#i pay my shit and clean her back wound

[ambersky0319]

Store managers said even a few minutes overtime will be a write up

I'm calling bullshit

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck Together - Part 3

Summary: After Westview, Wanda and her children go into hiding. She's not happy with the person in charge of protecting them.

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

It’s the smell that wakes you.

You have no idea how long it’s been, or what’s real and what isn’t. All you know is that you’re starving.

“Oh, good, you’re up. I was starting to thing we’d have to hose you down”

Wanda walks by the couch casually, not even sparing a glance at you.

She knows it meant nothing, that kiss when you were dying. She’s also pretty sure you won’t remember.

“How long have I been out?” you say, hand around your neck. Fuck, that couch is uncomfortable.

“Day and a half”

“Fuck” you mutter, standing up to go to the kitchen.

There it is, the source of the smell. A neat stack of pancakes, and a bowl full of crispy bacon.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

You don’t pay Wanda any mind, stuffing your mouth with two pancakes, and looking frantically for jam or syrup.

“A-ha!” you say, taking a bottle and pouring the syrup directly into your mouth.

“You’re such a slob. At least chew the food” Wanda complains, trying to keep you away from the stove.

With a growl, you trap both of her wrists in one of your hands and push her against the kitchen counter. That finally shuts her up, and you eat three more pancakes without her interruption.

“Sorry, you were saying?” you ask with a shit eating grin, licking your fingers clean.

Wanda’s distracted by the way you moan around your digits, too lost in your own thoughts to notice her blush.

“I was about to say that you’re a brute and a messy one at that” she tilts her head to the floor, where you left crumbs.

“Hey, I always clean up my mess” you promise, hand still around her wrists.

This time, you do catch a little bit of a flush, but your eyes meet and Wanda pushes past you.

“Since you finished all the food, you might as well go get groceries”

“Gotta shower first”

“Yeah, you smell”

You’re about to answer when the two kids shriek and run, crashing against your sides.

“We were so worried about you”

“Uh… ok” your hands are up in the air, unsure on how to respond to their affection.

“Boys!” Wanda says, hands on her hips. “Get away from her, she’s dirty”

You roll your eyes, but the kids listen, stepping back and looking up at you with big smiles. You try to return the gesture, confused about their sudden affection.

It’s not like you’ve known them for long.

As their mother calls them to the living room, you find some clothes in the closet and jump in the shower. Your t-shirt is beyond repair, between the blood and the gash in the place where Agatha stabbed you.

There are some serious gaps in your memory. You remember using the stapler, the weird coloration in your skin. But as you inspect the wound, there’s nothing more than a scar, skin healing properly.

You also remember the way you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

And how you were dreaming about Natasha.

Would it have been so terrible to just let go? All you wanted was to see her again.

No, that’s not exactly true.

All you want is to turn back time and beg her to not go on that last mission. To stop thinking she failed the world, and come home to you, whatever home meant so you could have a life together.

With a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror as you dry.

“Here’s the list of things we need” Wanda says the minute you’re out of the bathroom.

“Can we go with you?” Billy says and you’re about to say no when Wanda agrees.

“Excuse me? I’m not a babysitter” you glare at her, but the kids are already out the door. “Anything else I should know about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do they set things on fire? Levitate? Any weird shit that might get me in trouble at the store?”

“Tommy’s… fast. That’s all. They know how to behave”

“They better” you mutter, walking past her. “Backseat, both of you. And no funny business”

“Yes, Y/N” they say at the same time, buckling up.

Hoping they actually behave, you go back the road and drive for fifteen minutes. You’ve been in this safe house before and remember the small town that’s close by.

As you’re listenting to some music, the station changes randomly.

“Hey, I said no funny business” you look through the rearview mirror, and Billy laughs. “You are just like your mother”

A pain in the ass.

“Langague” Billy says and you groan. For the rest of the ride, you try not to think about anything, especially on how much you’d wish you could just drop out of this mission already.

The kids run inside the store, heading straight for the candy.

“Hey, your mom’s gonna kill me if you get all that” you say, hating how afraid you sound of Wanda.

As if you care what she thinks.

“Can we take just one candy bar?” Billy asks, to which Tommy adds.

“Each”

“Just one” you say, annoyed.

How embarassing, all your training, years of service… and you���re babysitting at a grocery store located in buttfuck nowhere.

“Alright, let’s get the stuff your mother asked”

It’s all basic things, enough to not starve for the next few days. You take double portions of everything on the list, though, as your food intake is higher than the average human.

“You guys new in town?” the cashier asks as soon as you get everything.

“Just staying for a few days” you answer politely, handing over a couple of bills to pay.

“Well, we’re having a fair this week in case you want to stop by” she says and you smile, picking up the bags easily.

“Thank you, I don’t think…”

“Can we go, please?” Tommy says and you huff. They both jump around you, eager for you to answer.

“We’ll see, kids. Come on”

You should have picked up some Advil, anticipating their incessant chatter as you drive back to the cabin.

By the time you park, Wanda is sitting comfortably in the porch, sipping from a cup of tea.

“Had fun?”

“Mom, there’s going to be a fair! Can we please go? It will be so much fun”

Thank God, now they’ll pester her about it and let you off the hook. You’re walking back to the house when Wanda stops you.

“Excuse me”

“What now?”

“Get the groceries”

“I already went to the store to buy them. Get off your ass and do it yourself, Maximoff”

Oh, fuck.

Wrong thing to say.

Wanda tilts her head, eyes turning red. Before you have a chance to run away like a coward, she sends a ball of energy straight to your legs, making you fall on your ass.

“You were saying?” she looks down at you with a shit eating grin.

“I hate you” you mutter, knowing only she can hear you.

“Feeling’s mutual, darling”

After the humilliation of being overpowered by someone so damn short, you get the groceries to the kitchen, getting another earful as Wanda finds out the kids ate candy.

Once you get all the bags, you get a beer and walk to the porch, hoping you won’t have to hear Wanda’s voice for the next couple of hours.

Thankfully, she’s busy in the kitchen and you pass the time looking at the birds, and then entertain yourself when Tommy and Billy play with a ball.

You notice that Tommy is controlling his speed so Billy can keep up with him.

Interesting. Did he get that from Wanda’s brother? You don’t know a lot about him, except from what Natasha told you, which wasn’y very detailed. Siblings were always a touchy subject for her.

“How fast are you?” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“I dunno. Fast” Tommy shrugs his shoulders. You stand up, removing your jacket.

“I’ll race you”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Billy, help us out”

You let the other boy decide the route, and be the one on the finish line to witness who gets there first. The three of you are so busy arguing over rules that you miss Wanda looking out the window.

She didn’t think you’d be that good with kids, considering how you always looked miserable around them. Or maybe you just didn’t really like Wanda at all.

Well, whatever. She would find a way to live with that.

“Ready, set, go!” Billy says.

As you start running, you consider whether or not you should let Tommy win. If he doesn’t, he may get upset and you really don’t want Wanda to knock you out again. Your ego is too bruised to take another beating from a witch.

Tommy’s going at full speed, though, and you lose sight of him in the blink of an eye.

No, that can’t be.

Except that he does. He’s incredibly fast. Blink and you’ll miss it; hell, you might be able to see him just because of your enhanced eyesight.

“Ok, so you are very fast. Interesting” you say when you catch up to him. “Playing ball might be fun, after all”

The boys giggle and jump around you excitedly. And ok, you’re partly doing this out of selfishness. Way back, only Rogers could keep up with you. And it’s not like Bucky is into any recreational fun.

So, you prepare to throw the ball, holding back but still at a considerable speed. Tommy catches it after a few bounces.

“Not too bad, kiddo”

For the next hour, you keep throwing and watching as Tommy improves his form, catching the ball midair most of the time. You start to throw harder, jumping and cheering every time the kid returns with the ball.

“That’s fucking amazing” you say, too excited to notice the bad word that slipped out of your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Wanda says stepping out for the first time in hours, and you wince at her tone. The distraction only makes you throw the ball really high, and you see a couple of birds flying out of the tree, scared when you knock down a couple of branches.

“Nothing”

“Uh-hu. Lunch will be ready soon. Get cleaned up”

You sigh, looking at the ball that got stuck up high. It’s going to be a pain to get it down. But, as the kids go inside the house, you begin to climb, testing every time you step on a new branch, hoping it won’t snap. Not like the fall will kill you, but you’d rather save yourself the trouble.

Just as you’re reaching for the ball, a wisp of red pushes it between the branches, and you watch it fall to the ground where it bounces one, two, three times.

“You bitch” you mutter, looking at Wanda waving at you from the porch.

A second later, the branch you’re standing on snaps in half, and nothing stops your fall to the floor.

“Fucking great”

—

You love quiet. Quiet is good.

Except when you’re around two boys. Then, quiet means trouble.

Your suspicions are confirmed after a few hours of silence. Apparently, playing ball left the kids exhausted, but after a long nap, they’re ready to go to the fair. The thumbs up you give is not good enough.

They insist that you join them.

“No, thanks” is all you say, though Wanda’s giving you that look. You hold her stare, and to your shock she doesn’t insist.

“Come on, boys”

The pouts they provide when they realise you’re not joining are not enough to persuade you.

“We’ll bring you a hot dog, if you’d like?” Billy offers and you nod.

“Have fun”

“Get in the car, I’ll be right there” Wanda asks, and you want to groan when you think she’ll give you another scolding. But instead, she just plays with her hands, avoiding your stare. “I don’t have a clue on why they like you so much… but they’re good kids and we’ve been through a lot. They just want to include you”

You sigh dramatically, walking past her.

“I’m driving” you say, not waiting for her to turn around. That’s how you miss the smile on her face, thinking you’re going soft.

Wishing, really, that you want to spend time with her.

In the end, it’s not as bad as you expected it. The town is small, and so the fair doesn’t take up that much space either. It’s just a couple of small rides and games.

The kids insist that you play to get them some plushies, so you have to pretend to throw the ball with a normal amount of strenght. Still, you knock the bottles with just one throw, Tommy picking his prize with a smile.

The second time, you catch a glimpse of red holding the bottles together.

“Stop that” you turn to Wanda, glaring.

“Then at least pretend you’re having a hard time knocking them down” she leans close to you, and her breath against your ear makes you feel surprisingly warm.

With a roll of your eyes, you throw two more balls, and this time Billy’s the one selecting a stuffed animal.

“Nice choice” you comment, looking at the yellow shark holding a basketball.

“Fine, let’s go” Wanda says when they’re both happy with their stuff. You stay rooted to the spot, handing over another dollar bill to the clerk. “Hey, play time is over”

“You still haven’t gotten your prize” you mutter, avoiding her stare.

“Oh” is all she says, watching you throw. The kids cheer when you knock the bottles, and Wanda points at a purple axolotl. “That one”

“Not that one” the clerk says and you turn to glare at him.

“Why not?”

“Because” he shrinks under your intense stare. “That’s a bigger size, you need to knock down three piles of bottles in a row”

“Fine. Tell you what, I’m doing it with my eyes closed”

“I don’t need a plushie, I’m a big girl” Wanda takes your arm, trying to ignore how your muscles feel under her hands.

“Well, he’s ripping people off so it would be my pleasure to pay it back. Now, move aside, princess”

Three balls, three piles of bottles. As promised, you close your eyes, and knock them down in record time. You know some people are staring by the time you’re done.

“Here” the man grumbles, handing the prize to Wanda. “You can’t play here anymore”

“Fine”

Of course, the boys decide it’s a good time as any to get ice cream, but you’re happy to indulge in this. You’ve always had a sweet tooth.

“Will you go on a rollercoaster with us?” Tommy says when you’re walking around, eating ice cream.

“Sure”

They cheer, running to get in line.

“Your kids are so different from you, in the sense that they like me a little too much” you ponder, enjoying the taste of chocolate ice cream.

“I never said I don’t like you” Wanda sounds a little too defensive, and you turn to look at her, surprised.

“Sorry, I was under the impression that throwing me around was an indicator of bad blood”

“Right. I hate you so much that I saved your life” Wanda snaps, regretting her words instantly.

You don’t remember and it's better that way. The last thing Wanda wants is to make you feel like you owe her. Before you can process what she just said, the line for the ride moves and you end up sitting next to Billy, while Wanda stays in the cart behind you with Tommy.

The first time you go down, you’re surprised to hear Wanda screaming over and over again. You turn to look at her and she’s absolutely terrified.

“Kid, hold your mom’s hand, will ya?”

“Ok” he says, torn between enjoying the turns and drops and taking care of his mother.

By the time it’s over, you jump out of the cart and see the younger woman breathing heavily.

“You ok?” you kneel next to her, motioning for Tommy to get out. Wanda doesn’t answer, nodding and closing her eyes. “Well, you don’t look ok. Why don’t I help you out?”

You figure she’s feeling so bad that she doesn’t protest at the idea of accepting your help. Either way, you reach for her hand, helping her up, and telling her to keep her eyes closed. You carry her to a bench, the kids following behind.

“Take your time, ok?” you say, sitting next to her. You don’t think much of it when she leans her head on your shoulder, her hand holding on to yours with a tight grip.

After a couple of minutes, she finally opens her eyes.

“Sorry”

“It’s ok. Looks like we had enough fun for a day. Let’s go home. Come on, kids”

They carry their prizes and their mother’s, chatting about what they liked most from the fair. You walk behind them, pretending to look around at the lights but actually doing it to make sure Wanda’s feeling ok.

As soon as you get in the car, the boys fall asleep. Once again, you turn on the radio, the volume low to not disturb the children. At some point, you get annoyed by the song and reach forward to change stations. Wanda has the same idea, and your hands meet awkwardly.

“Sorry” you rush to say.

“No, I’m sorry. Go ahead”

“You don’t like The Strokes?” you joke, switching until you find a station playing Billie Holiday.

“Not when I’m dizzy from that damn rollercoaster” Wanda says and you laugh.

“I’ve seen you floating around buildings, and you’re telling me rollercoasters make you dizzy?”

“Yes. We all have our weaknesses, don’t we?”

“I guess we do” you admit quietly, driving in silence for the rest of the road.

You take it upon yourself to carry the children to the bedroom, walking out when Wanda’s removing their shoes, cooing them so they don’t wake up.

Opening the small fridge, you find a beer and walk out into the porch, looking up at the sky. Out of habit, your hand goes over to the wound you had not long ago, and your mind goes back to the thing Wanda said. She saved your life?

It’s all a mess in your head, and you’ve never been one to dwell too much in the past. Throughout your life you’ve been close to dying so many times that one more hardly makes a difference.

Except she saved you.

How?

You’re about to go back inside when you run into her at the entrance of the cabin.

“I have a question”

“I don’t care” she hurries to say, walking around you.

Of course, she probably knows what you’re going to ask.

“What did you do? What happened that day?”

“I enjoyed peace and quiet instead of your smart mouth and stupid ways” Wanda hurries to say, walking to the car.

“You’re not getting off that easily, Maximoff”

“You don’t remember, why does it matter? You’d remember if it was important”

And of course you don’t remember the kiss.

“Just tell me” you insist, taking her by the hand. She tries to break free and you pull her closer to you. “Why do you always make everything so god damn hard, Wanda?”

Because, I like you. Because I wish you didn’t see this job as a burden. Because I wish you looked at me the way you looked at her.

“I can’t wait to be away from you, you idiot” she hisses. “Now, let me go or I’ll blast you to the other side of the road, and you know I’m not joking”

You’re ready to keep arguing, but there’s something in her eyes… and the warmth of her body.

Maybe you do remember some of it. How you were agonizing, and Wanda came to you, eased your mind, made the pain go away.

Something else happened, and you have a feeling you know what it is, when Wanda’s eyes get a little too focused on your lips. Without a thought, you lean forward, and kiss her.

It’s not a really nice kiss, considering Wanda groans against your mouth, pushing you away. As soon as you step back, she closes her hand in a fist and hits you. It probably hurt her more than it did you; what’s weirder is how she huffs a second later, taking you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you down for another messy kiss.

You drag her back with you to the porch, leaning against the bannister so she can continue her assault on your lips. Then, she’s moving to bite your neck, her breath hot against you. When her hands travel to the button of your jeans, you let out a moan.

But of course, there’s always some shit happening.

Too distracted by Wanda, you don’t listen to the footsteps until the person speaks, clearly amused.

“Sorry to interrupt”

[halfway-happyyy]

inspired by your fic but frank trusting his girl to wash his hair:(( the intimacy of it all as she runs her hand through his scars and wounds over his scalp, hands massaging gently and he could almost purr. small soapy kisses over each other's skin as they just take each other in atm. 😖😖 i'm sick

i am sick also... but from the softness, because that is what this ask is. it truly is one of my all-time favourite tropes. it's why i include it in a lot of my pieces because it just is so... soft. so romantic. the sheer intimacy of sharing space in that way can never be overstated. especially when it comes to someone like frank.

and like - let's really just think about it for a sec. say frank gets home late from an eventful evening out, so late that you've likely been asleep for hours at this point. but you're a light sleeper, and his presence rouses you from your shallow slumber almost immediately. (and to his credit, he does try to be as quiet as possible, but given his size, it just isn't in the cards).

you exit the warm comfort of your bed and frown at the red glowing digits of the clock on his side of the bed that read '4.07 A', and make your way down the hallway to the kitchen, hugging your arms tighter to your body to ward off the early morning chill.

he's leant against the kitchen island, staring blankly into the void of space before him.

"frank?"

he doesn't startle at the sound of your voice, but his eyes are a little wild when they find yours. " aw shit, did I wake you?"

and you lie and say no, because you can't bear the brunt of frank's guilt.

