#i had some sort of mission and i also found a baby seal who i picked up and was carrying around as i wandered around

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[thatfanficstuff]

Unexpected - Stucky x Reader

Pairing Grouping: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Steamy fluff with a dash cupful of foul mouthed Reader and super soldier. Also liberal use of sugar and baby but no sugar babies.

A/N: short fluff is no 3300+ of very steamy fluff. I’m gonna go with 16+ on this one folks. Oh, and STUCKY!!!

***

They didn’t think anything of it at first. It was just little things after all. Things that hardly warranted their attention. It wasn’t until Tony mentioned it that they began to take notice.

“Hey, Capsicle, you and tin man been sneaking off to the store without telling anyone? You could at least ask if we needed anything? I’ve been out of blueberries for days,” Tony said one night as the team sat to watch a movie.

“What are you talking about, Stark?” Steve asked with a furrowed brow.

Tony gestured at the bag of gummy worms that you and Bucky were currently sharing. “Just that you two seem to be the only ones around here that never run out of your favorite goodies. You could have stocked up for everyone. That’s all I’m saying.” He shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand through the air as if it wasn’t important, though clearly it was if he’d brought it up.  

You rolled your eyes. “Tony, you’re a billionaire. Pay someone to do your shopping and have it delivered, you big baby.”

The super soldiers on either side of you laughed and you settled more firmly into your seat between them. Tony started to say something else but Natasha smacked his arm. “Shut up. Movie’s starting.”

He grumbled which brought another smile to your face. He really was an overgrown kid sometimes. Really, you were just pleased that he’d shut the hell up. After all, if you’d wanted your crushes to know you were secretly taking care of them, you would have done it not so secretly. Liking both of them was awkward enough without them being aware of it, thank you very much.

Honestly, until that day, Steve had just assumed that Tony had someone that replenished the food in the kitchenette on their floor. True, they’d never seen anyone, but it wasn’t like it happened by magic. It was just over a week later when Steve glanced up from his drawing when Bucky walked into their living room. “Hey Buck, you didn’t do any cleaning did you?”

Bucky snorted. “There’s never anything to clean is there?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, I noticed that to. I asked Stark if he had a service that did our floor. You know what he said?”

“I’m guessing he said no or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Bucky answered as he sat across the table from his boyfriend.

“He asked if I wanted him to get someone in to help us out.”

Confusion caused Bucky’s brow to furrow as he leaned forward. “So, someone has been coming into our space, replacing our food and cleaning up after us and we have no idea who it is?”

“Looks like it.”

There was a stretch of silence before Bucky asked, “Why?”

***

It started when the boys were on a mission. You’d raided Buck’s candy stash for movie night and before you replaced it, you’d done an inventory and picked up everything else they were needing. It wasn’t like it took much more effort. And when you’d seen how happy they were when they arrived home to all their favorites, that was all the incentive you needed to keep doing it.

You made sure to refill their stash when they were on mission or out for training so they wouldn’t catch you. There was always the chance they’d return when you weren’t expecting it, but the odds were slim. After all, you made a living by sneaking around unseen, hence the name Shadow. The cleaning started when they were gone on a mission and you didn’t want them coming home to clutter and dust. You weren’t even sure that they noticed, but it made you happy to have something else you could do for them.

Steve and Bucky were currently on week three of a mission with Nat and Sam and you were sorting out the groceries you’d just bought while you tried to think of something special you could do for them.

“So, why do you do it exactly?” you heard from behind you, causing you to jump. The twins were in San Francisco until tomorrow so you should have had the floor to yourself.

You scowled when you found Tony standing behind you wearing his infamous smirk.

“Jumpy?”

Your cheeks heated as you turned back to the task at hand, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice at least half of your food was for the super soldiers. “Mind was just elsewhere. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering why you pamper the geriatric twins if you aren’t going to take credit for it?”

You froze briefly before finishing up and placing the boys’ food back into bags so you could carry it upstairs. Finally, you turned and crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned against the counter behind you. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to deny it?”

He chuckled as he moved closer. “They asked me to look into it before they left. It was the complete lack of evidence that led me to you actually. Only one person I know can get around my system like that.”

“Shit.” You were a technomancer and were very skilled at making tech do what you wanted. Tony hadn’t been thrilled the first time you’d completely circumvented the tower’s security. Now he used you to test out new systems. Finally, you quit freaking out enough to meet his eyes. “Are you going to tell them?”

He tilted his head and frowned at you. “Why are you so dead set against them figuring this out? You know they won’t be anything other than grateful.”

“Because they’ll want to know why and I can’t tell them that.” Your voice was quiet but you knew he’d heard your answer.

“Well how about you tell me then, sparky?” he suggested.

You rolled your eyes at his stupid nickname as you sighed. He wasn’t the most trustworthy when it came to secrets but you were dying to tell someone. And honestly, he would probably be the least judgmental out of everyone. “You can’t tell anyone, Tony. I mean it.”

He rubbed his hands together and closed most of the distance between you. “My lips are sealed. You have my word.”

You arched a brow but chose not to comment. You closed your eyes not wanting to look at him as you made the confession. “I might possibly be just a little bit in love with them.” When you got no response you opened one eye to find Tony grinning at you as he rocked on his feet. You opened the other eye to give him a narrow-eyed look. “What?”

“I think you should tell them.”

“Not funny, Stark.”

“Wasn’t meant to be, sweetheart.” You just stared at him, saying nothing. After a few moments, he sighed. “Listen, as amusing as it might be to trick you into having that conversation with them and recording it to watch at my leisure later, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“That little admission didn’t exactly help your cause any.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I can’t tell you that I know for sure how they’ll react, because I can’t. I also can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught them checking you out when they think no one’s watching. Or how many times they’ve argued about who got to sit beside you when there was only one seat left. Or the number of whispered conversations they have that fade away when you walk into the room. And while I have had many female friends over the years, I have never suggested any of them sit in my lap unless I was trying to take things beyond friendship.”

You frowned. “I sit in their laps all the time.”

His hands went out to the side as if to say ‘see?’.

Your frown deepened as you recalled something else. “Wait, didn’t you try to get me to sit in your lap when I was still new?”

Tony chuckled and turned around to walk off. “Only proving my point, Y/L/N,” he called over his shoulder.

It was barely five minutes after he left that you gathered the bags of food to take upstairs and put away. You weren’t certain you’d survive sitting around doing nothing and there was only so much training you could stand in a day. “Protocol five, J,” you said as you stepped onto the elevator. “Super soldiers’ floor, please.”

“Of course, Miss.” Protocol five would shut down all recording devices anywhere in your vicinity until you turned it off.

You made short work of putting the food away and glanced around. Things were fairly tidy though they could use a dust and a quick vacuum. A peek in both bedrooms had you wrinkling your nose. They’d had back-to-back missions before they’d left on the current one and obviously hadn’t had time to do laundry. While the boys normally slept together, they maintained their own spaces in case one of them was having a bad night or just needed some time to themselves.

Moving into Bucky’s space, you gathered up all the laundry and threw it out into the hallway. You also stripped the bedding and added it to the pile. You put a load in the washer before moving to Steve’s room. There was more laundry there as it was the space they shared the most often. You added to the pile already in the hallway before stripping those sheets as well.

After sorting the clothes into loads, you took about half of them down to your floor and started a load there as well before heading back upstairs. You opened windows in both bedrooms to let them air out as you put fresh sheets on the beds. You dusted and straightened and vacuumed only pausing as necessary to switch out the laundry.

By the time you finished all but the last loads of laundry, their rooms looked better than they had in months and they had clean sheets to crawl into when they got home. You’d cleaned the rest of the floor as well and were heading back to your floor to take care of the last of the clothes. You had to wait a bit for them to finish drying, but then once it was all folded and sorted, you loaded up the laundry basket to put it away. You were happy you’d gotten so much done.

Apparently ignoring your feelings made you productive, who knew? Most of the clothes in your basket were Buck’s so you headed to his room first. You reached for the handle, only to have the door open on its own. Your mouth dropped and the basket fell to your feet as you ran your gaze up a naked torso to see Bucky frowning at you. He was dressed in a pair of sweats and his hair was still wet from a shower. His gaze darted from you to the basket and back as a grin crept over his face. “Fuck,” you breathed out and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I-I need to go.”

He reached out and snagged your wrist before you got more than a step. “I don’t think so, sugar.” He tugged you gently back in his direction and lifted your chin with a finger since you seemed unable to look at him on your own. “Where do you think you’re going to escape to anyway, Y/N? We know where you live.”

“I was thinking of moving to Alaska. I hear it’s nice there this time of year.”

“You hate the cold,” he said with a laugh and looped an arm around your waist.

Your heart raced and you prayed that his stupid super soldier senses wouldn’t clue him in, but who were you kidding? You’d never be that lucky.

“Oh, Steve,” he called in a sing-song voice. “I have something for you.”

“Not now, Buck. I’m…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he stepped into the hall and saw you. His ears and cheeks turned a rather adorable shade of red and you couldn’t stop a giggle at the sight. “What’s this?” he asked looking between the two of you.

Bucky nudged the laundry basket into view with his foot. “I intercepted her on her way to put away the last of the laundry.”

Steve straightened immediately. “Oh, did you?”

And damned if his voice didn’t drop a whole octave when he said it. Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You squirmed in Bucky’s hold but didn’t try to escape. There was no point. He chuckled behind you and passed you over to Steve when he held a hand out toward you. You licked your lips as you took it and let him lead you into the living room.

He sat on the couch and pulled you down onto his lap. Bucky sat right beside him and pulled your legs onto his lap. You cleared your throat. “I can sit by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, baby,” Steve assured. “But I’m happy with you in my lap. And you like to make me happy, don’t you, Y/N?”

Oh.

My.

God.

That was not fair. Not fucking fair at all.

Steve trailed a finger up your spine, chuckling when you shivered at his touch. His finger continued it’s journey up your neck then back along its previous path as he talked. “When Buck and I were kids, there wasn’t a lot of money to go around. Less so for me because of my meds. Our folks taking care of us meant putting food on the table and mending our clothes. Sometimes there might be enough for a dime novel or some sweets, but for the most part we took care of each other.”

Bucky kept rubbing little circles on your ankle with his thumb. “That hasn’t changed much over the last several decades. You know, except when I was trying to kill him. But then someone else started taking care of us. In a million little ways we didn’t always notice. Not right away anyway.”

“But then we did notice and we started making note of everything that made us feel cared for.” Steve’s hand flattened on your back and his fingers flexed slightly as he said, “Loved.”

“So, tell us, Y/N, why did you do it?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged and stared at your hands where they twisted together in your lap. “I stole your candy and needed to replace it so I picked up some other stuff. But then I saw how happy you were when you had your favorite snacks when you got home and that made me happy. The more I did, the happier and more relaxed you seemed so I kept doing it. I like it when you’re happy. Both of you.”

“That the only reason, baby? You like us happy?” Steve asked as he trailed that damned finger back up your spine.

You jumped out of his lap and stepped back until you were out of easy reach for either of them. They stared at you in surprise and you held out a hand to stop them when they started to stand. “No. You stay put. You two aren’t playing fair.”

“How’s that, doll?” Bucky asked, his blue eyes sparking with amusement.

“You with the touching and the sugar and the arm around the waist,” you said gesturing to Bucky before turning to his boyfriend. “And you with the baby and more touching and the deep voice. It’s not fair. It’s not.” You sucked in a breath. “My entire life I’ve been attracted to the unattainable guy. Every fucking time. But this time I really outdid myself because I fell in love with not just one, but two unattainable men and they’re dating each other. I mean fuck my life. Seriously. What is that? So yes, I did all of this because I love you. Both of you. And I’ll keep doing it for the same reason and it will always make me happy to see you happy. But at the end of the day, you two have each other and I don’t and that’s not fucking fair so stop. Just stop, okay?”

Steve stood first as if afraid to startle you. He stepped forward and swept his thumb across your cheek wiping away the tears you hadn’t been aware of. His hands settled on either side of your neck as he studied your eyes for the longest time. “You’ve got quite the fucking mouth on you, baby,” he said then tugged you forward and slammed his lips onto yours.

You hesitated for only a moment, a brief stretch of time and then you let yourself go. Your Steve was kissing you and it was nothing like you’d imagined. There was nothing soft or questioning about it. It was firm, sure, and altogether fucking fantastic. His hands moved to your thighs and lifted as his lips stayed glued to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and as he turned, his lips slid from your mouth to travel the length of your neck. His open mouth kisses alternated with tiny nips that were sure to bruise and you rolled your hips against him in response. He hissed against your skin and you smiled.

A large hand grasped your chin and turned your head until another pair of lips slanted over yours. Bucky. His kiss was dark and rich and full of promises. He shifted his body so he supported your back as his hands found the hem of your shirt. Cool metal and warm flesh contrasted against your skin as he slid over your belly and up to caress your breasts. “Oh God.” You rolled your hips again, Steve pressed against your front and Bucky pressed against your ass.

“Fuck,” Steve said as his hands tightened on your waist in an effort to still your movements.

Bucky chuckled against the back of your neck and bit at the skin there, his bite firmer, more punishing than Steve’s. “What’s the matter, punk? She pushing you to the edge already?”

“Suck it, Barnes.”

“I intend to, Rogers.”

That had you grinning. This playful love they had between them was what you wanted. Was part of the reason you fell in love with both of them. Bucky’s gaze shifted to you and he mirrored your grin. “I love you, Buck.”

His grin widened. “You hear that, Stevie? She loves me. God, that’s sexy.” He kissed you soundly then pulled you from Steve’s arms to carry you bridal style to the bedroom. “I love you, too, sugar.”

That earned him another kiss. You put your hand against the door frame to stop him before he could carry you inside. This needed to be said before you were all in bed together. You turned to find Steve with a question in his eyes. “I love you, too, Steve.”

His smile was sweet, soft. “I know you do, baby.” He placed a hand on your cheek and gave you a soft kiss. “I love you, too. Have for awhile if I’m honest. We both have. Turns out we were both feeling guilty for loving someone else and it was the same girl. Never dreamed you’d actually be ours though.” You kissed him again and it only took a moment for it to take on a rougher edge.

Bucky turned you so he could carry you into the room, causing your lips to be pulled from Steve’s. You whimpered at the loss of contact and both men chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll have more of us than you can handle in a moment.”

You squealed as Buck tossed you into the middle of their king sized bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows and bit your lip as you looked at the two men standing before you. “Promise, soldiers?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s a goddamn guarantee.”

[donutloverxo]

Before you

*not my gif*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this was requested by the lovely @whimsicalrogers thanks for all the icons, lock screen and dividers you made me! Thanks for the beta and all your advice @stargazingfangirl18. I hope I do you all proud🤭

Summary - Yours and Steve's relationship was perfect, until it wasn't. Will he be able to convince you to give him another chance?

Warnings - smut (m/f), jealousy, angst, dom/sub undertones.

Pairing - Steve Roger x reader

Word count - 4552

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

As someone who grew up watching an unhealthy amount of Disney movies and romcoms, you couldn’t help but dream, that someday your prince charming would come riding in on a white horse to whisk you away from your boring mundane life.

Someone you could love and hold forever, who’d do the same for you. Someone who’d always be there for you, to pick you up when you fall, to make you laugh when all you want to do is cry. Someone who’d be your everything and treat you as if you’re the most special person in the whole world.

But adulthood killed all those dreams all too easily. You learned the hard way that people didn’t really belong to each other. They barely even listened to when another person was talking.

You thought you came close a couple of times, but you never did find your special person. Everyone walks on their paths alone. And maybe it was better that way. You weren’t sure if you could ever completely open up and give yourself to someone else.

That was until Steve came along. He was someone as lost as you and even lonelier. Finding himself in a world he no longer recognised and among people he couldn’t really trust. It didn’t take that long for him to trust you.

You had put on Snow White which was Steve’s favorite from back in his day. You couldn’t help but insert yourself in the fairy-tale. After all Steve did always call you his princess.

“Steve?” You mumbled into his chest laying on top of him as the end credits played.

“Yes, sugar?” He replied running his hands through your hair before drawing small soothing patterns on your back.

He only had to move his nose an inch to smell your hair and get a whiff of your soft soothing scent. Who knew something so simple could be so blissful.

As much as he loved taking you out on the town and courting you to show you a good time and do all the things he never thought he could, he also loved spending these quiet evenings in with you. Where it was just him and you, the rest of the world just seemed to disappear. He wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Never mind,” You shook your head. ‘It’s soon. You’ll scare him off.’ That incessant annoying voice in your head said.

“Hey,” He propped your chin up to make you look at him. His heart melted at your glossy eyes. So vulnerable and sensitive. Maybe it was what drew him to you. Your ability to be so sweet and wear your heart on your sleeve. Something he never could do. “What is it?” He asked lowly caressing your cheek. Not wanting to push you too much but he couldn’t really help himself when you looked so sad either.

“Do you think...” You whispered and licked your lips “We’ll be together forever. Like them.” You picked at the threads on his shirt too scared to look at him.

He smiled down at you. Getting up to sit straight and adjust you properly in his lap. “I know we will sweetheart.” He said confidently as if it was a fact.

You looked up at him still holding onto his shirt, as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a second “And do you think you’ll always love me?” You wanted to know.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Where is this even coming from?” He frowned “I know... I don’t always do a good job of showing you I love you. This is new to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend.” And like the dork that he was he couldn’t help the goofy grin he made every time he referred to you as his girl “But I’ll do better,” He promised and pressed a long lingering kiss on your forehead to seal it. He cleared his throat to ask “What do you think I should do better?”

“No. You’re amazing, Steve, you don’t need to change.” You said giving his plump pink lips a quick peck “It’s just scary. How much I love you and how it can all go away if I’m not careful. People break up everyday and over the stupidest of things or over nothing. I don’t want that to be us.” You sighed unloading all your anxieties.

He nodded taking your words in “I understand. I’m scared of losing you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He paused looking for the best words “What we can do is maybe talk about such things?” He slowly suggested rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You happily tucked your head in the crook of his neck, hugging him close to you. Falling for his sweet words and him. Convinced that nothing would come between you both.

***

He got down on one knee not long after to pop the big question with an even bigger diamond to really show you how committed he was.

You were on cloud nine. You felt nothing could ever bring you down that you only had happier times to look forward to.

Until one fateful day, you didn’t realise it then but it was probably when everything started going to hell, Sharon Carter got back from her year long mission in Europe.

You were only an accountant working for the Avengers. Being so close to Steve did give you some influence, which you were ashamed of liking a bit too much, but no one was ever really scared of you. You heard chatter about her and your Steve. And how now he would surely ditch his ‘normal and plain fiancé'. They never tried that hard to hide it from you. They probably thought you weren’t here for the long haul.

“Hey Angie” You nervously called for your desk mate. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Steve and Agent Carter?”

“Oh you mean Staron?” She grinned before frowning, “Oh I’m sorry! That’s just what people call them. Not me though! You know how hard I ship you two.” She squeezed your shoulder in order to console you.

“Yeah but why? I mean did they use to date or something...” You trailed off knowing that it was something you should be asking your fiancé not your co-worker.

You had tried a couple of times but you were too afraid to come off as jealous or controlling. That was the last thing you wanted to be. You expected him to give you enough space to be your own person, so it’d only be fair for you to do the same.

“I don’t really know.” She stroked her chin as if in thought “You’ll just have to ask Captain Rogers. Nothing was ever confirmed they were just rumors. Even I’ll admit they would make gorgeous blonde babies. But girl! You don’t have anything to worry about! You’re the one who has the ring.” She tried her best to assure you but the seeds of doubt and fear had taken roots in your mind.

Steve assured you that there was never anything between them. They flirted with the idea of dating for a while before she went away, he doubted there’d ever be anything between them. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Not when he’s so madly in love with you.

He was so convincing and charming.

The things that set him apart from everyone else, which you loved about him, were his honesty and loyalty. He blamed his Ma and 1920s raising but you didn’t care. He was perfect in your eyes. He didn’t need to fit in. Those things made him Steve Rogers. Your Steve.

***

You had never been more ashamed than when you went through Steve’s things to get some sort of clue. You went through his sketches to find if he was secretly harboring any kind of feelings about her. You only found sketches mostly consisting of you and the Avengers, some of Bucky and his mom.

You sighed in relief, but then, at the bottom of his drawer you found a sketch of Sharon drawn with charcoal pencil. You couldn’t help but cry tears of frustration and pain, tearing the sketch up and flushing it so he wouldn’t find out. You knew you made a grave mistake, even as you started snooping you knew nothing good would come out of it, yet you couldn’t help yourself. In the end you only upset yourself.

Steve got back from work shortly after with your favorite take out, he kissed you hello. He knew something was up but you simply lied and chalked it up to pms or something.

He was ever so understanding. Giving you a nice massage and drawing you a bath. You decided then, that you wouldn’t look for anything anymore. If Steve was being unfaithful you didn’t want to know. You’d rather live in this beautiful peaceful bubble of ignorance.

***

The next few months were tough. All your wedding planning had taken a backseat as Steve had started to look for his friend Bucky, who also happened to be the winter soldier, with Sam and Sharon.

You didn’t really have an answer when your mother pestered you about going wedding shopping. You didn’t know how to tell her that you doubted if there would be a wedding at all. It would break her heart. Especially after she had come to love Steve as much as you did.

You never complained. How could you? The whole world needed him much more than you ever could. And he didn’t seem to need you anymore.

He never had to have time for you anymore. Late nights at the offices, long missions with Sharon.

One rare night he was home for dinner, you were too busy sulking in your self pity to actually enjoy his company after he’d deprived you of it for so long.

You chose to give him the silent treatment, not speaking more than two words to him. He noticed. Of course he did, Captain America, always so perceptive and smart.

He tried to pry answers out of you for a while before his phone started ringing and he excused himself to go pick it up.

“Why do you always go into the other room to take your calls?” You asked when he got back placing his phone down on the table. Playing with your food not having the strength to look him in the eye and confront him.

