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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

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Lost and then Found pt. II

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren't as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought. Now away from their influence, your only worry is making sure you're prepared for your baby to enter the world.

Words: 11.3K Author’s Note: I won't say I don't like this because there are some parts in here that I absolutely adore. However, it is rushed and it feels forced to me, but I needed to get this out so here it is. Also, I've never experienced childbirth so please ignore my mediocre take on it. Haha.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @b1sexualtonystark @living-that-best-life @alexnicolaidisss @l0ve-0f-my-life @eliwinchester99 @mimilh @rosesloml @blackxwidowsxwife @meredeph @lexy9716 @wxnderingthoughts

The Avengers have grown accustomed to having a werewolf living among them and sitting in on mission briefings, but they put their foot down when you attempt to join them for missions. You want to desperately prove yourself to the group of assembled heroes, but you also very much want to protect the life growing inside your womb. So agreeing to stay home while pregnant, they eventually task you with setting up your own apartment the first time they all had to leave you behind.

Of course you weren't totally alone and Pepper had flown in to help you set up, her excitement for your pregnancy spurring on your own excitement even more.

You get settled quite easily and it shows how much trust you have in them when the full moons don't affect you like they normally would. Now others could come and go during the full moon, and you barely batted an eye at them. Unless it was Tony. Tony needed to be watched at all times after he attempted to rile you up purposely on the night of a full moon to see exactly how much control you had.

The slight swell to your abdomen eventually sets in and you couldn't be more proud of the roundness that was obvious when you wore a tight shirt. Wanda, too, was absolutely smitten with the small bump and the whole team was relieved to see her genuinely happy after everything she'd recently gone through. But Wanda wasn't the only one who doted on you- oh no. For some reason, the sight of your bump made the two super soldiers absolutely melt when your shirt was fitted and the bump was on display. Everyone knew it was inevitable for Steve to turn to mush, but it was Bucky who surprised everyone.

Bucky always made sure to sit close to you, snacks on hand and ready to make a run to the store when your cravings got the best of you. You'd even caught him reading a pregnancy book, but he looked so embarrassed when you caught him that you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to anyone else. And for that he was grateful- always letting you crawl into his lap when you had the urge to scent mark everyone.

Your cuddle sessions became more frequent, which made Wanda pout and Sam and Steve rather smug for some unknown reason to you.

It's cooler than normal around the living quarters given the rising summer temperatures and, though you normally run hot, your own body temperature has been up and down since you've become pregnant. So on this particular day you find yourself cuddled up to Steve, your left arm thrown over his waist and left leg draped over his legs. Your bump is resting near his hip and he smiles down at you every time you grumble about needing to pee.

"This baby is going to be the death of me," you mumble. "All I wanna do is cuddle, but no. I have to pee. Again!"

Leaving the comfort of the new couch that had been ordered for your specific cuddling tendencies- it could honestly pass for a bed with how spacious it is- you get up and take care of business in the bathroom. And then when you get back to the living room, you find that Bucky's taking up the other side of the sofa Steve is on.

"Yessss." You nearly skip back towards the sofa, crawling in between both men. "Supersoldier sandwich."

Steve snorts and then yelps when you manhandle him into scooting down until he's laying down again, then wrapping yourself around him like you had previously been. All the while Bucky is laughing at his friend's misfortune, but then you reach behind you and drag Bucky closer until you whine at him to spoon you. You smell rather than see his embarrassment, especially when Steve teases him to just spoon you already, and then you practically purr when you're enveloped in their warmth.

As Bucky settles behind you, you end up grabbing his metal arm and dragging it over your waist. He tenses, but you run your fingers up and down the back of his hand until he gets that you're okay with him- metal arm and all.

Stuck between two solid bodies, enveloped in their warmth and scent, is enough to send you off into a content light doze.

And then you're jolted back into consciousness when you feel Bucky freeze behind you. "What was that?"

"What was what?" You sleepily mumble.

"Your stomach. Are you- was that your stomach grumbling?"

This time it's your turn to freeze as you place your hand over his that's still crawling your bump. "You actually felt that?"

"Yeah." He chuckles.

"Holy shit," you muse. "It's way too early for anyone other than me to feel the baby. How the hell-"

"Wait, what?" Steve says, a whine lacing his tone. "Bucky got to feel the baby?"

You laugh as you move to turn so you're laying on your back, and both Steve and Bucky try to maneuver their hands around your small bump in order to feel the fluttering sensation. "This is insane. I can't believe you guys can feel it."

"I don't feel anything." Steve frowns.

"Don't pout, punk." Bucky smirks. "I can only feel it because of the arm."

Grinning, you reach up and lightly pat Steve's cheek. "Don't worry, Rogers. When the kicks start coming in, I'll go find you first."

The two men are distracted when the elevator dings open and Wanda steps off, the scent of food wafting from the bags she's carrying. Your nostrils flare and your mouth waters, and you start to pull free from Steve and Bucky.

Wanda smirks. "Hungry?"

"Always." Now free of the men, you hurry towards the kitchen where Wanda is laughing and pulling out containers. "Is that," you inhale deeply, eyes closing in bliss, "medium-rare steak, baked potato with the works, and.. and fries?"

"I even got that sauce from Arby's you like so you can dip your fries in it."

"Oh my god, you're my favorite."

"Hey!" Steve and Bucky shout from the living room. Wanda preens.

A couple more months pass and you're in awe of what your body is doing.

You're absolutely in love with your growing bump which now looks like there's a volleyball under your shirt, but for some reason you're unreasonably uncomfortable. You've been meaning to go shopping for maternity clothes, however, everything you've found online is not to your taste. You just want a simple loose shirt, but all maternity clothes seem to either have a floral theme to it or ruffles that you're not a fan of.

So stuck in one of your usual t-shirts that feels like it's stretched too tight and showing off the bottom portion of your bump, you walk around your apartment grumbling and shifting uneasily and trying to find a way to make yourself feel comfortable.

You're pacing around the room, hands rubbing along your swollen abdomen when there's a knock on your door. Agitated, a growl slips free. You stomp towards your door, another growl threatening to slip free, when you're stopped short at the sight of Bucky.

His eyebrow quirks at you and you sigh, trying to shake off your agitation. "Why are your eyes glowing, sweetheart?"

"I'm annoyed. I can't help it."

You swing the door open wider, but Bucky remains rooted to his spot. "Why are you annoyed?"

And just like that, the tears well up and start dropping one after the other. "I am so uncomfortable!" You cry. Bucky's eyes widen before he steps forward, arms loosely wrapping around you. "I just- I want to be comfortable. None of my shirts are fitting me and I- I just- I need-"

"Okay. Okay, shh." Bucky gently rocks you side to side. "Come on. Come with me."

Miserable, you agree and follow after Bucky to his own apartment that's just a few doors down the hallway. You're not sure what's going on when he tells you to wait in his living room and then disappears into what you can only guess is his room, and your brow furrows when he returns with a shirt in hand.

Sheepish, Bucky rubs the back of his neck with one hand while holding the shirt out with the other. "Here. You can use one of mine until you find something more comfortable."

You glance between him and the shirt, reaching for it as a smile starts to take form. And when you have the shirt in your hands, you readily strip out of your own shirt and huff a laugh when Bucky blushes and averts his gaze. Pulling on his shirt then, you groan with satisfaction as the material hugs you just right. "Oh heck yes." And then picking up the collar of the shirt, you can't help but deeply inhale the material and groan yet again. "This is exactly what I needed."

Bucky slowly smirks. "Good. Now let's go grab something to eat." He can't help but laugh as you latch yourself onto his arm, mumbling about him leading the way as your eyes close in pure bliss.

Your senses tell you Bucky's just leading you towards the communal kitchen, your nose twitching at the smell of food coming from it's direction. There are a few voices too and it's easy to pick out Wanda, Steve, and Sam.

Upon opening your eyes, you're met with amused and/or surprised expressions. "What?"