"don't come any closer, kid. i'm uh... a little banged up, and i don't want you to see it." his voice is hoarse; wrecked under the solid weight of whatever transpired earlier.

you sigh, and turn on a heel. "meet me in the washroom, frank."

he waits patiently while you help to rid him of his soiled clothing; his warm hand planted firmly around the curve of your shoulder, to steady himself. he could protest - normally he does - but exhaustion washes over him like a warm wave, and the energy it takes to do so, evaporated the moment he stepped back into the apartment.

"you absolutely understated when you said you were a little banged up, frank."

his only response is a non-committal grunt in the back of his throat.

when you've ascertained that none of his wounds require immediate stitching, you coax him into the shower.

"just wanna go to bed, kid."

you press a soft kiss to the side of his bloody arm. "we will, frank. as soon as i get you cleaned up, alright?"

shucking the pajamas from your own body, you follow him into the shower and get him settled against the shelf in the corner of the tub. his eyes fall shut as you start the water.

you're both quiet as you pour a dime-size amount of shampoo into your hand and begin to massage it through his hair, paying special attention to the sensitive skin of his scalp. you do it for him the way you know he likes it; firm, purposeful fingertips moving in roving circles. his eyes haven't opened since you began, and his mouth - so constantly set in a firm line - falls slack at the sensation of your ministrations.

"christ, you could charge big money for this kid," frank groans.

"i'll make sure to send you the bill later." you smirk.

and while there are many ways of taking care of your man, this one is up there in your top favourites. he just spent the evening risking his life in a (futile?) attempt to banish crime and corruption in your city, and instead of staying out longer, or simply not coming home at all, he comes home trusting you implicitly. knows in his heart that you genuinely have his back no matter what. knows that in your hands, he's in the safest place he's ever been.

frank dozes off in the corner of the shower while he waits for you to be done, and when you are finished, you press your lips to his stubbled cheek and take his hand in your own. "come on frankie, let's go to bed."

right before he drifts off for good, he whispers an almost inaudible, "thank you, kid."

you don't ask him what for; you already know. instead you smile and say, "a million mornings, frank."

he smiles tiredly, and says it right back.

[mt-oe]

You're definitely my top fav Mizu writer I love all your fanfics 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

Could you do one of Mizu and reader already being a married couple, but Mizu still is deeply in love with reader despite the years, could be smut or not I just want Mizu to be super affectionate wodkendkend

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting and saying something so sweet <3 I really try my best to do well in writing and compliments like these make me so weak ///

I haven't done a fanfic about Mizu in their current time period for a long time so I'll try to do it now.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, wound cleaning, injuries, both feminine and masculine pronouns for mizu, implied afab reader

Your eyebrow twitched in irritation, hands hidden inside your kimono as you balled them into fists. 'No, no. Let's stay polite. Let's stay polite,' you thought to yourself, keeping a small faux smile. "Are you sure we can't get this for less?" you asked the straight-faced vendor who looked just as irritated at your constant haggling.

The middle-aged man in front of you grunted in annoyance, in his hand was a bundle of herbs you needed to make an antiseptic paste for Mizu. "No, 5 ryo and that's final," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Holy shit. 5 ryo for a bundle of herbs that was already wilting? What a scam. You could buy a travel pass for that already!

"Please sir. My husband really needs it now. How about 2?" you asked, giving him the best doe eyes you could without letting your irritation show. "And what do I care about your husband? The best I can do is 4," he replied in a snarky manner.

"2?"

"5."

"2 and some mushrooms?"

"I said 4 is the best I can do."

"Oh c'mon please! 3?"

"No."

"3 and some mushrooms?"

"I don't care about your stupid mushrooms!" the man snapped, lifting himself off of his seat to loom over you. "4 ryo. That's it. If you can't pay, then get the hell out!" His hand raised the bundle of herbs, seemingly about to smack you with it until a firm bandaged hand gripped his wrists almost painfully.

Looking up to curse at the offender, the vendor suddenly reeled back upon seeing your husband's orange-tinted glasses. "And who the hell are you?" the vendor asked, trying to sound intimidating.

Mizu's blue eyes narrowed at him behind her glasses, scanning his figure before letting the vendor's wrist go. She opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off by the feeling of your body pressing against her arm. "Mizu? Aren't you injured?" you asked in pretend innocence, glancing back at the vendor whose eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and nervousness.

Your husband grunted slightly and nodded. "You were taking a long time," she replied before looking at the vendor. A bit of slyness mixed with the polite smile you've been keeping up for the past hour. "I was about to go back but.." You looked at the vendor who was now glaring at both of you, eyes squinting as your smile widened mischievously. "This man was about to hit me all because I asked if he could sell those herbs for 3 ryo."

Upon hearing your words, her eyebrows immediately knitted together. Her hands gently pushed you behind her, approaching the vendor with a terrifyingly thick aura of anger. She glanced at the bundle of herbs in the vendors hand, tongue clicking. "These herbs look like they might as well be feed for the pigs and you threaten my wife over them?" she scowled, glare hardening. Her hand reached towards her sword, using her thumb to push the katana slightly out of its scabbard.

The vendor glared at the ronin in front of him, thinking carefully before conceding. "Fine I'll hand it over for 3. Just leave before you scare the other customers away," he grumbled, tossing the bundle over to you haphazardly. Mizu was about to have another talk with him but you decided to pull her away, grinning at the vendor.

"Thank you sir. My husband and I will surely come back," you said with a mischievous hint in your voice. "Isn't that right, love?" Your head turned towards your husband who was still looking over at the vendor menacingly. "Sure."

With that, the two of you left. A soft yet cheerful hum emanated from your throat as the two of you walked out of the busy marketplace and back to the old run down inn the two of you checked in.

Sure, it was old. The floorboards would creek with every step and the decorative textiles looked dull and worn down. The futons they provided were very flattened out from years of use and washing. But the two of you were fine with it, a cheap inn was better than having an injured person out in the wild.

Upon arriving, you immediately set down the herbs on a nearby stove, getting a flint to light it up. A satisfied hum left your lips as the sparks from the stones finally ignited a fire, fanning it out to increase the flames. The cute little sound made your wife chuckle softly as she untied her scarf and obi.

It was during times like these where Mizu was truly able to be at peace, savor her time with you. The two of you met years ago, when she had finally returned to Japan, now on a new path to try and reconnect with herself. The self she hated so much. You were the apprentice of an apothecary owner, skilled in foraging and identifying herbs. Although you could not call yourself a physician, the title only belonging to men of that time, you were greatly skilled in treating wounds and injuries.

She entered your master's apothecary in search for a treatment after accidentally making contact with a poisonous plant while she was training. The rash traveled up her arm, blisters forming, making it unbearably itchy and painful for days until she could no longer bear it. However, upon entering the shop, you were the only person there, sweeping the floors as you hummed a cheerful tune. You looked up at her, hands pausing as your eyes observed her.

A soft smile graced your lips and the moment she heard your sweet laughter—shit, she knew she was smitten. It was like time stopped for her. Despite the place being lined up with various medicines and trinkets, all she could see was you. The slight flush of your cheeks from the cold, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight dilation of your pupils as you stared at her (more like her rash but ok), and the curve of your pretty lips. Maybe the god of affection decided that she was capable of admiring someone again.

"Poison ivy," you chimed, pulling her out of her trance. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion then suddenly raising one up as you approached her. You lifted her arm up gently, inspecting the rashes and blisters before setting it down. "You must've been from the mountains."

She watched as you looked over the shelves, hands on your hips. A small 'aha!' left your lips as you picked a jar from the shelf. "Here." You placed the jar on the table and gesturing her to come over. "My master is away, and I don't know how much these cost, so I'll give you a discount. Okay?"

You were so beautiful she probably ended up paying more than how much the medicine actually costed.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she watched you grind the herbs and some sort of boiled concoction into a paste using your mortar and pestle. She loves the way your eyebrows scrunched together in focus, the way you licked your lips subconsciously, and the little huffs of breath you let every time you brought your pestle down onto the herbs in the mortar.

"Here," you mumbled, setting the mortar down next to her. Carefully, you helped Mizu out of her haori, eyes inspecting the expanse of the injury.

It was nothing serious. Just some abrasions she obtained from an accident while training in the morning. Her foot slipped, sending her sliding down the hill. However, the moment you saw her blood trail, the scream you let out was so loud it woke the birds up. Probably woke the whole world up while at it.

Another chuckle slipped out of Mizu's throat at the memory. It was another thing she loves about you. You're always so concerned about her, even more than she was to her own body. 'Mizu! Holy shit! Your skin is peeling!' she remembered you shout at her, looking like you were about to cry.

God, you're so cute.

"What's so funny, love?" you asked, tilting your head at her. Warm water ran down her wounds as you cleaned them. Mizu shook her head, eyes fluttering shut, lips curling up. "Nothing," she replied.

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around you, making you whine. "W-Wait! Your scabs will reopen if you keep moving, dummy!" you whined, trying your best to continue washing her wounds. She hummed in content, resting her forehead against your womb. "Just remembering my wife."

You rolled your eyes at her, washing your hands on the basin before drying it. "I'm your wife," you huffed at her. She once again hummed, agreeing with you. "My wife," she mumbled against the cloth of your kimono, pressing your womb closer to her.

A small huff came from you as you picked up the mortar from the side, scooping out the paste with your fingers. "Yeah, me." Mizu nodded, the feeling of her head moving made you giggle. Gently, you applied the medicine onto her wounds, even to those that scabbed over, giving her a blissful feeling. The cold paste on her stinging wounds felt calming. A slight menthol after-effect adding to the relief. You could feel her pressing herself closer to you, her cheek now resting over your womb.

"My wife," she repeated absentmindedly

"What is it love?"

"My wife."

"You're being silly."

Her blue eyes looked up at you with a content eye smile, admiring how hard you were working on her wounds. "And you're beautiful," she sighed out. A chuckle made it past your lips, your head shaking in amusement. "Oh please, time already passed me by. I don't look as young as I used to," you replied with a fond smile.

You could see her eyebrows knitting together in disagreement through your kimono. "As if," she huffed, almost in a growl. "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you. Maybe even more." Her hands gripped your forearms firmly but with a sense of caring. She gently pulled you down, medicinal paste smudging across her shoulder as you tried to balance yourself. Before you could protest, rough, calloused, yet gentle hands cupped your face, tracing every line and every spot.

The words in your mouth died at how fondly she was staring at you. Her eyes were filled with love and affection, heavily contrasting the intimidating stare she usually had. Your big bad husband was just a pile of goo, melting and gushing at your beauty.

"I'm starting to have wrinkles over my face, aren't I?" you joked, holding a bit of truth. Mizu hummed in agreement, a soft smile still on her face as she traced over the said wrinkles. "Especially here," she replied, tracing your smile lines.

A playful huff escaped your lips, fingers smudging a bit of medicine onto her forehead. "That's your fault. I can't help it if you keep making me smile, love."

She buried her face against your shoulder, allowing herself to take in your scent. A mix of something earthy, medicinal, and a bit of rain. "It's your fault," she mumbled against your neck in a low yet content voice. "You're too pretty when you smile."

"Oh hush, dear husband," you teased, a laugh leaving your lips upon hearing her grunt at the word 'husband'. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Flattery makes my wife smile," she replied with a cheeky grin. "That's more than enough." You stuck your tongue out at her, making her laugh at the playful gesture.

Silence took over the room as you continued to apply the medicine over her wounds, fanning it with your hand to allow it to dry faster. "Love?" you heard her call out. With a small hum, you craned your neck to look at her. "I'm sorry we couldn't get a better inn," she sighed.

You laughed at her words before setting the mortar down, wiping your hands over a washcloth. "It's fine. We don't need to go anywhere special," you replied, trying to get the medicine out from under your nails.

"Besides," you started, cupping her face, squishing her cheeks up a bit. "Anywhere is fine as long as we're together."

Her smile only continued to grow brighter at your words. "Maybe someday, we'll have a place of our own. With place to build a forge..and lots of shelves for my things," you added, the warm feeling in your husband's chest growing and growing with every word.

Gently, she cupped your cheeks back and placed small kisses on your face, pressing her lips on every feature she loves—which was everything. "And if we can't find one, we'll build it," she concluded.

A soft giggle of content could be heard from you as you wrapped your arms around her, making sure you weren't touching her wounds, and sinking into her warmth. "I wish we could get married," you sighed out against her chest. "Like with witnesses and all that."

Mizu could feel her heart pounding at your words, her love and affection overflowing. "I'd love a life like that. Maybe in our next."

"And what if we still can't get married in our next life?" you asked, closing your eyes as you relaxed against her skin. "Then, I'd find you and love you the same," she chuckled, eyes warming up at the sight of your body against her's. "Even if we can't get married in that one?"

"Mhm..I'll find you in every life," she started, tracing her fingers up your back. "Every purgatory." Her hands gently and tenderly caressing your face.

"And love you the same."

[lethalchiralium]

okay, guys, get serious here. where the FUCK are the soulmate AUs. i’m genuinely mad about this, like. what the fuck do you mean i have never seen ANYONE use the most POPULAR TROPE EVER?! (1 of 4)

the one where gaz is the perfect man. he’s beautiful, loyal, respectful, and polite, a huge hit among anyone he comes across while he’s home from deployment. if he was even more social than he already was, he was sure he’d have a line going out his sister’s cafe to check his soulmate clock on his arm. his sister was lucky to already find hers, a lovely woman who takes care of his sister and their lovely little coffee shop. he works there whenever he’s home; making pastries, teas to go, wiping tables. he refuses pay in exchange for a place to sleep and a full belly, and he is always obliged. he is a perfect man.

the only imperfection he has is the most obvious one. it’s not his crooked nose or large scar on his temple - no, it’s his broken soulmate clock. never having moved past nine years, three days, and six seconds since he got it when he was young. it doesn’t hurt him like it used to, he’s a rare case, it’s okay. just a glitch in the system, but it’s not likely he’d find the love of his life without that countdown. he came to terms with it long ago and he’s okay sweeping the floor of the cafe after hours, he’s okay deploying across the globe, he’s okay. he doesn’t want to mess with someone else fussing over him.

the doorbell clattered from above the front door, he doesn’t look up. “sorry, we’re closed!”

“oh, i’m sorry, it’s just- shit-“

he looked up from the floor to you as you held a squirming, dirty puppy. it was pouring rain outside, he had just mopped and he grew a tad irritated.

you glanced at him, “i’m sorry, i just found him - her? - in your alley and they’re cut up on their neck really good. i’d take ‘em to the vet but i don’t have a basket on my bike, and i was just hoping you could spare me a rag or something?”

in your monologue, gaz had set the broom aside and came around the counter, quietly approaching as the little black terrier cried and yowled, blood dripped from the poor thing’s neck and leg and onto your pants. gaz reached out with his right arm, accidentally grazing you as he gently peered at the wound. he could see the soft glow of your clock against the fur, he didn’t look at it before he nodded towards the back.

“i’ve got a kit, i can clean ‘em up but we’d have to do it in the back so i can sanitize it and stuff.”

“thank you, so so so much…?”

“kyle.”

you smiled through the rain that dripped from your hair as you mentioned your own name. he led you behind the counter, to the back, and to the farthest and least used sink. you set the terrier down inside, and he noted that it could have been a jack russell before he caught a glimpse of your clock again.

it was blinking. his eyebrows furrowed. his sister said they would blink when you touch your soulmate, but it’s odd that your soulmate’s a dog. it was impossible for him to have a soulmate, it was so far outside of the possibilities. maybe your soulmate’s outside? is it the dog-

“kyle?”

his gaze looked up to you, but your eyes were glued to his own arm. his eyes followed yours and his stomach dropped, a gasp escaped him as he watched his own broken countdown count down faster than he could read until it hit zero and began to blink rapidly too.

you both looked at each other in confusion and amazement.

[chelseeebe]

mercy on me

18+. no smut but minors are not welcome on my blog. themes of fighting and violence. eddie munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n!

a/n: hey all!! i don’t think i really like this on reflection but it has been a couple weeks since i last posted so wanted to squeeze something out before my life gets crazy<3 shoutout to the person on tiktok that made an edit of eddie to strangers by ethel cain bc that’s what spurred this entire thing

eddie’s addicted to the pain, the sting of the punches, the utter thrill of it all. but maybe it’s time for him to realise that that wasn’t the only thing worthwhile to him.

eddie tries to live a good, clean cut life, he’s got a nice job that pays pretty well for hawkins, basically has full reign of the trailer now that wayne has a girlfriend, and shit, he’s even got friends. but something, some terrible voice in his head, keeps him coming back to this.

stood circling the burly man, wondering when, not if, he’ll end up on the floor.

it comes quicker than expected, a fist to the stomach knocks the air from his lungs, doubling over in pain.

eddie doesn’t let him knock him down without a fight completely, throwing a jab at his opponents chin.

only to be quickly forgotten by the man’s fists connecting with his jaw and the searing pain rushing through his face.

the floor is cold, the ceiling just as eddie remembers it.

the kids carry him back to the trailer park, holding his weight on their spindly little bodies.

erica pounds her tiny fist on the door, a routine he’s done a thousand times over, waiting for the disgruntled, yet completely gentle face to appear on the other side.

you do, as expected, groan when your eyes lay on the bloody mess that was his face, ushering them inside and rushing to find your abused supplies.

eddie staggers in, heading straight for the sink to spit the metallic liquid that had gathered in his mouth. clutching onto his ribcage as the kids stand watching. he finally collapses onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a guttural groan.

“jesus christ,” you remark, trundling him over to the sofa, “what’s wrong with you?” dabbing the cold fabric on his eye, a stern frown on your face.

“you should see the other guy,” he chuckles, quickly interrupted by a sharp hissing sound, your usually timid fingers brush over his wounds, harshly this time.

you knee his legs apart, sliding in between to get closer to his face. eddie loves it, no one had ever been so tender and careful with him before. using your time to care for him. it was perhaps the most intimate he’d ever been with anyone.