He visibly stiffened at the underlying accusation in your question. He had grown annoyed of having the same discussion with you again and again. But he decided to bite his tongue. It was his job to make you feel secure in your relationship.

“It’s confidential information, doll. You know that.” He sighed.

You hummed “But you can tell me who you were speaking to right?” You finally looked up and you wished you hadn’t. He clearly wasn’t happy, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his jaw clenched, how you hated confrontation. Not that you ever thought you’d be confronting your Steve.

“It was Sharon.” He spit.

“Of course.” You scoffed going back to staring at your food as he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? I know you aren’t exactly fond of her but I’m not going to lie just to make you happy. Because that’s not who I am! I don’t lie.” He ranted holding up his phone “Why don’t you go through it? Maybe that will make you happy.”

You shook your head rejecting his offer. Even though you were tempted to, you knew Steve was smart. He was Captain America for gods sake. He’d know how to cover his tracks. If he didn’t want you to find something, you probably wouldn’t.

So you finished your dinner, angrily stuffing the food in your mouth while sneering at him and then left him to do the dishes.

You put yours and Steve's laundry in the washer. Even though you were salty with him you still did your half of the chores. Checking his pockets for any receipts or bills. But then you saw what looked like a shinning golden thread. You pulled at it to find that it was a long blonde hair. Which was clearly not yours.

You thought of going to Steve with it. But if you had to hear another one of his lame excuses you’d probably drown yourself.

So, for the first time, you simply went to bed angry with him. When he tried to talk to you, you retorted with a snarky or hurtful comment or didn’t speak at all. You knew just how crazy that would drive him.

***

You groaned for the fifteenth time in the past hour, your leg impatiently shaking under the table. He was an hour late. He was someone who took pride in always being punctual and sharp, clearly you weren’t important enough for him to consider your feelings. You decided to pick up your phone and call him.

“Where are you?!” You hissed as soon as he picked up. Too angry to even bother to say hello.

“I’m at work. I’m so sorry, doll, I won’t be able to make it. Something important came up.” He apologized. His voice laced with guilt. Which would’ve been enough to convince you maybe a month or so ago, but at this point he had missed far too many dinners and dates.

“Right. Of course. More important than me obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know that’s not true – "

“You didn’t even bother calling me” You screamed into your phone.

“I did call.” He sighed “You didn’t pick up and I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Yeah I didn’t pick up! I was cooking a meal for our anniversary! You know what? I don’t care because you clearly don’t either.” You said hanging up without giving him a chance to speak.

You had packed some of the leftovers up for Steve but you decided to dump them all in the bin. He didn’t deserve your cooking.

You haphazardly threw the tupperware in the sink. Torn between punching a wall and hugging a pillow to cry out all your frustrations. You chose to rigorously scrub and wash the dishes.

Having spent some of your excess energy you sat in front of your dresser, putting some petroleum jelly on your palms to sooth the burn.

You sighed at the sight of your sparkly diamond. You couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. It reminded you of a happier and simpler time. The last thing you wanted was a complicated or dramatic relationship.

As you slid the ring off your finger placing it in your jewellery box, you couldn’t help but ponder on whether it was just as much of your fault as well.

You started packing your clothes into a small bag. Maybe you could spend a few nights at your mothers house until you can clear your head.

***

Steve hastily opened your apartment door with his keys. “Honey, I’m home.” He called out for you.

He rubbed his face, a nervous pit forming in his stomach. He knew he had been prioritising his work over you for weeks now, he didn’t know the extent of it until you told him off on the phone and then didn’t pick up any of his calls. He asked Sam to cover for him for the night as he made his way back home.

His enhanced hearing picked up on movements in the bedroom, he followed the sounds of your rustling, tossing his jacket on the couch.

His worst fears came true as he looked at you carelessly stuffing your clothes in a cabin bag. You spared him a glance before zipping the bag up.

He took a deep breath, he had to say the right words before he fucks up the situation more than he already has. “Sweetheart –“

“Steve, I’m leaving. I think we should take a break,” Your voice cracking a bit but you tried to be resilient and strong, you sighed as you saw the heartbroken look on his face as his jaw dropped “it’s hard for me too but it’s just not working anymore.”

“Is it hard for you?” He spit. “Everyone has problems, I just need one more chance.”

“I won’t let you break my heart again.” You swallowed as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, you wiped them with the back of your hand. “I’ll always love you but I’m tired of being disappointed and suspicious and jealous. It’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be.”

“Wh – what do you mean suspicious?” He asked as his brows furrowed.

“I think you know what I mean. I know I’m not like a model or a kickass spy or unique. But I still want to be special to someone. I’m so...simple. I thought that was enough for you and us.”

“What are you even talking about?” He lost his composure and calm as his eyes watered, blurring his vision, he held onto your forearms, needing your touch the most right now, as if you won't leave if he held on tight enough. “I’m not special either.”

To which you scoffed. “That’s debatable.”

“It’s true. Captain America is special. He’s the superhero. I’m just Steve.”

“I know that’s what you think,” You said shaking his hands off of you and staring at the floor, not bearing to look at him “But it’s not the reality. Captain America is a part of you. And I think... maybe Captain America deserves someone extraordinary like Agent 13.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in his stern Captain voice, clenching his fists having had about enough of this.

You stiffened as a shiver ran down your spine at his tone. He had never spoken to you like that. He reserved that tone for his teammates and subordinates, and more often than not Tony. But not you. You were his precious baby.

You felt as if you were compelled to look up at him, he wasn’t crying anymore but his jaw had hardened, his face and neck flushed red. “Sharon. I mean,” You took a deep breath “I know there’s nothing between you two... probably.” you whispered as he raised a brow at you.

“But your work and duty will always come first and I know it is a good thing. But it’s not what I want. I thought I could handle it, the whole world needing you more than me and coming before me,” You spoke so lowly but you knew he could hear you, “but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will. A break will put things into perspective for both of us.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He growled as you rolled your eyes. “How could you think those things? I need you more than anything else.” His anger was fuelled as you scoffed again, as if he was lying. “Don’t you dare hink that there’s anything past or present that I’d put before you. You’re the only thing that matters. I promise.”

“You may believe that, but your words only carry so much weight when they’re not followed up by actions. I know you’re not the cheating type,” You rambled pulling on your hair and sighing, it was all so overwhelming “I don’t know what to believe. When I go days without speaking to you – what else am I supposed to believe?”

He hesitantly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, relieved that you didn’t stop him or push him away again, “Just give me one chance to prove myself. I know I’ll never be worthy of you but I don’t want us to give up so easily. Not without putting up a fight.” He gritted pulling your chin up as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And you know how good I am at putting up a fight. I’ll always fight for you,” He smiled pulling your chin up to look at your pretty face.

“Okay,” You sniffled. “You’re always so good with words.” You smiled shaking your head.

He hummed at that. “I got you to go out with me, didn’t I?”

“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work?” you wanted to know.

He shushed you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his face in the crook of your neck. He craved your warmth and comfort especially after almost losing you. “I’ll never take you for granted again.” He nuzzled your neck before kissing it. “We can go venue hunting tomorrow. For the wedding.”

You smiled in his hold “Well I don’t know about that. Maybe the wedding planning can wait for a while.”

He hummed as he rested his chin on top of your head. He had his work cut out for him if he intended to keep you. He made a mental note of calling Tony first thing in the morning. “I hate it when we fight.” He said rocking you in his arms “But I like the making up part.”

You playfully smacked his chest. You just knew he was cheekily grinning. “I agree.” You giggled.

You hadn’t fought a whole lot throughout your relationship, but the make up sex was always amazing.

You gulped nervously as he captured your lips in a bruising and breath taking kiss. Letting you know just how much he loved you. You hummed as his hands caressed the soft skin of your ass, squeezing it lightly before he pulled you up.

You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. You trailed kisses down his jaw as he carried you to your bed. Giving him a nip or two here and there, smiling against his throat as you felt the vibrations of his moans.

He gently dropped you on your comfortable mattress, you giggled as you bounced.

Steve hovered above you, he was so large, he was the only thing you could look at. Your shaky hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he pulled your night shirt up, groaning at the sight of your soft nipples, hardening so easily at his touch. He pulled one in his mouth as he thoroughly sucked on it.

“Oh, Steve.” You moaned as his hand came up to pay some attention to your other breast, fondling it in his hand before tugging your stiff peak with his fingers. You gasped as he bit you. “Oh I’ll definitely feel that tomorrow,” You sighed pulling your shirt over your head as he made his way down your body, settling between your legs.

He looked at you as you bit your lip, your breasts laid flat as you chest heaved with anticipation. He let out a guttural sound as he saw and smelled just how aroused and wet you were for him. He licked a firm stripe up your warm folds before capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, harshly sucking on it as he worked you up with his fingers to get you ready for him.

The moans and mewls from your mouth and the squelching of his fingers were something akin to a symphony to his ears. He cooed as you thrashed wildly when he pulled away. “Steve!” You whined.

“Just a minute baby. You remember what we talked about? Patience.” He said as he quickly got rid of his clothes. His throbbing erection ached to be inside you. But he couldn’t help but tease his sweet girl a bit as he stroked himself above you, much to your displeasure.

He chuckled as you kicked your legs. “Patience,” He reminded you again as he bent to suck a bruise on your breast. He pulled away with a pop, pleased with the way your skin bruised under his assault, “So you’ll always remember how much I love you.” He murmured in your neck as he slowly entered your channel.

He stayed inside you just like that for a few minutes, it was comfortable like a warm hug, it felt like home because you were his home. No matter how many times he made love to you, he could never get used to how wet and tight you felt.

He sucked a few more love bites on your neck he knew you’d give him hell for later but in the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rocked his hips, slowly and tortuously pulling out of you before pushing back in till he bottomed out, searching for your special spot, he knew he found it when you threw your head back and started blabbering nonsense.

Your hips matched his pace, trying their best to keep up with his super strength and agility. He propped himself up on his elbows, he needed to see you, see your face twist in pleasure as he did such sinful things to you. Except they rarely ever felt sinful to him. It felt as if he was expressing his love for you by pleasing you and worshipping you.

“How could you ever think I don’t care about you?” He asked not really expecting an answer, what with you being so preoccupied and your mind too far gone to listen to him, as he drove his hips up harshly.

You shook your head muttering apologises and chanting his name as he felt you clench around him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as your orgasm hit you in waves of pleasure.

“I need you to say it.” He demanded. His thrusts lost any sense of rhythm simply pounding into you with abandon as he chased his release. “Say that you know that I love you.” He rasped as his hips stuttered. “Say. It.” He punctuated with a few more thrusts before he emptied inside you, panting into the crook of your neck.

“I know you love me Steve.” You mumbled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

You felt him shake his head as he pecked your lips. “That’s not possible.”

“Yes it is!” You huffed incredulously.

“Agree to disagree.” He stated not really in the mood to fight with you anymore as you smacked his bicep, scoffing at him before muttering a ‘whatever’ under your breath. He pulled you on top of him still connected to your heat as he felt his spend spill out of you. “Can we stay like this for a bit?” He asked somewhat shyly.

You hummed, “Yes of course.” You sleepily mumbled against his soft and warm chest.

He listened to your breathing and steady heartbeat as you slipped into a dreamless slumber.

He couldn’t sleep. He only ever slept a couple of hours every night and now after everything that perspired, he was scared he’d fall asleep and you’d be gone when he wakes up.

There was no way in hell he’d ever let you. He’d give up the shield if he had to. He was as stupidly stubborn as you if not more. He was sure he’d fix everything as he kissed the top of your head and covered the pair of you with the comforter. So you’d feel as warm and comfortable as him.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Idk how Sharon comes off in this but no Sharon hate please! I don't have an opinion on her but I believe in girls supporting girls. Thank you😘😘

[helpinghanikan]

Hot Date

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sum:  It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?

Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.

Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.

‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.

“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.

“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.

“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”

Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.

It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).

It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.

“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.

There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.

“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.

With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.

These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.

"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.

“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”

There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.

“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.

You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.

On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.

Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”

Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.

Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”

-

Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.

It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.  

“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”

Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.

“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.

“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.

“Vell-,”

“Stop.”

Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.

The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.

First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.

“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”

The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.

Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.

Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.

It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.

She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.

“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”

Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.

In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.

Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?

After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.

“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.

It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.

Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.

That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.

“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’

With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.

Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.

The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.

“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.  

It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.

“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”

-

Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.

Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.

“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.

“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”

Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.

“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”

“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”

The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.

“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”

Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.

The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.

To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.

“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.

Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.

“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.

 “How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.

“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.

“What?” He asks upon your entering.

There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.

“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”

Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”

“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”

The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”

It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.

“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.

“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.

[luvdsc]

let’s play pretend.

what if we’re in love? haha, just kidding... unless?

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + college au word count :: 1,552 words warnings :: none playlist :: talk too much (coin) ⋆ face (woosung) ⋆ pretend (bad suns) ⋆ la belle femme (hunny) ⋆ love you like crazy (taeyeon) author’s note :: best f2l is the ultimate trope sorry i don’t make the rules

Persistent fratboys at parties are the absolute worst. Already early into the night, you find yourself unable to shake off the latest leech in all his snapback and rayban glory. Why is it that they never back off until you’re forced to lie about a significant other? If you’re lucky, they’ll stop there. It’s quite stupid how they’ll let you go only if you suddenly have a boyfriend, rather than simply understanding that you aren’t interested. Perhaps, they’re too scared to confront how undesirable they actually are.

Literally, nobody wants someone who owns salmon shorts and more button up shirts with palm trees than necessary. Never mind the fact that you’ve seen this guy participate in more forties at four than actually attend his classes sober if he even makes it to your shared A.I. ethics lecture at eight in the morning. And he’s wearing those god awful sperry boat shoes with no socks. Inwardly, you shiver.

Eyes flitting around, you desperately try to see if you can find any one of your friends nearby who can take you out of your misery, but Yeji and Yerim are already mixed in the drunken dancing crowd, and you can’t find Donghyuck or Jeno anywhere. Renjun had been standing with you prior, but he already went home a few minutes ago because he had midterms early tomorrow morning. However, perhaps Lady Luck understands your woes because you spot your best friend coming out of the kitchen.

You quickly grab his arm, pulling Jaemin over. “Sorry, I’m here with him already.”

“This is your boyfriend?” the guy asks skeptically, unabashedly staring at your friend in question.

“Yep. Yes, that’s him. My boyfriend. Love of my life. My other half. His name is Jaemin.”

Jaemin turns to look at you, somewhat confused. You try to send some sort of telepathic message to him, and to your relief, it seems that he understands when you shoot him a look of mixed panic and desperation.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m the boyfriend. The super significant other.” He reconfirms your answer and returns the male’s stare, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Great. Nothing says “I love you” more than a common hand signal found on YouTube videos. Maybe you should tell fratboy to hit the subscribe button, too. Subscribe to see more daily mishaps in the life of Y/N and watch as she digs an even deeper hole for herself.

The boy scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest, as he shakes his head in disbelief. You are temporarily distracted, almost impressed even, at how his styled hair doesn’t even move. You really need to know where he gets his hair products.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.”

 Slipping his arm around your waist smoothly, Jaemin tugs you closer, and you freeze, pressed up snugly against his side. You really didn’t think this one through. Swallowing hard, you force your body to relax. It’s no big deal, it’s not like you’ve been harboring a crush on your best friend for months and have been trying to get over him for the sake of friendship.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but I’ve been in love with her ever since she fell asleep on me in our macroeconomics class.”

You smile sheepishly as you remember your first meeting, pretending that his words didn’t affect your heart as much as it actually did whilst simultaneously thanking the stars that he was always a quick thinker. His lips quirk up in the corners into that sweet smile you always adore before he presses a tender kiss to your temple that has you going dizzy. Your cheeks warm up as you duck your head, attempting to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“She had on this pale blue fluffy sweater, and she reminded me of a cute baby blue jay. She had a green notebook decorated with corgi stickers and always took really neat notes with this pen that had a flower chain attached to the top and had the prettiest handwriting. I remember thinking to myself, I better take good notes even though I never took notes before, just so I could give them to her as an excuse to talk to her afterwards.”

He absentmindedly draws circles on your hip, making you even more flustered not only from his actions, but also shocked that he remembers all of that even down to the outfit you were wearing. Heck, you didn’t even remember what you wore that day. He gazes at you, smiling fondly, and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes look so sincere, sparkling under the harsh strobe lights, and if you didn’t know any better, you really thought he may have loved you back. A dull ache starts to form in your chest at that silly daydream. “She looked really cute, leaning against my shoulder like that, and even her snoring was adorable.”

You gasp at that, looking at him indignantly. “I don’t snore!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, angel. Forgive me?”

He pauses and leans down, his lips millimeters away from yours, before hesitating and lingering there, so close yet so far away. Your heart nearly skips a beat from how naturally the sweet term of endearment slips from his lips and from the close proximity between you and him. From the corner of your eye, you can still see that fratboy standing there. You had almost forgotten he even existed: the sole, annoying cause of your current predicament. To seal the deal and perhaps for a little bit of a selfish reason, you lean forward, closing the distance and grazing your lips against his.

Your hands are on his chest, nervously tugging on the lapels of his jacket, and his are placed on your waist, gently tugging you impossibly closer. You’re quite certain Jaemin can feel how fast your heart is beating with how tight your bodies are now pressed together, but that’s the least of your worries right now. The only thoughts that pop up in your mind is that one, his lips are slightly chapped, yet incredibly soft; two, he’s a very good kisser; and three, mission: “how to get over having a crush on your best friend” is a complete and utter failure.

When you reluctantly pull away from him, his nose nudges yours softly, and your eyes flutter open. He is looking at you with parted lips, hazy eyes, and an indiscernible gaze that causes you to feel a whole colony of butterflies in your stomach. Any words that had come to mind have now flown out the window, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the radiant boy in front of you.

“Maybe we should do that again. Just in case, you know? To really send a message to that douche,” he mutters quietly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. You give him an almost imperceptible nod, relenting to your heart this time instead of your mind.

It feels as if it’s simply the two of you standing there, the rest of your surroundings fading away and the music slowing down in the background. You look up at him from under your lashes, eyes fluttering close once more. Jaemin presses his mouth against yours firmly this time, with certainty, almost as if he meant it, as if his lips are made solely for kissing yours. And in that moment, you truly believe that he’s in love with you. 

You are dazed, absolutely starstruck, until the two of you break apart, until you remember why this all came to be, and your heart comes crashing back to earth. Those seven minutes in heaven were utterly heavenly in your little bubble of make-believe universe with only you and him. You almost don’t want to open your eyes, but you do, and you find yourself staring back at him.

And just as you’ve always known, Jaemin looks absolutely breath taking, impossibly ethereal, and one hundred percent devastatingly heart wrenching: a modern day Adonis in the flesh. He gives you a shy smile, pretty eyes glimmering as if he stole from the night sky himself. You’re so close that you can count every single long dark lash framing his starry eyes and feel the warmth radiating from his blushing cheeks. His lips are red and slightly swollen, and you feel as if you had just ruined a masterpiece from the Louvre.

Your cherry lip gloss has been smudged onto his lips, and you reach out to carefully wipe it off. He gently catches your hand when you move it away and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and you admire the way your hand fits perfectly in his for a few stolen moments until the dream is shattered once more and you’re pulled back to reality.

“Thanks, Jaemin. He’s gone now, so you don’t have to pretend to be in love with me anymore,” you mumble softly, slowly pulling your hand away and giving him an apologetic smile.

He reaches out to gently brush his finger tips against the apples of your cheeks before delicately tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. When you finally dare to meet his eyes, Jaemin is gazing at you with the most tender expression imaginable.

“Who says I was pretending?”

[disasterfandoms]

Going Through Hell Part 3 || A Sonny Quinn imagine

This is part three of an imagine series, This is part one, and this is part two.

A/N: Anon we’re finally done, can you believe it?! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get all of these done, writer’s block is a bitch! Also I love the episode this gif is from, there’s some really good humor in it and it makes me happy to listen to Sonny bitch about his phobias. I tried to make this one longer, since I atrociously made the decision to cut part 2 off so abruptly. (also I put a tiny crossover in it)

TW: torture, hospitalization, aftermath of sexual assault (briefly mentioned), IVs, needles, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Taglist: @bravo-four-seal-team, @a-kate3

“Y/N’s been taken.”

Sonny’s knees almost instantly buckled and Eric rushed to help support his weight. He eased Sonny down onto a crate and motioned for Trent to come over and check Sonny out in case he actually passes out, Jason quickly comes as well.

“What’s going on?” Jason questioned while Trent kneeled in front of Sonny, checking his vitals. He instantly gets concerned when he sees Sonny with his head in his hands, with Sonny trying to slow his breathing.

“Y/N was abducted three days ago at the supermarket. Once local PD figured out their husband was Navy, NCIS was attached to the case. The Agent in Charge of the team taking the case called a half an hour ago to inform me of the situation.” Eric explained, his hands resting firmly on his hips. By now the rest of the team had gathered around, with Trent and Clay standing on either side with their hands on Sonny’s shoulders, attempting to give him some sort of comfort.

“The agent told me that they think they’ve found who has them and they’re  trying to locate where they’re being held. The team believe Y/N is alive but it’s hard to tell what state they’ll be in when the agents find them,” Blackburn states, hopefully easing the minds of the operators.

“They can’t die, Jase.” Sonny said, his voice quivering. His mind just keeps racing, thoughts flashing through his mind at the speed of light. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He always knew how worried you were when he was away, but he always thought you would have been safe at home. He almost laughed at how naive he was in that aspect, especially considering where you are now.

“I know, Sonny. I know,” Jason nodded, giving Sonny a pat on the back. 

 “They’re gonna be fine, brother. Y/n is a strong person, especially for putting up with you for as long as they have,” Ray tried to reassure him, and it worked a tiny bit, but the thought of you being hurt, or worse...

“Alright Sonny’s staying here, there’s no way I’m letting him in the field to put everyone else in danger because of this. Jason, are you guys able to handle this without Bravo 3?” Blackburn asked, but also making it clear his decision was final in this aspect.