"Do my eyes deceive me or am I sensing a walk of shame?" Sam slowly smirks.

You and Bucky both frown as Steve and Wanda laugh at their friend's assumption. "Huh?"

"You're in Barnes' shirt," he says. "You cannot stand there and tell me you two ain't foolin' around."

It takes you a second to realize what he's saying, your mind connecting the dots when you feel Bucky tense next to your side. The slight embarrassment wafting off of him nearly makes you whine, but you swallow down the urge. Instead, you roll your eyes and say, "First off, if I was getting dicked down by this beefcake, there would be no walk of shame. I would happily tell you about length, girth, and every goddamn ridge on this man's dick." Wanda cackles as Sam's eyes bulge in shock, Steve then choking on his orange juice. "And secondly, I'm fat, Wilson!" You let go of Bucky, turning to the side and grabbing the sides of Bucky's shirt to pull tight over your swollen tummy. "None of my shirts fit comfortably anymore and Bucky was just helping a girl out." His mouth drops slightly as if he hadn't thought of that and you shake your head at him. Letting go of the shirt, you walk forward to sit at the kitchen island. "Do you seriously think anyone wants to get it on with a pregnant chick? Use your head, Samuel."

As you settle down, Bucky takes a seat next to you and you automatically lean into his side with your head on his shoulder. Wanda and Steve both smile, but neither of them say a word. Sam, however, just can't let this go. "So let me get this straight- you two are not boning in secret?"

"No," you say, fighting off a smile. "We're just friends. Which means you just lost the bet too because my bump is fully set in and there has been no sex." Sam, Wanda, and Steve slowly lose their amused expressions and this time it's your and Bucky's turn to be smug. "What? Didn't think we knew about that, did 'ya?"

"Y/N, I am so sorry," Wanda says, but you wave her off. "I didn't think-"

"It's fine, Wanda. We thought it was funny."

Bucky remains quiet, but his little grin lets Wanda know he was fine with the supposedly secret bet as well. Her shoulders seem to sag in relief and you readily accept the plate of bacon Sam nudges in your direction.

"So," Wanda muses, "you need to go shopping? I'm free today and tomorrow."

You grimace. "I guess so. As much as I want to, I can't steal the guys' shirts for the next few months."

"Good. We'll head out after you get something to eat."

Leaving the medical facility, you aimlessly walk back towards the family compound with several black and white photos in hand. You had known there was a baby growing inside of you, but it's just now truly sunk in after seeing your baby's profile instead of a blob with still-forming limbs. A slip of paper with your baby's gender is tucked into your back pocket, Doctor Cho having given it to you in case you wanted to know.

You're not exactly looking for the quiet of your apartment, so you remain in the communal living spaces in hopes of someone distracting you. Only when you get there, all is quiet.

Turning on the large screen flat TV, you put it on a random cooking show after crawling onto your sofa and getting comfortable. You've only managed to watch one entire episode, your interest captivated by the meals the chefs are putting together with only a few certain items from their basket, when the elevator dings.

You don't bother looking back, Bucky's scent wafting over to you before he even steps into your peripheral. "Hey doll, want some company?"

"Please," you groan.

Bucky toes off his boots and sits on the edge of the sofa, scooting back towards the middle until he's shoulder to shoulder with you. You sigh and lean against him, laying your head on his shoulder while your arms remain on your lap. "What's wrong?" Bucky immediately says.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're not cuddling me."

The tone of Bucky's voice makes you freeze, amusement blossoming. Slowly you lift your head and attempt to meet his gaze. "Are you- are you pouting because I'm not cuddling you?"

"No."

You huff a laugh, letting your forehead fall on his shoulder once more. After a moment, you lift his arm and settle underneath it as you cuddle him. Bucky chuckles and squeezes you just a little tighter against him. "Is this better?"

"A little. Now tell me what's bothering you."

You quietly groan, shifting under his arm until you reach to your other side and pick up one of the sonograms. "I had an appointment today," you say while handing him the picture. "It's just- I guess it's just sinking in that there's an actual living being growing inside of me."

"You mean all the kicking these past two months didn't give it away?" Bucky huffs in amusement. "Wow. Would you look at that?" He says. "The little nugget is really growing. Huh?" Your hormones get the best of you and you end up sniffling, tears filling your eyes. Bucky freezes. "Doll? Are you- are you crying?"

"How the hell am I going to do this, Buck? I'm a foul-mouthed werewolf who just recently escaped the clutches of HYDRA. What business do I have raising a baby?"

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Bucky gently nudges you so you'd glance up at him. With his flesh arm still tucked around you, his metal hand gently holds your sonogram between two fingers as he makes you look at it. "You're going to do just fine. You wanna know how I know that?" You sniffle and wipe the tears from beneath your eyes. "Because you have all of us- you have me- in your corner. This little nugget of yours will never want for anything as long as we're around."

His words only make the tears fall even more and you hide your face in his shoulder once more. He holds you tighter, shushing you and murmuring words about how you're going to be a good mother. If you could overlook everything HYDRA did to you in order for you to conceive this child and then go on to keep the child, then there was no doubt in his mind you were going to be a great mom.

As you sit there against Bucky and work on getting yourself under control, you can't help but notice that he turns the sonogram back towards himself to stare at it. You shift your head just right so you can see his face and it warms your heart to see him smiling at the profile of your baby.

The elevator dings again, this time dropping off Wanda. When she walks around the sofa and takes in your puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she freezes. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"She had a bout of insecurity." Bucky tattles on you. "It's fine now."

Wanda blinks at Bucky in surprise before looking back at you and you offer her a small smile. "New sonogram pictures. It's.. just sinking in that this is really happening."

Wanda glances at the small piles of pictures next to you, squeals, and then hurriedly picks one up. You chuckle as she coos. "Has Doctor Cho mentioned whether it's a girl or boy yet?"

You nod. "I, uh, I have the slip of paper that tells me. I haven't looked at it yet."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Wanda immediately takes a seat and you slightly lean to the side in order to pull the folded piece of paper out of your pocket. You hold it out to her and her eyes subtly widen. "You don't want to do it?"

"I do, but.." You trail off, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter to me. As long as I have a healthy baby I'm fine. You seem more excited for this than me anyway."

She slowly smiles, only taking the slip of paper when Bucky shrugs. He seems confused for a split second that Wanda would even seek his opinion, but then his expression is neutral once more and that's all the approval Wanda needs. She takes the slip of paper, opening it to peek at the gender. She gives nothing away. "Last chance. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Lay it on us, Maximoff."

Wanda glances at the piece of paper once more before looking straight at you, a smile blossoming from ear to ear. "It's a girl."

Your breath hitches. "Yeah?" Your voice then cracks and tears immediately well in your eyes again.

Bucky squeezes you tighter to his side, chuckling, and Wanda's own eyes fill with tears as she nods. "You're having a little girl." A sob breaks free, even as you laugh, and the tears flow faster. Wanda crawls towards you and pulls you into a hug, crying softly as she rejoices with you. "If Pietro were here, he'd spoil that little girl rotten."

"Right?" You wetly laugh, pulling back and settling against Bucky once more. "I can already hear him. A little prinţesǎ," you coo, putting on an accent that was nowhere near what Wanda or Pietro sounded like. Both Wanda and Bucky laugh at your horrible accent, and your smile slowly falls as you fondly remember Wanda's twin. "I really wish he was here to meet her."

Her smile drops too, nodding in understanding. "Me too."

Wanda moves to replace the sonogram picture, but you shake her head and push her hand back. "No. That's yours."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You too, Bucky." You then glance at him, gesturing to the sonogram he still held. "I got copies for Steve, Natasha, and Sam as well. Even Doctor Cho happily kept one," you say.

"Thanks, doll." A kiss gets pressed to the side of your head and you can feel a rumble of content threatening to come out, but when you catch Wanda's gaze- her eyebrows wiggling causes you to frown and stomp down on the urge. "This is going up on my fridge."