“i don’t wanna see you in here again,” running your thumb over his split lip, “you gotta stop doing this.”

“what? you don’t like me visiting?” looking up at you with your damn chest in his face, smirking only slightly so you wouldn’t see and scold him further.

“i’d rather you came to visit me without any blood on your face.”

your hand trails down to his neck, rubbing the tiny lilac marking on his collarbone that really could be either or.

“who’s the lucky lady?” you remark, full of sarcasm and what eddie hopes is a hint of jealousy.

his hand travels up, resting above your fingers still lingering on the mark, “you, if you want,” brazen in his flirting, ignoring the two kids still stood in your living room.

your eyes roll back, snatching your hand away to continue cleaning his lip. though he thinks he sees a hint of a smile, buried deep somewhere beneath your disgust and annoyance.

“alright,” you sigh, throwing the last bloodied cloth onto the pile on the table, “all done,” stepping from between his legs to tidy the mess he’d inadvertently made.

“thank you,” he says, with all sincerity, “no one else is gonna look after my good looks like you do,” quirking his lips to the side in a brazen smirk.

you scoff, throwing the bloodied cloths into the trash, “you’d be more good looking if you stopped getting your ass beat.”

and maybe one day he will, all this fighting has to pay off somehow. eddie’s just waiting for the day he remembers to also block punches, not just give them.

-

eddie’s just about to venture over when he sees you rushing out of the door, slinging your bag hastily over your shoulder as the door bangs shut.

“where are you going in such a rush?” he calls, sauntering over without a care in the world.

“school, i’m late,” speed walking past him to the bus stop that sat just outside the entrance.

“wait, i can drive!” producing his keys to jangle about in the air.

you stop, turning on your heel before nodding, “yeah, you can actually,” bounding over to his beat up van.

eddie slides into the drivers seat, knowing he’ll probably be late to work for this, but he doesn’t mind.

you drop your bag on the floor, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat, “i’m really late,” looking at the watch on your wrist, “so if you could drive as fast as you can, that’d be great.”

“yes ma’am,” he laughs, not like he didn’t owe you much more in compensation anyway.

you turn his music down which normally eddie would hate, but it’s you and there’s not a chance he’d ever cross the one person still kind enough to look after his dumb ass.

his tires screech, pulling up outside the tiny community college that sat just outside hawkins. once upon a time, eddie had planned to go there, learn something useful for once. but high school hadn’t been easily done, being held back from graduating once or twice had squashed any dreams of ever going to college.

“what time d’you finish?” he asks as you collect your things, not wanting to hold you any longer.

“my last class is at five,” you rush, hopping out of the van.

“i’ll come get you,” reaching over to open the door for you, “five,” echoing your words.

you pause, looking back at him before nodding, “alright.. see you later,” slamming the door shut with your hip before you scurry off into the building.

eddie sits, watching you disappear before the sudden realisation that he was now also really fucking late dawns on him.

-

sure enough, he’s parked outside at five on the dot. talking his way out of staying any later to make sure he was here when you got out.

you look exhausted walking through the crowd, slightly shocked to see him waiting though it quickly extends to a smile. grateful to not have to squeeze onto the rusting bus alongside everyone else.

he reaches over, opening the door before you get the chance, dumping your bag on the floor and releasing the most exhausted sigh he’s ever heard.

“good day?” eddie asks wearily, unsure of whether to even go there or not.

you hum, “not really.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“nope.”

turning to flash him a tight-lipped smile, elaborating no further.

eddie doesn’t dare push it, “alright.. y’hungry?”

your eyes narrow, turning his radio down once again, “only if you’re paying.”

he nods, cackling as he starts the engine.

a free meal was the least of what he owed you.

-

it takes everything in him not to just sit across from you and stare. you usually crossed paths in extenuating circumstances but now he has the chance to actually get to know you. noting the tiny cross necklace that sat on your chest, the pins on your bag and the way your name is scrawled over the front of all your books.

it’s endearing in a way. he’d put you on some kind of pedestal, this holy being that cured all his ails only to find that really you were just like him. with messy handwriting and tattered clothes.

eddie had lived at the park for years before you ever moved in, turning up one day a few years back with nothing but a small suitcase and the clothes on your back.

your grandmother owned the trailer you now lived in, the sweetest old woman that always seemed to have candy to spare, or a cigarette if things were really bad for him.

you’d taken it over when she died, with really nowhere else to go and a blossoming nursing career, you’d had no other choice.

he admired you, from afar at first, too in awe to say anything until you were practically forced into tending to his wounds.

as much as you grumbled, he could tell you didn’t really mind all that much. caring was just in your nature, which couldn’t be said about many people in hawkins.

“where’s wayne nowadays? i don’t see him much anymore,” unashamedly reaching over to steal his fries.

“he’s got this fancy new girlfriend up in loch nora,” pushing his plate towards you, “spends most of his time there,” shrugging it off, eddie preferred the quiet if he was honest.

“oh. well, must be nice on your own.. can do whatever you want,” raising your brows.

he knows what you’re hinting at but he doesn’t really know why. surely it was not only obvious to you but also to everybody else in the room that he’d jump at the opportunity to be with you.

“hm.. i guess,” leaning over to talk directly to you, complete tunnel vision, “there’s this one girl though,” clicking his tongue, “she keeps ignorin’ me and like.. i drive her to school.. take her out for dinner.. still nothin’,” hoping maybe now you’ll have got the hint.

“oh yeah?” quirking your brow, “she sounds nice, you’ll have to introduce us,” sitting back against the booth.

“i think you’d like her, i know i do.”

you don’t honour him with a response, rolling your eyes like you always did when he’d pushed his luck too far.

instead, you take his hand into yours, pulling it closer to inspect his bruised but healing knuckles, “they look better.. you’re not fighting again are you?”

eddie shakes his head, “not this week.”

you drop his hand though your fingers still linger around his, “i know you don’t care but i really hate that you do this..” swallowing harshly as your eyes meet, “you’re so much better than that,” with full sincerity, “if you ever want me to take you seriously, you have to stop that shit.”

he blinks, a harsh truth that perhaps he needed to hear. the club had been something he’d fallen into as a juvenile teen, a way to express his rage at the world without ending up in jail. it had escalated from there to what it is now, a humiliation ritual that occasionally lead to an extra couple hundred dollars in his pocket.

“yeah,” eddie gulps, “yeah. it’s enough, i get it,” shrinking in defeat. he wanted that more than anything, for you to look at him without that dismaying gleam just once.

he was getting older, bruises didn’t heal as fast as they once did, his bones ached and his head pounded for days. on top of all that, he wanted you to see him as something other than the dope that stumbled to your door.

if giving up fighting was all he had to do to get that, then he’d do it.

your lips curl, smiling gently over the empty plates, “plus, you’re so much better looking without a black eye,” dropping his hand to lean back in your chair all smug.

now he doesn’t want to get too cocky, but knowing, hearing, that you were even remotely interested in him was enough to boost his ego higher than any petty fight ever could have.

-

“you comin’ tonight?” tommy laughs, lighting his cigarette. they stand in the courtyard of the garage, sun beaming down on eddie’s tired shoulders, he just wants to get home so that he can contemplate maybe sneaking over to your trailer later.

“ah.. no,” shaking his head, rubbing his oily hands on his jeans instead of the rag in his back pocket. your words echoing in his otherwise empty head, he deserved better, he was better than this.

“thousand dollars on the line tonight man.. be a shame if you missed it,” tommy pushes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

shit.

a thousand fucking dollars.

he could take you somewhere real nice with that, god knows you deserved it. maybe he could help with your school bills, books or something.

“shit..” eddie inhales, your words suddenly seeming pretty inconsequential now, “against who?” slotting his own cigarette between his lips.

“new guy, billy something,” tommy shrugs, “i think you’ve got a pretty good chance you know?” goading him further, really leaving him no other option but to accept.

eddie puckers his lips, contemplating whether it’d be worth it to piss you off again. at least when he stumbled in, he’d have a thousand dollars to soften the blow.

fuck it.

best case scenario, he’d be grovelling for your forgiveness with a thousand bucks in hand. worst case scenario? well. probably best not think about that.

“alright, shit.. i’ll be there,” already willing to bet that he’ll be eating his words later, too far gone to really care anyway.

-

eddie more than eats his words. damn near swallowing his teeth by the time he’s helped up from the floor.

billy, as he had learned, was not one to be messed with. on reflection, eddie hadn’t ever really stood a chance against him and maybe if he’d thought for a little longer than two seconds, he wouldn’t now be dropping in and out of consciousness.

erica does her usual pounding of fists on your door, though this time her worry is palpable, making even eddie fear for how his face must look.

you open the door, looking exhausted, too tired to deal with his shit after a long day at school.

“what’d you do?” taking his weight from the two kids holding him up, “what the fuck? you told me-,”. cutting yourself off, not allowing yourself to get too angry in front of the petrified looking children.

you sit him down on the couch, moving faster than he’d ever seen you before.

dabbing the cotton on his face with a quiet, disappointed sigh. you look more hurt than anything else, like all your well meaning words had meant nothing to him.

“oh god eddie, this is really.. this is bad,” pressing the cold cloth to his bloodied cheek bone. you look back towards the ragtag kids that had dragged him here for the hundredth time, “you two get going.. it’s late and i don’t want your mom at my door again,” still patting the sore area. they didn’t need to see you patch him up yet again.

lucas and erica nod along in synchronicity, shuffling towards the door with the heads hung back towards eddie, “is he gonna be okay?” wary to leave him in such a state.

you nod, smiling softly at the two, “he’ll be okay.. promise,” shooing them off, “i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

they nod, hesitant to leave though they do eventually trail out of the door, leaving you and him alone.

rather quickly, your smile becomes a scowl, tilting his chin up towards you without so much as a word. you were pissed, eddie could sense that much.

“hey..” squeezing his eyes shut as the sharp sting of the cloth prods his eye, “i’m sorry,” his words small and defunct now. not sure how else he can truly convey his feelings, apologies running on deaf ears.

you don’t reply, purposefully not meeting his eye despite his desperate attempt to just get you to look at him.

“yesterday i told you that i couldn’t take you seriously until you stopped this and now..” exhaling angrily, “were you even listening to me?”

“yes,” eddie nods, “i was,” hissing through his teeth at the sharp sting in his cheekbone, he’d be lucky if nothing was broken. your words had resonated so much so that they rang through his ears as he lay on the cold floor.

you sigh again, the same sigh wayne used to give him when he’d arrive home in the back of a cop car. making clear your thorough disappointment in him.

he doesn’t speak again, allowing you to sort the mess that was his face out before he ruined whatever slim chance he still had. he would t blame you if you turfed him out this instant, never to speak to him again.

silently going about your routine, a pitiful glint in your eye that he hopes he’ll never see again. if it wasn’t obvious before, it was crystal now.

“i’m trying to be good.. i am,” looking at you through hooded eyes. fuck, he hurt. not just his broken skin, but his chest ached. repeating the image of your hurt eyes again and again.

“i know,” you breathe, breath catching in your throat, “you are good, i know you are..” sighing softly, “you’re also stupid,” tracing your careful fingers over his cheek.

eddie wanted to do right by you more than anything, feeling like maybe that was actually possible now.

“i know it probably doesn’t help now..” he groans, gazing into your glassy eyes, “but i wanted to take you out with the winnings.. nice dinner or somethin’.”

you frown only grows further, “eddie.. i don’t want your money,” finally meeting his gaze just to glare angrily back at him.

his pathetic shoulders shrug, skin running cold as your fingers leave his face. the couch dips as you sit next to him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“i won’t do this again,” a serious, unsettling tone, “if you want to fight then you can, but you can’t come crawling back here every time..” reaching over to trace the cut in his lip, “i’m not gonna sit back and watch you almost die every week- not anymore.”

eddie nods, understanding now more than ever that this had to end. if not for his health, then for you. it’s not as if he liked narrowly avoiding death week in week out, it was the adrenaline. the only time in his life that felt worthwhile, drawing a crowd, people that wanted to see him, albeit to see him end up on the floor.

“i’m sorry,” meaning it, genuinely. “i know that you think i’m not serious about this but i am- really, i think you might just be the only person in the world who’s opinion i care about,” you were at least the first person to get through his thick skull.

“then start acting like it,” putting your hand over his bruised and bloodied knuckles, leaning over to touch his cheek again, tender movements that make him shiver.

eddie’s eyes break from yours for the first time this evening, descending to your lips almost on their own, “i really wanna kiss you,” mumbling into the abyss.

your thumb traces over his bottom lip, narrowly avoiding the still throbbing cut, “you can.. if you promise me that you’ll stop ruinin’ your pretty face for me.”

he nods, allowing you no time to back out before he leans in, clutching at your waist as your lips connect, eagerly pulling you closer with every last bit of energy he could muster.

the black wife beater is torn around the collar, exposing the purple tint to his chest, the dried blood that had wept down his neck. it doesn’t mean much now but eddie feels terrible that this is how he looked for your first kiss.

he was really in no position to be doing this, adrenaline pumping through his veins, mostly keeping him upright.

his body wants more, disappointed in himself for not being able to do this properly. after months of off-handed flirting and this was all he had to show for himself?

you’re doing all of the heavy lifting, fingers knotted into his loose, knotted bun, sighing softly as your lips lock. his chest instinctively knocking into yours, as you lean further back on the couch.

any other time and he’d have been clambering atop, doing everything he’d ever dreamed of. an unfortunate lead up of events that had left him too exhausted to treat you as you deserved.

if that weren’t enough incentive to get his shit together, he’s not sure what else ever would be.

you pull back, eyes drawn to the corner of the room, “grandma’s watching us.. i can’t,” falling into a fit of giggles as you nudge him back upright, eyes flitting to the portrait of your grandmother that hung on the wall.

his eyes follow, giving a strained laugh, clutching his ribcage as he does so, “ow fuck.”

“alright,” you stand, nodding down the corridor, “you can have my bed.. i’ll take the couch so i can keep an eye on you tonight,” stern but still confusingly comforting.

eddie stands, not without a chorus of complaints, shuffling after you to grab onto your fingers, “stay with me,” spinning you around gently.

you nod silently, bundling him up the corridor to your room. your trailer was a hell of a lot tidier than his, now that wayne was more of a passing guest than a resident, he’d really let the place go to shit.

he stops in the doorway, turning to face you with your fingers still interlocked, “thank you.. again,” running his thumb over the back of your hand, “i mean it.”

you nod, reluctant but still somewhat sincere, “please don’t prove me wrong about this,” your eyes a glaring warning, one he’d never forget.

there are no words in the english language to truly convey to you how badly he wanted, or needed, to prove you right.

so eddie just grips your fingers a little tighter, as much as his bruised knuckles allowed, leading you back into your room in silence, vowing to treat you as you deserved.

[cheri-2047]

Have you done Cynos new quest? If so, may I request a Tighnari x Reader oneshot where the reader also takes part in the duel at the end (as the traveller or something). Even tho they won they still got injured (but pretended to be fine as to not appear as weak) and after everything settled down and they went back to the city Tighnari takes care of them? Basically some fluff, comfort kinda thing? Sorry if it sounds kinda complicated :')

Thank you and have a good day/night!!

THANKS FOR REQUESTING !! So sorry this took long btw 😔

so uh… I didn’t actually do the story quest cause I stopped playing when lyneys banner was over 💀 BUT I will write like Tighnari tends to ur wounds (that you got after a commission)

Tighnari x injured reader

TAGS: fluff/comfort, blood/wounds

CHARACTERS: Tighnari, mentions of Paimon

A/N AT THE END !

You opened the door to you and your boyfriends shared home, covering the blood stains on your shirt with a bag of things you got payed for in the commission.

“you’re home!”

tighnari walked up to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He raised an eyebrows upon seeing some blood on your shirt,

“what’s th-“

“I’m going to bed, I’m a bit tired.”

you said, before paimon interrupted “heyyy! You haven’t even promised paimon her snacks for helping you when you got in-“

“kitchen paimon, top cabinet”

you slumped your way to your bedroom, not wanting to sleep with tighnari tonight so he wouldn’t see your wounds.

as you removed your shirt, you winced, looking at the loosely wrapped bandages around your torso.

“shit….”

you unwrapped it, carefully and slowly. meanwhile, back in the kitchen, paimon was running through the cabinets.

“aha!”

“finally! Paimon deserved this!”

she drooled at the sight of the chips, tighnari finding it odd how she actually helped In a commission. He heard your distant grunts, your curses, everything no matter how much you tried to stay quiet.

“paimon, how was the commission?”

he asked, hoping she’d give some info.

“Traveler got stabbed pretty badly by a hilichurl camp! Then traveler told paimon to stay quiet and they’d give me their snacks from inazuma!”

Paimon exclaimed, completely disregarding your agreement with her. “oops…. Uh.. don’t tell traveler”

she snickered, while stuffing her face with some dango you had left over.

“thank you paimon.”

and just like that, tighnari left the room.

you were struggling to tend to your own wounds, trying to not stain the sheets or anything, when you heard a familiar voice.

“tsk. You’re hopeless.”

Your boyfriend sat next to you and grabbed a cotton, adding some liquid to help disinfect it.

“Paimon told me everything. Don’t bother to hide it.”

he held your hand tightly before disinfecting the wound. It hurt a lot.

“agh-! Nari-“

you winced, holding his hand tightly

“almost done.”

you tried to not yell in pain, knowing tighnari’s ears are quite sensitive.