“Yeah we’ll be fine, Blackburn. Take care of our boy,” Jason said, then ordered the rest of Bravo to suit up. The quicker they get the mission done, the quicker Sonny can get home to be with Y/N.

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

You regained consciousness, sore and finding it hard to breathe. You could tell at the very least you had broken ribs, if you had to guess your leg was broken by the burning sensation you could feel, but to be honest everything hurt.

You hear footsteps again, and tears spring to your eyes. You just want to be put out of your misery, not knowing that those footsteps are coming to rescue, rather than hurt you.

“Y/N, you’re gonna be okay, we’re here to help you,” you hear a gruff voice in your ear, and you immediately start crying, thanking them. They call a medic, and start to work on your restraints while one takes the hoodie off of your head.

Two of the agents tried to stand you up, but you quickly grew lightheaded, seeing stars until the whole world goes black again.

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

The mission had been a success, and the team was on their way home when Blackburn had received the call that you had been found, and you were on your way to the local hospital.

Sonny had raced over there, Trent and Clay in toll to keep him calm and explain what was happening to you when he had to sit in the waiting room. Eventually a surgeon came out and told him, “Y/N is going to be fine, but they sustained a lot of injuries. A grade three concussion, a broken nose, broken occipital bone, both collar bones and most of their ribs are broken, one of which punctured their lung. We had to take out their appendix, as it had ruptured during transport. Their left knee was dislocated, and sustained a tibia fracture in that leg as well. Y/N is out of the first surgery, but there’s a long road ahead. I can take you abck to see them, if you’d like,”

Sonny quickly agreed, and followed the doctor to you hospital room. You were asleep, but seeing your in your casts and you battered and bruised caused tears come to his eyes. He quickly sat down in the chair beside you, and held your hand.

He stayed in that position for a couple hours until you finally came to. You just gently squeezed his hand, ecstatic to see him here beside you. He looked just as happy to see you awake when he realized you has squeezed his hand.

“Hey babycakes,” he said quietly, not wanting to hurt your head, but god all he wanted to do is hold you and never let go.

“Hey yourself. Mission go okay?” you asked, knowing full well that’s not what he wanted to talk about. You didn’t know how to talk about what happened to you though, at least not yet. You felt tears rush to your eyes though, when you see the worried look on his face.

“Uh uh, we are definitely not talking about my work right now. We can’t just gloss over that you were kidnapped because of me, Y/n”

“To be fair, they didn't tell me it was because of you. They didn’t even talk, all they did was beat me up and...” You trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut as it hurt when a shiver went down your spine.

“Oh my god.” Was all Sonny said before he tightened his grip on your hand and reached up to give you a kiss on the forehead. You tried to reach your hand up and grab him to pull you closer to you, but the slings on your arms, which Trent explained to Sonny was to stabilize your collarbones, didn’t allow you to. He got the message though, and gently tried to hug you before sitting back down in his seat beside you.

“Do you want to talk about what happened yet, or would rather I distract you with food and tv until I can take you home in a couple days?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“The second option, please,” you requested, relieved you didn’t have to talk about it, not yet. 

“Well then, I’m gonna order food after making sure with your nurses you can have anything other than jello and chicken broth, and then we’ll find something on TV, okay?” He said, standing up to go to the nurses station.

“Hey sonny?” you asked, waiting until he turned around to acknowledge you.

“Yeah baby?” he responded, waiting to see if you’re requesting something else.

“I love you” you smiled and your heart fluttered as a smirk graced his lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 3

@daminette-december2019-2020

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 3 – Legend

Previous

Next

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The breeze softly danced through her hair as she sat in the windowsill of her room. She opened her eyes and stared at the parchment resting on a book on her lap, her little bottle of ink sat next to her on the ledge. She fidgeted with the quill in her hand, frustrated.

She was trying to write a letter to Luka to let him know that they'd arrived safely. He was her right hand man and their friends were most likely bugging him on whether he'd heard from her or not. She needed to give them an estimate on how well the whole thing was going but she barely had a feel for these people. She was pretty certain they wanted this alliance just as much as the Order did, but she didn’t yet have any idea what exactly they’d ask for.

She sighed and dipped her quill in her ink, maybe if she started the words would come.

Dear Luka

I hope you are well. How is everyone doing? How’s Alya and the baby? How’s Nino dealing with her pregnancy hormones? How’s she dealing with his overprotectiveness? Has Chloe returned from her mission? How did it go?

I miss you all, I hope everything is alright back home.

We arrived safely at the Gotham Royal family's Summer home. They have treated me with kindness and respect.

She took a breath. Should she tell him about Prince Damian? He would in all likelihood be the next Black Cat. He was her match. She didn’t know him, but the Destruction radiating off of him was on par with the Creation that followed her. As much as she didn’t want to replace- She shook her head, moving on was inevitable, she needed someone to rule by her side. She needed to tell her court the truth.

I met him. It all feels too soon after everything that happened last year. The Destruction coming from him was incredible. Plagg would kill me if I didn’t introduce them. Please have Pegasus deliver the ring when you receive my letter. He can deliver it to my exact location, I’ll explain things to any witnesses. I’ll disclose more information on who he is if he accepts my offer of the ring.

Yours sincerely,

Marinette

She tapped her chin with the end of her quill as she reread her letter.

A soft mew made her look up, sitting next to her little ink bottle was a beautiful calico, staring at her curiously.

“Hey girl,” she replied softly, holding out her hand, the cat sniffed it then pressed her cheek against Marinette’s hand. She scratched the cat's head softly, smiling.

“Her name is Legend,” a voice said from her doorway. She looked up and recognized Lady Stephanie standing in her doorway. She was about to greet her when the girl kept talking.

“Oh sorry, your door was open, I didn’t think it'd be a problem, we’re just pretty casual around here and it slipped my mind, Your Majesty,” she said, quickly, her hands gesturing as she spoke.

Marinette smiled at her, standing and placing her letter, book and quill on a nearby table, “It’s quite alright, Lady Stephanie. My court and I are quite similar to you that way, and please do call me Marinette,”

“Only if you’ll call me Steph,” she replied, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway.

Marinette saw the movement and invited her in. They sat at the table she’d put her letter on and she folded it as they made small talk.

She melted some wax onto her envelope and pressed it with the Miraculous Court's seal as she listened to Steph detail a story about the time she and Jason had snuck into the kitchen to steal some of the pastries before a big event when she’d first arrived at the castle back in Gotham.

“It seems you are all quite close,” Marinette commented after Stephanie wrapped up her tale.

“Yeah, we’re family, you know?” she replied. Stephanie wrung her hands together before meeting her gaze, “Can I ask you something?”

Marinette could feel the girl’s unease, so she tried to appear reassuring, “Yes,”

“Yesterday,” she started hesitantly, “In the throne room, the older man who came with you did most of the talking. I don’t know much about the Order of the Miraculous, but I was pretty certain you’re their leader but you didn’t really talk so...” she left the rest of the question unsaid, clearly hoping Marinette would understand hat she was trying to say.

She could tell the girl didn’t mean any disrespect, she was simply curious and she couldn’t blame her. So she gave her a smile, “Master Fu is my teacher, I’m still learning to lead and he’s helping me through everything, until my training is complete he makes the important introductions and still does a lot of the talking. I will be voicing my thoughts a lot more during negotiations though,”

Stephanie nodded slowly, “That makes a lot of sense actually,”

They spent the afternoon together and had tea in the garden.

Marinette was listening to Stephanie ‘s retelling of how she and Tim first met when she recognized Prince Jason heading towards them.

Stephanie spotted him too so she paused when he got close. Marinette nodded her head at him, “Your Highness,”

He nodded back, “Your Majesty,”

He sat down on the open chair at their table and Stephanie quickly continued her story.

She listened politely, but she was aware of the Prince who had joined them studying her discreetly, if she hadn’t been trained to notice, she would’ve missed it.

He noticed her noticing him and she was impressed by his ability to read body language. He, if her training was correct, was growing more and more curious about her by the second.

Somehow managing to miss the tension Stephanie kept telling her story.

“We were both so incredibly oblivious to the other’s feelings and denying our own. Months of pinning and so many misunderstandings. Apparently it was an incredibly frustrating debacle to watch,” she said laughingly, giving Prince Jason a pointed look.

He groaned, playing along and ignoring their silent sort-of conversation that had transpired earlier, “Don’t remind me, it was torture,”

They all laughed, and a comfortable silence followed.

Well that was until Tikki appeared and the other two almost fell of their chairs. She turned to her kwami and decided to explain later.

“Guardian, Queen Bee is attempting to contact you,” she quickly supplied, ignoring the two royal siblings who were staring in shock.

“Put her on, these two can be trusted,” she replied, sipping her tea.

Tikki put down a device on the table and the familiar image of Queen Bee appeared shining in the air in front of her, it was nothing new to Marinette but the other two stared in shock at the moving image of a blonde girl in armor unlike any they’ve ever seen.

“Bee, this better be important, you know how much it takes out of the kwami to do calls (a/n I’m not gonna figure out a new name for it, calls make sense sorry not sorry °3°),” Marinette said sternly.

Chloe looked grim but stood up straight, confident in her choice, “I’m afraid it’s rather urgent Guardian,”

Marinette felt chills, Chloe rarely looked that grim, it was even rarer for her to address her by her title, “Queen Bee, what is it?”

Chloe grimaced. She gave her a meaningful look softly replied, “It may bring back a few unpleasant memories, Mari,”

Oh

It felt as though the wind had momentarily been knocked out of her.

The familiar green eyes that haunted her at night flashed through her mind. Immediately followed by a darker, newer pair. She pushed both images away, she’d deal with that later, now Chloe needed her to be the Guardian.

Marinette took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her cup, “I can take it,”

“It’s Gabriel, he has the butterfly, he wants -,” Chloe swallowed, looking at Mari with pity, she lowered her voice, “He wants to bring him back, Mari,”

Her grip around her teacup was deadly, it was a shock it hadn’t broken yet. She was certain her knuckles and face were both as white as a cloud.

“I -,” her voice cracked and she took a deep breath, she was in the presence of strangers, she couldn’t break down, she pushed her emotions back and went into her Guardian mode, “Tikki add Carapace, Viperion, Tigress, Rena Rouge and Paon to the call. Now. I want it taken care of quickly,”

Chloe’s eyes widened, “Those are all our top warriors,”

“Like I said, I want this taken care of quickly,” Marinette replied briskly.

The others were quickly added and they all switched to the language of the Guardians. If the two royal siblings could speak French, her and Chloe’s previous conversation had already given enough away. Chloe explained the situation while Marinette quickly pulled herself together, she could fall apart later. Right now her Court needed her.

Carapace looked on edge and she knew why. Rena was on the call and she was pregnant, he was scared that she’d have to fight.

“Rena,” she said after Chloe finished explaining, all eyes turned to look at her, “You’re not fighting, but your strategizing capabilities are too valuable to have you sit out completely. You’re on the side-lines for this one,”

Carapace looked relieved and Rena nodded, understanding.

She looked at Viperion, while half her letter turned out to be written in vain, at least she could get this done quicker, “I need you to send Plagg and his ring with Pegasus as soon as you guys finish discussing details,"

She took a deep breath, "I found my match,”

(a/n did I totally just only put the prompt as part of a single paragraph? yeah i did. Do I have any idea where this is going? No i don't. Is the fact that I don’t listen to my outline and do whatever the hell I want gonna stop me? Nope, not at all)

(fr tho I’m just as surprised at this plot as yall are ngl, also, look at me doing a cliffhanger hehehe)

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb

[weirdfanaus]

The Path that Leads Home

Summary: Azriel, on a mission in Day Court, finds himself in a moment of weakness, but somehow he finds his way back home with a life-changing dream in mind.

Rating: Mature

Words:  3347

Pairing: Azriel (ACoTaR) and Original Character

Author’s Note:  All characters except the original one are from A Court of Thorns and Roses. The original one was created by a friend and she allowed me to use her in this story. You can find her under @majolishdustybooks​ .

No spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames

Also on Ao3

Azriel didn't know what to do. 

He had always known what was going on, but now he was lost. 

He was in the middle of nowhere, had muddy attire, no trace of the target he was chasing and a mood at its lowest. 

He sat down on a stump and felt how his syphons hummed in agreement; they needed a break too. He sighed, combing his hair with his fingers and angled his head towards the warm light. 

The sun shone and through the dome of leaves, its rays got to his tanned and tired face. 

And the only thing he wanted was to sleep. 

Azriel and his spies had been chasing his target for more than three months. And when they found that they had been hiding in a forest over the border with the Day Court, he didn't care who was supposed to take care of them. Thus, he winnowed near the frontier and used his connections and knowledge about that court to pass it as silently as possible. 

But the mission after passing it… was not as easy as it was supposed to be. 

The Day Court had always meant something else for the Spymaster. He was feeling closer to home, calmer and even younger. His instincts were different than usual and his lazy syphons, having a mind of their own too, were enjoying their time in the court of light more than they should. 

He was sitting against another tree, half of the front of his leathers open due to the heat and was trying to find the will to fight the sleep that was slowly conquering his whole body.

A voice broke the silence of the forest, the birds stopped singing and the Illyrian opened an eye and looked at at the owner of the voice:

"Wow! The Night Court's Spymaster sleeping? During daylight? I've lived to see this day! I thought that you, bats, slept only during the night. Is the Night Court no longer good for you, old man? Decided that you preferred the sun over the moon and the stars?"

His siphons suddenly woke up. 

"Nice to see you're alive too, Cyra," he replied with a tougher voice, sleep already clouding his body. 

"Darn! You really must like me, if you are still half asleep right now."

If it were autumn, her proximity would've been alerted by the fallen leaves. But because they were still enjoying the calm weather and longer days, the summer gave Azriel the lisp of the leaves’ help. 

"One of our guards caught Edgard trying to break into the main building." That sentence was a wake-up call for the Spymaster and when he stood up, back in the middle of the clearing, he noted how close he was to the female. 

The silence was familiar. He didn’t like to talk too much when it wasn’t needed, but her presence demanded it and his heart and mind was happy to oblige.

And that's why, even though it was not needed, Azriel's right corner of the lip rose and a "Hi" broke the silence.

Cyra's hazel eyes sparkled at his tone and, because of the light, they became greener. Her lips curved in a smile too, while saying: "Hello, Azriel. Nice to see you alive and well. Heard you made new friends." 

The male shrugged and stretched his wings lazily, while the female was assessing him, looking judgely. He knew that his wings were something meaningful to her, not only because they were his, but also because of her Illyrian heritage. His wings, scarred and darker than wet tree branches, connected her to her mother, whose wings brought the late female more pain than freedom. 

“Can we go to where you hold him? I need to winnow him to the Court of Nightmares and get him to talk.” Cyra was somehow caught by surprise by his voice, but she shook it off fast. 

“Yeah, he is kind of asleep now. You hit him hard.” Her voice was calmer, her body more relaxed than usual, not as guarded as she was the first time he met her. Back when she was cold, young and with strands of brown hair flying in the bitter winds of the Winter Court’s mountains, possessing a look in her eyes that would’ve killed him right there. 

“It’s of no surprise that you look like you got hit by a volley of arrows. Yeah, minus the blood. That’s all mud and probably… poop.” her hands moved with such speed, while she spoke, that only by looking at them, he felt more tired than before. 

“Cyra… I know I look like actual shit, but can we not talk about my attire right now? I would prefer to sleep, I haven’t slept five hours continuously for days and I think that I might pass out.” He stepped towards her in a manner very unlike him and Cyra’s face turned into an open book, worry filling its pages.

“You smell…” was her reply when she caught him right before he could fall. It was a sure thing that she was thinking whether she had a dead man in her arms or not, but his head moved against her hair, white strands finding their way through his dark locks and some even reaching in his mouth. He tried to get rid of them without using his hands, but when he realized there had been no progress made, he tried to use his hands, but the female moved faster than him. “And still act as a baby.” Azriel’s face was empty of any sign of emotion.

One moment they were in the middle of a clearing, in the forest, under the sun and the other they were in the middle of a living room. Warm colours, browns and a lot of white surrounded them then.

He would never get used to the great number of plants in that house. Even though in the years he had known her and they had started to get closer to each other, his house back in Velaris was almost as crowded as the one he was in. Stalks, leaves and flower petals covering almost every surface. 

He asked her once, while she was bringing yet another potted plant into his apartment, back in Velaris: “Why are you so keen on growing a forest inside my apartment?” 

Cyra just shrugged and while he waited for the more elaborated answer, which was coming, he watched how she played with one of the white hair strands that were framing her face, the rest of it was kept together with a clip. 

"More oxygen won't hurt you." 

"Yeah, but when there is no light outside, they use my oxygen. So…?" 

She made an annoyed face then and raised a finger in his direction. "You are already dark and broody, why not brighten the place a little bit?" 

"I get that you don't like my colour preference, even though we are in the Night Court, sweetheart. You didn't have to fill this place that much that I don't have any place to even stand. And it's my apartment!" 

The female shrugged, pissed off by his statement. She bit her lip and looked at the plant she was still holding. 

"Plants show us that even after weeks of cold weather, there is still a moment when the sun will come and we will have our moment to be reborn. They bring us all joy. I thought you needed some joy in your life, Az." 

He had always known, deep down, that happiness would come at some point, even though for much time he had lived in darkness, hurting. 

Cyra, with her bright hair and hazel eyes, sometimes even the colour of the plants she loved and cherished, was like the light at the end of the tunnel for him. She brought him joy, freedom and he felt like light, weightless, although he was always in the shadows.

And then, in the Day Court, surrounded by plants and flowers and vegetables, he was home. 

But he was still unsure what to do next.

The female started walking around the room, moving blankets on the sofa, opening cabinets and pulling out packages, cans, jars, utensils and plates.

The water was boiling on the stove when he finally decided to talk.

"I should've gone to sort the problem with Edgard."

"Don't worry about him, he will be there after you take a shower and have something to eat. We need to catch up. It's been a while. I want to know everything about your brand new High Lady." Cyra didn't raise her eyes from the cutting board, where vegetables started gathering. But her tone showed that she was in the mood to gossip. 

"I heard she likes soup." She rose her eyes to him and cleaned the tomato juice off one of her fingers. 

Azriel chuckled at that. 

There was a joke between the Inner Circle, about how Feyre gave Rhys canned soup when they sealed the mating bond. And Azriel knew that there was no way, the Spymaster of the Day Court would not find out about it.

She lived off tormenting his friends, usually the males.

"Can I at least have a bite… small bite… from what you have decided to cook?" He tried, but he was very aware that he was full of mud, probably smelled of deer poop and looked like he had got run over by dozens of wild horses. He knew Cyra very well and her eyes told him that he needed to get cleaned as soon as possible and there was nothing else to discuss. 

He puffed, sad that he had lost that ‘battle’ and aimed for the bathroom.

The bathroom was the same as he had seen it last. Toiletries spread out on the counter by the sink: toothbrushes, razors and different kinds of soaps, each specially created for certain use. 

He swiftly undressed himself and lowered in the already filled magical pool. The water was always warm and his muscles sighed in approval for the moment of peace. The last week had been filled with the smell of grass, branches and flowers. Their pollen sometimes disturbing his senses, a problem, which was once a disadvantage but had been redeemed by knowing the woman in the other room.  After all, he basically had a garden in his house back in Velaris.

He rubbed all the mud off and when he decided that he had spent enough time in the bathroom, he got out. And with a towel around his waist, he walked into the bedroom linked to the bathroom.

Sunlight bathed the room and the plants were sprawling towards it. On the bed placed against the wall, right in the middle of the room, sat a pile of clean clothes, black pants and underwear and a white short-sleeved shirt, which he put on. 

Back in the kitchen, the female, now with her long white hair bound, was mixing something in a bowl, the water in the pot boiling behind her. He reached it and the smell it emanated was a sign that its contents were done. Opening cabinets with familiarity, Azriel strained the vegetables and dumped them in an empty, clean bowl, placing it on the counter. He seasoned them and watched Cyra take a tray with meat out of the oven.

"Take a plate and pick your favourite." She said, tray in one hand and a fork in the other, gesturing towards a cupboard where he knew she held plates. 

Minutes later, the two of them sat at a table by the window, plates before them, glasses filled with lemon water. The sun was covering everything on the table, the flowers in the vase spreading their petals in approval. 

Everything in that house loved the sunlight. He preferred it over the darkness of his past and shadows.

"I've heard that Rhysand got a mate." Cyra, even though she wasn't a fan of talking, was the one that usually started a conversation between the two of them. 

And this conversation wasn't something he felt like doing after the week he had just had.

"Yeah, he did," was what left his lips as he chose to pick at his vegetables and steak instead of looking at her.

"When?" she stopped eating altogether, now sitting in the chair in a way that favoured conversation.

"When what?" 

"When did the mating bond go… boof." she moved her arms as if she had just finished a magic trick. 

"I don't know… maybe around the annual snow fight? We were in the Steppes when Feyre found out that Rhys kept the fact that they were mates from her. “

“So, she is what… angry at him, takes some time off from all of you and they sort it out?”

She jumped in, making her usual assumptions, and Azriel just nodded his head in approval. “And they do the whole cook a meal thing and stuff like that.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“What do you mean by ‘something’?” she looked at him confused.

“Cans.” the word made her burst into pure laughter. She moved her hands and was almost going to spoil a glass’ components on the table, but Azriel caught it just in time.

When she calmed a little, she wiped some tears from her eyes while saying: “If Cassian gets the same treatment, I swear to the Cauldron that the three of you are destined to have mates that know nothing of the culinary arts.” 

Azriel just puffed at her statement, which made Cyra shrug and plaster a small smile on her slightly tanned skin. 

“She will learn…” he said hopefully, but Cyra just continued to look at him, smiling. 

“It’s not like she will starve by not knowing” They looked at each other longly, thinking about a night around 200 years ago in a cabin in summer court, during a horrendous storm and a bag of potatoes.

“At least I knew how to mash potatoes,” she added a second after while grabbing another bite from her serving.

Her words, her tone and her actions right after she said that, made Azriel burst into a laughter of his own. He didn’t stop for a while, thinking of the awkwardness that went on between the two of them that night. Possibly thinking about that she started laughing too.