Wanda smirks at you as you flush. "Yeah, well you're welcome."

Your friend can't stop smirking, but she's kind enough to not call you out on it in front of Bucky. "So baby shower?"

Now you groan. "Do we have to?"

And without missing a beat, Bucky and Wanda say, "Yes."

When word got around that Wanda was to plan your baby shower, you were surprised at how excited it seemed to make everyone. Apparently no one was immune to the impending arrival of your daughter, Clint having flown in to toss around some ideas and secure an invite for he and his family. Then when Tony and Pepper got involved, you had to make them promise that the shower was to not be over the top. But according to Tony, only the best was allowed for the next baby Avenger.

No one would tell you a thing about the baby shower, not even Bucky who you found yourself hanging out with more and more as the weeks went by. The surprise of finding you curled up in his lap was long gone and now when anyone was looking for either of you, it seemed they went to the other for your whereabouts. So a couple days before the shower, you thought you had won Bucky over and that he was moments away from telling you what you wanted to know about said shower, but Sam and Steve had given him one look and then quickly marched him out of the kitchen to keep him from spilling the beans. Afterwards, he stayed pretty tight-lipped, up until the day of said baby shower when Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper had you contained in your apartment while the boys took care of everything else in the communal living space.

As Natasha had you sit in front of your bathroom mirror, she did your hair and makeup for the party. So as you sat through her torture, you couldn't help but take a selfie with your fangs on display as you snarled at her smirking reflection in the mirror. Bucky had laughed at your picture and the only clue he gave to you about your baby shower was a picture of a sunflower.

Pepper and Natasha had several dresses for you to try on for the shower, but the outfit that won you over had been chosen by Wanda. It was an off-the-shoulder white short playsuit with lace detailing around your clavicle and thighs. You vetoed every heeled shoe until a pair of sandals were dropped in front of you and you let Wanda help you into them.

Once you were fully dressed, Natasha came to stand before you with her hands behind her back. When you narrowed your eyes at her, she smirked and produced a floral crown from behind her back. The flowers were fake, but the small versions of sunflowers and daisies were still pretty. So you bent your knees a little and let Natasha settle the crown atop your wavy hair, fixing your hair once more around your shoulders.

Then arm in arm with Wanda, you let your friends lead you out of your apartment and into the elevator. Your excitement was very obvious and the women couldn't help but chuckle as the elevator doors opened. Your excitement turned into awe at the sight of all the pink and white balloons, and the pink and purple floral garlands hanging from the corners of the room and around each table. There was a table for gifts and a table for finger foods, and of course there was no missing the three tiered pink and white cake. Everything was chic and girly and you absolutely loved it.

Tony, Bruce, and Helen Cho are huddled together, no doubt deep in a conversation about science. Clint and his wife Laura are there, along with their three kids milling about with another young girl who you remember is Tony and Pepper's daughter. And then there is Steve, Sam, and Bucky who each have a drink in hand and are chuckling quietly amongst each other.

"You know from all the stories I've heard, baby showers were meant for women only." At the sound of your voice, conversations taper off and smiles are directed towards you.

"Are you kidding?" Tony huffs. "I know all about the games played at these shindigs. I wanted in on the games and prizes."

"Of course you did." You then direct a smile at everyone gathered. "Thank you all for coming. This pregnancy wasn't exactly.. you know," you trail off, eyes lingering on the gathered kids who are surprisingly paying attention to your stomach, you say, "but I've grown to love this tiny human so much already before I've even met her and I'm just happy she's going to have such a great little community surrounding her."

"Aw look. You made Wanda cry."

You immediately glance to your right where Wanda's laughing, wiping beneath her eyes. "Shut up, Barton." And then, "So what are we doing first? I've never actually been to one of these."

"Games!" Laura and Pepper muse together.

Everyone chuckles at their enthusiasm and you let Wanda lead you to a seat. Pepper sits with Tony and Natasha finds herself being drawn to Clint and Laura, but she doesn't take a seat quite yet. You, however, are led to a sofa chair that Wanda takes a seat on one side of and Bucky the other.

"So the first game is a word unscramble," Natasha says. She walks over to a table and picks up numerous clipboards, along with a cup of pens. "There's a three-minute time limit and the one who unscrambles the most words wins."

Tony claps his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. "This is so my game."

Natasha passes out the clipboards and pens, and you're happy to realize that this is a game you can play with them. Lila is the only child interested in playing, so Cooper keeps Nathaniel and Morgan busy with a gaming console just on the other side of the room.

Once everyone has a clipboard and a pen in hand, Natasha takes a seat with her own set. "Everyone ready?" At their agreement, she says, "FRIDAY, please set a countdown of three minutes."

"Timer is set, agent Romanoff." A timer is suddenly displayed on the wall across from them.

"Start it now."

The moment the first second ticks away, everyone rushes to pay attention to their piece of paper on the clipboard. You hurriedly scan the words, unscrambling the most obvious words- bottle, crib, bib, booties, blanket, nightlight, and car seat. The others give you trouble and as your eyes dart to the timer, your anxiousness kicks in to unscramble a few more.

Tony is grumbling about impossible words as Laura and Pepper laugh at his misfortune. Wanda is humming, happily it seems, whereas Bruce has just plain given up. Stroller and pacifier give you trouble, and your grumbling starts then. But when you get umbilical cord and morning sickness, it causes you to unknowingly dance in your seat.

Hearing a chuckle next to you, you glance at Bucky and see him peering at your clipboard. You gasp. "You dirty little cheater!"

Steve and Wanda both snort, and you angle yourself away so Bucky can't steal any more of your answers.

You think you've got a good lead, but just as the timer hits thirty seconds Laura calls out, "Done!"

"WHAT?!" Tony shouts.

As the unofficial person in charge of the games, Natasha takes Laura's clipboard to double check her answers. Sure enough, they're all correct. Steve, Sam, and even Clint boo Laura as Natasha grabs a small wicker basket that contains several envelopes inside.

Taking an envelope, Laura opens it and her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets. "Wow. Every baby shower I've been to had gifts consisting of candles or Bath and Body gift baskets or even kitchenware. This- this is a lot."

"What'd you get, babe?" Clint asks.

"A check for twenty five hundred dollars."

"What?!" Sam yelps.

"Is that a normal prize for a game?" You wonder.

"No. No it's not," Sam says. "Come on. Bring on the next game. I need to know what those other prizes are."

You laugh as everyone suddenly becomes a bit more invested in winning one of the games. But as your laugh tapers off, you glance at Pepper and Tony. Pepper merely smiles when she sees your slight concern. "Don't worry about it. You didn't want an extravagant party, so Tony got a few prizes that were just a little bit more expensive than your average baby shower prize. Trust me, these were the least expensive prizes I could talk him down to."

"Well as long as you're sure.."

You shift uneasily in your seat and then Natasha's walking into the center of the room with a roll of toilet paper in her hand. "Come on, Mother-to-Be. We need to measure your bump and then let these idiots figure out how many squares you are. Whoever guesses the exact number, or closest to, wins."

Natasha helps you stand and you can't help but grumble, "None of you assholes better think I'm huge."

Lila giggles and you send an apologetic look to both Laura and Clint.

Hidden behind the kitchen island, Natasha has you stand still so she can wrap the toilet paper around you. You laugh as you hold the beginning of the first square on your stomach and Natasha reaches around you, unrolling the paper. It's an exact eleven squares.

Taking note of how many squares your bump is, you and Natasha rejoin the group.

"Alright. Give us a twirl. I need to see the bump all the way around," Tony says. Then looking at Wanda, he narrows his eyes. "And no cheating!"

Rolling your eyes with a small huff, you give a slow twirl. Natasha hands Steve the roll of toilet paper and he eyes your stomach before unrolling several squares of it. Bucky goes next, followed by Wanda and Lila. When Clint gets a hold of the roll and unfurls it dramatically, you can't help but growl at him. The others laugh and then take their turn, and then everyone is eagerly awaiting to see if they guessed correctly.