“I need to stitch these, drink this first.”

he suddenly pushed a drink to your lips. It was a drink to help you get sleepy so you wouldn’t feel much pain.

as you were being stitched up, nari held your hand tightly and placed a scarf nearby to your mouth to bite for pain.

he winces whenever he sees a particularly deep wound/scar, hoping the anesthesia is still strong while he treats them (yes he also injected some to you after he made you drink a sleep thing)

when he’s finished, he changes you out of your clothes. He obv doesn’t touch any intimate areas

the moment he changes you to comfier clothes, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“oh traveler….dont hide things like this from me.”

he stays up all night to care for you.

the next morning, he does everything. Cleans dishes, makes sure you don’t move at all and most important (and the scariest thing…) he needs to hear what happened from YOUR mouth.

he reassures you that even if you’re injured, it’s okay to ask for help.

the entire day(every day until you’re better) he pampers you.

the end

A/N; CAN U TELL I RAN OUT OF IDEAS IN THE END 💀 my bad, and also thanks for the request ! Ask for another if u want it rewritten lmao. Anyways I also realized that I actually may have mischaracterized him cause I realized how little info I know abt this man AS IF I DONT LITERALLY COSPLAY HIM 💀💀💀 anyways that’s it, thank u !

[explosionshark]

i don’t go here but i wanna know about Arcane toxic smut #1 for the wip game! toxic how 👀

Okay so I have to explain. In arcane season 2 the characters that have made me insane (Caitlyn and Vi) briefly get together (sort of?) and then have this horrible, explosive breakup right after.

Vi deals with this by turning to binge drinking, self isolation, dyeing her hair and getting the shit beat out of her in an underground fighting ring (hot).

Caitlyn deals with it by fucking a subordinate and also by becoming a liiiittle bit of the head of a police state influenced by a hostile foreign power to ruthlessly hunt down the criminals responsible for the attack on her city that took her mother's life (also hot). It sounds bad but there's nuance okay - she was really sad and she looked good in her evil little cape.

The show resolves this some months later by having Caitlyn and Vi reunite in an encounter that ends with Caitlyn betraying her evil allies to help Vi. That betrayal includes a plan that requires Vi to pose as her captive in a scene that involves hitting her in the face, blindfolding her with a hood and leading her around in handcuffs.

LOOK, I KNOW

So Toxic Smut #1 was built around the idea of revisiting those really loaded dynamics before the two characters were able to really resolve their issues and reaffirm their relationship. The seed of this idea later grew into my fic It's A Long Ride (Tell Me You're Ready) minus the kinkier bondage elements.

Ultimately this one fell apart bc I couldn't take it seriously - this is why I don't write PWP most of the time. There was no place in the timeline I felt I could comfortably fit it and the premise was a little too out there for me to buy into as it was.

I ended up using a couple sections in my other fic and the concept is one I might return to at some point but for now it lives in the graveyard

Excerpt below (included the initial prompts I was attempting to integrate and some notes)

35. “does that hurt?”

22. “stop looking at me like that!”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Caitlyn mutters against Vi’s cheek, lips drifting up from her mouth, across her face, landing on her temple.

Vi spares a thought for pretending she hadn’t heard, her fingers busy with the stupid clasps on Caitlyn’s jacket. She can’t help but notice that, despite her words, Caitlyn hasn’t stopped the trail of wet kisses she’s dotting from the place behind Vi’s ear to the column of her neck. Typical of her to say one thing, do another — it frustrates Vi enough to have her pull back, sneer up at her, “That mean you wanna stop?”

Caitlyn doesn’t really, that much was clear even before she got that stupid, wrinkle in her brow. She waits a beat, frowning, and sighs out, “It’s just that… We haven’t even talked about…”

“You gonna leave?” Vi asks, cutting her off. Caitlyn’s right, of course — they probably shouldn’t be fucking at all. Definitely shouldn’t before they get a chance to clear things up. But Vi doesn’t really want to talk right now — she wants to get off. She’s throbbing with want, can feel how hot and damp she is, briefs clinging to her like a second, constricting, maddening skin. And talking would be an absolute mood-killer. “Call it off?”

Vi has a memory from when she was a kid — taking a fall through a splintered floor of some derelict old building in the Lanes. She can hardly remember the specifics — fucking around on her own just like Vander always warned her not to, not paying attention to where she was going. Really all she remembers is after: choking on dust, breathless with pain, dazed by the fall. Limping home, embarrassed, scared, angry at herself; locking herself in the bathroom and pulling the splinters out herself, dizzy with nausea and agony. As miserable as removing the splinters had been, the aftermath was worse — she can still taste the rag between her teeth, hear the fizz of the peroxide when she poured it over the wound, the stinging pain of scrubbing it down under the faucet to clean it. Her leg had been a raw, aching mess for weeks.

Vi’s chest goes a little tight, even now, just thinking about it.

And honestly that’s what the idea of talking with Caitlyn feels like right now.

She’ll do it eventually because she has to, there’s nothing else for it. But it’s going to fucking suck and she sure as hell doesn’t feel like it right now.

There's too much to do right now to waste time picking over that old wound. There's her sister in a cell somewhere right now, there's Ambessa and her armies gathering their strength, there's the miserable, greedy maw of Piltover poised open, throat gleaming asking for more. More bodies, more blood, stand with us this time, you might get something out of it if you behave.

And despite it all, Vi can't help the fact that part of her just wants this. Caitlyn’s attention, Caitlyn’s hands on her body, her breath in Vi’s mouth. She wants to be touched by someone not trying to fucking kill her for a change. She wants something to feel good for five fucking minutes—

“Am I going to leave?” Caitlyn repeats, voice taut, snapping Vi out of her thoughts. Her face has gone carefully neutral in the way it only really gets when she’s pissed the fuck off or terrified. Vi wonders if Caitlyn realizes she’s digging her nails into Vi’s skin from where her hands had slipped up behind Vi’s jacket.

“You wanna talk so bad, we can do it after,” Vi says, shrugging, grateful when her voice comes out detached, cool, no hint of the itchy panic scraping the back of her neck. “Unless you’re about to bail again.”

Caitlyn frowns, severely. Vi can't help but wonder if she's feeling guilty or offended by the question. Probably both. “I’m not.”

“You’ve done it before,” Vi can’t resist needling her, even though it sounds petty even to her own ears. It’s not like it isn’t true. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m not,” Caitlyn repeats, taking a step closer as if to prove it. She presses the flats of her palms into the small of Vi’s back, pulls her in so that their hips are touching again. Her voice, barely more than a puff of air, as she gazes down into Vi’s face. “I just don’t want to be something you regret.”

“Too late.” Vi says. Caitlyn flinches, darts her eyes away, lips tugging downward for the briefest moment before she nods, schooling her expression. Vi wishes it felt better than it does, to land a barb like that.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn grits out. “For— for all of it. I know, I—”

“Just… shut up,” Vi groans, darting forward kissing Caitlyn hard, again. “Do you want this or not?” She wants it to come out demanding, rough, but even to Vi’s ears the words sound too much like begging. Vi swallows hard and steps forward, grabbing Caitlyn’s wrist and yanking it towards her, rocking her hips up into Caitlyn’s hand between her legs to get her meaning across.

It’s crass, almost clumsy but it gets the job done — Caitlyn’s eyes darken, her nostrils flair, her lips part as she sucks in a gasp, swaying forward into Vi.

It’s good, Vi thinks, letting go of Caitlyn’s wrist and feeling her take over the movement, making a fist and pressing her knuckles hard against the seem of Vi’s pants. This is what she wants, has wanted — to make Caitlyn snap. To be pulled in close, rough, to be made to pay for everything. For all of it. For mouthing off. For wanting so much. For being so weak.

“You’re sure you want this?” Caitlyn mutters, voice low and smoky in Vi’s ear, but her eyes, when they search out Vi’s gaze, are clear, serious.

The underlying questions is, of course — why would you?

Caitlyn betrayed her, abandoned her, lied. She changed, became the very force she once swore to Vi she would shelter her from.

What happened at the commune wasn’t nothing, but does a too late crisis of conscience really undo all the hurt and distance and resentment that’s built up in the weeks since Caitlyn left her behind?

What kind of person would still want the woman who put them through all that? What kind of damaged idiot would let her ever have another chance?

Rather than answering, Vi leans forward, stretches up a little to press her mouth back into Caitlyn’s. The kiss is rough and thorough, and with her hands buried in Caitlyn’s hair, it’s easy to guide her the way Vi wants her. She leans in heavily, takes desperate sips of air through the corner of her mouth in the brief seconds that their lips disconnect, not letting up until she finally feels Caitlyn surge back into her, nails scratching down the skin of Vi’s back.

Finally, breathlessly, Vi pulls away, catching Caitlyn’s bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to make Caitlyn wince.

“That answer your question?” Vi lets her voice drip out like bitter, dark coffee, gritty and thick, a battery acid bite to linger on the palate.

Vi can’t help but feel a surge of pride and arousal at the slight flush to Caitlyn’s face, bottom lip swollen and red, the heavy breaths she can’t quite disguise as she pushes forward, crowding Vi back against the wall. And god it feels good — Caitlyn’s hands, those long strong fingers framing her face, the subtle pressure as she tilts Vi’s face back, her mouth up, sweeps her tongue past Vi’s lips and into her mouth like she has every right to, like _______

Vi sinks into the kiss. She lets her eyes slide shut, can’t quite hold back the embarrassing little moan that slips from her throat when Caitlyn’s hands card through her hair, or the way she shivers despite herself when Caitlyn smirks against her mouth at the sound.

“Violet,” Caitlyn’s eyes are hooded, when she pulls back a little, lips slightly parted like she’s poised to speak. Vi can’t help the way she tenses. Don’t ruin this, she thinks. Shut up, don’t ruin this. But Caitlyn just sighs, leans her forehead into Vi’s and whispers her name again. “Vi…”

Something shifts in that moment, with Caitlyn’s eyes staring down into hers. She brushes her lips over the scar on Vi’s eyebrow delicately. Rubs the pad of her thumb over the swell of Vi’s cheek, where the butt of her rifle had bashed it. She noses her way along Vi’s hairline, kisses the shell of her ear, breath a soft warm tickle over Vi’s skin and she can’t take it anymore, twisting her neck and capturing Caitlyn’s mouth again.

It is a soft kiss. Gentle, almost chaste and the way Caitlyn hums softly against Vi’s lips makes her chest clench painfully.

She tries to fix it. Slanting her mouth against Caitlyn’s with more force, letting her lips drop open, tugging Caitlyn against her harder, gripping fiercely on the other woman’s hips.

It’s not enough. Caitlyn lets Vi draw her in close, she lets Vi plunder her mouth, but she remains steadfastly, devastatingly tender. It feels so much like it had the first time, in the tunnel, Vi feels her lungs tightening, her breath shortening, her eyes going hot and watery. She thinks about that moment, how she begged — promise me — and Caitlyn—

I won’t.

Was it a lie, then? Or just a clever way to dupe some Undercity rube who would only hear what Caitlyn wanted her to hear? It didn’t matter, in the end, whether Caitlyn was a liar or if Vi had just been too stupid to see the truth — it had all come apart anyway. In the end, it had worked out like things always did. Vi had been left alone, bruised, discarded like so much Zaunite trash. She had been so, so stupid.

With a groan of frustration, Vi shoves Caitlyn back. She’s not expecting it, stumbles but doesn’t trip, looks at Vi with a stricken expression. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working,” Vi mutters, turning and wiping her eyes discreetly with the heel of her palm, trying to make it look like she’s brushing her forehead instead.

“Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice is shaky, face a study of woundedness and concern. “What did I do?”

She's so earnest, so convincingly genuine it makes Vi’s stomach ache. It makes her want a drink. It makes her want to go back, to find a way to stop everything from falling apart in the first place.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Vi grits out, frustrated. She hates the way her heart won’t stop racing. The way Caitlyn won’t — “Stop looking at me like that!”

Caitlyn grimaces, half turning on her heel. She rubs her palms along her thighs, craning her neck over her shoulder to glance at the door. “Should I—?”

“Caitlyn, I swear if you ask me one more time if I want you to go, I'm going to lose it,” Vi runs a hand through her hair, tugging hard enough to send spikes of pain along her scalp. Weirdly, it helps — a dull bit of pain that bites through the noise in her head that’s been making her panicky, skittish. “That's never been what I wanted.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Caitlyn’s voice is steady. “What can I do? What do you need?”

It’s cool water rushing through her. The question she’s been waiting to be asked. Go figure that when it finally happens, her throat sticks, tight, wordless. “I…”

“I want to give you what you’re looking for, Vi. Whatever that is. I mean that,” Caitlyn whispers. The look on her face is fierce, wanting, the lines of her body tense with desire. “Tell me what you want.”

Vi doesn’t let herself second guess this time. She blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “Do you have another pair of cuffs?”

Caitlyn, to her credit, only takes a moment to blink before answering. “Not here.” She pauses, biting her lip, casting her gaze around the library. “But you could tie me with something else.”

“Not for you,” Vi corrects, feeling herself flush.

“Ah,” Caitlyn breathes and then clears her throat. “I owe you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Vi grunts, watching mesmerized as Caitlyn transforms again before her.

That tension she’d been holding unspools, her body going loose and languid.

“Then I’d better get you what you asked for,” Caitlyn says

-

Makeout sesh becomes too much like the moment in the tunnel. Vi can’t relax into it, feels too raw and vulnerable. This is when she asks for the cuffs.

C: it this a good idea?

V: probably not. But it’s what I want. And you owe me.

C: —-

V: if you don’t like it then leave

C: dammit I’m not going to leave again

-

^This is veeeeery rough work though and the first thing I attempted to write in the fandom so please be gentle with your evaluation. The better version of this fic exists and is linked above

[purpleknighty]

Do I Wanna Know?

Pairing: Agent!Haerin x Agent!Fem!Reader

Summary: Now a rouge spy, fleeing from the old agency you once worked for, you find yourself at a familiar doorstep you never thought you’d see again.

Warnings/tags: violence, mentions of blood and injuries, small angst, enemies to lovers(?), reader and haerin are off and on, heavy emphasis on communication, misunderstandings(?), tell me if I missed anything else

Tonight has been shit, nothing has worked out in your favor, everything keeps getting worse and worse.

At first, you assumed it was very badly timed coincidences. You walk into a bar for starters, college students being the loudest customers there. 20 minutes into enjoying your drink, a suspicious group of men walk in, eyeing you up and down.

They whisper among each other, stealing glances at your seated frame, but you feel their eyes on the back of your head.

You keep calm, waiting to see who makes the first move. The men do, and as they itch closer, you realize they look like agents that you use to work with.

Fuck that.

You pay for the two drinks you had, a gin tonic and a strawberry sunset, bolting out the doors with the group falling after you.

It becomes an annoying game of cat and mouse, the racing after your car, the unnecessary shooting, the rookie mistakes they keep making, it was all just headache inducing.

That same group purposely took a different route to corner you, five guys in black suits coming out to bring you back to headquarters.

You denied their request upon getting out the car, not caring about how wanted you are within the agency, how much of a target is on your back or how much money the higher uppers are offering these stupid rookies to bring you back.

You could give two shits about it.

Your refusal results in an all-out-brawl, which was very unfair in your case, five guys all jumping one person? Now that’s just plain dirty. You win through experience but you don’t leave the battlefield unscathed, one of those bastard had slashed you with his knife, adding another wound that needs to heal.

At this point, wounded, bleeding and tired and the clock passing midnight. It was best to go home and clean up before resting.

But somehow, your body goes on autopilot. Foot pressing on the gas, hands turning the steering wheel into a familiar place, onto a familiar road and oops, now you’re standing at a familiar doorstep.

This is a bad idea. You should turn back around. It’s all the blood loss getting to your head.

Despite the voices telling you to not follow through, you do it anyways. Knocking with your free hand as the other presses a flimsy cloth over your cut to stop the bleeding.

You wait a few seconds before doing it again, ignoring how slowly you’re starting to become dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

Passing out in front of your enemy’s(?) doorstep isn’t a good look on you or anyone.

As you’re about to give up, grumbling curses under your breath, the door opens. A set of cat eyes stare through the cracked door, suspicious but upon seeing your silhouette, the door flys open.

There, she stands in all her sleepy glory. Hair slightly disheveled, sleep shorts with a tank top on adores her body and cat eyes that still make your heart flutter and chest tighten.

Yup, it’s definitely the blood loss now.

“What happened?” She breaks the silence, dark eyes sinking in your injured frame. White shirt now stained red from your blood and others, dark jeans covered in dirt from all the times you were thrown into the ground of that god-awful alleyway.

A dry chuckle leaves your lips, causing you to cough up. “You know,” A half-smile finds its way onto your face. “Being hunted all night, the fun stuff.”

Haerin huffs, making sure the coast is clear by looking down her hallway. Seeing no one but you and her awake at this hour, she gently pulls you in.

“Let’s..” She pauses, eyes lingering on you. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can get out of my house.”

Wow, such a friendly welcoming.

You hiss at the pain, hands gripping the armrest at your sides. You can never get use to this, snitches. No matter how many wounds you have received as your time as an agent, you will never get use to getting snitches.

Your head falls back to lay on the headrest of the office chair, a sigh of relief can be heard, aware this painful procedure is done and over with.

“How did this happen?” Haerin speaks softly, fingertip lightly circling and messaging around the wound as to not hurt you.

You ignore the groan that threatens to spill from your throat, ignoring the feeling of desire everytime you look at Haerin.

You know you can’t have her but that’s what keeps pulling you in, what keeps making you come back.

You run a hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. “Rookie agents were sent after me. Found my ass in a bar downtown.”

You watch Haerin’s brows frown, almost like she’s lost in thought before collecting herself and standing up from her kneeling position.

“Why are you here? You are a target, coming here makes me an enemy as well, you know?” The cat-eyed girl looks back over her shoulder, only to shake her head at seeing you once again, this time bruised and wounded.