Still laughing, she collected the dishes off the table when they were finished, his plate almost empty, except for some leaves she used for seasoning. 

“How’s Cas?” she asked while cleaning the dishes. Azriel walked around the counter, right from the dining area and propped himself against the now clean marble. 

“In the Illyrian Mountains. He is trying to help Feyre's older sister figure life as Fae out.” he said while crossing his arms. 

“Oh… is he all right? After what happened during that last battle…” 

“It’s been a rough period of time for all of us. And I also know that I should’ve come by sooner…”

“I knew that you were alive. I could feel that you were also well, as much as somebody can be after a war… That’s what mattered,” she told him while drying her hands with a cloth. They looked at each other for seconds that felt more like hours. The silence was familiar, calm and it assured both of them that there was still time left, it wasn't running out, just yet.

“I think…”

“We should…”

They started talking at the same time. And sharing a mind connection had never been weirder and more useless before. But they held their minds from each other most of the time and that path that connected them was used in the most important situations.

And that was one of the reasons why they were that day together, because, in his state, Azriel used that connection to call for help. Help that he knew would come unconditionally.

They had decided decades ago that for this eternity to not be a burden, they needed their space. Also, the secrets of their Courts were bigger than them and they needed to be kept safe. 

But the last war woke up something in him. Something that he had known since he had first met her during that mission in the Winter Court.

“You say first.” As she could feel the fight that went on inside his head, she broke the silence. Cyra looked off guard, something that he wasn’t used to, but he had seen before.

His hands were sweating, he was nervous and he didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like that was the first time they shared their hopes, dreams and insecurities with each other.

They were mates.

“I think… I think that we should try to have a baby.” He said. His voice small, eyes partially filled with fear, scared of rejection. He didn’t expect her to be always on the same page as him.

But Cyra didn’t look as angry as he had expected. She played with her fingers, one holding her wedding ring with a blue stone, the same colour as his siphons, which shone in the midday sun. And when she raised her eyes, hazel mixed with silver, she just nodded.

"I think so too."

And his whole world became even brighter than before.

He hugged her and kissed her whole smiling face, forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids and lastly her lips a couple of times.

Their last kiss was longer than the previous ones, minds open to each other, secrets still hidden in the darkest depths of them, but happiness was buzzing between them.

Their foreheads were together when Cyra opened her eyes to look at him. He could feel her eyes on his face, his olive skin, the scars on his brows and cheeks, the circles under his eyes, but also the wrinkles created by the smile still present.

He started kissing her skin again, but this time his lips took a different path. Her throat was covered by his warm, chapped lips and in their trail, the skin was left wet and sometimes red, from sucking. She brought her arms closer to his neck, fingers running through his dark locks.

Small sounds were leaving her full lips when Azriel’s hands gripped her thighs and she was lifted off the floor and carried to the bedroom.

The sound of a closed door was followed by the rustling of clothes. Laughter filled the air again when the Illyrian stuck his shirt in a talon of his wings, but she helped and they kissed again.

The world seemed to be suddenly set on the right path when they finally joined. His kisses covered the inked skin of her chest, their marriage tattoo set right over each of their hearts. And with each step they took in their dance, they got closer and closer to the end.

Her legs hugged his waist, her arms, his neck, hands massaging his scalp, his elbows on the mattress, one hand at her nape, the other keeping him from crushing her, lips glued and their hearts were over the other, skin on skin, tattoo over tattoo. His hand searched blindly for hers when he felt that they were close to the climax, his movements speeding up. When their fingers laced through each other on the bed, the moment came.

Ragged breaths replaced the sounds of pleasure and their foreheads were once more against the other, bodies still joined and coming down from the high.

“I love you.” Her hoarse breath broke the silence. Her hand covered his cheek, trying to wipe some sweat off of his face. In a movement so similar to a cat’s, Azriel nuzzled his nose, face and hair against her damp face and placed his head in the crook of her neck, kissed the pulse point and hugged her body even more. She replied to his action by moving her hips higher and squeezed his middle. He muffled a swore in her now wild hair.

I love you too. Filled her head and a smile crept on her lips.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Hummingbird Heart

A/N: My first fic on Tumblr. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is always welcome. 

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Summary: As the helicopter starts to crash and Catfish braces for the worst, his team is welcomed by a familiar face. And old feelings come rushing back.

Rating: T for Canon-Typical Violence Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love

Will was bleeding. One of the gearboxes just blew up and they were crashing. Plummeting straight down. Words were thrown around: to drop the load, that they needed to brace, that they were going in for a hard landing.

All of those things happened.

Everything about this (illegal) mission had gone completely off the rails since they crossed the border and Francisco was sure they’d have to deal with coca farmers that they dropped their money on. As they managed to hike the rugged landscape from the crash site, he was completely resigned to the fact that they were a) going to lose this money and b) going to have to shoot their way out of it.

The farmers were gathered around the dropped load but…none of them looked to be grabbing any of it.

“What is happening?” Benny muttered, gloved fingers curling around his gun.

“I don’t know,” Francisco replied.

Tom pushed forward, gun already drawn as Pope hurried to his side. But, as they neared the group of tired farmers, a distinctive laugh hit their ears. Stilted Spanish soon followed, promising “less trouble next week.”

The gun waivered in his hand as a woman stepped forward, designer sunglasses tucked into the neck of her rumpled, white button-up. She shook a few of the farmers’ hands as she continued to walk toward their small group. 

She hadn’t changed at all.

“Hummingbird?” Francisco asked, throat tight.

She smiled. “Hey, Frankie.”

                                                      **

“Don’t be a brat, Will. It’s just a little heat.” She was about to press the SUV’s glowing cigarette lighter to his stomach. Removing the bullet had taken a bit of maneuvering while Francisco drove down the winding and rocky back roads through the Andes. Pope was driving the second SUV with Benny and Tom and the money was split between the two. Well, most of it. What couldn’t fit in the cars was left with the farmers to keep the peace and to really sell whatever story she had sold to them.

“You’re having too much fun with this, Birdie.” He yelped as she pressed the heated coil to his skin and sealed off his wound.

Frankie barely heard her laugh over Will’s string of curses.

“How did you even know where we would be?” Will asked as he tried to catch his breath.

She carefully applied some antiseptic and gauze before tugging his shirt down. “Just because I haven’t seen you in person for almost three years doesn’t mean I don’t keep tabs on you.” She smiled and Francisco nearly lost control of the steering wheel.

Even when she wasn’t looking at him.

“And Pope might have me on speed dial.” She patted Will’s cheek as he scowled. “I said don’t be a brat.”

“You haven’t changed at all, Birdie.”

“That’s a lie. I’ve obviously become more devastatingly beautiful.”

Will swatted at her leg as she (finally) climbed off his lap and into her own seat, pulling off her latex gloves and dropping them on the floorboards. “You’ve gotten more annoying. Still the shittiest little sister I never asked for.”

“I am only five years younger than Benny.”

“Who is my younger brother. You’re making my point—how did you ever make it through the CIA field training?”

She reached over and flicked Will’s ear. “I was the perfect attaché for your ridiculous squad. I happen to remember saving your lives at least four times.”

“Five.”

She laughed as she heard Francisco’s interjection.

“Yeah, yeah,” Will grumbled. “You two always…” The words died as Will glanced at Fish in the rearview mirror and saw him already looking back at him.

Thankfully, she was busy rifling through her bag for something. She sat back as she found it—a small plastic bottle half-filled with large, white pills. She held it out toward Will. “These will take the edge off.”

Will warily accepted it, eyeing the pills with a frown. “Do I even want to know where you got these?”

“You know, I only messed up pain meds with allergy medicine once.”

“We were in the desert. Nothing grows there—what were you allergic to?”

“Take your pain pills, you big baby.”

Will muttered something along the lines of ‘I don’t even know where you get these pills’ before dry-swallowing one. And in about fifteen minutes, he was snoring. She clamored into the passenger’s seat with very little trouble and smiled at Francisco as she rolled her spine like a cat.

“I’ve missed you, Frankie.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hummingbird.”

She smiled at the nickname again. “Why do you guys call me that?”

“You don’t remember? It was your first firefight after being assigned to our unit.”

The sand was stinging his eyes, even from beneath his night vision goggles. The ruins of the encampment were still giving both ally and enemy cover. The firefight had paused for a moment and Redfly was signaling for Ironhead and Fish to circle around when a sudden barrratt-barratt-barratt of gunfire had them scurrying, burrowing farther into their cover. Where had these men come from? How-

A sudden explosion sent a wave of sand into the night sky with a flash of light and it was quickly followed by another series of shots and then…nothing.

Fish looked at Redfly who was clutching his shoulder, obviously shot, but otherwise okay and Ironhead, who looked a little confused. Benny and Pope cautiously lifted their heads from their own hiding places.

“Um, I’m pretty sure everyone’s dead!” A feminine voice called out.

Fish turned his head and saw their very-new, very-green CIA attaché stand atop a pile of rocks with a large gun in her arms and a grenade pin still circling her trigger finger. She leapt down and walked to Fish’s side as he flipped the night vision goggles up onto his forehead. She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart. “Feel my heartbeat! It’s so fast.”

“Yeah, like a hummingbird.”

And that smile she gave him made his heart clench, too.

“We still don’t know where you got that grenade.”

“It’s a secret.” She laughed.

The pair relived their ‘adventures’ in the desert for a little longer before a comfortable silence settled between them.

“I never wanted to lose contact with you guys after I got reassigned. I wanted you to know that.”

“I’m sure the agency keeps you busy-”

“But you were my boys. You made me living out in the desert, surrounded by men who thought I was out of my element and brass who wanted to kill my career, worth it. It was awful and wonderful all at the same time and you guys…you guys really, really helped me out of a bad spot.”

Fish frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed and looked out the window at the quickly passing scenery. “When I first got assigned, I’d been dealing with some stuff. It’s hard enough to be taken seriously in this field because I have a uterus. Bring the need for therapy to the table and you can kiss your career goodbye.” She laughed. “Being out in the desert with the guys, with you, it didn’t fix me. But it helped. You helped more than you could ever know.”

His fingers were warm as he reached out to her and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “You are our hummingbird.”

“You’re the only one who calls me that. Everyone else calls me Birdie.” She reciprocated his squeeze and didn’t let his hand go. “But I like it.”

“Come dance with us, Birdie!” Pope was either drunk on the high of a successful mission or the whiskey they pilfered from the brass’ tent. Or both. He and Benny were shaking their hips while Will and Tom were bobbing their heads (almost on beat) as music thumped from a dented speaker set up on a picnic table on the outskirts of the command camp.

She was still feeling the twisted metal of some strange sadness she couldn’t understand, seated deep in her gut. Her smile had grown irksome, painful on her desert-baked lips. But her boys…her boys always made her heart a little lighter. Their inability to keep a beat just added to her reprieve. She walked closer, seeing how poorly everyone but Pope was dancing, and let her worries wash away—just for a moment or two. They would return, as they always did, but she did her best to live in this simple moment.

Pope grabbed her hands as she neared him and he forced her into a strange, skipping sort of dance that had a laugh bubbling out of her throat as she tried to keep up.

A song turned into two and then three. One pop ballad into another.

But then the beat slowed and Pope stepped back as Tom handed him another glass of whiskey.

“Got one more in you?” Frankie asked as he stepped to her side. “One more dance, I mean?” He quickly added. He held out a hand to her with a small smile.

“Of course. Always, for you, Frankie.” She placed her hand in his and let him pull her close and they swayed to the music. For a song and then two.

And neither one of them noticed when the other men slunk away, leaving them alone in the starlight as soft music played.

The SUV rumbled, hitting a rock but continued forward.

He didn’t take his hand from hers.

Will continued to snore in his seat.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve said that, Frankie.” She brought up their joined hands and pressed a kiss to his scarred and calloused fingers. “But, I’ll tell you again: I missed you, too.”

“You said you’ve kept tabs on us. Did you…”

“Know your license was revoked? Of course I know. And I might have leaned on someone to make sure it gets placed back in your very capable hands as soon as you are back stateside.” She watched him deflate and his fingers curled a little tighter against hers. “What is it?”

“You shouldn’t’ve done that, Hummingbird. I-“

“Have a vice. That’s why I’m also calling in a favor and getting you an invitation to one of those ritzy, rich people havens.” She smiled. “But only if you want.”

Frankie sighed. “You still think of everything.”

“Being four steps ahead is basically my job, Frankie. And if I remember correctly, it kept you and my boys alive.” She laughed but quickly stopped herself when Will groaned, still sleeping. 

“I do happen to recall Tom being shot more times since you were reassigned.” 

Frankie found her in her little tent the day after another “job well done” for some mission they would never be able to speak of. The satellite phone in her hand was creaking under her shaking grip. The shitty liquor in his hands was forgotten as he heard her sniffle. “Oh, Hummingbird. What is it?”

She sniffled again and turned toward him, tossing the phone onto her small bedroll. “I’m being reassigned. They want me back at Langley day after tomorrow.”

Their line of work was volatile in every sort of aspect—but he always thought she would be a constant. She had been for almost two years. And now, they were ripping her away like a used bandage. Words were bubbling up in his throat, nearly clogging his airway, and leadening his tongue. Too many words and not enough in equal measure.

But her tear-filled eyes swayed him to the side of quiet. He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. She pushed her face into his chest and clung to his shirt as he rubbed his hands against her back, tracing her spine. He wasn’t sure how long he held her like that in the quiet of her tent. But she eventually pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, Frankie.”

“Never apologize, Hummingbird.” His hands cradled her face and his thumbs gently brushed her tears away as they continued to slip from her eyes.

“You can’t tell anyone I’m blubbering like this. I have a reputation, you know.”

Frankie chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

She reached up and held his hands against her face and closed her eyes as if she was trying to remember how they felt. “I think I’ll miss you the most.” She turned in his grip and pressed a kiss to his palm and he tried to ignore how he felt it in his marrow.

He could have kissed her then. Should have kissed her then. Should have kissed her like he’d wanted to for years.

But he didn’t.

And when he helped her load her small pack into the back of the massive plane, he waved as he stood beside the rest of ‘her boys’ and he tried to remember how she looked when she smiled, even if it was sad.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want, Frankie.”

He sighed and finally pulled his hand away from hers, gripping the leather steering wheel in a tight grip. “No. No, I should. I’ve got the baby now I just…” He seemed to deflate, curl into himself as much as the SUV allowed. His lips pursed like he was thinking about not speaking and then- “My lady…she’s leaving me.”

“Oh, Frankie-”

“It’s been happening for a long time. Don’t—just don’t pity me or anything. I knew it was gonna happen. With all this,” he waved a hand around, “and then my license, and the baby. It was just too much for her. I don’t blame her.”

She pushed out a long breath and watched more the lush, green landscape slide right on by her window. “Why’d you take this job, Frankie?”

He was quiet for a moment. And then two. “When Redfly had first told me about this job, I thought I could get this money and really settle down. Make the wife happy. Give my little girl everything she deserves.” A rough hand wiped across his face and knocked his hat askew. “But the day got closer and she just quit. She didn’t want me. Didn’t want my baby. Wanted out.”

She pulled her lips tight against her teeth in a grimace. “That’s a shit hand. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

So, she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. But she reached across the console and touched one of his hands.

                                                             **

Pope kissed her all over her face when they parked at the port. She cursed at him in three different languages as she swatted at him. “Knock it off, Pope. Jesus.”

Tom stepped to her side with a sheepish smile. “Thank you. For saving us out there. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“I’m sure everyone would have died.” She poked Tom in the gut. “But next time, maybe think about how much money your helicopter can hold before getting greedy, yeah?”

“No ‘next time’ for us. Last job, remember?” Will said with a little too much emphasis as he eyed Pope. A hand was still pressed over his stomach as if guarding his bullet wound.

(He would be fine. She was sure of it—it wasn’t the first time she’d had to stitch up a bullet wound in the ‘wild’ and she was getting pretty good at it, if she did say so herself.)

“Yeah. Last job.” Pope nodded with a surrendering smile, hands held up in defeat.

“But how did you even know where we were, Birdie?” Benny asked as he tossed a bag of cash into the small dingy, waiting to be sped out onto the ship waiting off the coast.  

“You act like I didn’t have trackers implanted under your skin when you were sleeping and then misuse government funds to monitor your every move. The audacity.”

It wasn’t an answer. Everyone knew that. They also knew they’d probably never get one. She was good at keeping secrets, despite how much she adored them. She hefted her own backpack, now filled with cash, onto her shoulders. Her cut was significantly smaller and it wouldn’t get any bigger despite how each of her boys had thrust a few stacks at her before they had started loading the boat.

“This is enough,” she said. “But I know where you all live if I need to rob you.”

Pope and Tom went out to the boat first. Followed by Will and most of the money.

The sound of rotating helicopter blades disrupted the peaceful crashing of waves against the sand and she turned to watch a military grade helicopter land a few hundred yards away. Benny waded out into the water to help the dingy come ashore, leaving Frankie and his Hummingbird alone for a few moments.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“Nope. You’re on your own now. And I was never here to begin with.” She held out her arms. “But, give me a hug before I disappear.”

He quickly did as he was told and tucked his face into her neck. Just for a moment. Breathed her in. “Don’t be a stranger.” It was meant to be a jab, a funny little comment about how she was known to be very good at disappearing, (behind her amiable personality, he was well aware she exceeded at her job) but it came out soft as he whispered it into her skin.

“I’ll find you again, Frankie. Always.” She pulled away and gently held his face in her hands before she turned and walked away. The helicopter took off and flew away as Benny walked to his side.

“C’mon, man. Let’s go home.”

                                                          **

The baby wouldn’t stop crying. Maybe her teeth were coming in. Maybe she needed to eat? Getting sick?

He stumbled down the dark hallway toward his daughter’s room and slipped in and scooped her into his grip and set her wailing form against his bare chest. “Hey, hey, baby. I’ve gotcha. Daddy’s here. Lemme know what you need, huh?” His roughened hand gently swirled circles into her back as her sobs turned into sniffles. “You just needed your daddy, yeah?”

She hiccupped, finally quiet after a few more moments.

But then there was a soft tapping. Tap tap tap. Right at his front door. And he barely heard it in the stillness of his house. Frankie looked down at his daughter, slipping between sleep and waking, and held in a sigh. He walked down the hall and toward the living room. The clock ticked, grabbing his attention. His frown deepened when he saw the time: 22:56. He peeked through the peephole and then quickly pulled the door open.

His hummingbird was leaned against his doorframe with a small smile on her lips and blood all over her clothes. “Hey, Frankie. Can I come in?”

                                                        **

Even with bandages criss-crossing over her abdomen, she insisted on holding the baby. “She’s beautiful, Frankie. Thank God she takes after you.” She nuzzled a soft kiss against the baby’s unruly dark hair and smiled as the baby cooed in her sleep, shifting closer to the woman’s touch.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” He asked as he threw away the last of the bloodied paper towels.

“Nope.”

He scowled as he settled on the edge of the coffee table in front of her.

“I have it handled. Thank you for patching me up, by the way.”

“You said that. Four times.”

“And I’m sure you’ll hear it a few more times tonight.” She smiled as the baby hummed, happy in her dreams. “You’re a good man, Frankie.”

The smile that pushed at his lips couldn’t be stopped. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s cherubic cheek but startled, almost surprised, as he looked up to see her, his hummingbird, so close. He quickly sat back. “Maybe fatherhood scared me straight. And that fancy rehab kept giving me cucumber water.”

She laughed softly, careful not to jostle her precious carryon. “I’m glad it helped. But you were always a good man. Just a little rough around the edges.”  Reaching out, she grasped his hand and tugged, wordlessly inviting him to sit next to her. “I liked your rough edges because they were a part of you. But I’m happy you like yourself a little more now.” 

“And you?” He asked. “Do you like yourself better now?” 

“I’ve got a new therapist—lets me text her in the middle of the night, too. She’s nice to me. Calls me on my bullshit. It’s helped a lot.”

“Good, I’m happy for you.” Almost without thinking, his fingers found an errant trail of dried blood against her cheek and carefully wiped it away.

She chased the warmth he provided and pressed her cheek against his hand. And they sat like that for a few stretched, soft moments. In the quiet of his darkened living room. Years of unspoken something bleeding out in simple touches. 

“Am I still your hummingbird?” The question was quiet.

“Always.”

A/N: Want a second part? Something different? Please let me know what you think. xx

Part Two

[being-worthy]

Sunday Home Cinema: Army of the Dead!!

I haven't done one of these reviews in a long time (thanks to Covid-19 ¬¬) but I'm glad this film was the one to get me back in doing these reviews.

Honestly, I found out about the film about two weeks ago when I clicked on it on YouTube out of curiosity. It looked good and I'm an all big fan of zombie films and series and every zombie-themed film/series, even if it's extremely bad made (e.g. Z Nation but it's so funny to watch).

Sorry for any mistakes or things that make not much sense but I'm writing this at 2.30am and I just wanted to write this down while it's still fresh (I might review it later on if I feel like it).

> SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!! <

Apparently, Zack Snyder's Army of the Dead (here's the trailer), which can be watched on Netflix, is the prequel of Dawn of the Dead from 2004 also directed by him, which was a remake of the George A. Romero classic. I've got a hard time seeing this due to the zombies being so different but well, let's just roll with it.

Scott Ward (played by Dave Bautista) is offered/hired for $50 million by Bly Tanaka (villain/businessman played by Hiroyuki Sanada) to break into a walled Las Vegas after it was overrun by a zombie outbreak starting at the outskirts of the city with patient zero aka alpha zombie Zeus (more to the different zombie types later on) to "apparently" retrieve $200 million that is stashed in a safe at the casino's basement. Basically, it's like Ocean's Eleven but with zombies giving the film a nice touch.