"Are you ready?" Natasha muses. Everyone nods. "It was eleven squares."

"Dammit! So close," Sam whines.

Everyone's looking around, but it's a smug Steve that raises his hand. "I guessed eleven."

"Boo!" Apparently, half the room are sore losers.

You laugh and then it's his turn to choose a prize. When he picks an envelope, he opens it up and his eyebrows raise in surprise. "An all paid expense trip to the spa and then a dinner reservation for two at some fancy restaurant."

"You're taking me to that," Sam immediately says.

Everyone laughs and then Pepper mentions taking a food break so you don't rush through the games. There are a lot of sandwich trays, fruit trays, and vegetable trays. And being the considerate pregnant werewolf you are, you let everyone else make themselves a plate before you, Steve, and Bucky make your own.

Eating carefully so as to not spill anything down the front of your outfit, the laughter and chatter around you makes you feel the most cherished you've ever felt. The finger foods itself is not enough to fill you up, but it does sate your hunger for now. However, with Wanda and Bucky still on either side of you even at the table, between the two of them they're constantly adding extra fruit and fruit dip to your plate.

A few more games are played afterward- Tony guesses the closest to the amount of jelly beans in a mason jar and wins a week-long getaway for two to Fiji, Natasha is the fastest with changing a diaper on a fake baby and wins another set of an all paid expense trip to the spa and restaurant for two, Lila wins at baby bingo and a check for twenty five hundred as well (Clint is clearly happy his family is raking in the cash), and Bucky is the fastest to suck all the apple juice out of a baby bottle which earns him a week-long trip for two to the Bahamas.

Everyone is having such a great time that a sudden alarm blaring immediately puts them on edge. But after Tony rapidly swipes through his phone to figure out what's going on, he realizes they're being called to assemble. Gazes dart in your direction, but you smile reassuringly at them.

"Go. The world needs you guys more than I do right now."

"But we didn't even get to see you open the presents," Wanda frowns.

"And that's fine. You already know I'm going to love whatever has been gifted. We'll gush about everything when you get back."

That seems to be all the team needs to hear before jumping into action and you're a bit surprised to see Bucky hang back. He waves Steve off when he notices his friend holding the elevator and you look up at Bucky with a furrowed brow. "You sure you're going to be okay, sweetheart?"

"Positive." You smile at him, stepping close to him and setting your hands at his waist. "And besides, opening these presents will not only distract me but it'll distract the kids as well. Go save the city or wherever you're needed, Sergeant. I'll be waiting in my apartment for when you get back."

Bucky's hands, both metal and flesh, reach up to gently cradle your face. His gaze darts all over your face for any signs of deceit, but finding none he finally grins. "Okay." He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "I'll be back soon." And then in a move that has you freezing and Pepper, Helen, and Laura's eyes widening, Bucky's hands drop to either side of your stomach as he bends at the waist and addresses your bump. "And you be good for your mama. I see the way you're making her flinch." He brushes his nose from side to side against your stomach and then chuckles when there's a kick in retaliation.

Before Bucky can straighten, you quickly paste on a smile but there's nothing you can do for the burning blush on your cheeks. And the damn prick smirks proudly at how flustered he's made you. "Go," you utter. "Go before Steve comes down to drag you to the jet."

Bucky gives you a nod before stepping back and turning around to saunter towards the elevator. You manage to keep it together until the doors close behind him, the elevator whisking him away, before someone says anything.

"Spill. Right now," Pepper says.

You glance at her, shoulders rising and lowering in a shrug. "I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I'm torn between crying at how cute that just was and wanting to desperately jump his bones." Lila giggles and your eyes widen. You point at her in an accusatory manner. "Stop giggling. You're not supposed to know what that means."

The other women snort as Laura urges her daughter to go play with her siblings and Morgan. Reluctantly she goes. Then as soon as she's out of hearing range, the ladies give you your full attention.

You sigh. "Bucky is.. a very attractive man. Too attractive if I must admit. And if I wasn't knocked up by some random guy's baby gravy, then I could definitely see myself turning on the charm and seeing if he's actually interested."

"First of all," Laura says, "never say baby gravy again."

Pepper snorts as Helen's nose wrinkles. "And secondly," Helen then pipes up, "that man adores you, baby and all." You huff in disbelief. "Don't think I didn't see him pacing outside my office at your last appointment. Or see the way he lit up when you gave him one of the sonogram pictures."

Laura smirks. "Clint told me Bucky keeps a copy of a sonogram in his vest."

And that- that's news to you. Yes you're well aware of your attraction to him as well as his attraction for you (being a werewolf really helps out when you can scent someone's emotions), but you wanted him to make the first move in order to be sure you and your baby were what he wanted.

"Whatever you decide to do, just know we all support you," Pepper says. You're still reeling at the fact that he carries your sonogram picture with him that you have nothing to say. "But until that day comes, why don't you start opening your gifts? I'm dying to know what the men thought were acceptable gifts."

Giving a feeble nod, Helen and Laura hurry to get up and start bringing over gift after gift. Then once you make yourself comfortable, Pepper hands you the gift she had gotten herself with squeals and coos following soon after you pull out onesie after onesie. The booties and floral headbands melt everyone's heart as well.

At the beginning of month nine, HYDRA starts to become a thorn in everyone's side. You figure they're looking for you and their precious cargo, but Natasha assured you everyone in the base you were held at had been taken care of and every file wiped from their computers. As far as other HYDRA bases knew, you did not exist. It was just a coincidence they were active again.

As the weeks slowly pass, your due date is any day now. So it's no surprise when you wake up in the middle of the night one evening, uncomfortable as can be, with pain in your back and lower abdomen.

It's four in the morning and you don't want to wake anyone, but Helen said to call her at any time in case something felt off. And this definitely classifies as something off. So after placing a call to your doctor and friend, Helen tells you to keep track of your contractions and head to the medical wing if they get too close together. She's currently in another state, but after a quick word with FRIDAY the A.I is sending for a quinjet to pick her up.

Moving from your bed to the couch in your living room, you work on trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting or laying down doesn't work, so you take to pacing. But you get tired of pacing very quickly and end up pulling out a yoga ball to bounce on.

By six in the morning, the contractions are about twenty minutes apart. The pain has amped up as the time passed that your claws and fangs have ended up elongating, and you've already shredded two of your couch cushions when you were suddenly seized up by a contraction. Eventually it becomes too much for you to endure so you have FRIDAY alert Wanda with a Code Pink. And not even four minutes later, Wanda is barging into your apartment with concern-filled eyes.

"Is this it? Is the baby coming? What's going on?"

You grimace, hands rubbing your stomach as you lightly bounce on your ball. "Uh, I'm in labor. This sucks."

"Well why aren't you in the med wing?" She asks. She comes closer to you, looking you up and down to make sure nothing else is wrong. "And what happened to your couch?" Instead of saying anything, you end up showing her. Another contraction hits and you snarl in pain, claws digging into your thighs and eyes blazing blue. Wanda's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." Then glancing upward, Wanda asks, "FRIDAY, how close are Y/N's contractions and can you please contact Doctor Cho?"

"The contractions are only eleven minutes apart now and Doctor Cho is still twenty-five minutes out. She has, however, advised me to inform Y/N that she should be heading to the med wing now. The nurses have been alerted and are waiting to have Y/N admitted."

A breath of air whooshes from your lungs just as you get yourself under control and you watch as the claw marks on your legs start to close themselves up. "Wanda," you pant, "I'm not going to be able to walk there."

"I got it." Your eyes watch as Wanda walks over to your kitchen, her hands glowing red as the same energy envelops one of your kitchen chairs. Right before your eyes, the wooden chair turns into a wheelchair. She then wheels the chair over to you, putting on the breaks before walking around to help you into the seat. "Now come on." She beams down at you. "Let's go have this baby."