“I work for the same agency that’s after you, Y/n. A hefty amount of money is being offered to whoever can successfully bring you back, dead or alive.”

The raven haired traces her pointer finger over the barrel of your pistol that lays unsupervised on her desk, petite fingers are quick to grab the gun, now your own weapon is being pointed at you.

“I could kill you right now. You’re tired, open, and vulnerable. I could end this nuisance and bring you back to headquarters myself.”

She’s right, Haerin could kill you right now and you wouldn’t have the energy to fight back. Your knife is too on her desk but she stands right next to it which puts you at an disadvantage, and she knows you have a big slash on the side of your stomach, another disadvantage to you.

Your life on the line, the barrel to your gun in point blank range to your face, you should be scared.. but you’re not.

You can’t stop thinking about how the moonlight makes Haerin the most beautiful woman alive, even more than she already is. Cat eyes that keep you hooked, a smile or grin or smirk that makes you weak in the knees, or a laugh that makes you wish things were different.

You wished you and Haerin met under different circumstances.

Maybe then things could’ve worked out better between you two.

“Then kill me. You have the opportunity, Haerin. Take it.”

She sighs, arms dropping, a small smile graces her pretty lips.

“You’re so stupid, dingus.”

God, you love when she calls you that.

Miss it even.

A dorky smile breaks out before you can stop it, eyes filled with so much emotion for the cat-eyed woman. You just hope the dimmed moonlight doesn’t expose too much.

Then a harsh jolt of pain flashes up your spine from a simple gesture, reminding you of the real reason why you’re here, why you’re sitting in Haerin’s apartment to begin with.

It ruins the mood greatly.

You go to stand up, abruptly becoming lightheaded and close to losing your balance. Haerin’s eyes widen in worry, rushing to your side as you try to re-focus your vision.

“Sorry,” You murmur, seeing the slight mess you made. “Stood up too quickly.” Haerin frowns, eyes glancing up to your face then back down to your cut.

She bites her lip before speaking, “Stay.” She says it so softly that it scratches your brain in a way that just feels right. “You’re injured.. stay for the night.”

She shyly finishes, not sure if her hands on your arms are there to keep you or her steady, you don’t mind the warmth though.

The request feels tempting, is this how Eve felt when the snake whispered for her to eat the forbidden fruit?

Inner conflict arose, your heart tells you to do it, take her up on her offer. Once in a lifetime opportunity, but your mind says no. It’ll feel good in the moment, but will it help you in the long run?

Haerin is already breaking protocols, giving aid to someone the higher ups deem to be an enemy. If they catch wind of this.. Haerin might be outcasted, thrown out of the agency and ending up in the same situation you’re in.

A wanted agent, a criminal who’s on the run from an organization that’s wants you dead.

Yeah, this was a bad idea after all.

You forcefully have to pull yourself away Haerin’s grasp, choosing to ignore the look of disappointment that comes across her face.

“Where you going?” She breaks the silence, voice quiet, watching your back muscles flex as you reach out for your ruined shirt.

“Leaving.”

Cat eyes stare daggers into you, brows now stuck in a permanent frown.

“Why? I said you can stay for the night.” The feeling of annoyance seeps into your veins, wondering why Haerin’s starting this now.

“No reason. I’m just getting myself out of your hair.”

She stops you from grabbing your gun, the small puddle of annoyance expanding from the action. A sigh of frustration slips pass your lips, running a hand through your hair.

“Haerin.”

“Stay, Y/n. You’re injured.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before.”

“Well, I’m stopping you now.”

Your eye twitches, why won’t she let you leave? She’s let you walked out on multiple occasions, but why now? Why stop you now?

You scoff, now isn’t the time for your emotions to get in the way. You shove past her, grabbing what belongs to you from her desk and making your way through her bedroom door.

But Haerin isn’t one to give up easily (one of many traits that you love about her) and forcefully grabs onto your forearm, halting you for putting your shoes on.

“Haerin- I swear to god—“ But you stop upon looking back at her. Now there’s a clear look of sadness, dark brown eyes are slightly teary and her grip tightens on your skin.

She looks so small and fragile, so vulnerable and soft. Even through your shoving and pushing, Haerin has always been gentle and patient.

Never one to swear, even when upset or angry. Always polite and quiet.

You still can’t fathom why she chose to become an agent with her shy and timid demeanor.

“Please..”

Her voice cracks, trying to push back the sniffles and tears that threaten to fall.

“Stay.. please..”

Her pleads and begs get muffled and drowned out by your lips. Her broken voice echoing through the empty walls of her apartment, almost as if it’s haunting and taunting your very existence.

Your hand finds way to the back of her head, burying itself in her silky locks. The other placed on her waist to pull her closer, needing her scent to linger on your skin.

This kiss feels different, like there’s a hidden message behind it. A message Haerin can’t express with words but can convey with body language.

You pull back when oxygen becomes a problem, your warm breath fanning over her lips and your heat engulfing her into a comforting embrace.

“I’ve missed you..” She whispers, finally spilling. Her palms rest above your chest before scrunching the ruined fabric in her grasp.

“I’ve been worried after everything happened.. I got even more worried when Headquarter started sending agents after you..”

She pauses, observing you quietly as she continues to talk.

It’s one of those rare moments when Haerin talks and never stops.

“Was it really that bad?”

You shrug, not wanting to think about how chaotic your life has been since and focus more on the woman in your arms.

“I broke protocol, and I mean a bunch of them too when I was working. The higher ups have always been strict about their rules.”

She nuzzles into your neck, the act resembling a cat. Your heart speeds up, pumping and butterflies forming.

“You went MIA for months..” You crack a small smile at her voice.

“Had to keep a low profile. Didn’t wanna die so early into my retirement.”

You go to move, which prompts the brunette to cling on to you tighter. God, she’s gonna be the death of you.

“Relax, kitty.” You press a reassuring kiss to her temple, the brief smell of her shampoo easily evaporates any worries you might’ve had for the night.

“Just going to take my shoes off, I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiles into your neck, looking up at you through her lashes, cat eyes instantly turning you smitten. A faint blush creeps over her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears.

Attractive, ethereal, magnificent, beautiful.

Kang Haerin makes you feel alive.

You let your emotions win once again that night, choosing to bask in what it would feel like to fall in love with Haerin without death knocking at your front door.

And honestly.. now you don’t wanna know.

[apothe-cary]

Writing Prompts: Injury

Credits to @promptsbytaurie for the Prompt

22. “Shit. Shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

Featuring Tira @tiravi’s rook & Grey Laidir and Honorable mention of Lanti @wickedadaar

Grey threw Tira over his shoulders, “That’s enough from you, Pipsqueak.”

“Aw grey come on! I was barely dazing off!”

“You ran into a tree!”

“Correction it was in my way! But back to the business of the day, you and Lanti?” She giggled doing a little eye brow wiggle

Grey immediately let out a groan setting her back down, “I’m not doing this with you!”

She nudged him, “Oh come on! I heard you two kissed.” Tira grinned, “Ooo how about The crow and her treasure? That’s a cute couple title. Or or hear me out, Granti, ya know like your names-“

Grey covered her mouth, “I get it ya know.” He raised a brow looking down at her, “I wasn’t blessed with sibling so they sent you down huh.”

Tira pulled down his hand from her face, “I’d like to think so. Anyways what’s got you so worked up. You got that vain popping out from your forehead and the furrowed brows.”

“I- just, ah. I haven’t like officially asked Lanti out. Do you think she knows I’m serious about her? Or do you think she doesn’t want more? What if I’m over reading the situation. Gods.” He rubbed his face in worry

“Alright lover pirate, I seriously think you are over thinking it.” Tira pat his shoulder, “She doesn’t strike me as the type to just make this a situation ship. Take her out on a date, confess to her properly and boom. Boyfriend zone.”

“You make it sound easy.” Grey grumbled

“Cause it is~” Teia grinned, “Anyways come on Isabella is expecting us.”

Grey didn’t even want to think about what Isabella but once they arrived to the hall of valors they stopped in their tracks, “What the hell..”

The place was trashed, papers everywhere and a giant Antaam marker in the middle of the ground.

Grey absolutely raged, “They are going to fucking pay.”

“Grey? Tira?” Isabella came out from their bar area and he visibly relaxed though Tira was still on edge

“What happened where’s anyone.” Grey got right to the point.

“Antaam entered the hall of valors under the pretext to fight in the arena, they tired to take over instead. Most fled but not before putting that fucker down. But I have a job for you both. They took a relic, need you to get it back. Everyone else is fine they went to get some things to clean up and repair.” Isabella explained

“Any idea where they are held up?” Tira spoke this time eager to hunt them as much as grey

“Last I saw them, they were up the beach probably still up at that fort. We were able to fight the most of them but some got away with the relic. Sounds…convenient.” Isabella sighed

“We will handle it.” Grey moved to leave not looking back

“Stay safe the both of you.” Isabella called after them

Tira and Grey walked up to the abandoned grey warden fort, grey visibly upset and rightfully so. Their walk was quiet till Tira spoke up, “We’ll get them.”

“Yes we will.” Grey pushed opened the door to the fort, but something clicked for grey pushing Tira out the way, Antaam with gaatlock canons shot, grey held up his shield.

Tira moved away gripping her own weapons and fighting along side grey.

“We’ve been expecting you. But we would have preferred the old lady to do this herself.” Grey realized the Antaam were talking about Isabella and raged pressing forward in his attack. He didn’t care why they did it or why they wanted Isabella but he wanted them dead.

Lost in his rage, Antaam swarmed him, slash after slash hit after hit till he heard a scream behind him. A sword through Tiras hip. Greys eyes widened, “TIRA!”

Grey felt his body move on his own, slash after slash till they no longer stood, rushing to Tiras side, holding her up, covering her wound. His hand covered in her blood.

“Shit. Shit, that’s a lot of blood.” Grey heaved, “Stay with me. I’ll get you help I’ll take you home please!”

Tiras breath was shallow, “For gold and Glory-“

“Don’t you dare!” His eyes watered, “I’ll keep you safe, I’ll take you home.” Grey carried her back to the hall of valors finding her a healer as quickly as he could. Isabella trying her best to stop the bleeding.

Grey waited for hours, washing her blood off his hands, scrubbing even after they were already cleaned.

He looked up at the mirror, tired, desperate and tearful, “Fucking coward.” He slammed his fist into the mirror.

A/N: 😭 I hate making these sad. I am not a sad writer by any means. But that’s it I completed all the stories thank you guys for dealing with me and my slowness! My writers block was a pain in the ass!

[minty364]

Feel Free to read I just need to rant somewhere I know family isn't going to read

Long story short I fucking hate my uncles girlfriend.

Long story long, over a year ago I lived in a trailer by myself and was struggling to pay the bills. In November 2023 it was decided that my uncle, who's only a couple years older than me, would move in to help me pay the bills. I agreed thinking that it would just be him and me but a couple months pass and he gets a girlfriend. It's no problem at first, in fact with my stressful 40 hour a week job it was great since he'd often spend the night over there giving me the house to myself.

The trouble started when he told me that she'd be staying over more because her house didn't have air conditioning. I understood but it quickly evolved into her living with us. I barely knew her and she was fucking living with us. At this point my stress from my new job built to the point were I was unintentionally hurting my cat, he wound up with a UTI and I had to sign up for $2000 in credit debt. Meanwhile my uncles girlfriend decides that it's okay to just take snacks from me. I've always been a bit of a territorial person, especially when it comes to food. She has zero impulse control and just blurts out rude shit.

This winter we had to move back into my parents upstairs and it sucks being even closer than before. At least my parents aren't making me pay rent although that's more because I have a nasty car payment and my mom wanted me to work on my mental health. Originally I wasn't even supposed to work part time but because my uncle and his girlfriend aren't paying rent (they should be) I've had to step up and I work 25 hours a week doing DoorDash.

His girlfriend does next to nothing around the house, when she first moved in with us my uncle was telling me how she really knew how to clean and help around the house but she'll maybe rarely wash the sink and toilet in the bathroom. Not even the floors or anything. She literally sits in their bedroom playing Webkinz all day, maybe work half a day twice a week, less than 10 hours.

The thing that really pissed me off is what happened during Easter dinner. My mom did the work to prepare us a nice meal. In our house we have a rule, if one person cooks, everyone else helps clean/put away. I feel like it's a very fair rule, however when it came time to clean and everyone was tired, she straight up dismissed us saying she was too sleepy to clean.

I think my main problem is that I can't help but feel like she's taking advantage of everyone else and being extremely lazy herself.

[bravetimetravellingaussie]

And it feels like home

Chapter 1

Summary: Peter Parker is minding his own business when along comes the merc with a mouth, shenanigans will ensue

Warnings: foul language, it's got deadpool in it? I think that works as it's own warning

Possible spoilers, Spider-man: No Way Home, and Deadpool and Wolverine

"Where are you getting the guns from?" Spider-man stood on the edge of a towering building, holding onto a a thin white piece of web, from the end of which hung a flailing and terrified criminal.

"Agh!! Shit shit shit shit shit! I don't know! I don't fucking know! Shit! Please! Come on man, let me go!"

"If you say so." Spider-man let go of the web for a second, letting the man fall a couple of metres before catching the web again.

"OKAY LOOK MAN I'LL FUCKING TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW JUST PLEASE PUT ME BACK ON THE GROUND BACK ON THE GROUND PLEASE DONT DROP ME!"

"Thought so."

Since the disappearance of Peter Parker, the man behind the mask didn't have to put in any effort to make himself sound older. He also scarcely had to ask the same question more than twice. He rarely had the patience to ask a third time, and he could barely find the willpower to restrain himself from violence by the fourth.

It scared him sometimes how much he yearned for an excuse to punch people these days.

Peter Parker shifted the sleeve of his suit to check his watch as he slung through the city on his way back home after a long night of doing what he hoped was good enough to be considered superhero work.

3 am.

Peter groaned. He could feel how tired he was going to be for the rest of the day already.

"I fucking hate Mondays."

"Welcome to McDonald's, how can I help you?" Peter could barely keep his eyes fully open they were so dry.

"Hi, Tom, I'd like someone to drop a skincare routine that actually works for me and to get a job that pays well enough for me to move out of my mom's house so I can have fun time in the night time with my boyfriend without her screaming at us to shut up already. I'd move in with my girlfriend but she's abroad right now and she's having some friends house sitting for her. I'd understand if she didn't trust me with her plants or something, but she doesn't even have plants! I think she might just not trust me. I got her shot one time and I don't think she's over it yet, even though she never got shot because of me, because I went back in time and fixed that."

Peter glanced at his name tag that had 'PETER' written on it in bold letters. Then he looked back up at the man wearing leather from head to toe. It might have been red originally, but Peter couldn't help but wonder if it had been stained red by the multitude of wounds the man had all over his body, bullet wounds and stab wounds, slashes a gashes. The worst of which seemed to be the man's freshly amputated hand.

"McDonald's welcome help you how?"

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, your customer service voice is so soothing and therapeutic. Shame they don't let you speak in your mother tongue, they know it'd be too much for the world to handle." The man leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his head in his hand, kicking one leg up.

Blood dripped from the man's wrist down onto the counter, but Peter was so sleep deprived all he could think about was how he was gonna have to clean that up.

"Alright! I'd like a big meal, big mac with fries and coke. I do mean the drinking kind, unfortunately, damn that Feige guy, Blind Al has a bone to pick with him after the bullshit she had to go through for Deadpool and Wolverine." The man chuckles. "You know how it is."

Peter would have said, no, I really don't, but for all the weird shit he'd encountered in his life, this was just about the strangest.

"I'd pay for this, but I don't carry my wallet in my work pants. I think this is gonna have to be on the house, you'll do that for me, wontcha Tommy, my bestest friend in the whole wide multiverse?" The man didn't want for an answer before taking the paper bag that had just been placed on another counter and running out of the store, waving at Peter through the glass once he was outside.

"Sir, that- sir that wasn't... That wasn't your order, sir- that was not your order," one of Peter's coworkers said quietly beneath her breath as she stared after the man in red.

Everyone else in the McDonald's seemed to have been similarly entranced. Somewhere a child was crying.

"I'm taking a sick day," Peter said to no one in particular.

[archive-of-queens]

[Untitled No. 1]

a/n: I'm going to be flushing out all of my unfinished drafts today, so enjoy the scraps I never finished!

tw: criminal minds au so dead bodies, violent weapons, etc.

Irene was a great friend. She was reliable, the type to insist that you were going to walk home drunk at 3 in the morning only to show up at the bar you were visiting with an SUV and an "I-Told-You-So" look. She was kind, despite the fact that she didn't often smile or express her fondness towards others. Most of all, she was smart and a great profiler, which made her an excellent part of your team.

As your boss, Irene was only five words to you - a pain in your ass.

"We've got a new case file to look over," Irene tosses the papers on Yeri's desk, which knocks over her carefully-built house of cards that she's been working on for hours, "we're meeting in the conference room in twenty."

"C’mon!" Yeri yells before distributing the papers to the rest of the team. "I finally figured out the best way to construct a house of cards with a full deck after going through every possible possibility-"

"You'll have plenty of time to rebuilt it when we're en route to the case." Seulgi says with encouragement before nodding at Irene. "I'll be there in ten."

"Good attitude, Seulgi, and I expect the rest of you to be early, or at the least, on time." Irene pointedly says before glaring daggers at Joy, whose desk is right next to yours.

"It was one time, and I was busy writing paperwork." Joy defends herself before pointing at Wendy. "Go yell at her, she's flirting with the interns!"

"Wendy can do what she wants because she and her work are always on time." Irene silences Joy before heading straight into the conference room.

A correction of your earlier statement - Irene was a pain in the ass to your co-workers.

You open the case file as Joy stands up and leans over your desk.

"Why is she such a pain in my ass?"