I knew from the moment Tanaka offered Scott this job that there was going to be more to it. Why else would a stinking rich guy like Tanaka need to have a group to retrieve some money when: a. the insurance paid him some of that money back. I know he mentions he can't use it but come on, people like him know how to find either a way around whatever rule there might be or even wash it. And b. he looks like a guy who understands how business works and is well off, so you're telling me he wants to send a group there just for $200 million? B*tch please, I'm sure that's just petty cash to him, and there's surely more to it, especially after one of his goons (Martin) "invites" himself to tag along with the group to "make sure" they get the job done.

If I was offered that kind of money to go to a completely sealed city ruled by zombies, I wouldn't accept it no matter how bad my situation might be. The probability that something might go sideways is too high not to mention the risk that the virus spreads out to the rest of the world, I wouldn’t be able to live with that on my conscience.

In order to pull off this heist Scott assembles a team for the mission:

Vanderohe, the tank and chainsaw man. There'll be a little paragraph for him since his fate doesn't make entirely sense to me.

Marianne Peters, the pilot.

Maria Cruz, the mechanic.

Kate Ward, a volunteer in the quarantine zone. She's Scott's daughter and the only (human) survivor in the film.

Geeta, the mother. She ventures into the zombie-infested Vegas to find money in order to pay for safe passage out of the quarantine zone for herself and her children. I believe she dies in the helicopter crash but we don't see her body, so she might be alive somewhat?

Ludwig Dieter, the thief/safe expert, and I love how he questions everything lol!

Lilly "The Coyote", "the one who knows her stuff" aka zombie expert. Somehow interesting that she's got a conscience/good heart.

Martin, the inside man, and Bly Tanaka's right hand and got the death he deserved by kitten Valentine.

Mikey Guzman, the Sharpshooter and a YouTuber.

Chambers, the muscles and Guzman's sidekick (sort of). Her death was very predictable and her own fault! Girl, why the hell would you tell Martin that you don't trust him directly to his face?! That's such a rookie mistake!!

Burt Cummings, also the muscle for like 5 minutes before turning into the bait/bargain chip for a "deal" with the zombies in order to pass their territory. Overall, he's just a big jerk.

We see the first five people are survivors of the outbreak when Vegas was "freshly" being overrun by zombies and barely made it out of the city before it was completely sealed off. The rest of them are new characters. Almost none of them have any deep character story/feeling/development, most of them are quite plain and you don't care whether they survive or not. I've got also a hard time seeing any father-daughter relationship between Scott and Kate. I get that they haven't talked to each other since Scott had to put down Kate's mother after she got turned into a zombie but if I hadn’t seen the beginning I'd say they're just two strangers who met during the outbreak and he saved her at some point.

I very much like the fact that they introduce different types of zombies! On one hand, we've got the standard zombies aka shamblers who move slowly and are dead if you blow their brains out and if they bite you you become a shambler too. Then, there are the alphas who are fast (so fast that they can dodge bullets), they can also think, take orders, and are very organised. If you're bitten by one you become an alpha too but they also die if they're shot in the head which is easier said than done! We've also got a zombie horse, that's more bone than anything else, and a big tiger kitten called Valentine who used to be part of Siegfried & Roy's show (which also throws in the question, during which year is this movie set? They've both already passed away and they haven’t been retired from the entertainment world for a while before they passed away, and we see Tanaka carrying a modern mobile, so it must be during the past 2-3 our years.)

Their leader is patient zero aka Zeus who we see at the beginning being transported by a convoy of soldiers from Area 51 to somewhere else but never makes it there because he breaks free due to part of the convoy crashing into a car of a recent married (while the guy gets a blowjob and doesn’t watch the road!). He also takes the Bride as his queen (later on she's beheaded and her head still alive), who we see to be pregnant!! HOLY COW!! This throws in sooo many questions! For instance, how do zombies reproduce? The same way as we humans? What will the baby look like? Full zombie? A hybrid, half-human half-zombie? What power would they have? Do I even want to know or see this? Probably. Probably not. How many times did I wish they'd have introduced something like this in TWD (before I stopped watching it). At some point the virus that makes people zombies is supposed to mutate, every virus mutates at some point. We did already see a zombie baby in Dawn of the Dead but that was different since the woman was already in the late stages of pregnancy when she got bit. This one was one that was produced from zombie sex. I’ve got a feeling that their sex must be quite violent to say the least. Also, they way how the care for each other, especially Zeus for his Bride and child and seeks vengeance for both their deaths showing they’re capable of feeling and caring for their people. Maybe, just maybe want to find a way to survive without having to turn people but I think they’ll still need humans as a source of food. I don’t think they’re capable to live from eating normal food.

I've to make a special mention about Vanderohe. Besides, the fact that he's very attractive, there are a few things that don't make entirely sense to me.

He survives the nuclear blast of Las Vegas since he was looked inside the safe, which I can see being possible but (a little more possible than Indiana Jones seeking shelter in an old-fashioned fridge from a nuclear blast in Indiana Jones and Kingdom of Crystal Skull)... the whole city was nuked! And I mean big smoke of mushroom nuke! So, shouldn't the place, I don't know, be radioactive or something like that? And shouldn’t he find the nearest decontamination shower? Furthermore, it doesn't make sense that he gets infected, i.e. bitten. He gets into a fight with Zeus while they're in front of the safe and I watched that part several times and in slow motion too and we don't see Zeus bit him. There's one time where Zeus almost bites him but his teeth don't end up sinking into the flesh. He has Van in his hold, dislocates his right shoulder, and almost bites him there but only almost! In that same moment, Dieter hits Zeus in the head and pulls Van into the safe closing the door behind him (and most likely gets killed/turned by Zeus). I repeat there's no "visible" scene of Van being bitten by Zeus or any other zombie in another scene. So, where the f*ck did he get the bite and from who? I've also read that there's a theory of Van being immune because he's not turning as quick as the soldiers at the beginning of the movie when Zeus escapes the convoy (he still might be able to infect others though). He starts to feel lightheaded/dizzy and his body feels cold to the touch on the plane, and around the bite we see the veins turning black but that's it.

As much as I love the concept of the movie, it's very predictable as well as easy to figure out who makes it out alive and who makes it out the other kind of "alive" and it also reminded me a bit of Resident Evil (the first film was good and the rest just a waste). Tanaka wanting a fresh sample of an Alpha to make a virus that enables him to create an army of zombies he can control and take over the world. He could be Wesker's twin and his company the equivalent of the Umbrella Corporation. It's worth to watch but it doesn't compare to other zombie films such as 28 Days Later or even Dawn of the Dead (the classic and newer version), and many others.

[sethrine-writes]

Daughter of a Devil, Ch. 22

Main Characters:  Father!Dante & Daughter!Reader

Words:  1769

Warnings:  Angst, Retrospection

Story Summary: Being a parent wasn’t easy, nor was there such thing as being perfect at it. Good news for Dante, seeing as how he doesn’t have the slightest idea in hell what to do with a child. Sometimes, he was certain that fighting off a horde of demons was a far better match than keeping up with his own daughter. Well, at least he wasn’t going down without a fight.

A/N:   So this chapter is heavier on the angst. Not to worry, the end of it is quite hopeful, but do expect some feels.

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Chapter 22 - Tears of the Damned (18 yrs.)

There were so many things, you realized, that you didn’t know about your own father.

Sure, you spent quite a lot of time with him, and you were even old enough and more than skilled enough to go on heavier, more dangerous missions with him, and you learned quite a bit about how he fought and played and treated himself to a job well done. There were still so many secrets that he had never told you, however, things of his past that you so desperately wanted to know about.

You knew what he was, knew of the demon that hid itself within him. You had always had a vague understanding of it until you were abruptly and without warning brought to terms with it in full when you were only seven years old. There was even a part of you that knew that, somewhere deep inside, your body held a trace of the same demonic power that had been passed down from the legendary Sparda himself.

Did that mean you would become just like your father?

Did that mean that you harbored a demon inside you, too?

“Squirt? Where are you?”

There were times where you truly worried that you would become some sort of monster, a being with no self-control.

When you were younger, you would have nightmares, horrid, realistic dreams of slaughtering hundreds of innocent people without so much as a reason. In those dreams, you laughed as your victims cried and begged for mercy. When you inevitably woke to your own cries and screams, Dante would always come to you, giving you comfort by gently running his fingers through your hair and assuring you that your dreams would never become reality.

As you grew older, your fears eventually faded away, and you learned that you had far more control over yourself and whatever potential demon that resided within.

You had begun to realize your potential; your quicker speed and reflexes, your quick healing abilities, your keen sense of sight, hearing, smell - all of these traits had come from your father, who had gotten his traits from his own father, a legendary demon who fell in love with a human and found compassion for humankind.

Without your demonic bloodline, you would never have been such a unique individual. Without this one link you had because of Sparda, you would never have known the demon world as you did at that moment.

Without your grandfather, you wouldn’t be the person you had become.

“I can’t…I can’t find her, Dante.”

“Keep looking!”

This understanding of the demon world had you that much more curious about your father. After all, he had grown up around it, as well, though you had a feeling he had a more troubling childhood than the one you experienced.

You knew small details, like how the demon Sparda sacrificed himself to seal away the gates of hell so that humanity could live on. You also knew that the woman that would have been your grandmother had died when your father was very young, having risked her life to save his. You knew vague details about your uncle, Vergil, though you believed him to be dead, and possibly by Dante’s own hands.

Your mother passed when you were only a baby, and then all he had left was you.

“Dante, Lady, she’s over here!”

“There’s…so much blood.”

Over the years, your curiosity had gotten the better of you despite trying to ward it off. If your father wouldn’t give you anything else to go on besides small, vague details, then you would go to other sources to get your information.

Lady, at that point in time, was the perfect person to ask most of your questions. She answered you honestly about anything you wanted to know that she herself knew about your father, even though she was nearly as lost in the dark as yourself. Sometimes, you went for silly little questions, like his record on mocking an enemy without said enemy attempting to rip his head off. Other times, they were more serious questions, such as if he had ever killed an innocent being.

Much to your delight, Lady had a tendency to tell a full-length story, something you enjoyed greatly. She would even give a few details you had not even thought to ask. It was on one of these days, a day where she retold the story of when you had been taken away when you were barely a year old, only from her point of view, that you learned something very interesting.

As far as Lady knew, Dante had only ever cried once in his lifetime as a young adult.

“Can you hear me? C'mon, sweetheart...answer me, damnit!”

“Dante, she’s not breathing anymore.”

“She can hear me, I know she can!”

The little tidbit of information surprised you greatly. It wasn’t because you thought he would have cried a great deal more, oh no. Rather, it was because of that one moment of tears that you were completely baffled.

It was a hard thing to imagine, your father just standing there, crying his eyes out like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps it was just that father concept you held him in, one that made it seem impossible for your father to ever be that upset. He was a demon hunter, for crying out loud! He had a higher track record of taunting demons than being truly serious about ending them.

Even the strongest of people, however, had their own weaknesses.

Even a half-demon had a reason to cry.

“You’re supposed to outlive me, squirt; you’re supposed to outlive your old man!”

“Dante, please, you have to stop!”

Ever since hearing that story from Lady, you had wanted to confront your father about it, but always chickened out. You wanted to know for sure if that was the one and only time he had ever shed tears of mourning, of grief and despair.

Had he ever cried from happiness? Or did he maybe cry out his frustration when everything became too much to handle?

There were so many things you wanted to know on that one subject, but you were too afraid to ask him, or perhaps too afraid you would see him in a different light.

That was sort of silly to think about, though, wasn't it? He wouldn't be a different person because of it, nor would anything you knew about him really change. Dante would still be your dad, a damn good father, if anyone were to ask you, and just as good a hunter of the demonic things that roamed the earth.

One day, maybe one day, you would see just what could bring your father to such vulnerability. Perhaps, then, you would know the depth of his emotions beyond the playful banter you knew so well.

“Please...please, come back to me.”

A strangled, almost startled gasp came from your lips as your body forced oxygen to fill your previously empty lungs. Everything hurt, especially along your midsection, and your arms and legs felt heavy, cold and numb from the weather of wherever it was you resided. Vaguely, you were aware of hands, somehow warmer than your own freezing body, cupping your face gently and moving your head from side to side ever so slightly.

“Can you hear me, squirt?”

You opened your equally heavy eyes, your vision taking a moment to clear as you looked around. At your sides, blurry images of what appeared to be Lady and Trish were crouched and staring at you in bewilderment, both their faces wrapped in surprised confusion and their eyes cloudy. When your eyes finally focused, you looked up into teary baby blues hovering over your face, the colors of silver and red registering in your mind that your father was hunched over you, taking up much of your vision.

“D-Dad?” you questioned, your voice croaking out the single, stuttering word that had a smile forming on your father’s face.

A single, forced laugh was your only answer for several long seconds.

“Yeah, it’s me. Got yourself into quite a mess, didn’t you?”

You blinked slowly, trying your best to focus on keeping your breaths even and slow so as not to agitate the pain in your abdomen area.

Everything was processing slowly in your still hazy mind, but you were beginning to remember that some time ago, depending on how long you had been out, some sort of demon had attacked full force and had rammed a giant claw straight through you. It had shocked you greatly that for the first few seconds you hadn’t even registered the pain. That, however, was now taking its toll.

With slightly narrowed eyes, you continued to watch your father as he spoke to you in calming words, one of his hands leaving your face and combing through your wet hair. It was at that moment that you registered the image of him you had awoken to, your mind grinding to a halt with the image of tears in your father’s eyes.

“Wh-why’re you cryin’?”

Dante paused in his short ramblings, his hand in your hair tensing momentarily before continuing through the water-darkened strands once more. A smile lit his face, one you hadn’t been expecting.

“It’s just the rain, squirt. It’s just the rain.”

Carefully, you looked up towards the dark sky above and found that it was, indeed, raining. This was possibly the reason why you felt so numb; the cold from the rain felt as if it had seeped through into your very bones.

Everything once again became hazy, and all you were really aware of was your father picking you up carefully from the ground and carting you off, hopefully towards the very shop you called home. You were so very tired, and everything hurt so badly, so you were glad he was putting in most of the effort as you found comfort in leaning against him.

In the end, however, you realized that you had obtained an answer to the very questions that had been plaguing your mind during your limbo.

Your father, for the second time in his life as far as you knew, had cried, and all because he had feared he would lose you.

You always knew he had a big heart, one he hid behind a lot of bravado and cocky antics, but even he had his weaknesses, just as any other man.

Vaguely, you felt pressure against your forehead, a relieved kiss pressed against your skin.

If you'd had the energy, you were sure you would be smiling at the action.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

TodoDeku with a baby using prompt 10?

Guess who took this prompt and went way overboard with it? This dweeb! *points at self*

Also, Trigger Warning: Mentions/References to Experimentation on Children, Mentions/ References to Child Neglect/ Abuse.

Parenting was a strange, exciting event that, while Todoroki Shouto adored, occasionally left him grasping at straws.

His own upbringing had been anything but soft and comforting. There had been the brief moments of reprieve with his mother or older sister, but they were far and few between; especially after the scalding incident. As he grew up, however, he began to come out of his own shell and begin picking up the pieces from his shattered youth. He developed a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor that people seemed to enjoy. He went out of his way to bumble awkwardly through befriending people he admired, boasting a small but close social circle that his younger self had thought was only a dream.

And he fell helplessly in love with Midoriya Izuku, the man who started these changes in him, and the two had started a family together a few years after marrying.

He had been nervous but thrilled about the whole prospect. While his own experience with parenting was dark and scarring – literally – he felt good about how he and Izuku would manage. The two of them were a strong couple and were very vocal about their needs and wants. They had a great support system in their friends, Inko and All Might, Rei and Shouto’s siblings, and – to a much lesser and restricted extent – Endeavor. They had done their research into what options were available for them and then started on the grueling process of being approved through both means; the first being adoption, and the second being assisted by a medical professional with an accommodating Quirk. Due to reform acts in the justice system – and Shouto would forever be grateful for those changes, all things considered – the process was a bit more complex for Pros, and especially so for a married couple that were both Pros.

But, after a full fourteen months of paperwork, appointments, interviews and home evaluations, they received their approval letter. And then, a few months later, on November 12th, they brought home their son, Todoroki Satoshi.

Satoshi was born via the assistance of a Quirk user, meaning he was biologically related to Shouto and Izuku. Just based on appearance, his relation to the Todoroki family was clear; he had the crimson locks and steel toned eyes and pale complexion. His hair did, however, have that same natural curl that Izuku's did, making it a nightmare to tame as it grew longer. Aside from his appearance, though, as he got older, more of his behavior was also derived from his Papa. He had more confidence in him than either Shouto or Izuku had at his age but that was compounded by being incredibly emotional and a bit of a crybaby. Toshi was near as quick to tears as his Papa had been a long time ago, but a part of Shouto was grateful for it. He liked that he was comfortable enough with himself to be so vulnerable and transparent with his feelings.

And then, when he was just a few weeks shy of four, there had been the manifestation of his Quirk, which had been... Well, a shit show, to put it in the most honest of terms. They’d been over at the Todoroki estate so the kids could visit with their cousins, aunts, uncles and Rei, the little cluster of seven children running to and fro chasing a ball in the yard. Shouto had been pleased to watch his children get to play with their family, delighted by the excited squeals and shouts coming from them all. But then, after a few minutes, Satoshi had come running over, all watery eyes and choked wails about how his throat hurt and it was hard to breath, little fingers clawing at his neck as if that would soothe his pain. He and Izuku were immediately rushing to get him in his Papa’s arms for a leap to the nearest emergency room, when he suddenly squirmed and pushed away, putting a bit of distance between himself and Izuku, turned his head to the side and unleashed an impressive blast of fire from his mouth, scorching a large tree not too far off into nothing but smoldering kindling. He and Izuku had stared at the murdered tree before looking at each other and then down at their son, who had slumped back against his Papa’s chest with a small whine. “I thought I was gonna puke,” he mumbled sheepishly. They had nodded awkwardly, not sure how else to respond, before Shouto excused himself to get the little tot some water.

Rei had been the one with the most insight of how to help them manage his newfound abilities, citing how she had managed Touya and Shouto when their Quirks first presented and they hadn’t started training with Endeavor. She suggested some small game-like exercises that would help Satoshi figure out how to make the Quirk work when he wanted, as well as give him some insight to when his Quirk was activating and he couldn’t stop it. A few days later, Endeavor had approached Shouto with the information for a support tech group that specialized in making customized home materials - such as sheets and clothes and the like - for children still learning to manage their Quirks. “Let them know I advised you speak with them and they should offer you a discount,” he had said. And that was the end of it, much to Shouto’s surprised pleasure.

Furthermore, getting in touch with Izuku's father had been a huge help, too. Satoshi's fire-breathing Quirk was significantly stronger than the elder Midoriya's was, but it seemed the backlash was similar. Overextending the Quirk could lead to dehydration - which had been learned quickly, given how excitedly he'd shown his Quirk off initially - and, when pushed too far, had actually torn his throat up enough to make him cough up some blood. The bigger struggle with him was maintaining control of how far and large the blast was. Almost a year after the fact, Satoshi was still learning in regards to those aspects of it, but had made great strides in his ability to control when the fire was used. It had been a month since the last time his Quirk went unruly and almost set a fire while he was sleeping and that was no small accomplishment.

And then there was their daughter, who came home just a short while after Satoshi turned a year old.

She was found through work. Or, rather, Izuku found her as part of an investigation he was assigned to. Shouto didn't know the specifics since he wasn't one of the Pros on the mission, but he knew it was disgusting; something involving experimentation to see about accelerating the development process for Quirks. All 78 test subjects had been children - some as old as eleven and their daughter being the youngest at only three months old - and it had rattled his husband to the core, seeing the state they were all in and how they'd been treated leading up to the sting. For the next two weeks, Izuku went to the hospital every night to visit with the children, checking their progress and hoping for the best. Once Shouto found out why he was going, he would join him when he could.

It was through this he learned specifically of Girl 36, the label attached to the youngest victim.

Of the 78 children, only 23 ended up surviving the ordeal; and of that, only 7 were reunited with their biological families while the rest needed to be rehomed completely. Girl 36 turned out to be biologically related to two of the main villains involved in the whole experiment who were still at large. Neither side of the villains' families wanted her, though, seeing her as a reminder of where their bloodlines had gone wrong. Her fate had seemed further sealed when a doctor had told them outright that she, as the youngest, was least likely to make it much longer. "While she hasn't been subjected to as much experimentation as some of the others," he said patiently, "she is very young and very small. For an infant of her age to have been this mistreated and neglected, the odds of bouncing back may as well be negative digits. We'll keep doing all we can, but we're mostly just trying to make sure she is as comfortable as possible when the inevitable occurs."

And she had been so small, so fragile, appearing as if an odd look would be enough to break her, that Shouto couldn't blame the doctor for his assessment. He peered down at her, tucked away in a little incubator of sorts, hooked up to far too many machines, and saw her little eyes crack open. Pumpkin colored slivers stared up at he and Izuku, a small spark there, and he knew. He knew that even if no one else believed that she could pull through, that she was strong and she would beat those impossible odds. That night, Shouto suggested they apply to adopt her. Izuku had wept in joy, confessing he had wanted to ask but wasn't sure how to approach it, and they started the process the following morning. It took six weeks for things regarding the adoption to be finalized, and then five more after before she was medically cleared to be discharged, but it was all well worth it.

Her birth date was determined to be some time in early May, with the doctor deciding the tenth seemed like a good day, and she sat at six months old when she came home on November 24th. They had selected the name Momiji for her because with her red-brown hair and orange eyes she seemed to be the living embodiment of fall aesthetics. So, naming her after the leaves that fell in the season she came home in only made sense. It was a little difficult at first, balancing their work with two children under the ages of two and one who needed a bit of extra care and monitoring, but they figured it out and were happy. Toshi enjoyed having a little sister to play with and Momiji started to thrive under the watchful eyes of her new, loving family.