Since the medical building isn't far, you don't bother with your pregnancy bag. The building is equipped with anything and everything you could possibly need and if you wanted your own stuff then you'd just send Wanda to get it. The elevator ride and walk towards the medical building is filled with your heavy breathing and pained grunts, as well as Wanda's encouraging words that are honestly starting to annoy you.

As soon as the nurses lay eyes on you, it's a whirlwind to get you situated as quickly as possibly. Wanda watches from the corner of your room and as soon as you're settled and the baby's heartbeat is resonating around the room, the terror sinks in.

You're about to have a baby. A BABY!? You're about to push out a baby that you're going to have to take care of for the next eighteen years and who will depend on you for the rest of her life. She will most likely be enhanced too and have to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life as well.

"Hey. You okay?" Wanda asks.

"No." Your voice cracks and the tears immediately well up as you meet your friend's concerned gaze. "I don't know if I can do this."

"What? Of course you can!" Wanda rushes towards you and takes a seat next to you on the bed, wrapping one arm around you and holding your hand with her other free hand. "This is just the pain and the realization that you're about to give birth talking, Y/N. You're going to be fine. And on the days where it does become too much, you have a whole team at your beck and call. You and baby Wanda are going to be fine."

Wetly chuckling, you say, "Nice try. That's not her name."

"Well you can't blame me for trying."

A wave of pain courses through you and you squeeze Wanda's hand. She hisses, you snarl, and when it finally passes you can sense a wave of pain radiating from your friend. Glancing at her, your eyes widen. "Oh no. I'm so sorry!"

Cradling her hand to her chest, she weakly smiles. "It's fine. It's not broken. I just- I never realized how strong of a grip you have."

You quickly take her injured hand within your own, concentrating on siphoning her pain away. You know it works when she tenses and pulls her hand out of your grip. "What was that? You had black veins-"

"It's okay. I was just taking away your pain. See?" You say, gesturing to her hand. You watch as she glances at her hurt hand once more, flexing her fingers and then looking at you in surprise. "Yeah. I kind of forgot I could do that."

"You forgot?" She laughs. Then sobering up, she says, "I bet you wish you could take your own pain away right about now."

"You have no idea."

When you become truly uncomfortable, Wanda has you sit in the middle of the bed and pulls your hair up into a messy bun before having you lean forward. Using as much pressure as possible, she presses her fist into the small of your back in hopes of alleviating some of the pain. Then when Doctor Cho finally makes her arrival, she comes with a cup of ice chips in hand and tells you to crunch on that while you're waiting.

Doctor Cho is just as excited as Wanda and you can't help but glare at them when one particular contraction has you groaning out in pain for over a minute. "Oh fuck HYDRA!" You shout once it's over. "There's so much fucking pain and I didn't even get to have the fun part of sex!"

Wanda's eyes are wide as Doctor Cho tries to hide her smile, moving around the machines to make sure you and baby are doing okay still.

"Um, bad time?" You glance at the doorway to find Steve and Bucky standing shoulder to shoulder. Steve looks rather amused whereas Bucky is looking at you as if you have bad news to deliver.

"Steve, the next time you go after HYDRA, kick them in the balls. Hard."

He snorts. "Sure thing, sweetheart. How long have you been in labor?" He nudges Bucky and the two of them walk in when Doctor Cho doesn't immediately shoo them out.

"Since four this morning."

Bucky and Steve are both about to admonish you, no doubt, when a contraction hits yet again. Your features immediately transform as you snarl and Wanda makes sure to keep her hands tucked close to herself. "They're getting closer," she muses. Then looking at Bucky, she says, "Come over here and hold her hand. She nearly broke mine earlier."

Bucky gulps. "Doll?"

"Give me your fucking hand, James!" Steve snorts as Bucky hightails it towards the bed, slipping you his vibranium hand for you to squeeze. And once the contraction passes, you slump back into bed and sniffle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's, uh, it's fine. I understand."

"Just so you know, I got that on camera." Tony saunters in, Pepper at his side.

But while Tony is far too amused at your pain and yelling at Bucky, Pepper is elated for the life you're about to bring into this world. Wanda relinquishes her spot next to you so Pepper can slip in. "Hey Y/N, how are you holding up?" Her gentle touch as she brushes the sweaty flyaways off your forehead makes you cry once more.

"This sucks."

"I know it does, sweet girl, but trust me. It's going to be all worth it the second you hear your baby's cries."

Another contraction hits and you're grateful that Bucky had never pulled his hand back. You squeeze his vibranium hand and whimper in pain, and Doctor Cho comes forward. "Okay, Y/N, I'm going to have to see how far you're dilated now since the contractions are only two minutes apart."

Doctor Cho helps you prop up your knees and, though the blanket is still covering you, Tony blanches. And that- that makes you weakly laugh. "Alright, everyone, if you're going to stay I'm going to need you to stand near my head and not my feet. Got it? Cool."

Pepper quietly laughs and leans in to press a kiss to your temple. "We're going to go, but good luck! I can't wait to meet her."

"Thank you," you say just as she pulls away. "For everything."

Pepper winks at you and grabs Tony's hand, he willingly letting her take the lead. Wanda reclaims her spot and Bucky doesn't budge an inch. Steve, however, nervously rubs at the back of his neck. "I'll be in the waiting room and alerting everyone." Then meeting your gaze, his expression softens. "You're going to do great. I'll see you after."

You smile at him, but another wave of pain prevents you from saying anything. And once Wanda and Bucky are left alone, Doctor Cho pushes the blanket and your hospital gown up to your knees so she has an unobstructed view of your lower half. You wiggle at the sudden pressure between your legs and then she's looking up at you and smiling. "You're ready to push."

A sob stutters out as your fear comes back tenfold. You hold tighter to Bucky's hand and reach for Wanda's with your other hand, but you don't squeeze her like you are Bucky. "L-Last chance to book it out of here," you say without meeting their gaze. "Because the second I start pushing, you guys are stuck with me."

It's quiet and then, "As long as you want me, you have me. I am not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Your bottom lip trembles and Doctor Cho smiles adoringly at Bucky's words. Wanda chuckles. "Yeah. What he said."

"If you two are going to stay, I'm going to need you to wash up real quick and put on a sterilized cover."

Wanda and Bucky both assure you they'll be right back, and Doctor Cho leads them to a small room connected to yours where they can get ready. You can hear water running a moment later as your friends lather up and then the rustling of the paper coverings they have to put on that covers the front of their bodies. Then when all three return, Doctor Cho hurries around the room to prep what she needs for the delivery while also calling in a couple of nurses that you had okayed to be in the room when the two of you had made your birthing plan.

Bucky and Wanda take their places on either side of your bed, and Bucky immediately slips his hand into yours. Wanda just watches from her spot, anxiousness rolling off of her even though she's smiling widely. The two nurses finally enter the room, taking their place by flanking Doctor Cho when she slides a stool to the end of the bed you're laying on.

Doctor Cho smiles at you and gives you a nod. "Okay. You ready? We're going to push on three."

"Ready or not, she's coming," you say.

"That's the spirit." Doctor Cho then glances down at your lower half. "And push on one, two, three!"

Immediately you push with all your might for the first six seconds, but the excruciating pain flares up and you roar out in pain. You don't need a mirror to know your face has shifted and you barely hear Doctor Cho telling you to take a breath and that that was a really good push. So when you're allowed to take a break, you fall limp against the bed and start crying. "That hurt so fucking bad."

"Hey. That was good," Wanda assures you. "It'll be over soon."

You shake your head, denying her words when you come to the conclusion that you honestly don't know if you can do this. And then, "I think you dented my hand."

You startle at Bucky's words, snorting and then pulling your hand free and swatting him. "Shut up. No I didn't."

"You didn't," he grins. "But I got you to laugh. Now take a deep breath and do it again. Push."