"That's the question of the year, isn't it?" You glance over the file for a moment as you read the first police report. "Double homicide, both victims had a gunshot wound to the head."

"Is it a possible murder-suicide?" Seulgi asks before approaching your desk.

"Not possible," Yeri chimes in, "there wasn't a gun found at the scene of the crime."

"And there's a history of similar killings, all double homicides with gunshots to the head." You add before standing up. "We've got ourselves a serial killer, and an effective one, at that."

~

"What do we know about the victims?"

All eyes in the room watch Irene pace back and forth before she looks for an answer. Yeri's intently studying the case file as Wendy and Joy intently study the same spot on the ceiling.

"All appear to be wealthy with high-paying career or spouses. Both victims are found in the same location, but there's no apparent relationship between them." Seulgi answers as you scrunch your eyebrows.

"Why would I kill two random rich people and then stick the bodies together in the local woods?"

"The killer's trying to throw us off our game." Joy sets  the case file against the table before sighing. "What a piece of shit."

"Or, hear me out," Wendy scans the file before setting the two most recent victims next to each other, "these two individuals have some sort of connection that everyone else would miss, except for the Unsub."

~

You adjust the sunglasses on your face as Yeri sorts through papers in the back of the SUV. Irene insisted on driving, almost as much as she insisted on Wendy, Joy, and Seulgi driving to the station to meet with local offers instead of joining you three on your way to the crime scene.

"Victim files always tell a story, but these two are clean-cut citizens." Yeri holds up a sheet of paper for you to examine. "Why harm a high-school math teacher?"

"There has to be something we're missing - no one's perfect." You explain after grabbing the paper from Yeri. "Perhaps an angry student or star-crossed lover?"

"You think it's for revenge?" Yeri asks.

"Revenge is personal for the shooter, but it can be impersonal for the victims. It's a sort of catharsis for the shooter, to replay the same scenario over and over again." You answer as Irene plays with her hair before taking a right at the next light.

"We've just got to figure what our Unsub is trying to over-correct in the world." Irene puts on the radio before continuing straight ahead. "You two should take a break from analyzing, we need you focused and ready when we're at the crime scene."

"Do you just want Yeri to start talking about whatever comes to her mind, or do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" You try to instigate a conversation with Irene, and luckily for you, she takes the bait.

"There's nothing wrong-"

"You're observant enough to notice that Joy still had her last report on her desk, but you knocked over Yeri's house of cards without a second thought. Something threw you off your game, Joohyun." You poke her, just a little more, but she only throws the smallest smile on her face.

"I was simply... thinking about my personal relationships."

"Oh, you've got a special someone in mind, huh?" You lightly tap her shoulder before she throws your hand off of her.

"Nonsense. I was reflecting on the state of my current relationships, that's all." Irene brushes you off as you bite your tongue.

"Sure, sure." You drop it, for now.

You'll have plenty of time to prod her later, you're sure of it.

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 7

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: M | 8.6k | TW: violence | Contains: lian content, interrogation, misunderstandings and a situation that changes everything fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Seven: Landslide

Reuniting later that night with Lian is surreal.

The three of you are back at your place, something you can tell puts both men at ease, but you don’t have time to question it. 

She’s been forewarned that you’re still sick and recovering, but this doesn’t stop her from bounding up onto your bed to give you hugs and kisses. She spends the next half-hour showing you all the pictures she’s drawn in your absence and even fixes the messy braids her dad has bestowed upon you. 

“You know what?” she says suddenly. You watch as she carefully sets down the drawings on her dads shared nightstand, then anxiously tucks a stray piece of her inky black hair behind her tanned ear, “I thought you left me.” Your heart shatters. “I thought you weren’t coming back like my first mommy.”

Heart shattered??? No, your entire being is crushed to a pulp.

“Never, Lian,” you swear to her as you pull her in for as tight a hug as you can manage in your recovering state. “I promise I’d never leave you. Not willingly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to do everything in my power, you know, whatever it takes, to make sure our family stays together,” you insist. Lian nods lightly at your statement, though she begins to pick at the seams the duvet you’re under. “I like it when we’re all together,” you say with a genuine smile, poking at her lightly until she finally gives in and smiles back.

“Me, too.” The little girl squeezes you with all her might before Jason and Roy come in to dress your wounds. 

“Lian, go finish the picture you started for her the other day while we get her cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” 

Jason presses a kiss to her forehead as she slips down the tall bed.

They gently lay you down on the king-sized mattress and clean your healing wounds with delicate precision. You don’t know what to say and it seems like they’re clearly in the same boat.

“I should’ve been paying more attention,” you lament with a weary exhale. “I didn’t mean to put anyone through this shit.”

“Stop it. No one blames you,” Jason grumbles as he gently checks over your head wound. “Like you said, it could’ve happened to any of us.”

“We all really missed you,” Roy cuts in before you can retort, hoping to cut off another pissing fest before it starts. His soft hands trail up and down your exposed legs comfortingly. “It was really hard coping without you.”

Your brows furrow together, suddenly remembering how much Roy had been struggling so much before your accident.

“I’m sor-.”

“Don’t,” Roy warns lightly. His light green eyes flash with an unreadable emotion briefly before he slowly goes back to trailing up and down your legs. “You don’t owe anyone an apology, baby.”

You’re in your comfy clothes, one of their over-sized shirts and your short, cotton shirt as you watch the two of them watching you. It’s like they’re scared to take their eyes off of you for fear of missing out on any more time with you.

“Besides,” Jason starts as he finishes off cleaning the wound from your feeding tube, “it’s not like we didn’t try to deal with shit while you were…” You watch as he trails off, swallowing deeply before forcing himself to put the kit away. 

“Even if you didn’t, it’s clear that we need better coping mechanisms to be more supportive of each other as a family, anyway,” you say. “I was wanting to bring it up before… you know,” you finish lamely. At this, your hands wring together anxiously until Jason and Roy each take one into their grip and squeeze gently. 

“Of course, babe.”

“We hear you,” Roy says. The redhead leans down to kiss your hand delicately, then your lips, then Jason’s.

You bask in their presence for a while, simply glad to be back in their arms again.

Though you feel as if it’s been mere days, the idea that it’s been almost a month has steadily been eating into you. You can’t even begin to imagine how either of them are feeling after not having you be there for them for that long. The whole situation is so fucked and you know this is only the beginning of, well, everything. 

“We did end up talking about it a bit with Bruce,” Jason’s deep voice cuts through the quiet room. “Technically, I was ambushed into talking to him, but we really tried to work through our shit so we could be strong for you while you recovered.”

“That’s good,” you say with a smile, knowing he’s pushing himself to be open right now. Whatever talk they had must’ve worked at least somewhat.

“That and Roy made sure to keep up with his therapy,” Jason boasts in Roy’s stead, who bashfully ducks his head in response. 

This makes you smile even more.

“Even got Jay to join me for a bit one during one, baby,” Roy says with a wink, though it slightly lacks his usual enthusiasm. If you’re this worn out, you can’t imagine how they must be feeling. “Maybe when you’re feeling better we could all do a group session.” Logically, you know he’s talking about group therapy; however, your body suddenly feels the weight of going nearly a month without sex. You can’t help the heat that stirs across your cheeks at his words, something he notices with an easy smirk. “Calm down, princess. Jaybird’s outlawed sex for at least another week.”

You pout. “So, this means I’m barred from the field, too?”

“How can you even think about shit like that when you were still a vegetable this time yesterday?” Jason says as he comes back into the room and joins the two of you on the bed.

“I resent that description,” you retort, glaring at him half-heartedly as he snuggles up beside you.

“Resenting the truth never did anyone any good,” Jason says. He looks pointedly your way before placing a chaste kiss against your still blushing cheeks. “And you need bed rest for at least a few days before you can even think of training again, let alone getting back out there.”

“Not to mention, you still need to process everything that just happened,” Roy begins as he lightly rub at your shoulders. “Believe me, Jason and I wish we’d done the same when we went through all of our shit.” 

Jason concurs, “You really don’t want to blow past this now and pay for it later, babe.”

You know they’re right, but you only have one thing on your mind…

“It’s hard when all I can focus on is this fucking case,” you say with a sigh.

It’s always been abundantly clear that time’s never guaranteed and can’t help but feel like you’re steadily running out of time to uncover the mystery. Not to mention, you want to act on the visions you’d seen while you’d been unconscious, though you can’t deny you’re somewhat hesitant to follow them after the shit-show that happened last time you did.

“Well, focus on healing first. Roy and I have continued looking into leads for the court,” Jason says. Meanwhile, his hands begin to trail over the areas of your body that Roy isn’t currently touching until you feel absolutely pampered.

“You have?” you ask, and they nod in response. It’s what happens next that lets you in on the fact that they found something. They look at each other, not just a normal look. No, this look 100% reads like they’re wondering if they should tell you what they’ve found or not. You squint your eyes at Jason, then at Roy. You’re not going to give them the choice. “Tell me what you found,” you demand, leaving no room for argument- or, so you think.

“You should take it easy for at least today,” Roy argues gently. Now, they’re both look at you with evident concern.

“I will,” you say, smirking when they seem to relax, “after you tell me the lead.”

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes in what you know is thinly veiled amusement. As much as he claims to hate your stubborn nature, you know he also secretly loves it.

They stay quiet for another beat before Roy goes to grab his laptop from the living room.

Jason’s eyes have yet to leave the side of your face, so you shift to face him, still in his arms. “I missed you,” your name leaves his lips as a breath, “so fucking much.”

You curl further into him, reveling when he pulls you in for a soft kiss. It’s chaste and gentle, yet you can’t help but curl your toes at the intimate contact.

“Jason,” you whisper once you pull away. 

Your half-lidded eyes meet his own briefly before you’re pulled back in. Though he’s being remarkably gentle, he dares to deepen the kiss, leaving you to moan gently against his smooth lips. 

“You almost done over there, etai yazi?” You hear Roy ask as he makes his way back to the room. “Oh, damn,” Roy sputters at the sight that meets him. His verdant eyes glint mischievously as he comes upon the two of you tangled together in your sheets. “What happened to waiting a week, Jay?”

Jason regrettably pulls away, though his calloused fingers remain caressing your jawline. It’s as if he’s debating pulling you back already.

“Guess I couldn’t help myself,” Jason replies, his deep voice reverberating every molecule of your being.

In an instant, Roy drops the laptop at the edge of the bed before climbing over to join the two of you. The redhead kisses at your shoulders before maneuvering your head to the side to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss that you have no choice but to smile into. He pulls away with a smirk, wiping your wet lips with his thumb before carefully leaning over you to give Jason an even more obnoxious kiss.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like everything’s finally how it’s supposed to be for once.

“I love you both so much,” you sigh and nuzzle against their protective embrace.

The three of you know you only have so long before Lian comes back, leaving you to get back to business quickly. This time, they don’t take as much convincing before they spill everything.

“We have a lead on a guy who may know something about The Court,” Jason says. “We don’t know his name, but we know that he hangs around some shitty bar by the harbor.”

Roy interjects, “And that the dude has an owl tattoo on his chest.”

“Say he likes to act like a hardass, but underneath, he’s just another Bristol cuck. Shouldn’t take too much to get information about the next Court meeting out of him.”

You mull the information over in your head but can’t help but go back to how they got the information.

“Who told you about him?”

They both look instantly guilty.

Bingo.

You sigh, feeling an argument coming on. Well, either that or a headache. “I thought you were both done with that drug lord shit. You promised me to drop all those contacts when we made things official, did you not?”

They both look guilty enough that you already have your answer.

Roy speaks first, “We did, baby. You’re right and we feel really bad about it but-.”

“The circumstances were dire,” Jason finishes right where Roy left off. “You weren’t gone, but you weren’t here. We sat around for weeks not knowing if you’d,” he sighs as if unable to finish his sentence. 

“We didn’t know if you’d ever wake up, baby,” Roy laments as he moves to take one of your hands into his own. 

For a moment, you think about pulling away from him, but you don’t. Regardless, you’re still pouting and your displeasure over the whole situation is very much evident.

Soon, Jason’s taking your other hand into his own. No one says anything for a moment, something you’re grateful for. The past day has been a lot to deal with mentally, this added on to it is like the icing on top of the cake.

“Well, now I know neither of you are going to give me shit for tagging along.”

Checkmate.

At your words, they glance over at each other. You watch the brief conversation they share through their eyes alone. Finally, they look back at you.

“Fine, but you’re not coming in,” Roy answers for both of them.

“I have to stay in the car?!” you question incredulously. 

Un-checkmate.

“Babe.” Jason rubs gently at your hand in lieu of a further response.

A beat, then you answer. “Fine,” you agree, albeit pettily.

You hear her determined patter before you see her. Seconds later, Lian rounds the hallway and into your room with her picture triumphantly displayed in front of her.

“Look!” 

Without warning, she leaps onto the bed to shove the paper in front of your face. 

Your eyes cross as you stare at the image that’s now three inches in front of your face. You gently take it from her hands with a smile and place it on your lap to get a better look. The figures are crudely drawn, but it’s clearly a picture of you and her daddies at a tea party. Hearts and flowers, coupled with a random sun in the corner, grace the page, leaving a thrumming warmness to fill your chest.

“Thank you, chickie,” you say, causing her to giggle at your nickname for her. “I’m going to keep this with me forever.” At this, you motion her over and she gently settles in your lap so you can kiss her forehead. 

You never made art for your parents, let alone received anything like this from Lian before. It warms your heart in a moment when you feel entirely vulnerable, weak. Through this picture alone, your little girl manages to make you feel important and loved. For now, the good outweighs the bad and you allow yourself to revel in Lian’s tenacious presence alone. 

“I’ll make you some more, mommy. I’m a really good drawer and I used all my new colored pencils to make it extra pretty for you,” she babbles on about her drawing process, along with how Grandpa Alfred got all the new art supplies for her, while she’s in your arms. Meanwhile, Jason and Roy look at the scene in front of them like it’s the cutest damned thing they’ve ever seen.

“I love it so much. Definitely makes me feel a lot better,” you admit. She beams at that. Your words are simple, but you hope they convey just how much it means to you. You place the drawing on the bedside table, mindful of your injuries and the little girl, before addressing her, “Wanna stay and hang out with mommy and daddies? We can do whatever you want.”

“Really?!” she exclaims, bouncing in your lap. You wince slightly at the movement and exhale shakily in response. Roy joins you on the bed to collect her into his own lap so she can’t hurt you on accident. She pouts a bit at the recent development, “I don’t want you. I want mommy.”

Roy gasps, pretending to be hurt when she tries to crawl back over to you, “Etai yazi, you’re hurting dad’s feelings.”

“I don’t giffa duck,” Lian attempts to curse as she squirms out of his hold. The kid is nearly home free when Jason scoops her up.

“Mommy is hurting, remember?”

“But, daddy,” she pouts in Jason’s arms.

“No cursing either,” he says.

“I didn’t!” she exclaims.

“Lian,” he warns her with what she refers to as his ‘scary eyes.’

She huffs, crossing her arms in his hold, “Fine.”

Jason can’t help but smile a bit, though he quickly schools it so she doesn’t get the idea that cursing is funny. See, situations like this just prove that being an adult sucks. A five-year-old incorrectly cursing like a sailor? Shit’s fucking funny. Can you laugh at it? No, because then you’d be a bad parent, encouraging bad behavior. See? Sucks.

“Be gentle,” Jason reprimands her lightly as he places her back on bed. 

You open your arms and she slowly crawls over to cuddle between you and her dad. This time, she treats you like she treats her favorite blankie, petting you softly in apology with little kisses on your hand.

“I’m sorry,” she pouts again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She’s adorable.

You smile softly before assuaging her worries, “It’s alright, chickie. So, what would you want to do tonight?”

After it’s been decided that Lian wants to watch the new Superman show, Jason sets about creating a tea party very similar to the one in her cute drawing. He leaves and quickly returns with a tray filled with steaming teacups and snack cakes that make your stomach grumble. Before you can try to reach for them, Jason shoots you a pointed look as he reveals the hidden bowl of soup behind them.

“You heathens be careful, alright?” Jason warns. “I’m not cleaning these sheets again.”

However, Roy just snorts and digs into the tea sandwiches with fervor with Lian soon following in his example.

You, on the other hand, are supposed to be on a liquid diet for the next few days while your body slowly gets used to you incorporating solid foods back into your diet. This means that soup and tea are all you get. It doesn’t make your cravings go away in the slightest, however. You watch enviously as Roy and Lian scarf down the snack cakes that are calling your name.

“Maybe if I just have a little bite,” you try, but Jason just hands you the soup he’d made from scratch with Lian for you. During which, Roy had been cuddled up against you while you dozed in and out of consciousness.

“Let’s just stick to soups and smoothies for at least another day, babe,” Jason insists and rubs your palm gently as if to apologize. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you woke up.” He holds a distant look in his dark green eyes, reminding you of the pain you’d caused in your absence.

You pout, crossing your arms petulantly as you allow him to feed you. The soup is flavorful yet gentle on your upset stomach. 

“Do you like the soup, mommy?”

Your heart fills with warmth as the liquid slides down your sore throat. 

“It’s amazing.” You uncross your arms to ruffle lightly at your hair. “You’re an incredible soup chef,” you praise her.

“I’m the best soup chef in the whole entire world,” Lian agrees. She goes to retaliate by ruffling your hair, too but Roy holds her back, nearly spilling his food on the duvet in the process.

Jason shoots him a glare that begs him to fuck up the clean sheets, but Roy’s too busy reminding Lian to be gentle to notice. You, on the other hand, drink in the adorable sight as Jason offers you another spoonful.

“Thank you, guys,” you say genuinely. “For all of this. It feels good to be back.”

“Feels good to have you back,” Roy responds.