But Momiji was rather different than Satoshi as she got older. She was easily excitable and an absolute chatterbox and seemed to have boundless energy. Furthermore, despite how much she had needed to be monitored, she was already significantly more independent than her brother. Part of that, though, could have been a side effect of how early on her Quirk ended up presenting. She had just barely been two years old when it happened, and while not unheard of, had become rather uncommon. The doctor explained that this was most likely a side effect of the experimentation she’d been put through, as it was a recurring theme with some of the other younger children that had lived. It had happened while she was in the bath before bedtime, as she was squealing and happily splashing about while Izuku laughed at her antics. One minute, she was in the tub, and then she suddenly perked up, her giggles cutting off as she blinked. “Momi?” Izuku had asked, tilting his head at her.

She patted at her belly and looked up at him, as if that would answer the question, and then she was enveloped in a yellow-white mist of light. It was brief - less than three seconds, Izuku swore - but when it faded, Momiji was gone. In her room, however, where Shouto had been pulling out some clean pajamas for her, the mist-light appeared, and suddenly Momiji was there, sitting on her changing table and dripping water all over it. Shouto remembered the two of them gawking at each other for a full five seconds before she took in a little gasp and said, nonchalant as a toddler could be, “Oh, hi Daddy.”

Teleportation, it was deemed medically, but Izuku liked to call it Peek-A-Boo, given its sporadic nature.

They'd had to do quite a bit of research to better understand her Quirk; specifically in that they had to drudge up the files of her genetic donors, since Shouto refused to apply the word "parent" to villains like that. Their Quirks were called Locator and Mistafy respectively; one could pinpoint a person's exact coordinates with enough information about them, while the other could briefly transform their body into a faint mist to move around or past things. Learning the limitations of their powers helped give them more insight with Momiji's own Quirk. She didn't have a particularly large range and she was limited to places she knew the layout of to a certain extent, so they didn't have to worry about her poofing off the property, at least. There had been one scare, though, when she'd teleported herself into a small crawl space under the house, where she had apparently burrowed into during a few rounds of hide-and-seek before. She could poof from room to room when visiting Inko and All Might or Rei and Endeavor, what with her being familiar with their homes, but she couldn't just appear in a neighbor's home or something.

And that had been a huge relief, really. They'd had to start working on her Quirk early on to avoid her “peeking” - as they preferred to call it - herself somewhere she shouldn't, or somewhere dangerous like the time with the crawl space. They had done it using little games, just like they did with Toshi, and learned that she could also teleport small objects, as well as that overworking her Quirk would lead to fainting spells. She was also a quick study, picking up on the same ticks of her power that her parents had and taking their advice or warning very seriously. Despite being younger, she was better with her Quirk than Satoshi, having reached a point where she seemed to have near-flawless control of it. Her last incident of accidental peeking was nearly three months ago.

But her Quirk was also part of what had Shouto's mind working in overdrive. He had voiced his concern to Rei and Inko, but the pair of them had merely giggled about what a mother hen he was being, fretting over his little chick running the roost a bit more. It wasn't about that, though! It wasn't about her being able to brush her teeth on her own without needing to be asked, or getting herself drinks or anything trivial like that! Shouto was fine that Momiji and Satoshi were already showing differences in who they were growing to be. What he worried about was what the catalyst for her to be so self-reliant at her young age was. How much of her independence was just part of her personality, and how much of it was out of a perceived sense of necessity? Had the need to get a handle on her Quirk led to her feeling like she was obligated to be more responsible, more mature? Was she feeling the same way he felt growing up?

That was what scared him. That she was carrying far too much weight on her little shoulders.

The thought was still bothering him as he dragged himself home after a late night patrol. He knew that by the time he got home, Izuku and the kids would most likely already be in bed. It was a quarter past eleven by the time he came through the door. He made a beeline for the bedroom, being quiet as he did so, and took a quick shower. It was as he was finishing up her pre-bed route that he noticed a quiet rustling sound in the bedroom proper. He rinsed his mouth and poked his head out, flicking the light off as he did.

There was a small squeak of surprise and then the soft patter of footsteps rushing from the left side of the bed towards the door. For a moment, he almost thought it was Toshi, but the figure was a smidge too short. "Momiji," he called softly, resisting the urge to dart over and scoop her up. He kept telling himself to just let her do what she needed to do, to trust that she'd speak up if needed.

She paused in reaching for the door before letting out a whimper, charging at him, latching to his right leg, and started crying. He was stunned by the act for a second, his body wavering slightly. Normally when she wanted one of them, she'd use her Quirk to get to them faster. He shifted to pick her up and cradle her against him, tucking her into his right shoulder. He kept one arm looped under her legs while the other stroked her back, trying to soothe her some. The quiet rustle of covers caught his attention and he turned to see a groggy Izuku sitting up, rubbing one eye with the heel of a hand. The minute he realized what was going on, though, he was wide awake. "What happened?" he mouthed.

"I'm not sure," he mouthed back. He moved over to the bed, carefully slipping into his side while keeping her close. Once he was settled, Izuku moved closer so he could rest against Shouto’s left side and reach out to help soothe their little girl, the three of them all squished together. After a few moments of soft words and gentle reassurances, she settled down a little. Her tiny body still shuddered with each breath in, but her cries had quieted down and her tears had subsided to just small sniffles. “Feeling a little better?” he prompted.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, letting out another little sniffle.

Izuku reached over and gently wiped away the last few tears from her cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I had a bad d-dream,” she said, a hiccup causing her to stumble over the last word. She peeked her little eyes at them before tilting her head to nuzzle further into Shouto, hiding her face. “I kept peeking over and over and I didn’t know where I was and I couldn’t make it st-stop and it was s-su-super s-s-sc-ary!”

Shouto tilted his head to press a small kiss to the top of her head as she started to work herself up into another fit while Izuku started wiping away the new batch of tears. "Oh, Momi, it's okay. It's okay to have scary dreams," Izuku cooed softly.

"N-Nu-uh!" she protested, burrowing her face into Shouto.

Izuku let out a small sigh as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, sweetie, everyone has scary dreams sometimes,"

"N-Not about their Q-Quirks!" she hiccupped, lifting her head to scowl at him. With the watery eyes and trembling lower lip, though, any attempt at intimidation was lost. "M-Mako-Kun doesn't g-get sc-scared of his Q-Quirk! A-And neither do Kaito or Reo or Isamu or Hibari!” The mention of Fuyumi’s kids was unsurprising, but the first one she mentioned did catch Shouto a bit off guard. Mako was the neighbor boy, a middle school student that occasionally walked Satoshi home and who helped his mom babysit them when neither Shouto or Izuku were going to be off of work on time or had anyone else available. His Quirk had something to do with generating poison and anti-venom, from what Shouto recalled, but he couldn't remember the specifics. Something to ask Izuku about later, since he'd most likely know.

"Well, Mako-Kun has had his Quirk a lot longer than you. I'm sure he was scared of it a little bit at first, too," Izuku chimed in softly, though he seemed a bit unsure of himself. Shouto knew that Izuku didn’t have any first hand experience with dealing with a Quirk at a young age, but they hadn’t discussed that fact with the kids yet. They were still only five and four, respectively, and they worried the pair would let the secret slip. They both knew that both kids tended to brag about who their dads were, after all.

Shouto hummed in agreement, carding a hand through her hair. “Papa’s right. Everyone's a little scared of their Quirk when they’re still learning about it. Why, I was afraid of my Quirk for a really long time,” he commented.

Momiji’s head snapped up lightning fast at that, looking at him like he’d just rocked the entire foundation of her world. “What? But you’re Daddy! A Hero! You’re not scared of nothing!” she squawked.

He laughed quietly, gently stroking her hair again to coax her to lie back down. “I wasn’t a Hero back then; I was little, like you. And even now, I might be a Hero, but there are still things I’m afraid of,” he mused.

“Like what?” she chirped, slowly settling back down, resting her chin on him and tilting her head so she could stare up at him.

“Well, I’m scared of something happening to you, or Papa, or Satoshi. I’m scared of not doing a good job as a Hero, or as a parent,” he admitted.

“And scorpions,” Izuku chimed in helpfully.

Shouto cast him a side glance before lightly pinched his belly in retaliation, causing the other to throw his face into a pillow with a muffled giggle. “Scorpions are icky!” Momiji agreed with a little shudder.

“Yes, they are,” he agreed, turning his attention back to her. “But back to the Quirk thing… I was very scared of my Quirk when I was around your age. I was always worried about hurting someone with it.”

“So what did you do?” she mumbled softly. “When you got scared?”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to tell her. He didn’t want to lie and pretend that he had parents that he could actively seek comfort from, but he also didn’t think that unpacking his childhood trauma on his daughter was responsible. His own childhood coping mechanisms also weren’t the best. But, he realized, there was something he could offer up. “Well, I would take a little break from using it,” It was a half truth at best, since he was pretty sure that ‘a little break’ didn’t extend to ‘nearly a decade of non-use’, but it was mostly true once he started actively using his fire. It had taken him time to get used to it and, sometimes, he’d struggle and get frustrated or scared. “I’d go do other things, like reading a book or studying notes, and just not really think about my Quirk until I felt ready.”

She hummed and nodded quietly, shifting to nuzzle closer to him again. “Mkay,” she said simply.

“Do you feel better, baby?” Izuku asked softly, resting his head against Shouto’s chest and getting himself comfortable.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed before opening her mouth wide in a yawn. She smacked her lips a bit and burrowed into Shouto, little hand curling in the fabric of his night shirt and her eyes sliding closed. “Can I sleep here?”

The pair of them exchanged amused looks. As if they were going to shoo the poor thing back to her room, especially when she was already so comfy and content. “Of course you can,” Shouto hummed, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“Love you, Daddy, Papa,” she yawned, eyes cracking open briefly as she flashed them a little smile before they fluttered closed again.

Shouto carefully curled his arm around her to keep her close while Izuku settled one of his hands on top of hers, thumb gently stroking the top. Once her breaths started to come in even, steady puffs, green eyes flashed upwards with affectionate exasperation. “This little girl, I swear. She just jumps from hysterical to dubious to exhausted like it’s nothing,” he chuckled.

“Well, she is our daughter. Emotional extremes are kind of our thing in this family,” he teased back, grin widening when Izuku whined and ducked his face into his shoulder. “And, I mean, I don’t blame her for being exhausted. Being scared can be very tiring.”

“Hmm,” Izuku agreed, turning his head to look at her again. She was completely peaceful now, little sleepy snores escaping her. “Do you think that part of it is because she doesn’t spend a whole lot of time with other kids her age? I mean, she has play dates with everyone elses kids when we can find the time, but the kids she sees the most often are bigger kids. Or perhaps it’s a matter of her Quirk being so different from the rest of the family and her friends? I mean, most of the other kids have more expansive Quirks that aren’t so directly tethered to their spatial awareness.”

“I’ll call Momo tomorrow and see what preschool program she and Kyoka are thinking about putting Shikako in. Perhaps being with a peer that she knows whose Quirk also has an element of unpredictability will help her feel comfortable. Or at least give her someone her own age that relates to help her feel better about it,” he commented. Shikako had been another of the rescued survivors from the same incident as Momiji, though she was a few months older. She had been living with a different family for the first six months after the incident, but then her Quirk presented. It turned out to be Projection; she could temporarily bring things she imagined to life. Because of how similar her Quirk seemed to work to Momo’s, she and Kyoka had immediately jumped to take her in when her first family admitted to not knowing how to manage her Quirk, happy to offer her a safe and loving home.

“You’re amazing,” Izuku said, leaning up to kiss him quickly before settling back down. Shouto smiled and relaxed into the bed, basking in the weight of his husband and daughter pressing down on him. There was going to be some phone calls to make in the morning and there was still work to be done, but he felt relieved to know their daughter wasn’t afraid to open up and seek comfort from them.

He held her a little tighter, though, just in case the lingering fears tried to disturb her again.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were. 

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up. 

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified. 

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it. 

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap. 

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

[09yards]

Don’t Call Me Angel / NCT secret agent au | read on ao3 here

pairings: Kun x Ten, Johnny x Taeyong, Doyoung x Jaehyun, Mark x Donghyuck, Lucas x Renjun and small Hendery x Yangyang

note: I changed the pairings from the original ones slightly and apologies for that but I think the story will work a lot better now. Anyways, enjoy (:

“I do not need some six-foot, macho-man, babysitter, Kun. I think I’ve made it perfectly clear I can take care of myself and we both know I work better alone.”

“Ten, when I came over last night I found you crying on the sofa with an almost empty bottle of expensive white wine over Grey’s Anatomy. You cannot take care of yourself.”

“Derek died Kun, gone , dead , never coming back! He left Meredith alone, and she’s pregnant! Think of the babies! Anyone with a heart would find that upsetting.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a heart then,” Kun tisked, “And seriously, what is your obsession with babies? Can you move on from that soon—you keep mentioning them around Taeyong and he keeps whining about how cute they are too. Babies are weird, squishy things, they are not cute . They cry and scream and you can’t just leave them to their own devices. It’s so irritating .”

“Jesus, you’re such a bitch. You’re my best friend and I love you but god Kun, you can be so mean . But we’re getting off topic—I don’t need a damn bodyguard!”

“He’s not some bodyguard or babysitter Ten, he’s going to be your partner —your equal, if you will.” Kun stood up from his seat and walked around his desk to lean against it, gaze firm and business face on. “The two of you will be working together . He happens to be extremely skilled in the combat side of things and yes, he is much taller than you and appearance-wise he seems more fitting to the role. And his looks match your work a little more than yours do. He’s ex-military, his file says a Navy SEAL if I recall correctly. He will make sure you stay out of trouble while you charm and flirt your way through missions. He will allow me to guarantee—or at least somewhat reassure—your safety.”

“I sincerely apologise that I’m disrupting your usual conduct Ten, but I won’t apologise for wanting to make sure you’re safe. After what happened with Sicheng, neither me nor Taeyong are willing to take any risks when it comes to the safety of our agents. Even Doyoung is being assigned a partner for his field work. Taeyong is letting him know later, and so I give it—” Kun paused to give a quick glance to his watch and then the clock ticking against the wall. “—about forty minutes until the coffee table in the reception is smashed into several hundred thousand pieces, again . Remind me to ask Jungwoo to order a new one when we’re finished.”

Ten let out a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry too, by the way.” Ten took a deep breath, his voice was much quieter than normal, almost as if he was embarrassed. “I get where you’re coming from, I’m just not used to working with any other people aside from Doyoungie or Hendery in my ear, let alone working with anyone in the flesh. The only person I ever had as a partner was you, way back when we were still rookies.” Kun flashed him a small smile in return, an acknowledgement of some sorts of their rookie days. The days before Kun left.

“It’s going to be an adjustment, but I think it’s a good thing. Frankly, even though you probably won’t see it at first, you and Youngho will get along great. He’s coming from a placement in Berlin. He was originally part of the European branch actually, and he’s also bringing three other agents with him—Jung Yoonoh, Lee Donghyuck and Liu Yangyang. I’m not sure what code names they’re being assigned as of yet. Youngho is fluent in both Korean and English, and apparently his Mandarin isn’t terrible so you can pick what you like but keep in mind who your in-ear is. Don’t speak in a language they don't understand. That will remain the rule.”

“You mean if my in-ear is, for some reason, not Hendery or even Mark. You do know that there’s been only one case out of the four hundred and ninety-six missions I’ve worked where my in-ear hasn’t been one of them? And while we’re on that, please never assign Jeno to me again—he was awful but , in all fairness, I think he was just scared of telling me what to do.” Kun rolled his eyes at the fact Ten has memorised his exact number of missions and watches as Ten had visibly relaxed once again, kicking his feet up onto the arm of the sofa he was lounging on. His eyes widened as he tried to remember the information Kun had told him. “Wait, European? Kun did you finally find me the hot British agent of my dreams? I’m ready for my romancing. Okay, that’s a lie, but who knows.” He shrugged.

“No. I don’t know the logistics of how he ended up in Europe but he’s American, from Chicago—the place that, according to him and a quick google search, has really good pizza and is always windy. I wasn’t really interested in his life story, I was more interested in his stats on his transfer application. If it’s any consolation, Irene and Seulgi swear by him—gave him glowing references from their time in Paris and said he’s easy on the eyes, whatever that means.”

“Ah, Kun dearest ,” his voice dripping with sarcasm at the added endearment, “How would you rate his attractiveness?”

“I don’t know, Ten, I don’t pay attention to these things. Besides, I’ve yet to meet him in the flesh. I’ve only seen the pictures from his profile that were provided.”

“Bullshit! Just because you’re all work-focussed and don’t spend time on tinder doesn’t mean you can’t objectively determine if someone is attractive or not. What do our years of friendship get me if you can’t even tell me whether or not he’s ‘future partner with mutually beneficial relations material?’”

The apples of Kun’s cheeks turned rosy at that, a light blush washing over him as he visibly stiffened slightly. Ten always found it amusing that even with their years of friendship and his own distinct lack of a filter, when it came to most discussions—particularly his nonchalant approach to sex and the attractiveness of someone—Kun would flush instantly like you’d just caught him with his pants down. Unfortunately, Ten knew exactly how Kun reacted to being seen with his pants down, a price that comes with having been friends for many years and Ten’s old habit of showing up at Kun’s apartment unannounced. It’s safe to say Ten avoided him for several weeks after the incident, and now he always makes sure to knock or text.

“He—” Kun faltered, “—I guess, objectively speaking of course, I might agree that he’s attractive. Although he seems like a romantic so don’t get your hopes up. God , I need a drink before I talk about this with you and the tantrum Doyoung is going to throw—oh dear.”

“No worries, I can help you with that!” Ten jumped up from his seat, walking over to the large bookshelf filling the length of one of the walls of Kun’s office. He rummaged behind several boxes of files before yelling, “Found it!” and returning with a bottle of soju. Kun doesn’t want to know how or when it ended up in his office, but Ten seems to have gained psychic abilities because he counters that, “It’s a need-to-know basis and you don’t need to know. But you never know when you might need a bottle. It’s handy to keep one around.”

“Have you got glasses hidden somewhere too?”

“’Fraid not. We do, however, have mugs so that’ll do. Shot glasses are a pain anyway. You have to keep refilling them and with a mug you don’t.” Ten promptly poured the soju, filling the two mugs and whispering “It’s our little secret,” before sitting down once again (with his feet up on the arm rest again, Kun couldn’t help sneer a little—he was a fan of the no shoes on the furniture policy, but Ten doesn’t agree to it at home, so why would Kun expect him to at the office?).

“Stop glaring at me, Kun. I’m not putting my feet down. Now , finish what you were saying about my partner .”

“I really don’t know much else about him,” Kun sighed, “he requested that two of the other agents also received a transfer and the third was given a non-negotiable transfer. He got into some trouble while in Berlin so they had to pull him immediately, but even I wasn’t given the details. I do know that he speaks Mandarin, so you can have someone else to practice with when you feel like, and I’m sure Xiaojun will be roping him into the Chinese-only nights in no time.”

“Kun, you’re supposed to be the source of all information. How do you know so little? Oh quit it, I know you only know what the profile tells you blah blah blah.”

“You can tease Doyoung about this partner, if that makes you feel any better. I don’t know much about him either but he’s another ex-military poster boy, Yoonoh could pass as a high-end model too. According to Seulgi they call him ‘everyone’s first love’. He has dimples that are apparently ‘ to die for ’ and if the photos on his profile are anything to go by, he has some rather... prominent abs. Taeyong described them as washboard,” when Kun had asked him to explain, Taeyong had patted the younger’s head and told him that it was late and he was going to head home. “I practically had to wipe the drool off of his face after he spent far too long looking at the pictures attached to the profile. Who even attaches multiple shirtless pictures to their profile? We only need one for identification, not multiple for Taeyong to fawn over. Jesus , pass the bottle, would you?”

“Kun it’s not even 5 pm, I think one mug of soju is enough daytime drinking while at work, especially if the new people are arriving today.”

“Need I remind you that I’m your superior, pass the bottle so I can drown out that picture. He kept making jokes about how I never date. I was young and hot once you know? I had fun, I got around, I wasn’t old and boring like I am now.”

“Kun I do not need or want to know how your sex life has deteriorated. I lived next-door to you in college—that’s all I need to know. You’ll find someone when you’re ready. Who knows, maybe you’ve already met them.”

“Have you thought about my offer to live with me or on-base yet? I don’t like the thought of you living alone… not after everything.”

Ten raised his eyebrow at the comment. “I haven’t yet but I’ll think about it. Now , tell me about Yoonoh.”

“The only other thing I was told is that he’s supposedly quite the charmer and sweet talker, however he’s always declined any advances made towards him according to Irene. He seems to have a naturally flirtatious personality, though.”

“Ahh, brilliant! Poor Doie is going to fall in love with him so quickly, I can’t wait . I hope Yoonoh’s going to flirt with him. He isn’t going to have a clue what to do.”

“What you’re saying would sound sympathetic or supportive coming from anyone else's mouth, but from yours it just sounds downright sadistic.”

If Kun hadn’t known Ten as long as he had, the eerie smile Ten is currently adorning would’ve been alarming but alas, once you’d known someone long enough, and you’d risked death together and saved one another’s lives more than a handful of times, and a large part of your job involves killing other people, it takes a lot to creep Kun out these days.

“Hey, your forty minutes are up now and no smashed coffee table yet—“

As if someone of a higher power was listening in, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the ground floor of the building along with several screeches from whoever was milling around at the time. This wouldn’t be the last time Doyoung would throw whatever piece of furniture he could get his hands on off the balcony, launching it to the floor below and consistently nailing the coffee table in particular.

“As you were saying Ten?”

Ten pouted and mumbled, “Never mind.”

There was a sheepish knock on the door and Kun yelled a quick come in as a response.

“Sorry to bother you guys, just thought I’d let you know, Kun, but I’m putting the order for a new coffee table in now and a new office chair. Is there anything else you need?”

“No that’s all, thanks Jungwoo.”

“Wait? An office chair too?” Ten sat up a little, waiting for a response.

“Yes, Ten,” Jungwoo sighed, “That’s what Doyoung threw off the balcony—may need to bring a contractor in to fix the dent in the floor, but I think a new table will cover it enough that it doesn’t need to be done anytime soon.”

“I forgot you’ve never actually witnessed Doyoung throwing various belongings off the balcony. The money he costs me is ridiculous.”

