And Link knows what she means.  Because family means the people you don’t need so much courage around.

He smiles.  “Yeah,” he says.  “We can do that.”

[Image Description: Link and Marla.  Link is sitting on the balcony rail while Marla is leaning on it.  They’re giving one another fond smiles.  The sun shines on them gently, giving the image a slightly faded look.  End ID.]