“And let’s keep it that way,” Lian adds sassily with an adorable pout you know she’s picking up from you. 

Cute.

“I promise.” And you mean it. 

You refuse to let anyone come between you and your family ever again. 

Not this time.

•••

You haven’t been sleeping well ever since the coma. 

It seems like every time you shut your eyes, visions that you can’t make sense of are growing stronger and stronger. It’s getting to the point that you’re lucky to catch three hours of sleep, if that. Regardless of the lack of sleep, you’ve been doubling down on recovery and training. You’ve worked hard enough that you’ve not only made some insane progress in your overall healing but also in getting back in the field.

Yes, you’d been in a coma but you weren’t crippled. Far from it, in fact.

With Lian being off with Alfred for your bi-weekly date night, it was something neither had any logical reason to refuse. Especially not after you’d voiced feeling left out on missions. 

This is how you end up a week and a half later at the sleaziest dive in Gotham- The Stacked Deck.

The brick building itself is completely rundown, complete with a flickering neon sign gracing a dented pole that someone had obviously run into a few decades prior. Outside, C-list villains and gangs of motorcyclists loiter around the weed-covered, decrepit parking lot. 

Roy insists on taking the minivan so you can sit this one out, something you and Jason fight against, after all, it would only draw unnecessary attention to your crew. Eventually, Jason concedes, which is how the three of you end up cramped into the busted minivan sans a license plate. 

When you pull up, all eyes easily fall on the out-of-place vehicle, though everyone goes back to minding their business as soon as Hood and Arsenal emerge in full uniform from the beat-up mom car.

They’re on a mission to find out any information they can on the Court’s whereabouts from the contact they’d tracked down while you’d been in a coma. He was the only possible tie they could find to the elusive owl society, but, luckily, he’d been described as the type to squeal. 

You, on the other hand?

Yes, you’re donning Cardinal’s vinyl red garb. However, you’ve still been banished to the car. You sigh as you lean up against the peeling window tint. Part of you wonders why you begged to come along if all you were going to be doing was sitting in a locked car. Hell, even dogs have more rights than this shit, you think bitterly. 

It’s hot as fuck outside even though it’s well past midnight and you sincerely regret your decision to suit up. You wait a few more minutes in the heat before you give up. Luckily, the shitty car is old enough to have window cranks, so you’re able to crack the window a bit without the keys. This minuscule action, however, ends up drawing more attention than you’d expected. Okay, no worries, you tell yourself as you see movement coming closer out of the corner of your eye. Just play it cool.

You remain facing forward, refusing eye contact with a bulky-looking dude that sidles up and knocks on the window you’re attempting to crank shut as nonchalantly as possible.

What the fuck is wrong with men?

You keep staring at the dashboard in front of you and try to ignore them, but the man keeps knocking and is soon joined by his gaggle of friends.

“Guess I missed the Halloween memo, huh, sweetheart?” the burly man says, tugging at his leather vest. He then throws the cigarette in his mouth to the ground and stomps it out in, what you assume is supposed to be, a menacing action, but you merely roll your eyes under your mask.

However, the eye roll stops as soon as your eyes land on the huge owl tattoo that peeks out from behind his ratted white shirt.

Holy shit. There’s no way…

This is the dude Jason and Roy are after! 

He landed right in your fucking lap, and you know you’d be stupid to let this opportunity pass. Just because you aren’t necessarily in the mood to pummel these chauvinistic pigs into the pavement, but it doesn’t mean you won’t.

His buddies exchange a few words, but everything said is ultimately muffled by the glass separating you.

You can’t imagine what’s holding your partners up, but you know that you can’t wait much longer. You refuse to risk your only lead when you know damn well that you can handle these punks on your own.

You’re soon startled from your thoughts when one of the assholes shoots a bullet and ends up shattering the side mirror.

“That’s it,” you mutter in frustration as you unlock the door. You slowly slink out of the car, closing the door effortlessly behind you as the men take in your shorter form.

“I’m sorry,” one spouts as you slowly twist one wrist, then the other to stretch them out, “is it supposed to be scary? Because all I can see is you shaking that ass on me in that tight number you got on there, girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the closest man to the left of your target snorts. “No parking zone sweetie, but you can park here,” the man gestures to his dick with a sinister smirk, “all night long.” 

The men all get a decent laugh, thinking their joke is so fucking original or something, but you feel like gagging and not on account of the putrid smell only dives like this can produce.

“Ever seen a gun this big before, doll?” the man with the owl tattoo finally chirps up again as he taunts you with the gun that ruined Roy’s car.

You round on him slowly, putting more distance between yourself and the car, tilting your head ever so slightly as you do. Nervous laughter erupts from the group like they can’t tell whether to take you seriously or not. Guess they’ll find out soon enough. 

“I don’t need guns,” is all you respond.

The men around you ‘ooo!’ as they punch each other jokingly and close in on you, but you don’t give them a chance to do much more before you attack.

You start with the men closest to you, crossing your arms to grab them before uncrossing them and sending their heads into each other’s with a loud thump! They crumple to the ground in front of their awe-struck friends. When the remaining men finally look up from the men on the pavement to you, you shrug nonchalantly.

You don’t allow them any time to recoup before you rush forward and knock two more to the ground through the sheer force of your body alone.

Without missing a beat, you spin around to roundhouse kick one of the bikers who’d been attempting to tackle you from behind. He stumbles to the ground where you deliver a swift kick to his head, knocking him out instantly. The other two men on the ground, you deliver the same fate as you duck and dodge nearly all the haymakers being sent your way.

Five down, five to go.

Your new focus is on dodging the barrage of bullets that are now being sent your way. You flip onto and over the roof of the car to gain some sort of barrier as you wait out their reload.

They start yelling, whether it’s directed at each other or you, you’re unsure. One sound you are sure of is the sound of an empty round.

When you hear the tell-tale signs of empty clicks, you storm out from behind the car, taking the men by surprise as you send the biker closest to you barreling into the distracted group of reloading men. Everyone, except for your target with the owl tattoo, scatters to the ground like bowling pins.

It’s then that your target takes aim at you. 

You’d been expecting as much and seamlessly do a backflip, then cartwheel into a front flip to avoid his bullets. Once you come upon him, he’s out of bullets once again. You use this as the perfect opportunity to kick the offending weapon out of his beefy hands.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks, panicked.

Instead of responding, you sock him in the face with a jab, followed by an uppercut, before spinning around and crouching to duck the fist of one of the remaining men. The fist originally sent your way ends up landing against your target and sends the man with the owl tattoo sprawling backward.

You waste no time in using your crouched position to stick your leg out and trip the man. As soon as gravity takes hold, you pop back up, spinning around to land a sickening punch on his face before he can make contact with the dirty ground. 

You’re panting slightly as you stand.

The three remaining men you’d knocked to the ground mere moments prior are back up and on their feet. It seems they realized guns were futile and resorted to switch blades. 

Pathetic.

Your body moves with practiced ease as you manage to avoid their blade’s short reach. Before they can even realize you’ve retaliated, you grab the underside of two men’s wrists and push them backward with enough force to send them tumbling. If there was any doubt before about you not being physically ready to go out in the field again, you know it’s been sufficiently crushed with how you’re handling the situation at hand. Not that any of these men posed any sort of challenge outside of the sheer number they shared as a group. 

The only standing man growls animalistically as he snarls down at you, “You dumb fucking bitch.”

“No one’s ever accused me of being dumb,” you respond airily as you bolt to the side to avoid his heavy fists. You block his cross, sending back one of your own and managing to land directly on his dirty cheeks. 

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” he screams as he interlocks his hands over his head and rushes toward you to bring them down atop your head.

You don’t even try to stop him. No, you just step slightly to the side, leaving him off balance as his hands make contact with nothing.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice the man with the owl tattoo slowly crawling for the door to the bar.

That’s a no-no.

You’re playing too much. You know you need to stop fucking around and put an end to this dumb shit before your only lead can get away.

The determined biker lets out a war cry as he and the remaining two men charge at you. They get a few good hits on you, but ultimately, you knock them each out before bolting over to your escaping target.

His grubby hand is clasped around the door and threatens to open it. The target eyes your advancing form with fear and falters slightly as he tries to turn the knob, but you’re on him too fast. Your heel makes contact with the door and its frame in quick succession, effectively preventing the man from opening the door. With this, his eyes follow up the shiny expanse of your leg, which you use as the perfect opportunity to throw his already weak form off balance. 

“Fuck!” He lands on the ground with a pained curse but you’re not letting him off the hook just yet. You pin him with ease and he soon gives up on struggling and moves into the bartering phase of getting your ass handed to you. “LET ME GO! What do you want?” he asks breathlessly. His bloodied face is evidently panicked as he attempts to look beyond your mask. “You want money? I’ll give you money! Name your price!”

You chuckle lowly, “I don’t want your fucking money. I want answers.”

“Answers,” he nods enthusiastically. “I got those. I got answers, sweetheart. I-.”

You cut him off with a stark slap across his beaten face. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you growl, “I’m not your sweetheart.” 

“You’re not!” he agrees quickly and enthusiastically. “You’re right.” He’s trying way too hard to be agreeable. It’d be funny if you weren’t thrumming with excitement for the information you were about to get. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Promise. Is that an option? Can we do that?” he babbles, practically squealing when you tighten your grip on him. “Please! Anything, just let me go,” he whines pathetically.

You lower yourself in one fell swoop so that your vinyl-covered is against his ear. “Ever heard of The Court of Owls?” you ask menacingly.

He stops struggling in an instant, looking around with greater fear than before. Maybe everything Damian had said really was true…

“Are you trying to get us both killed?” The man looks up at you through his wince.

Your eyes narrow, disregarding the warning. 

“What do you know?”

•••

When Red Hood and Arsenal emerge a few minutes later, they find you leaning up against the car with one of your legs posted against it, surrounded by the knocked-out motorcycle gang. 

You notice them falter briefly in their step as they take in the scene

“The fuck happened out here?” Red Hood asks you incredulously. Meanwhile, Arsenal’s busy lamenting the shot-out side window and subsequent bullet holes in the car’s body.

“Someone pissed me off,” you reply simply.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Hood responds wryly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off as the three of you climb back in the car, “what took you guys so long, anyway?”

“We didn’t find The Court of Owl’s dude, but we did find an ex-Cadmus scientist, babe,” Arsenal says.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” The redhead nods, turning around in the passenger seat. His verdant eyes rake up and down your form greedily as he bites lightly at his lower lip without seeming to realize it. “You look good, princess.”

“Code names, Arsenal,” Jason warns, but even you voice your discontent.

“It’s just us in the car,” you come to Roy’s defense. “Should be alright, right?”

“Fine,” Jason gives in with a sigh. With this, he turns off his voice modulator before zipping out of the parking lot and onto the desolate road.

“Cool,” you say, meeting his eyes cheekily in the rearview. 

He rolls his eyes mirthfully before completing your inside joke, “Cool.”

You allow yourself to roll up your mask past your nose, regretting it when you catch a whiff of your b.o. and wince. “Gross,” you wince.

“Yeah, but what caused the grossness was hot, so it all kinda cancels out,” Roy says, tapping at his head. “That’s logic.”

“It’s… definitely something,” you snort when he reaches around his seat to smack you on the thigh.

“You sound just like Jason sometimes. I swear I’m dating two of him.” 

You stick your tongue out in response, but it only causes the redhead to unbuckle and stumble into the backseat to chase after it. You merely bat at Roy, offering him a chaste kiss instead. 

“So, did you guys leave the interrogation to me, or did you actually get any info?”

“You got the info for the court meeting?!” Roy asks, sounding impressed.

You don’t like how surprised they both seem. Like you’ve somehow been incapable in past interrogations when… oh, yeah, you were the only one getting answers. You don’t know if it’s because you haven’t been sleeping well recently or if you’re just coming down from the adrenaline of the fight, but all you can think about is how their response is straight bullshit.

“The information we came here to get? Yeah,” you reply as you shake your head in frustration. You can’t believe either of them, let alone their lack of faith in your abilities. “You know, I love how I keep having to prove my worth to you guys in the field, and by love, I mean hate,” you finish with a glare. 

Now, you have the information. What you still don’t seem to have is respect from your partners.

“Hey, that’s not what we meant at all.” 

You ignore Jason. “Just because I got hurt doesn’t mean I don’t have what it takes. You even agreed,” you turn to Roy beside you, “it could’ve happened to any of us.”

“Baby,” Roy starts to caress your vinyl-clad arm, but you shake him off.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “No, baby. Not right now.” You sit up straighter in your seat, looking between Jason’s blank stare in the rearview and Roy’s concerned face beside you. “You guys believed in me, even when I didn’t, so why doubt me now? Why continue to make me pay for something caused by random chance when I keep proving-.”

“You don’t have shit to prove to us,” Jason cuts you off, cooly.

You huff, crossing your arms and slinking back into your seat.

“What’s this actually about, baby?” Roy questions gently.

You’d been working your ass off to get back in the field, but you can’t deny you’ve been scared. You’ve had brushes with death before, but nothing like that. It was too close and maybe you’re the one doubting yourself. They seem to understand, though, at the very least with how supportive they’re being. Well, either that or your words and Connor’s have finally gotten through to them.

You feel Jason’s familiar gaze on you in the mirror, but you refuse to meet it. 

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you finally admit.

Jason’s eyes flicker over to Roy in the rearview, finding his eyes already there to meet him. You follow their nonverbal conversation with your eyes, biting back the eye roll because you do honestly find the way they can communicate like that really cute.

“Like you said, you’re the one who ended up with the info,” Roy says as if it’s obvious. “You haven’t even been in the field for that long and you’ve definitely showed us up time and time again.”

Through the mirror, you watch as Roy’s eyes encourage Jason to say something.

After a beat, Jason clears his throat awkwardly. “You, uh, do really know how to hold your own,” Jason adds gracelessly. Regardless, Roy still nods encouragingly, leaving Jason to blush and turn his focus back toward the road. 

“Whatever you decide to do, baby, we’re here for you but don’t think for a second that you’re not cut out for this shit,” Roy looks at you pointedly, “because you are. You’re a badass, sexy,” his arms trail up the outside of yours, “intelligent, freaky as fuck programming mastermind…” Roy trails off. “I forgot where I was going with that and now, I’m just hard.”

You know he’s just trying to make you laugh, so you allow yourself to give in.

“I love you guys.” 

You’ve never felt so grateful to have the two of them by your side, especially right now, when you’re feeling so unsure of yourself and your abilities.

Pretty soon, you’re pulling up to the manor.

As soon as you arrive, two of the tires pop. Alfred immediately gets to work right after he sends the three of you off to change into civies. Meanwhile, Bruce eyes the vehicle, well, what’s left of it, with distaste. He’s wearing his suit, though he removes the cowl when the three of you approach. 

“I have a loaner car for tonight, but feel free to keep it,” Bruce says as he looks over the lemon. “We’re having the luncheon this Sunday, so you can just bring it back then.”

Roy glares. “My girl runs just fine, thank you very much.” He runs his hands protectively over the ruined exterior as if to prove it.

Bruce moves on swiftly after this, obviously not understanding the bond between Roy and his shitty minivan.

“So, I take it your interrogation tonight went well?” Bruce asks.

“Technically, two interrogations,” Roy corrects.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “You guys never told me what you figured out.”

“You led your own investigation?” Bruce turns to you, seemingly impressed by the recent revelations.

Jason crosses his arms. “She’s really good at it, as it turns out,” Jason says with a hint of malice. You can’t tell if he’s salty thinking about your intimidation over Deadshot, or if he’s protecting you from Bruce’s comment on account of how you reacted to his and Roy’s comment in the car earlier. “She’s more than capable of holding her own even after everything.”

Okay, definitely the latter. You can’t help but beam at his support, finally feeling like you’re on the same team again.

“What, like it’s hard?” you respond playfully. Bruce easily holds up his hands in faux surrender, though looks thoroughly impressed. You turn to your partners before asking, “So?”

“Well, we found an ex-scientist from Cadmus in the bar being used as a footrest.” You can’t help but quirk a brow at Roy’s odd recap. “Told us that the Winter Rose Ivy sold carries a symbiotic protein, which she conveniently left out when you were beating her ass.”

Symbiotic?

Could that mean…?

Maybe your hunch over the origin of your visions in the subway tunnels had been right.

“The data I gathered during my own analysis of the stem you brought in from Cadmus seems to support that as well,” Bruce adds.

So, there was no doubt that the Cadmus scientist had been telling the truth.

“So, whatever they’re concocting is both water soluble and symbiotic?” That doesn’t sound good at all.

“Not to mention the stolen microwave emitter,” Roy says grimly. Before you can even ask, he shakes his head, sending his red hair sprawling in front of his eyes, “No, he doesn’t know where the machine is. Says he didn’t have access to that level of information but that another team was running hypotheses on the matter.”

“And you still don’t believe in killing these fuckers, Bruce?” the raven grumbles. Everyone turns to Jason. “Still think everyone deserves a second chance- mercy?” he scoffs. “We’re talking about a large-scale attack on, well, who knows what and we’re just supposed to sit here and shove our thumbs up our asses until it comes? Why don’t we prevent-!”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Jason,” Bruce cuts Jason off tersely. 

“If not now, when?” Jason’s arms spread out like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “When millions of people are being murdered by The Court, no, by him.”

You gulp.

One look at Roy proves he’s ready to step in at any time should any issues arise, but Bruce is already walking away. He throws you the keys, which you catch easily as he tugs his cowl over his head.

“I refuse to sit here and debate ethics with a man who's killed for pleasure.” It’s cruel- blunt and Bruce’s words do nothing to stop the anger already brewing over in Jason. “I’d hoped being around her morals would’ve smacked some sense into you by now, but it’s clear you’re a lost cause.”