Giving yourself a moment, you do exactly as you're told. You reclaim Bucky's hand and then push again, roaring out seconds later. When you fall back against the bed, tears are rolling down from the corners of your eyes. "I can't. I can't do this," you cry.

"You can and you have to," Wanda says. When you look at her, her own eyes are filled with tears. "You can do this, Y/N. You can. Now push again."

You continue to whimper until Doctor Cho tells you to push again. You do and it feels like the pain is even more excruciating now. Cho smiles. "Oh wow. There's the head." She glances up at you in surprise. "Your baby really wants out."

The nurses behind Doctor Cho immediately go into action, grabbing blankets and preparing for the baby's arrival. "Helen, I don't- I can't-"

"You can." You glance up at Bucky and nearly stop breathing when he leans down so his forehead is against yours. "You can do this, doll. You're almost there. Just a little bit more pain and then the most precious being ever will finally be here."

There's a lump in your throat, but you manage to swallow around it. "Easy for you to say. Your vagina isn't being stretched open way further than it's supposed to be."

He smirks. "Shut up and push."

"Fuck off, Barnes."

There's no malice behind your words, but it doesn't stop Bucky from acting as if offended. Then when you position yourself to push again, Wanda grabs onto one of your knees as Doctor Cho instructs her to and then Bucky does the same. You grunt, you scream, and you cry harder than you've ever cried, and after several more pushes there's a piercing wail that emits from the end of your bed.

All noise ceases except for the piercing cry and your eyes widen when you see Doctor Cho lift your baby still covered in a mess. She's laughing as she lightly wraps the baby in the blanket and then stands to lay her on your chest. "Congratulations."

The tears immediately come back tenfold as your arms come up to hold her against you. "Hi," you cry. "Oh my god. Hi."

The baby continues to wail as you glance between Wanda and Bucky, and you don't think you've ever seen them so stunned before. As your head falls back in exhaustion, Doctor Cho says, "We have to take her now. She needs to be cleaned up and we need to run a few tests before we bring her back."

And though you know she's right, you can't help the growl that bubbles up when you see one of the nurses step forward. You manage to suppress it seconds later, but the nurse is glued to her spot in fear. Bucky moves and you don't make a peep as he gently wraps the baby in the blanket once more and lifts her from your chest. Your eyes are glued to him as the smallest of smiles turn up the corners of his lips and then he's handing the baby to the waiting nurse.

"S-Sorry," you manage to say to the nurse.

And a moment later, she grins. "It's fine. New instincts are wreaking havoc on you, no doubt, but we we'll be back as soon as we can."

You nod at her, heart aching as you watch the nurses walk out of the room with your newborn daughter. Doctor Cho taps on your ankle and says, "Ready for the afterbirth?" Your nose wrinkles and she chuckles. "I know. I need to get you cleaned up and then tell you all about what your body's going to go through for the next month or so."

Sighing, you look up between your friends. "Go. Go find out how much Baby weighs and then tell the others she's here."

Wanda chuckles and her nose wrinkles in a cutesy manner as she gently cradles your face in her hands and leans down to kiss your forehead. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Mhm. Thank you for being here."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Wanda takes her leave, no doubt to find the baby, and then you look up at Bucky. The emotion in his blue eyes is enough to make your heart stutter, but instead of repeating Wanda's actions, he grabs your hand and gently squeezes it. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me witness that. I-"

His own voice cracks and you smile knowingly up at him. "I know." You then bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his vibranium hand. "And thank you for being here. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you or Wanda."

He grins. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Chuckling, you gently push him away. "Go. Go find my girl and then tell the others. I'm sure they're dying to know what happened."

Bucky smirks before backing away and then turning on his heel to take his leave. As he makes it to the door, he rips off his hospital covering and trashes it. Then walking down the corridors, mind reeling over everything he's just witnessed, he lets his hearing take him to where he can hear a baby fussing.

He finds Wanda not long after and she glances at him, smiling. "Six pounds, three ounces."

He exhales in awe. "Jesus. She's tiny."

"She is."

Side by side, Bucky and Wanda watch as the nurses give the baby a washcloth bath. The entire time she's screaming her lungs out, but it only makes them smile and laugh and joke about how Y/N is going to have her hands full. They continue to watch as her foot prints are taken for the birth certificate and measured, then rocked back and forth until she calms down.

When she's placed in a bassinet to rest, Bucky clears his throat. "I'm gonna go find Stevie and the others. Give 'em the good news."

Wanda just hums in response and then Bucky's on his way once more. This is the lightest he's felt in a long while and he can't quite explain the pure elation that he felt the moment he watched Doctor Cho put the baby on Y/N's chest.

"Hey there, Tin Man," Sam calls out. "Any news?"

Bucky glances up, masking his surprise that his feet had taken him to the waiting room without really knowing. "Uh, yeah." He slowly grins. "Six pounds, three ounces." Pepper gasps, smiling wide. "She's, uh, she's in the observation room right now. Wanda's there if you wanna see her before they take her back to Y/N."

Pepper is the only one to get up while Steve, Sam, and Tony hang back. A moment later, all three watch as Bucky numbly takes a seat.

"I- that was.."

"Intense?"

"Beautiful?"

"Grotesque?" Tony muses.

Bucky briefly glares at Tony before looking at Steve. "I didn't know seeing the birth of a baby would feel like that."

"It usually doesn't," Sam says. "I mean childbirth is a beautiful thing, but it's not usually so intense unless there's feelings for the lady giving birth. Come into any realizations lately?"

Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. Slowly closing his mouth, he frowns and then takes a moment to think about everything since Y/N was brought back to the compound. He thinks about every moment he had with her one on one, and one particular moment stands out to him. He'd been sitting in the communal kitchen when he heard someone approaching, their fucking fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck being a dead giveaway as to who it was. Y/N had rounded the corner, hands on her lower back and complaining about the full moon taking a toll on her body this time around.

Bucky suddenly sits up, eyes widening. "And there it is," Steve chuckles.

Sam starts to swear. "That doesn't count! Feelings have to be returned. We don't know how Y/N feels."

"Please." Tony scoffs. "If you can't tell that she's in love with Robocop, then the muffled sex noises from when they're boinking like bunnies after she heals will be a dead giveaway." Sam groans as Steve snorts and Bucky stands up without a word. "Atta boy, Buckaroo. Go get your werewolf."

Back in the room, you're cradling your baby and staring down at her in complete awe as you run your forefinger down the bridge of her nose. Wanda and Pepper sit in chairs next to the bed, and Helen stands at the end of your bed. "So everything checks out perfectly," she says. "Ten fingers, ten toes. Perfectly healthy."

"But," you muse, eyes never leaving your daughter's face. When she doesn't say anything, you glance up and smile sheepishly. "You're nervous about something. I can smell it."

She grins. "Right. I forgot you could do that." You continue to stare at her until she shifts nervously from foot to foot. "Well, um, when we took a sample of her DNA it was automatically entered into the system."

"Okay."

"I wasn't looking for anything. I promise," she pauses to gulp, "but it pinged in our system. We got a hit for a DNA match to someone who was already in the system."

"W-What?" Helen nods, uncomfortable. You glance between Wanda and Pepper, and both are equally shocked as you are. Then meeting Helen's gaze again, you ask, "Who?"

"James Buchanan Barnes."

The air seems to whoosh out of you at that and you don't know how to feel. On one hand, you're absolutely delighted. But on the other hand, he had no say in this and you don't want him to feel obligated when he no doubt finds out. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I ran it twice more and Bucky's the father."

"I'm what?"

Dread pools in your stomach as your gaze darts to the opened door. Bucky stands there frozen. "Shit," you quietly curse.

No one dares to say anything, so Bucky stumbles further into the room. "Did you just so I was the father?"