“I’ll leave the two of you to it. I doubt it’ll be long before they make their way down. You know what Doyoung’s like.”

“No worries, thanks Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo had only just made it back to his desk where Xiaojun was waiting with a fresh cup of coffee when Doyoung flung Kun’s office door open, bypassing the now sheepish looking Jungwoo and closely followed by an exasperated looking Taeyong.

“For the last time, Taeyong, no! It’s not happening! I work alone, alone ! Do I need to spell it out for you? It’s a five-letter word, of which the meaning is to be by oneself, or shall we take the definition from the Oxford Dictionary where they define alone to be: one, without any other people or two, without the help of other people or things.” Doyoung took a second to catch his breath in between sentences, “I don’t need someone looking out for me, I look out for me. I’m the quartermaster, I head up our entire technology department.”

He jabbed a finger in Taeyong’s direction, “I’m regarded as one of the best amongst all the branches of NCT. Yes, I hacked my profile again to look. You really should get someone to make it less easy—oh wait, you can’t because I’m the only one who can because it’s my job. I am not some newbie field agent who doesn’t know how to reload a handgun in less than ten seconds. You made me go through the training just like everyone else, I can tell you that I did not engage in hand to hand combat on a daily basis with Lucas for shits and giggles. No one trains with Lucas for fun aside from Renjun but its Renjun. That kid scares me, he may be pint-sized but if Ten has taught me anything, the short ones can bite and they usually have high pain thresholds but not-so high patience and I’m not ready to die just yet. Honestly, I’m getting a tad concerned at the number of people we employ that appear very cute but just happen to be capable of snapping your neck or blowing your head off.”

“Are you done yet?” Taeyong sighed, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. He was fully aware that Doyoung wasn’t actually angry, he wasn’t death glaring either Taeyong or Kun, and aside from the coffee table no major damage had been caused. It was typical Doyoung, whine until someone gives in.

“No. No, I am not finished. Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Oh my, please continue, Doyoung. Everyone here wants to hear your pathetic complaints.” Ten’s trademark sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh Ten, don’t act like you weren’t whining to Kun about this less than an hour ago.”

“At least I haven’t been bitching to Taeyong for an hour and thrown a fucking chair. You can be so dramatic Doyoungie.”

“Dramatic? Me? Have you met yourself?”

“Both of you, be quiet!” It was rare of Kun to yell at someone, to be angry with them—let alone full-fledged shouting in the confines of his office. “Taeyong, please may you check with Jungwoo on when the new agents will be here? Ten and Doyoung can join the meeting as well if they stop insisting on acting like children . Apparently, they seem to have forgotten that we may all be friends here, but while we’re at work, I am their superior and what I say is final.”

“Sorry to interrupt again Kun, but the new agents are here. Xiaojun is with them in the conference room and asked me to get you as soon as possible. He seems to find them rather intimidating.”

“Right, nevermind Taeyong and thank you Jungwoo, we’ll be right there. You and Xiaojun can feel free to head home. I’ll need just one of you to round up whoever’s still hovering and point them in the direction of the dorms—I don’t want to be interrupted when we give them the tour. Have a nice evening, and I will see you tomorrow.”

“Will do, thank you. I’ll be in for the conference with Japan first thing in the morning. See you then!” With a meek half-smile, he hurried out of the office once again. Jungwoo wasn’t a stranger to the tension of the office, so he knew very well that Kun rarely shouted, and he wasn’t for testing his patience.

“Okay then. Do you two still want to act like toddlers with your whining? Or can we all go and introduce ourselves to the new agents with the manners and respect we would expect to receive from anyone else?”

“Yes, Kun. Sorry, Kun.” They both mumbled simultaneously, standing up and straightening their clothes.

“Ready, Yong?”

“After you.”

[huntertales]

Part Four: Hush Little Baby, Don’t You Cry. (Sacrifice S08E023)

Episode Summary: With Crowley poised to undo all the good they’ve ever done as hunters; Sam, Dean and the reader find themselves cornered. But with Kevin’s help, the Winchesters and the reader bound into one last play against the king of hell. However everything comes with a cost. What must the three sacrifice to seal the gates of hell for good? Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warning: ANGST, religious undertones, mentions of blood. mentions/symptoms of miscarriage. (If any of this makes you uncomfortable/triggering, please do not read. Also probably not medically accurate as I possibly could have been.) Word Count: 7,524.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Completing the angel trials turned out to be less difficult than Dean was expecting them to be when he agreed to be apart of this. It took all of you months and endless hard work to get you where you were tonight, completing the final stage up locking hell up for good. Cas had taken care of the first trial which turned out to be killing a nephilim—an offspring of an angel and human. The second one involved tracking down a cherub and stealing its bow. It took a few hours of scoping out a bar Cas and Metatron had been at previously been at before the angel was taken. Dean excepted the love birds to be a female vendor Gail and the male owner. It seemed pretty standard. Turned out she was the matchmaker they were looking for. She hit Dwight and his regular customer Rod with the arrow of love. 

You would have gushed over the sight of Dwight and Rod falling in the kind of love that was slow and sweet, blossoming over time into the men falling madly head over heels in love with each other. You were always sentimental about things like this. To Dean it felt like the first five minutes of every porno he had seen if he was being honest. But they weren’t just two people struck with love at first sight. They were a match made in heaven, struck by cupid’s bow. Soulmates. And the only person who could do that was a cherub was Gail. Cas was ready to kill the other angel for her bow, not wanting to waste any more time than he had, but Dean didn’t think things needed to always end so violently. Sometimes talking helped. Not all angels were dicks. Gail gladly handed over her bow when Dean explained why they wanted it in the first place. Turned out she wanted to fix heaven much as Cas did.

While the two of them were working, Kevin had been doing exactly as he was told, diligently translating the tablet and trying to figure out more about these angel trials he had never heard of before until today. While he found exactly what he was looking for, something didn’t add up to what he was reading. Kevin spent months learning the word of God, figuring out what every symbol sketched into the stone meant. Kevin wondered why he couldn’t find anything about the trials Dean had told him about after he called to see how much progress the kid was making. Kevin slowly paced around the library with the tablet in his hands and his phone sitting on the table with the call on speaker.

“I think I found the angel trials,” Kevin said, giving the older man an update he had been hoping to hear. “but I don’t see anything about a nephilim or a cupid’s bow or anything like that.”

“Oh, come on, Kev! We’re on the one-yard line here.” Dean tried to keep the kid focused, long enough for him to figure out the third trial before anymore time could run out. 

“Okay, and I should have mentioned this six months ago, but the sports metaphors—you want to motivate me, magic cards, ‘Skyrim,’ Aziz Ansari.” Kevin was sick and tired of hearing the pep talk that didn’t appeal to the type of person that he was. He tried giving Dean some bullet points to work off and understand what could help keep him focused, the older man was lost after hearing a name of some actor he had never heard of before until tonight. 

Dean kept walking as he continued on the conversation with Kevin about trying to find any trace of the things him and Cas had been doing tonight. The angel found himself stopping in his tracks when he heard a familiar sound of ruffling feathers, and the feeling of another presence of his kind. He turned around to see someone that was a traitor to him. She was the one who took Metatron, who poked around in Cas’ head and told him to find the angel tablet. She was the reason why he wanted to lock up heaven for good. Naomi stood several feet away from her fellow brother. She raised her arms in a defeated motion, doing everything in her power to let him understand she wasn’t here on bad intentions.

“I’m not here to fight you, Castiel.” Naomi explained to the angel. Dean found himself halting in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice speak up from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see it was the same angel who had pulled Cas out from purgatory and sent him down a spiraling path. But she was also the one who helped Bobby into heaven. And warned the Winchesters about the way to get to hell when you were completing the second trial. “Not anymore.” 

“Where is Metatron?” Cas questioned the angel as he took a few steps towards her.

“He told you he was going to fix heaven, didn’t he? Murdering a nephilim, cutting off a cupid’s bow—it’s a lie. All of it.” Naomi dropped a twist nobody was expecting to hear. From her past behavior it would be likely for neither Dean or Cas to believe her, so she backed up her claim with proof. “I’ve been in his head.”

“You’ve been in all our heads.” Cas said. “That’s the problem.”

“No, Castiel, you’re wrong.” Naomi defended herself against her brother’s judgement.

“This is what you do. You twist things.” Cas shook his head. Her little games wasn’t going to work on him anymore. Not like how they did before. Because it cost him too much and ruined the trust once again of the people he cared about the most. The angel never wanted to go down that path again. “I’m trying to fix heaven. Metatron is trying to fix heaven.”

“Metatron isn’t trying to fix anything. He’s trying to break it—an act of revenge for driving him away.” Naomi corrected the angel. She wasn’t lying about the things she was saying. Because she had no reason to. Cas and herself were in danger of falling to Metatron’s plan. Dean found himself curious as to what Naomi was saying, despite Cas’ warning to ignore her. Naomi hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He wanted to at least hear what she had to say before making any final judgements. “Expel all angels from heaven, just as God cast out Lucifer.“

“Cast you out where?” Dean asked her. “Hell?”

“Here. Thousands of us, walking the earth.” Naomi explained. Castiel was tired of hearing the blatant lies coming out from his sister’s mouth. He charged forward with the angel blade with every intention of doing something he should have months ago. Dean found himself starting to believe the other angel. He managed to grab ahold of Cas before he could kill her. The older Winchester gave the woman a serious expression, giving her one last opportunity to defend herself. Dean could see the regret in Naomi’s face at the choices she had made over the past several months. Because it wasn’t what her kind was made to do. Her brothers and sisters were supposed to be selfless. Caring. Instead they turned into monsters, greedy with their own purpose. “Our mission was to protect what God created. I don’t know when we forgot that.”

Naomi carried no such hatred to you or the Winchesters, despite the reputation you carried over the years. The three of you had done more with your lives than any of her siblings had since the creation of human. Angels did nothing more than sit back and watch as the world fell apart around them, letting humans slaughter and torture one another for the most barbaric reasons. You always tried to do something to fix it, make the world feel a little less bleak. Naomi couldn’t sit back anymore. She needed to do the right thing before one of Metatron’s plans were put into action.

“I want nothing more than to see you shut the gates of hell, but I told you that you could trust me. If Y/N completes those trials,” Naomi explained the last bit of information Metatron failed to tell them when they met each other. The consequences of your hard work if you cured Crowley. The perfect twist nobody expected. “she is going to die.”

You were going to die...Those words began to slowly process in his head, wanting to make sure he just heard was correct. He felt his breathing had stopped for a split second when they finally did. And at the same time it was like someone had sucker punched him right in the stomach, knocking the rest of the air out of his lungs. This couldn’t be happening. His heart began to beat fast, to the point he feared it might beat out of his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw it in Metatron’s head.” Naomi explained to him how she knew. “It was always God’s intention—the ultimate sacrifice.” 

For a moment there was a part of you that might not have reached that point. Until you had a revelation of sorts. Naomi told the story about the night Dean remembered from three months ago, a little while after you completed the first trial and broke the news that he was going to be a father. You had been so excited for motherhood, you were practically glowing. You were set on the idea that everything was going to be okay. Every part of you was ready for the new chapter in your life with Dean. Until you took a case shortly after breaking the news and taking on the responsibility of the trials. It started off with a witch who messed with your heads by casting a spell that made you relive every bad memory buried deep in your mind. For you, the spell had a different effect on you. It caused all of your inner demons to come out and mess with your head, creating a hallucination that felt real to you. The next case you took didn’t help your anxious mind. It made it worse. 

Your happiness shifted into regret. Suddenly you were worried about if you having this baby was a good idea. Everyone you loved ended up dead. You and Sam were born on the path of destruction. And Dean had created a monster of his own. All signs pointed that this wasn’t going to end well. You needed some guidance. A voice of reason to tell you that what you were doing was the right thing. Naomi explained that the night Dean prayed to Cas, you went to church and prayed to God. You were scared and vulnerable. Desperate to hear from anyone that what you were doing was the right thing. If you couldn’t hear from God directly, someone who has spent their entire life to Him would be the next best thing.

The priest you talked to that night was the same one you met two and a half months later in some hotel in Colorado. You didn’t make the connection at the time because of the effects of the trials. The ones that you were ready to quit for good. But Metatron couldn’t have that. He took two people who were at their most vulnerable and used their own grief against them. He tricked you into completing the trials because you thought it was the only shot at redemption. Your only chance at being like the rest of the human population—a child of God. 

“You know what really hurts the most? It’s the fact that Lucifer made me. The most evil thing out there created me. I felt so alone. Isolated.”

You were desperate not to let history repeat itself. You would do just about anything to make sure you and the baby were okay. “I’m the only of my kind. And there was no changing that. But I don’t feel like that anymore. Because these trials…they’re purifying us.” 

Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach when he realized what you meant by the words you said in the hallway, leading him to find Metatron. You were tricked into believing all the effects of the trials was some kind of way to cure you from any trace of demon left in your system. Even though it had been gone for all these years. You thought there was still somehow a piece of it still hooked into your body. The fear grew into some kind of paranoia you would do anything to achieve. The inner peace you always wanted. To make sure there wasn’t a chance your child would come out the same way. So you could be like everyone else. So you didn’t feel alone anymore.

Cas got himself wrapped up in the angel trials for the same exact reason you had. Because he wanted to fix everything after doing so much damage. The both of you were the perfect puppets for Metatron to manipulate. 

Naomi would do anything in her power for such a thing not to happen. Because she knew it was more than just your life on the line if you were to complete the demon trials. “As for you, Castiel, I beg of you, stop this path. Metatron has been neutralized.” She told her fellow sibling. All she could do at this point was to make him understand that she didn’t want any more tension between the both of them. She wanted things back the way it used to be. Cas had proven that he wanted the same as well. “If you want back in, truly, I will listen.”

The angel spoke her peace, now it was time for those who had power in this situation to take proper action. She vanished from sight not a second later. Dean brought the phone back to his ear, continuing the conversation he had going with Kevin. He felt like his head was spinning, his mind going in every wrong direction. “Hey, right now, talk to me. Is she lying?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin admitted. 

“Well, find out!” Dean barked out the command, ending the phone call right after.

“She’s lying.” Cas tried to reassure the man before he could think himself into a frenzy about your well being. He could only presume Naomi said all of those things to scare them. Dean didn’t know who to trust, or what to believe. All he cared about was getting back to you before it was too late.

“Take me to her.” Dean ordered. The angel tried to calm him down from the irrational fear put in his head, but there was nothing Cas could say that was going to change his mind. Not with your lives on the line. “Take me to her!”

+ + + 

This was the moment you had been waiting for the past six months. Maybe your entire life. You were one step closer to achieving the goal you had been working so hard towards. You had put your literal blood, sweat and tears into completing these trials. Proving to everyone, God, even yourself that you were capable of doing something good. You were finally going to be able to put your demons to rest. Every single one that taunted you for the past thirty-two years. Azazel. Lilith. Alistar. Ruby. Even Lucifer himself. Every single one of them ruined your life in some kind of way, pulled on your strings to do exactly what they wanted. This was your way of cutting the cord. You weren’t their puppet anymore. 

You weren't going to let them take away the people you loved. Twist your own desires and guilt to their own advantage. Make you into nothing more than a pet they can torture, trick you into thinking they were one of the good guys. And most important of all, you were your own person. You didn't care if he was your creator. You weren't his property. A toy he could play and pull apart, dress you up into whatever kind of sick creature he wanted. Make you into someone that he lost. Once you completed this ritual, you were clean. You were going to be free.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus, spiritus, hanc animam redintergra, lustra.”

You weren’t doing this just for yourself. You were doing this to continue on your father’s work, the legacy he worked so hard for. The one he gave his life to complete. And gave him life back to give you a chance at a normal life. However it happened. You chanted the same ritual he had fifty five years ago with the intention of changing the world and make it a safer place. You tossed the book back over to the pew and lifted up the demon knife, ready to use it for the last time. You placed the blade against your skin and slowly sliced open your palm, drawing up blood to the surface. You inhaled a shaky breath when you noticed your arms began to glow once more. And the pain returned before. This time was more intense, worse than anything you might had  experienced before in your life. But you reminded yourself it was part of the process.

You walked over to rowley with your arm outstretched, ready to slap your blood palm against his mouth and feed him the last droplets for your blood. You were so close. You didn’t think of the possibility that someone might disrupt you at the very last second. 

The sounds of the church doors bursting open made you jumped at the unexpected intrusion. You thought it was Abbadon ready to go another round with you. Instead it was Dean. You stared at him with a confused expression at his entrance, wondering to yourself why he looked like here had rushed to get here. Maybe it was because he wanted to witness the final moment himself. That wasn’t the case from the words that came rushing out of his mouth. 

“Y/N, stop!” Dean shouted at you. You stared at him with a baffled sort of look. Why would he tell you to do such a thing? You were close. So close to just finishing this and being done with it all for good. “Easy there, okay? Just take it easy. We got a slight change in plans.” 

“What? What’s going on?” You questioned him. “Where’s Cas?!”

“Metatron lied.” Dean explained to you, breaking the news to you. You continued to stare at him with a confused expression, all of the things he was saying weren’t making any sense. But he knew what he was about to tell you surely would. “You finish this trial, you’re dead, Y/N.”   

You listened to the information that was given to you, something that should be setting off warning bells in your head. Dean watched as your expression began to slowly shift as the news began to process in your mind from what he just said. The consequences of your actions if you went through with this. It wouldn't just harm you, but the creature growing inside of you. Sam wasn't sure what he should've done in this moment. Pull you away from Crowley so you didn't do anything stupid? You stared at Dean, letting him watch as the ends of your lips slightly twitched into a smile. Like it wasn't that big of a deal.

“Of course. It all makes so much sense.” You whispered to yourself. “Unless one is reborn again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” 

Dean wasn’t quite familiar with the bible, but he would bet everything in the world that the words he heard come out of your mouth was exactly that. "Y/N, look at me." Dean's the command made you do exactly that. He felt a sense of guilt from what he was about to do, he could see the hope in your eyes. Like what you were doing was the right thing. Only it was leading you to your death. But you didn't understand it the way he was trying to tell you. "You remember a priest named Father Marv? The priest you talked to three months ago?"

You furrowed your brow slightly from the name, “How do you know about that?”

“The exact same reason why I know you need to stop this. And why you felt like you were the only one who could do these trials. Y/N, it's not your duty. It never was. All those things the priest told you wasn't true. It was Metatron. He was Father Marv." Dean explained to you. From the sound of his voice, Dean was begging for you to understand before you could do something you would regret. "God didn't tell you. Metatron was behind all of this. He tricked you into carrying on with the trials."

"No. No, you don't get it. Don't you see? It's all part of the plan. Everything, and I mean everything has led me to this point. You expect me to stop when I'm so close?" You stared at the man with a look of disbelief from what he was asking of you. He didn't get it. You didn't know what you had to say for him to understand like the way you had. "Look at him, Dean, Look at him! Look at how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish!"

"Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? We never trusted angels before. So why are we starting now?" Dean asked you. You scoffed at his thinking, his close mindedness. But it wasn't just that he was worried about. "All of this isn't a waste. Rememberer what we learned. Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here.”

“You don’t understand. I need  to finish this, Dean.” You were pleading with him now in some kind of attempt to make him understand the words that were coming out of your mouth. But you knew Dean wouldn’t crack without some kind of proof. And you had exactly that. You reached a hand inside your shirt to pull out something the boys hadn’t seen in over four years. The amulet Dean wore every single day. It was a gift Sam had given to him one Christmas. The exact same one you watched Dean throw away after the trail to God went cold and you were told flat out He didn’t care. You kept onto it because you still kept out hope. Like you always did. “I brought it with me to the church that night. I don’t know why. I didn’t think it was going to work. But, guys, it worked. I felt it. And like Cas said—”

“It burns hot in God’s presence.” Dean finished the piece of information he remembered. You found yourself smiling in some kind of relief at what you heard him say, thinking this was his way of finally understanding it all. He learned everything now. Why you had been acting so strange over the past few months, why everything happened to the three of you over this past year. It was for this exact moment. But Dean couldn't view it like you had. All he could do was give you a saddened look from how gullible you were. "Sweetheart, come on. Think about this. It was just a trick. I mean, why would God, after all these years, poke his head out and help you?"

It took all of five seconds for Dean to realize that what he just said was the wrong response. You found yourself staring at him like he just slapped you right across the face. “Why do you do this to me?” You asked him in a quiet, deadly serious tone of voice. You felt your jaw clench as you stared at him with a cold, darkening expression. Dean could see there was more you were trying to hold back for the moment. You exhaled a shaky breath as your eyes began to fill up with tears. He hit a nerve in you. “Why do you always have to make things so...miserable? Like good things can’t happen to us?”

"Come on, Y/N. Don’t twist this around into something that it’s not." Dean tried to defend himself and get out of the corner you were backing him into. But you weren't going to let him brush this off like he did like every other time he said something wrong. "You know that’s not what I meant—"

“No That’s exactly what you meant. Because you always have to turn these things around and make them about yourself. You're so broken inside you think everything has to end in some kind of bloody massacre. I mean, when I told you I was pregnant you walked out on me, Dean. You were set on the idea of leaving me here to raise this kid on my own because you don’t think you were going to be good enough. You thought it was going to end miserably like everything else in your life. But it's not. And I'm trying to tell you, but you won't listen to me!” You weren’t exactly sure what was coming out of your mouth at this point. Maybe it was the delirium setting in. You were just tired. Tired of biting your tongue. Pretending like his past actions against you and the people he called family were just things that didn’t matter once you made up. 

“You’re right, okay? I look at things one sided. I’m a little messed up. And I’m still beating myself up for what I did to you. But...Y/N, I’m listening to you. And I’m trying to tell you this is the wrong move. You can’t do this. I mean, when we ever take the easy way out?” Dean tried to talk you down, make you understand that what you were about to do was a mistake. He even tried to crack a smile in some kind of attempt to ease the tension. It didn’t work. “I know this isn’t what we set on. But for the first time in forever we have a fighting chance against these bastard. We can make sure this kid has a safer than we have ever had. But if you do this, it's not just your life you're throwing away. And I don't want you to do that. I need you. Sammy and I need you.” 