“I’m a lost cause?” Jason tries to act as if he finds the situation funny, but everyone can clearly see the tears pooling behind his emerald eyes.

“Please,” Bruce looks unimpressed, “there’s only so much redemption one man can accomplish before he diminishes it all with repeated, skewed antics.”

Roy steps in before Jason can manage a step forward, holding him back from going after Bruce’s retreating form.

“Yeah? Well, I refuse to sit here and take this hot and cold shit from you. You forgive me one day, are disappointed in me the next. You hold me at arm’s length for cleaning up the streets like you never could over some bullshit antiquated sense of morality. I am necessary evil, sure, but it doesn’t make any of the things you do any less evil either, Bruce.”

It’s not Bruce anymore when he smacks Jason across the face.

The resounding sound, coupled with your gasp, lingers as silence overtakes the room.

Seconds tick by. Maybe minutes, you’re not entirely sure.

Your body thrums with an intensity usually saved for battle. 

Everything’s fucked.

“This is not up for discussion,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Well, it would leave no room if it were anyone but Jason. “You follow my rules or face the consequences.”

Jason laughs darkly, keeping his head turned from the original impact as his shoulders slowly shake before slowly turning to face his father again.

“Still the same old Bruce, yeah?” Your eyes are still wide not quite believing what you’ve just witnessed. “Keep your fucking car. I don’t need shit from you. Never have, never will,” Jason spits.

With this, Jason spins on his heel and storms out of the cave. Roy makes to follow him, then stops. He opens his mouth, finger poised at the ready, but the words never come out. Instead, he just shakes his head, red hair flying in front of his face before throwing a dirty glare over his shoulder and following after Jason.

Your feet, however, remain planted.

“I always kind of hoped your ways would rub off on him,” he says with a light sigh. Bruce isn’t even looking at you, he’s just blankly watching after Jason’s retreating form. You don’t say anything, still completely stupefied by everything that transpired. “Just make sure his way doesn’t rub off on you. You’re better than that.”

You don’t recognize the man in front of you. Regardless, he seems similar enough to the descriptions Jason always warned you about in the past and you never believed. You still can’t necessarily bring yourself to believe Jason’s words even still. Call it naivety, call it stupidity, call it excusing it all… but you feel frozen. It’s as if two completely different version of Bruce are trying to combine into one right in from of your very eyes, yet your mind continues to resist their complete merge.

You’re shaking. Your entire body continues to thrum as if electricity is coursing through your veins as you just stand there. You want to leave, you want to comfort your love, you want to ask your dad why he- just why, but you just stand there. 

“If you’ve forgiven him once, surely you’ll forgive him again,” you say, but in a way, you’re asking. You need to know if he’d be able to drop you so easily for not following his code perfectly. You need to know if your place in the family is a conditional circumstance. 

You don’t want to know, but you need to. 

Would he really be able to keep you at arm’s length and all the other like he did Jason? 

“Forgiveness, when asked upon so many times, isn’t asking for forgiveness- it’s asking for acceptance,” he says lowly. “I refuse to give that to him.”

His cruel words finally spur life back into you.

You have your answer whether you like it or not.

Regardless of how Bruce would treat you, you know how Jason treats you. Even all those years ago when he disappeared, he was still there for you, still protecting you. You want to do right by Bruce, but you need to do right by Jason.

Bruce seems to think you’re leaving and makes to walk away but you stop him with a firm grip on his forearm. He looks down at the contact briefly, quizzically meeting your eyes. 

“So, per your words, Jason’s accepting this disgusting behavior from you? Because I can’t count how many times he’s told me he’s forgiven you, Bruce,” you say. The words are coming out of your mouth before you even realize it. “If you ever touch him like that again, especially in front of me, it won’t be his forgiveness you’ll be begging for.”

You place the Rolls Royce keys into the open palm of his gauntlet and pick up the minivan keys instead. 

Alfred’s already replaced both tires at this point and that’s good enough for you. You quickly help him remove the tire jack before peeling out of the manor garage, heart pounding intensely all the while.

When you pull around, Jason’s nearing the end of the manor driveway with Roy following closely behind. You can hear their loud voices as they traverse the infamous Wayne gravel that you yourself have stormed down, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Roy looks pissed, Jason looks like he’s disassociating. 

Roy shoots you a grateful look when he notices you. Probably because he would’ve had to sneak back in for his metal baby later had you not pulled up in it.

What do you even say to Jason? “Sorry that the man I look up to…” No. 

You can’t.

You view Bruce in a different light after tonight- Jason as well. It makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Logically, you know everything will go back to normal, that you’ll show up to the luncheon and Jason will avoid his father just as much as Bruce avoids him. You know that a month from now, Bruce will make a half-assed apology that devolves into him lecturing Jason over the same things and Jason will sit there and take it because, at the end of the day, he loves and looks up to that man as much as you do. Though Jason will never admit it, his actions leak it.

“I’m sorry. I understand what you mean now.” You go to say more, but he cuts you off.

“Enough,” Jason barks, leaving your mouth to click shut in an instant. Roy sits in the back, wanting to touch Jason, but he shrugs off his touch every time. He slinks down slowly in his seat, crossing his arms menacingly as he does. “Someone change the subject before I talk myself into going back there and starting an all-out war with the cunt,” he growls.

Change of subject? You can do that. You’ve had something on your mind for a while and, you can’t deny that you also want to get the slap out of your head. Regardless of your parent's carelessness surrounding you growing up, neither cared enough about you to ever lay a hand on you. Today honestly shook you to your core.

“I think that the symbiotic nature of the serum explains why I’ve been seeing all these visions,” you hesitate slightly before continuing. “It could also be the reason why I’ve been feeling so sick recently.”

“You’ve been feeling sick?” Roy questions slowly, almost cautiously. You already know he’s thinking back to the first pregnancy scare. Well, it’s about as good a time as any to tell them about the second scare, especially now that you think you know what caused it.

“When we were in those test tubes, I woke up. I heard what the scientists were saying.” Your face scrunches up as you try to remember as much of their conversation as you can. You sigh, “That there were two subjects in my tube.” You glance quickly in the rearview to see their shocked faces. “Obviously I thought, you know,” you trail off uncomfortably. “I took a pregnancy test, though. It came back negative, which just further proves I’ve already received a dose of their new serum or, at the very least, some sort of variation of it. If it causes me to see Joker’s thoughts, imagine what that could do on a wide-scale attack.”

Just like you thought, they both freeze up at the word ‘pregnancy’ before acting way too nonchalant. 

“Oh.”

You can hardly keep yourself from rolling your eyes. “Guys, that’s not the point,” you huff. “I think it all has to do with the new serum. It’s possible that, at the dockyard last year, Poison Ivy had already sold them a stem and I was the lab rat, just like Two Face said my contract stated.”

“You’re saying you think your contract is back on?” Jason asks dubiously. You’re glad, at the very least, that he seems to be more present again.

You sigh, “I’m saying, I don’t think it ever ended.”

Having to deal with psychopathic killers hunting you down for a large insurance scheme was hard enough when it was just Joker, Two Face and your parents. Now Cadmus and, seemingly, The Court of Owls, along with Joker and his new lackey, was something entirely different.

How are you going to survive this again?

“They’re coming to collect what they never got, then,” Roy surmises. “It’s actually starting to somehow make sense. If they tested out the new serum on you at the dockyards, that would explain why I never felt strong effects like you did after being in the tube. Do you think it has to do with multiple doses?” Roy asks.

“That could explain why the effects of the injection at Cadmus seemed to strengthen my visions,” you say with a shake of your head as you pull into the apartment garage. “Whatever this concoction is, it’s extremely dangerous. Especially in their hands.”

“It’s him,” Jason says with disgust. “He wants control.”

“Or to drive people mad,” Roy supplies as he helps Jason out of the car. Jason surprisingly lets him and you lightly jog to catch up to their longer gait.  

Whether or not Roy was calling you crazy, you didn’t know. What you did know, however, was that you can’t deny how heavily these visions have weighed on your psyche.

“Well, if you both fully believe me now, then maybe it’s time we test my visions again,” you say. “We need to go back and collect a sample of the subway water. Maybe we’ll be able to find Joker’s accomplice, too.”

Anything to get the upper hand… You definitely don’t need a repeat of last time happening. Not when the enemies are this powerful and the stakes even higher.

You refuse to lose it all. 

You refuse to go down without a fight.

A/N: ik I said i'd upload this friday, but i had a really good day and wanted to share this early :D i'm thinking of changing my upload dates to mon/tues EST as a heads up too btw

be sure to check out my fic update for more info on what you can expect for this month :p

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[specialagentlokitty]

Castle x reader - my badass hero

FRANK CASTLE X BADASS READER ONS OMS OMG PLEASE LIKE SPIDEER READER AND ROMANCE PLWASE HOKY SHIT - @nyxiethesimp 💜

Walking into the precinct, you were aware of all the gazes on you, and you pushed the man forward you were holding.

“You win again.” Beckett said.

Grinning under the mask a little bit, you jumped on a desk and sat in it, swinging your legs back and forth.

“You called for help, I helped, it’s what I do.”

“You’re a vigilante, last time I checked that is illegal.”

“Yeah but I’m on your side, so, in a way isn’t that a win for you Detective?”

She hummed a little bit, slapping you in the back of the head with some files.

“Get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You jumped of the desk, holding your hand out your shot a web at the flask that was sat on the table and waved it in the air.

“Later!”

“Hey come on!” Beckett yelled.

You headed back to the elevator and stood in it, giving her a little wave as the doors closed.

Leaning against it, you waited for the doors to open again, and you grinned even more as you stepped out, handing the flask towards the man gawking at you.

“No way…”

“Heya Castle. Take this back to Beckett for me.”

He took it without a work and watched as you made your way towards the doors.

“Wait! Wait! Come on!”

Castle tried to chase after you, and just a he got outside he watched as you went swinging into the distance.

He just stood there in awe.

Of course Castle knew where to find you, so later on that night he made his way to the top of his apartment building.

“You could just come inside, like a normal person.”

You shrugged a little.

“It’s more fun this way.”

“Right, right. So… am I ever going to get a tour of the city like that?” He grinned.

Castle walked over, placing his hands on your shoulders and frowned as he pulled his hand away.

“You’re bleeding, are you alright?”

You swatted his hand away, turning around to look at him.

“It’ll heal in no time, get outta here.”

“I live here!”

You grinned a bit, standing up, pacing back and forth.

“Yup, and it’s so easy to break into your building, nice clothes by the way, probably should get some locks though.”

“You didn’t..”

You laughed, jumping over him, landing on the other side.

“Nah, I didn’t. I did take some food from your fridge though, being a vigilante don’t pay all that well you know.”

“Are we at least going to take a look at that wound?”

“Nah, I gotta go, later.”

Jogging over, you pulled the bottom part of your mask up and kissed his jaw before running towards the edge and jumping.

Castle rolled his eyes and made his way back down the stairs.

He knew you broke into his apartment most nights, it’s why he always had extra food.

But he had never seen you bleed before, and it did worry you, despite how he knew you could look after yourself.

So, he kept himself glued to the TV, watching the news waiting for you to appear.

And when you did you were in a clean suit, no sign on injury as you helped the NYPD tackle a few thugs who had been targeting stores.

He sat there, popcorn in a bowl in his lap as he watched you dodging attack after attack.

He was practically on the edge of his sit, these guys didn’t seem to be playing around.

But soon you got them down, stuck in a trap of webs that you had made, and after some small talk with the officers you were gone.

He carried on watching the news, and soon enough he heard a small clatter come from his kitchen.

“Seriously! Just knock!”

“Shut up!”

He chuckled.

Castle sat there, waiting for you to come through, and after a short while you did, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts.

“You’re going to run out of suits you known.”

“It’s fine, I’ll make more.”

You stood next to him, taking some popcorn from him as you stood watching the news.

“Ah. No. You’ve done enough. Sit.”

Castle quickly changed the channel.

You sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder, and when he was sure that you weren’t looking he reached over, trying to get a look at your injury.

You quickly brought your hand up, grabbing his wrist, tilting your head back in order to look at him.

“Don’t.” You warned.

“Just a look, please?”

“It’s fine.”

He sighed, moving his hand away from your shoulder, placing it on your head instead.

“All I’m saying is that you need to be more careful. Or even better stop.”

“I thought you liked a badass, crime fighting vigilante Richard castle.”

“Not when you come over bleeding and injured.”

“Eh, get used to it.”

Castle sighed, turning to face you.

“But you shouldn’t, you can get a safer job.”

You turned to him, standing up.

“Castle it’s not that simple, I got given this power for a reason, I need to use it. Somebody has to protect these people.”

“That’s what the police are for, come on you work with them anyway, why not work with them?”

You scoffed, shaking your head a little bit.

“You’re just like them you know, you just want me to follow their rules. When we met I saved your ass when they wouldn’t. When I revealed my identity you swore you would keep it secret and support me.”

“I do support you (Y/N) but come on!”

“I’m not going to listen to this crap.”

You began to walk away and he rushed over, taking your hand and you spun around, webbing his hands together.

He raised them, giving you a small smile.

“I’m sorry, okay? Just stay?”

You sighed, pulling the webs from his hands and you pushed him away from you as you went to go lay down on his couch.

“Next time I’ll leave you in the wall.”

“Noted.”

Castle walked back over and sat next to you, and he smiled as he looked down at you.

He took your hand in his to hold it, and he could feel the small scars along your skin.

Small battle wounds, and he didn’t mind them.

It reminded him of who you were, what you could do.

That you were a badass superhero, his badass superhero

[sensei-venus]

I have to get my wisdom teeth removed soon and I'm scared. Could you maybe do something with poly hawk and moon taking care of reader after she gets her wisdom teeth out and she's really loopy and frightened by a lot

(Unedited) (I tried really hard on this, but letting y’all know, I don't have wisdom teeth. Idk how or why but I don't so I don't have to worry about them.💀) (Mentions of blood & teeth pulling)

“Whyyyyy am I-here???” Reader moaned out around the multiple cotton balls that were shoved in her mouth. She whimpers and looks around the dentist's lobby. Her hand travels up to her face and over her cheeks.

It's quickly pulled away by Moon who just gently shushes her. Moon wants to laugh just a little but she knows Reader isn't all there. It wasn't right to laugh at the poor girl.

Hawk looks over at the two girls before signing the last of the paperwork from the dentist. He had to sign a few forms about the aftercare for Reader’s mouth. She had all over her wisdom teeth pulled in one sitting.

“Moonnnnyyy why does my face feel funny?? Can we get food? Pleeeesssd?” Reader starts to tear up as Moon starts to help get her standing. Hawk grabs the small aid kit the dentist staff gave him a long with pamphlet on how to take care of her gums, and a small prescription for some pay meds. Hopefully, Moon would keep the disoriented girl busy in the car while he ran into the local pharmacy to pick up her new meds. He watched as she struggled to move with Moon out of the lobby. He walked behind them just in case Reader tried to take a tumble.

Their girlfriend was still outing of it from the anesthesia.

Hawk slowly helped get her into the car with the help of Moon by his side. They struggled as she tried to borderline escape them. Trying to get out of the vehicle from the other side. He was quick to lock the door with his keys.

“Sweety calm down. We can get you yogurt when we get home. It's nice and cold and will feel so good on your gums.”

“My gums?? What's wrong with my gums?”

Hawk got into the car and started the engine. Keeping his eyes on the road he tried his best to listen to their conversation in the back seat. Moon sat next to the other girl stroking her thigh.

Suddenly Reader started to whimper and cry, making Hawk look back in the mirror.

“Why is there bloodddd?! Where are my teeth? Hawk, they took my teeth.”

“Babe, they pulled your wisdom teeth, the nice dentist said they had to go because they were starting to hurt you remember?”

“They stole my teeth!!” she sobbed as Moon tried her best to hold back a laugh. Hawk was in the same boat trying to keep his own laughter down. He coughed into his hand. His eyes go back to the road ahead of them. Luckily the trip to the pharmacy wasn't that long and Moon was able to talk Reader out of going inside with him.

Doing his best he grabbed a few extra ice packs and picked up her painkillers. He hoped that those would be enough to get her through the next week or two as she healed.

The ride back home was perfect besides Reader's occasional mumbling.

When they where finally back hike everything started to settle down. Reader was ushered in front of the tv in their room with a newly frozen ice pack and her first round of painkillers. Moon brought her the fluid and bottle she needed to clean out her raw and open gums. She helped remove the nasty blood and spot-soaked cotton balls from her mouth and the old gaze.

For once Hawk was happy that he had seen and dealt with a lot of nasty shit in karate. Most of the wounds and gross cuts he suffered in karate were nothing like this. But still, he felt trained enough to help wash Reader’s gums out. She moaned and tried to jerk away from him at first. But with some help, he was able to get her mouth and gums rinsed out.

Moon shivered as she caught a quick glance at the girl spitting out the gross red-tinted water into the small bowl they gave her.

“I love you guys~” Reader said as Moon stuffed a spoon full of half-frozen yogurt onto her mouth. Her eyes fluttered as the cool food passed over her sore gums. She slumped into the mound of pillows behind her.

Hawk grabbed the tv remote and scanned though one of their streaming apps. He found one of her favorite long movies and clicked it on for her. Lazily she opened her eyes a little and watched the intro startup. She smiled a little at the sound of the intro music and narration coming through the speakers. Moon spooned another mouth full of food into her mouth and cuddled up next to her.

Hawk felt a small smile creep onto his face. He pulled one of the blankets from the bottom of the bed and placed it over the two girls. Slowly he drifted over to them, sliding in next to Reader.

He sighed one last time as Reader cuddled onto his side. Her head rested on his chest as they watched the movie.

It was definitely going to be a long few weeks, but at least they had a crap ton of organic yogurt and painkillers.