You gulp. "I-It would make sense. Why HYDRA was so ecstatic," you explain, tears stinging your eyes. When he glances at you, you say. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," he says. "I'm not- I'm not mad." And in a move that surprises you after he's just found out that he's a father now, he sits on the bed just right in front of you. He smiles at you before his gaze darts down to your daughter and he chuckles softly while reaching up to gently caress her beanie clad head. Lowering his voice, he says, "I'm.. happy that it's me. That she's mine. Ours." He then looks up at you, his smile vanishing at the sight of your tears. "I mean, I won't push my way into your lives if you're not-"

"Shut up," you sniffle. "She's ours. Of course I want you there, but only if you want to be there."

Bucky's radiant smile in response makes you swoon, and Pepper and Wanda finally chuckle.

"I hate to break up this moment," Helen says, "but I need a name for the birth certificate. And signatures."

Guiltily looking at Bucky, you say, "I already chose a name. If I had known-"

"It's fine, sweetheart. I'm sure you chose a good name."

You nod and then glance over at Wanda. "I, uh, I wanted to honor the pseudo big brother she'll never get to meet." Wanda's smile falters, eyes glistening. "Her name is Petra. Petra Amaris." Pepper immediately coos and Wanda loses her composure. Your eyes widen and you glance at Bucky, gesturing for him to take your daughter. Panic flits across his features, but then he steels himself and reaches to carefully take her from your arms. Then once you're free, you maneuver over to the side of the bed closest to Wanda and reach for her hand. "Hey. Hey, shh. If you don't like it, I can-"

"No," she's quick to cut you off. "I love it. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"It's a beautiful name," Pepper assures you.

"Good."

Bucky looks so enthralled with Petra in his arms that you look for Helen and gesture for her to hand over the birth certificate. Taking it and a pen, you get to work filling in your name and signing it at the bottom. Then looking at the father portion of the certificate, you figure you'll let Bucky fill it in if he wishes. But as for Petra's last name, you fill it in without even thinking about it.

"Here. Your turn," you say. "Only if you want to though. No pressure."

Bucky glances at the birth certificate, reading it over. He grins before glancing at Petra once more and then takes the pen from you, gesturing for you to place the clipboard down on the bed so he can write. It takes only a few seconds and then you're handing it over back to Helen with a beaming smile.

It doesn't seem like Bucky is going to relinquish Petra anytime soon, so you take the moment to lean back in the bed and rest for a bit. However, you only get to relax for a few minutes before there's a knock on the door.

"Aw man, you're lookin' awfully cozy with that kid in your arms, Barnes," Sam says.

Steve elbows his friend as Tony makes a beeline for Pepper. "Huh. She's actually pretty cute," Tony says. "I thought I was going to have to come in here and lie about how cute she was."

"Tony!"

You grin at him, but Steve steals your attention away as he hovers over Bucky and reaches in to touch your daughter's tiny hand. "What's her name?"

You and Bucky meet each other's gaze, silently communicating about whether or not you should tell them. You give him a nod and he slowly smirks. He moves so both his feet are planted on the floor, and Sam and Tony have a better view of the baby cradle in his arms. "Her name is Petra."

"Aw damn. Named after the Maximoff speedster," Sam says, shaking his head. "Should have seen that coming."

Wanda giggles as you snort, but then you have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into laughter when Bucky tells them her full name. "Petra Amaris Barnes."

The men seem to all freeze, but then Pepper and Wanda coo about how adorable it is that you gave her Bucky's last name.

"Wait, what?" Poor Steve. He looks so confused. "Barnes? She has your-"

"I'm the random HYDRA operative who apparently supplied the other half of Petra's DNA."

"Holy shit."

"You got that right, birdie," Tony mutters.

You giggle and then shrug when Steve meets your gaze. "It was a surprise to us all, but apparently Bucky's more than okay with it."

The room goes quiet as the situation sinks in and then Tony starts to giggle. All eyes turn on him when says, "We sent in Barnes to seal the deal with Y/N and he really sealed the deal, huh? Got him a baby momma and everything."

You blink in surprise and then stare at Bucky, grinning softly when he seems to pink in embarrassment and refuses to look at you. You glance at Wanda and gesture towards the door, and she seems to get the hint. "Right, well," she says, standing up. "Why don't we give these two a bit of privacy while we go make some phone calls to Clint, Laura, and Nat. I'm sure they'd like to know Petra is healthy and that Y/N is doing fine."

Steve and Sam get the hint, but Pepper has to push Tony out of the room. Then left alone with Bucky, you smile at him. "Care to explain what Tony meant about you coming in here to get the girl?"

You watch as he gulps and you can see him trying to piece together what he's going to say. "I might have come to the conclusion that I liked you more than a friend and was coming to see how you felt about that."

Your breath hitches. He.. likes you? That was something you kind of already knew, but were waiting for him to say something. And leave it to him to confess after giving birth and your emotions were kind of haywire at the moment.

Unable to speak at the moment, you carefully lean forward until you're on your knees and Bucky glances up in surprise. And without warning, you press your lips to his in one of the most softest of kisses since he is still holding Petra.

It takes a minute for his brain to reboot and when he does, you smile against his mouth as he returns the kiss. "Is that," he mumbles, "is that your way of saying you like me too?"

His eyes sparkle and you huff a quiet laugh, biting the bottom corner of your lip as you nod. "I do. Have for a while, but didn't want to scare you off since I was pregnant."

"You wouldn't have," he assures you. "I adored the two of you long before I found out she was mine. I'm all in if you'll have me," he says.

You nod. "I want you."

"Good. 'Cause you're not getting rid of me. Ever."

"That's fine by me."

#marvel gen fic x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #sam wilson #pepper potts #tony stark #natasha romanoff #helen cho #avengers #marvel

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Yes captain

Note - this is part three of corrupting a good boy but it's mostly porn so can be read as a standalone as well. Sorry about all the jealousy stuff its just what the muse calls for sometimes. Comments/reblogs are really really appreciated🙏🙏 Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - You ask Steve to keep it on while doing it 👀👀

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, uniform kink, captain kink, daddy kink, roleplaying, jealousy, insecure reader.

Pairing - CEO!Steve x reader

Word count - 4.5k

“Ooo,” you yelped, trying to run away from his firm grip across your hips.

It only made him hold onto you tighter, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “There’s no where to run, babygirl,” he chuckled at your misery, delivering another harsh slap to your naked bottom.

You shrieked in pain as your flesh burned in agonising, but delicious pleasure. As if you’d ever want to actually run. “I’m sorry, daddy.” Since you were allowed to call him daddy now, which seemed to always make him forgive you, but you added your princess voice just to be safe and not make it any harder on yourself.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to make fun of my team, but you had to be a dumb baby and run your mouth,” he scolded you, slapping you twice before slipping a hand between your legs, the squelching noises of him gathering your slick on his fingers made your ears burn.

You had gotten too bored of him watching the game and not paying attention to you so you might’ve said some mean things about his team, but the jokes on him since your diabolical plan seemed to have worked.

You had gotten too lost in slight tinge of pain in the roots of your hair, that he was pulling, and his fingers teasing your core, you yelped forward when he slapped your pussy, gasping as you throbbed for more of it.

“Honey,” Steve shook your arm causing you to jolt awake.

You had a habit of talking or mumbling nonsense in your sleep and since he was a light sleeper it usually woke him up. He found your incoherent rambles and the little faces you made in your sleep cute, they were particularly intense tonight for some reason, and while he loved you with all his heart he was not about to let you talk nonsense about the Yankees.

“What? Where?” you sat up, rubbing the soft sheen of sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand.

“You were talking in your sleep, sweetheart,” Steve said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, “Come here.” He circled a hand around your waist, pulling you down and back against his chest, kissing the back of your head, “What were you dreaming about, hm?”

“Um...” you blinked, “How much of it did you hear?”

“You think your so clever, don’t you,” he teased, pinching the side of your hip as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m very smart.”

You shut your eyes, ready to go back to dreamland and to your daddy, who was just a version of Steve who liked being called daddy. Which was something Steve would never be into. Not that you’d ever admit to having such a shameful kink.