"I believe you." Dean felt the weight on his chest liften just enough for him to inhale a breath at the three words that came out of your mouth. But the conversation kept spiraling downwards. He was losing you more and more. "You need us, Dean. But you don't trust us like you do. You never have. I mean, maybe you trust me a little more than Sam... but even then, you still keep me at arm’s length. Like you need to make sure we do the right thing. You told us that!” 

Dean winced at the hard reality you were forcing him to face. He knew there wasn’t much that he could say to make you feel better. “Y/N, come on. Focus.”

“I am focused. More than I have been in my entire life. For the first time in forever I know what I’m doing is the right thing. Do you know how good that feels? To know that you’re changing the world for the better? Better than anything. Do you want to know the real reason why I went to church that night? What I confessed in there?” You asked the boys, pointing to the confessional where you had been just eight and a half hours ago. Down on your knees, admitting every sin you had committed since you were born. Speaking to someone they thought had abandoned you long ago. It was so many things. Things you thought you would never get the chance to ask receive forgiveness from. You inhaled a deep breath, trying your hardest not to let yourself fall apart. "Do you want to know what my greatest sin was? It was how many times I you guys down. Hell, the whole world. I can't do that. I can't keep carrying around this burden on my shoulders like…every decision I make is the wrong one.” 

You looked away before either one of the boys could try and give you that sympathetic, pathetic puppy dog stare. They didn't understand the burdens you carried around every single day. Not even Sam. "I'm tired of feeling like this. I'm a bad person. I always was. But I'm trying to change that. I swear." You admitted to them, the two people you cared for more than anything in this world. More than your own life. You stared at them with a defeated expression on your face. "I just want to be good. I don't know what else to do."

You knew it was just more than that. It was layers upon layers of fear you had been accumulating over the past six months from what you were about to do. Bringing another life into this world. You carried the fear that this baby's life was going to end the same way. You saw it happen to people you tried to escape. Those who tried to raise their kids to know about all the evil out in the world and fight it. It wasn't good enough. All of it ended the same way. This was the only way of getting everything you ever wanted. If Dean didn’t let you do this, you were going to watch all your hard work crash and burn. 

"All I contribute to life is by ruining things. I kill everyone I love. I killed my parents. I let Bobby die. I let you two down. I mean, look at how the both of you turned out after I left. "Sam abandoned this life for some woman. He let you rot in Purgatory for a whole year. And when you came back you were so messed up. You had no desire to tell us that you befriended a vampire. You both were so screwed up. I thought I was gonna lose the only family I have left.” You whispered out the last part of your sentence, showing them the fear you had carried around for those few shaky months. You could feel hot tears starting to roll down your cheeks as you let out a muffled sob. “I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want that burden on me. Do you have any idea what that feels to watch you two—”

"Hold on, hold on!" Dean cut you off before you could talk yourself down even farther and dig yourself into a pit you would never be able to get yourself out of. You were always the one who told him that he was worthy of happiness. You always made Sam feel like he was a good person. You tried your hardest to look for the good in people. It broke Dean's heart to see that you couldn't see the good in yourself. "You seriously think that? Because none of it—none of it—is true. We need you in our lives because of what we did when you were gone. The only reason why we're still together is because of you. It was you who kick us in the ass and told us what was important. You have constantly told us what family means. Hell, you're the glue that keeps us from falling apart."

Dean hoped there was some kind of chance his words might have some kind of effect on you and snap you out of this desperate mindset before it was too late. But you kept staring at him with this look in your eye, the fear he couldn’t take away that you had since you were a little girl. This curse you thought you had of hurting people.  You thought the worst was going to happen to your child. You could hear what Dean was saying, but from the look on your face, none of it was sinking in. Dean wasn’t going to give up. Because you never did on him. 

“I killed Benny to save you. Sam left Amelia to be with you. And I’m willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed my mom and your parents walk because of you. Because you’re not a monster. You never were.” Dean confessed his true feelings. He was laying it all out on the table for you to understand how he really felt about you. How much pain you would leave behind if you finished these trials. "I never cared what or who you were. I never looked at you any different when I found out those things about you. Because when I look at you...all I see is the woman I love. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And most importantly, the mother of my child.”

Dean would do anything to make you see the way he did. He would say anything to snap you out of this way of thinking. Something in him died when you left him last year. He never wanted to feel like that again. Because, if he knew anything, you and him were meant to be together. He wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Especially not when the both of you created something together. A new life. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if this kid comes out with three arms and six eyes. It’s ours, Y/N. I will love them as much as I love you and Sammy. I need you to see that. I’m begging you. But if you do this...you’re not going to be reborn. Nothing good is coming to come of this. You're going to die, Y/N. And the baby will too." 

You felt the words hit you like a freight train, the reality you had been ignoring for months had hit you after trying to deny it for so long. You stared straight into Dean’s eyes to see that he wasn’t lying. He was pleading with you to understand the damage you were putting on your body. And the little creature growing inside of you, depending on you to keep them safe. You felt a terrified sob escape your throat as you dropped the knife to the ground before you could make a grave mistake. It was in that moment you realize what you were doing. What you were nearly about to inflict on your child. 

“You will be a good mother, Y/N. And you are a good person." Dean reassured you for the last time. "But you need to give yourself the chance to prove it to yourself."

You were ready to do that. You knew out of anything in this world the one person you could trust was the boys. The three of you fought a little too much. You disagreed on things. And maybe you told your fair share of lies. But when it came down to it, push comes to shove, they would never make something about serious about this. Dean wouldn’t let you hurt yourself. Part of you knew he was telling you the truth. If you didn’t listen to him something bad was going to happen. It always did. "How do I stop?"

"Just let it go, sweetheart." Dean made it sound so easy. He had no idea what kind of things you had been putting your body through over the past several hours. How these trials had been messing with your head for months now.

“I can’t. It's in me, Dean. You don’t know what this feels like.” You whispered. You felt yourself beginning to panic at what damage you might have inflicted on the baby as you felt more tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I-I should’ve known.” 

“Hey, listen, we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do. Right, Sammy?” Dean felt himself starting to feel the boulder on his chest finally start to shift off, just enough to let him breathe a little easier. You willingly outstretched your palm to let him wrap a clean bandana around your palm to clot the wound for now. He didn’t care what he had to do in order to make you all right again. All he cared about this entire time was for your safety. You stood there looking scared from what you were about to do, your body shaking to your very core. Dean pulled you into a tight hug, wanting to reassure you that everything was going to be okay. “Come on. Let it go, okay? Let it go, sweetheart.” 

And you did just that. You melted into the embrace of Dean’s arms wrapped around your body, pressing you close to him as you rested your head against his chest. It was a small reminder about it how he made you feel safe. And loved. You shut your eyes and let go of all the things you had been holding onto. The guilt of feeling as if these trials were your burden to solve. Your existence wasn’t a mistake. You weren’t a monster. Most important of all you weren’t going to turn into your mother. You were your own person. You had accomplished so much over these past several years. If you were anything, you were a fighter. And your child would be as well. 

They were going to grow up happy and safe. You were going to make sure of that. Because that’s all a parent could hope for their child to be. It’s what John and Mary, your parents, even Bobby fought for. It was for you and the boys to be happy.

You slowly opened your eyes when you noticed the pain in your body was starting to slowly disappear. You looked at your arms that were wrapped around Dean's body to see the glow that had appeared was slowly starting to fade.You pulled back to see Dean’s advice was doing the trick. He softly grabbed a hold of your wrists and watched as your skin began to slowly go back to normal. As if it never happened in the first place. You found yourself letting out a sigh of relief. You slowly looked over at each of the boys, a smile began forming at the ends of your lips. This was the moment you had been waiting for. It wasn’t what you expected, but it was one that fit your lifestyle. The one that you deserved. 

You could feel yourself starting to calm down as your body began to stop shaking like a leaf. You looked over at Sam when you realized the poor man had been through the ringer himself. He was witness to all of this. Seeing you carry on the trials, watching over you to make sure you were all right. He had no idea he might have let you die. You reached out to grab his hand to comfort him, but before you could, you felt something hit you out of nowhere. 

You felt a loud groan of pain escape your mouth at the unexpected sharp pain hit you out of nowhere. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, forcing you to stumble your way to the ground. You managed to land on your hands and knees before you fell on your face. You bit your bottom lip at the agonizing pain you had felt before in your lower back side had grown increasingly worse. It felt like someone was stabbing you. You dug your nails into the wood as you pushed away Sam who tried to help you up. You felt yourself letting out a cry of pain from another wave of pain. You shut your eyes as you tried to battle through it all. For a moment you had no clue what was going on. Until you felt it. A warm and wet sensation spreading across your jeans. Almost like you had accidentally wet yourself. 

"Y/N? Y/N?!" You could hear Dean calling out your name in a frantic tone as he dropped down to his knees from what he just saw You couldn't move from how bad the pain was. "Talk to me, sweetheart. Come on. What's wrong?"

"It hurts." You whimpered out. You could feel more tears brimming in your eyes as you felt the wetness in your jeans grow worse. You shut your eyes as you tried to battle through it all. For a moment you had no clue what was going on. Until you saw it. That small little stain, it stuck out like a sore thumb. You hoped, prayed, begged for anyone out there that it wasn’t what you thought it was. But in the back of your mind you knew. It was blood. You felt yourself whisper six words you thought you still had three more months left before you had to say them. “I think my water just broke.” 

The brothers felt heart stop altogether when he heard you speak those words. In that moment it seemed like time stopped. Dean froze in his spot as he tried to understand what you just said. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. He was expecting those words to come when you were too round to fit into any more into the clothes you were going to buy in the upcoming months. When you had grown ansty see the person you had been creating. It was supposed to be three months from now, probably in the middle of the night when the both of you were trying to sleep in your own bed. Comfortable, safe. Not here. On this church floor.  You still had three months to go. You were far away from reaching this point. 

You let out another groan of pain when another pain hit you out of nowhere, more intense this time. You reached out and grabbed ahold of Dean's hand, squeezing it so hard you thought you were going to break his bones. You broke him out of his concentration, reminding him of the fact that you might be having his child right now. 

Dean handled stressful situations like this with almost a little too creepy of calmness. He knew Sam had the keys to the Impala, he would be in charge of driving. Screw the king of hell. Crowley wasn't going anywhere. Dean softly shushed you when he scooped you up into his arms so he could carry you. Sam bolted out first like a bat out of hell, his brother following behind as he tried to move quick as he could, without putting you into pain than you already were.

“I got you, sweetheart. You’re gonna be just fine.” Dean reassured you. He was ready to say just about anything to make sure you were all right. You managed to make to the church and the Impala before you felt the pain was too much to handle anymore. You felt yourself slipping out from Dean's embrace and sank down to the muddy ground. You wrapped your arms around your stomach as you sat there, writhing in pain. "Y/N? Y/N?!"

You were too engrossed into the pain to hear Dean’s desperate shouting to try and make you focus. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. But he knew it was more. He found himself calling out Cas’ name, the angel who had left him to fix heaven. If only he knew the person he trusted was about to stab him in the back. The angel’s name fell on deaf ears. Because what all of you witnessed was the other shoe dropping. The next worst possible thing that could happen tonight just did. 

You opened your eyes when you heard something in the near distance fall into the lake with a loud splash. You noticed both of the brothers were looking up to the night sky. You slowly glanced up for yourself, catching a glimpse of a sight you had never seen before. It looked like the entire sky lit up with shooting stars. While it might have appeared breathtaking, it wasn’t. It was the sight of something Cas was supposed to stop. Dean felt overwhelmed when he realized what was going on. What Naomi had warned them about.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked his brother. “What’s happening?”

“Angels.” His older brother whispered. “They’re falling.” 

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. You never felt so confused and scared in your entire life until this very moment. You felt yourself unable to hold back a scream when the pain hit you more intense, and the reality of the situation was hitting you. You reached out to grab both of the brothers' hands and squeezed them hard as you could. You did that for long as your body would let you. Until you couldn’t hold on anymore.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @albot-e // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink  // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner  // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha //   @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink //  @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans //  @icantfindacreativeurl //  @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings

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[sauntered-vaguely-downward]

Mysterious Girl. Jake Peralta x Reader

She’d been there a few months now and yet she was more mysterious than Rosa. Whether it was intentional or not, nobody on the team knew anything about her. She came to work, dealt with her cases and sorted paperwork, then she’d just go home. Only once had joined the team for their usual bar night, and even then she sat on her own, leaving after one drink.

Usually Jake wouldn’t care, but there was something about her resilience to opening up to the team that made him itch with curiosity. He had to find out more about her, he just wasn’t sure how.

As per usual the briefing was in the morning once the team had all gotten to work, each member of the 99 taking a seat to listen to developments in the cases or new cases that had been brought to light. Jake as per usual was running late, so took the only empty seat next to Y/N.

“Thank you joining us Peralta,” Holt said, a note of sarcasm in his tone. “So glad you could make it.”

“It’s not my fault!” Jake whined, a childish sort of whine. He could feel the room's eyes on him as he continued with his excuse for being late yet again. “My car ran out of gas halfway here, so I had to walk the rest of the way.” Holt, being too tired of heaving these usual excuses simply rolled his eyes, continuing his briefing.

As usual, it was mostly filled with catchups on cases that were already being dealt with, the captain checking in with each member of the team on their open cases. Holt went around the room until he landed on Y/N.

“Detective Y/L/N, how is that drug case coming along? Do you have any new leads?” He asked, the pen in his hand pointing to her as he spoke.

“Well,” she stood up, standing in front of the map on the whiteboard in front of her, opening her case file. She pulled out two pictures of rather nasty looking men, sticking them to the board before she continued. “I’ve got a statement from one of the lower level drug dealers that tie these two men, Marcus Kirby and Delroy Bryant, to the sale and distribution of the drugs. However I only have his statement at the moment, which quite honestly I don’t think will stand up in court or even enough to get an arrest warrant,” she mumbled, thinking to herself as she went.

“Do you have anything else that might help us nail them?” Sarge asked, slipping the file from her hand to read some of it through.

“Not evidence wise yet, but I do have a location for where the drugs are being distributed from. According to my witness dealer, they both work there, but they don’t go regularly, he thinks they have other distribution spots around the city,” Jake usually would just tune out, but listening to here was quite nice. She had a soft voice, one that could calm even the angriest of perps. She wasn’t like any other detective he knew, she radiated peace in everything she did. As he sat and listened to her case, he tried his best to work something about her out, anything at all but failed. She was like a closed book that was locked and sealed in a box. There was nothing to read about her, other than the radiating presence of calm that surrounded her. Holts' voice brought Jake off her thoughts of the mysterious woman in front of him.

“Perhaps it would be best to do a stakeout? Where is the location you were provided by the lower level dealer?” Y/N pointed to a place on the map, causing Holt to nod. “I know that neighbourhood. There is a car park around there as well as a block of flats. Leave it to me, I’ll get you access to both of them so you can do surveillance to get the evidence we need to get these men behind bars. Peralta will go with you.” A massive grin crossed Jakes' lips. Finally, he had a chance to get to know who she was.

--

Later that evening, y/n and Jake were positioned in one of the flats across from where she had been told the men would be. Holt had decided to pair them for three days, and if they had nothing by then they’d either swap with another pair or try another tactic.

Jake had been thrilled to be paired with her. Since she had joined the 99 she had hardly spoken to anyone, so this was his chance to find out more about her, for the benefit of the rest of the team of course, not just because he found her very very attractive.

The flat was surprisingly alright, which was a change from all the other dingy rooms she or Jake had done surveillance in before. The landlord was in the process of trying to find a new tenant so it was empty, but thankfully fully furnished, which was nice. There was two twin beds, as well as a sofa and a fully furnished kitchen, it was rather nice.

Y/N was sat on the sofa, positioned so they could see out of the window without being too obvious they were looking at the building across the street. Jake was finishing setting up the cameras, humming to himself as he worked. When he started humming ‘Barbie Girl’ a little giggle escaped Y/n’s lips, making him turn to where she was sitting.

“Something funny?” He chuckled, checking over the cameras once more before joining her on the sofa. She had a book in her lap, not open yet but there for when Jake too over the watching. Comfy clothes covered her body, which was a change for stakeout missions. Usually they would wear clothes they could run in in case they had to catch someone, but Holt had told them not to engage, instead, they were ordered to call the 99 if they needed assistance, which meant Y/N could wear whatever she wanted for once. It wasn’t anything particularly out there, just sweats and an oversized t-shirt. Jake smiled, seeing her look at ease, that calming presence around her filling his veins.

“Oh nothing,” she smiled, “Just that you were singing the barbie girl song.” She let out a soft laugh, one that was like music to his ears.

“Who doesn’t love a bit of Barbie,” he teased. A peaceful silence settled on them, both of them keeping their eyes on the building across the street. Jake had so much he wanted to ask her but didn’t want to make things awkward especially if they were going to be spending the next three days together. He decided to start slow, not to make her feel like she was a suspect being interrogated. “So what book you got there?”

“Oh it's American Gods by Neil Gaiman,” she grinned lifting up the cover to show him. “Its a book about the old gods and new gods of America, it's pretty cool.”

“Old gods? Like god god or others.”

“No, more like Odin, and like gods of the past. It's really good, I love this kind of thing. I studied classics at college so I’m really into all of this mythology stuff.”

“You studied classics? That's pretty cool, I love classics,” he lied.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… of course, who doesn’t love things like the Odyssey and er…” he tried to think of more things he knew to do with classics, failing a little. “Okay so I don’t know much, I lied.”

“It's alright,” she laughed, “I’m not going to quiz you or anything.”

“Oh thank god,” they laughed together. Both of them were surprised by how easily the conversation flowed between them. The conversation continued, talking about everything from books and films to their families and cases they had worked before knowing each other.

Jake couldn’t quite understand how someone who had so much personality here at this moment could be so quiet and closed off when at work. Jake thought she was hilarious and liked loads of the same things as him. He liked listening to her talk, he wanted to hear it more so he decided to try and find out why she was so quiet at work.

“So I have to ask, you’re pretty quiet at work. You’ve been there for a while now and I’m only just finding out you went to college. Why don’t you join us more? You seem great I’m sure everyone would love to spend more time with you.” He asked, looking out the window, still waiting for their perps to turn up.

“Ugh,” she sighed. Jake could see her struggling to talk so interjected.

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m just curious. You seem great, you’d get on with practically anyone on the squad I don’t get why you wouldn’t wanna show the world how amazing you are, but if you're not comfortable talking about it don't worry I understand.”

“No it's alright,” she let out another sigh before continuing. “My old squad was pretty much all men, there was one other woman on the team but she was basically one of the lads. They were your typical cop type, they all had this whole macho man thing they tried to do, which I didn’t really fit into. I tried to get involved by it was kind of pointless. They weren’t bad people don’t get me wrong, but I just didn’t fit in at all. So when I got the transfer to the 99 I dunno I just kind of had it in my head I wouldn’t fit in here either, which I know is kinda silly but I didn’t keep trying with people, its a lot of effort to constantly try just to feel like an outsider. Plus the 99 is a pretty tight squad, I didn’t think anyone would really want another member of the team.”

Jake’s heart broke. He hadn’t expected for her to think they didn’t want her, or for it to even be something like that.

“Y/N you’re part of this team now,” he put his hand on her knee, giving a gentle squeeze. “You’ve seen us, we aren’t really all the same at all. I mean Rosa, she’s scary. Terry, he’s the sporty one, Scully is basically a big baby-”

“You're listing them off like their members of the spice girls,” she giggled.

“So I was, I hadn’t noticed,” he chuckled. “What I’m trying to say is our team is filled with so many different people, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. We embrace each other's differences. So what if you don’t like the exact same things, you’re a part of our team and you're always more than welcome to join us. Also from talking to you, I can tell you’d fit right in, you’re pretty cool.” Jakes smile filled her with a happy warmth that spread through her whole body. It was nice to feel like she was actually part of a proper team for once. “Tell you what when we get these guys, or when we finish here, we’ll go to the bar, the whole team. Let them get to know you, they’ll love you I promise.”

Jake was right. When the case had been closed, the two men caught under hers and Jakes watch, the team all went to the bar. At first, everyone was a little taken aback by her sudden involvement in the conversations, but just as Jake had predicted, she fit right in. She and Amy both had a love of old books. Gina and Y/N talked about everything going on in the world of celebrities and trends, while Boyle loved her because she knew the difference between a frying pan and a skillet. Even Rosa liked getting to know her, mostly because she like Rosa could easily drink the rest of the team under the table.

Jake watched as she got to know the rest of the team properly when Holt approached him.

“Good work on the surveillance,” he commented, his eyes following the path that Jakes took. “She seems to have come out of her shell while you were on the case. What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Jake smiled. “Just told her she's pretty cool and that the team would love her.” Jake saw as she began to say her goodbyes to the team, so he dismissed himself from the company of the captain, following her out to the street. She was making her way home, walking because she had been drinking with Rosa, and was a little further ahead of Jake so he called out to her, causing her to turn to him.

“Oh hey Jake,” she stopped, smiling at him as he caught up to her. “Sorry I forgot to say goodbye, I was getting a little sleepy so I decided to leave. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” he said catching his breath. He hadn’t really had any real reason for following her, so suddenly he was without words. “Er I just wanted to say it was nice seeing you happy tonight with the team, I’m really happy you're feeling a little more comfortable with the rest of the team.”

“Well its all thanks to you Jake,” she smiled, taking a step closer to him. “You made me realise that a team doesn’t all have to be the same and that even the closest of teams let other people in.” Leaning up she gently placed a kiss on his cheek causing an instant warmth to rush through him. “See you tomorrow at work?” He could only nod with a smile. She smiled and turned around, walking away.

Jake stood watching as her figure slipped out of view around the corner, his hand coming up to rest on his cheek. Regaining a little composure he turned back to the bar, smile on his lips as he joined the team again.

He had done what he’d wanted, he's got to know her, but now… well, now he had fallen for her.