But you felt Steve grind his excitement against your ass, “You wanna go back to sleep, or...?” he asked, biting the shell of your ear before snaking a hand up your cami to grope your breast.

“You woke me up with such debauch intention?!” you gasped in fake incredulity. Deciding to indulge him and that any time spent with normal real Steve was much better than being with dream daddy Steve.

***

You fixed his tie, tightening it just a bit around his neck. His golden hair was smoothed back, your eyes caught a glimpse of his rosy pink lips. So pouty and perfect. You could spend hours just looking at them, his smile was what truly made you fall for him. But you pulled away when he tried to steal a kiss from you.

“Gloss,” you argued, puckering your lips. Instantly feeling guilty as his pink ones pouted, giving you his sweet puppy eyes.

“Come on, doll, just one kiss? Don’t you wanna wish me luck?” He bent to capture your lips but you moved your head away at the last second, making him groan as his nose bumped against your cheek.

“I spent over two hours getting ready for this!” you huffed, smoothening a hand over your puffy tulle dress, finally having a chance to wear it out in public.

“Did you just smudge my blush?” Gasping, as you looked into the mirror, picking up your rouge and patting it on again.

You loved the dress Steve had gotten you for Christmas, it was so pretty and princess and you felt like Cinderella wearing it.

But it was too... girl-ish, Steve had insisted that you wear it. So he could show off his beautiful new wife.

Tonight though, you had to look like a woman.

A strong woman.

Who is not to be fucked around with. And not someone who is vulnerable and weak.

Because you knew she was going to be there.

“You always look gorgeous,” he mumbled, looking in the mirror and patting his hair to make sure it was in place.

You had convinced him to grow it out. Having more courage to express yourself since the Christmas gift mishap a couple of months ago.

Tucking a loose golden strange behind his ear, you wondered how someone as breathtakingly as beautiful as him could be yours.

But as beautiful as Steve was, he could also be naive. He wanted to see the best in people, which often didn’t let him see what was right in front of him.

How his ex Peggy had been trying to cause problems between you two from day one.

At first she had welcomed you with open arms, with a treacherous smile her red lips had told you that she wanted to be best friends with you. Taking you to the MET museum, of which she was a board member, asking your help in organising a couple of galas and the fundraisers. Shopping with you to make you more presentable to be a CEO’s wife

You were prepared to be wary of her. The fact that Steve was still good friends with his ex, who he had dated for more than five years, didn’t exactly sit well with you, you knew you’d face some troubles there, but then you met her and spent time with her you knew that you did had nothing to worry about.

That was until she, and Steve’s mother, had tried to get you to sign a pre-nup before you both got married.

While Sarah was always nice, you could always sense a tinge of hostility, your intuition told you how she preferred Peggy over you and would much rather have her as Steve’s wife.

With a heavy heart you had told Steve you couldn’t do it. That there was no point in getting married if you would end up divorced eventually. You were ready to cut your losses then, to pack your bags and go home, preparing for the worst. But he understood and said that he wouldn’t be marrying you if he didn’t trust you.

You were glad to have worked out everything, but decided to play nice with ‘Judas', whom you learned had infamously betrayed Jesus from a mass you attended with Steve and Sarah, and pretend that you didn’t know anything about her betrayal.

You shook your head, there was no point in letting her ruin your night, or dictate what you wore. The dress was what you liked and who you were, there was no reason for you to pretend to be like her. Steve liked you because you were nothing like her,

....probably.

You looked over to Steve, tugging his pants up and securing them, you had never once thought you’d be someone who’d have a thing for men in uniforms, they were simply doing their jobs, what the fuck was sexy about uniforms anyway, but that was until you saw your Steve in his...

He really could pull off any color, even something as boring as army green, his chest and built looked almost too broad. Numerous medals adorning his chest. He certainly looked the part of a soldier.

He kissed your temple when he caught you staring at him and you only hoped he couldn’t decipher what was going on in that horny brain of yours.

Steve rarely ever talked about his days in the army. If he did it was about the friends he made and the good times he shared with them. And how army whipped him in shape, made him the man he was.

He had been honorably discharged a couple of years ago, all his army friends only ever spoke highly of him--which wasn’t really surprising.

***

“Hello, darling,” she smiled to you in her classy British accent, kissing your cheek before hugging you, “How have you been? Haven’t seen you since new years!”

“I’m good and you look amazing.”

Which wasn’t a complete lie, she did look elegant in her uniform, a lot similar to Steve’s but her coat had flares at the end which gave it a more feminine feel than that of Steve’s.

“So do you,” she beamed, “Oh, you have a little something,” she gestured to the corner of your mouth before wiping some white frosting from your cupcake off with her thumb as you tried to keep your face from cringing.

So far the strong woman act wasn’t coming along so well...

“So...how is married life?”

Wouldn’t you like to know. “It’s very good. You know Steve, he’s just amazing. I’m lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I did heard about your little goof with your erotica from Natalie, and the gift slip up!” she laughed, hooking her arm around yours, she walked with you towards your husband. “And here I was thinking you are a good girl,” she winked.

“I... guess I’m not...”

“I must say though, unfortunately for you I don’t think Steve would like any of that. He’s always been so traditional,” she rolled her eyes, “He has an old soul.”

Yes, you knew that. You knew that he was traditional and an old soul. Of course You did, he was your husband. Why she felt the need to point out the obvious was beyond you. “Well, you know people can be unpredictable,” you countered.

“Yes, well you’re free to explore of course, I just didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt,” she put a hand over yours.

“Peggy,” Steve greeted her.

“Oh don’t mind us. We’re just gossiping about you,” she smirked.

“Really?” he looked over at you with a quizzical face, “All good things I hope.”

“I don’t have anything bad to say about you,” you said giving Peggy a side eye, “Can we dance? Please?”

It didn’t take a lot of convincing because he loved dancing. After a couple of dances it was time for him to give his speech.

Seeing your husband up on the stage, hearing everyone talk about his accomplishments made your heart swell in pride. You really couldn’t believe you were married to someone like him.

You suppose that you understood where Sarah was coming from. It would make sense for someone like Steve to fall for and marry a classy worldly lady like Peggy. There really wasn’t much you could offer him.

***

“Steve,” you huffed, trying to yank on the zipper for like the tenth time, while you loved the dress you needed to get out of it and breathe for a while.

“Yes, doll?” he called for you, entering your closet, smiling at your struggling form. “How can I help?”

“You can get me out of this thing!” you said, turning your back to him.

You were really feeling yourself tonight, you had gotten a facial and a manipedi, a blowout, spending hours on getting ready for battle. You thought you looked good and fierce. But then you took off your makeup and your extensions and were reminded of how Peggy was much more effortlessly beautiful than you. She had often been dubbed as a ‘natural beauty’.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is something bothering you?” he asked as he unzipped you.

“No. Will you let me change now?” you turned around, to politely ask him to leave.

“You’ve changed in front of me before.”

“Yes, well I can’t right now.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

“Because...” You couldn’t stop your eyes from turning misty, “I’m ugly...”

“What? Who told you that?” His face instantly flushed with anger as he held onto your forearms, and when you didn’t push him away he pulled you in closer to his chest.

“No one needs to. I know it because I’m not blind,” you confessed, the cool metal of his medal digging into your cheek.

“Then maybe we need to get your eye sight checked. Because you’re the prettiest girl in this whole world. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” He stroked your hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You’ll have to fight the whole world then.”

“If it comes to that then I will.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how protective he was. Propping your chin up on his chest you blinked at him. “Why didn’t you marry Peggy? She’s so much more beautiful.” Your heart was heavy with so many emotions, usually you wouldn’t give in and ask something so dangerous--a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Judging by the frown on his face, you were afraid that you had upset him, but then it softened as his pale baby blues twinkled at you, “Why would you say that, doll? Peggy is beautiful, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I could never even dream of marrying anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to others.”

“You really shouldn’t. They don’t measure up to you anyway,” he teased.

“It’s just...” you gulped, not being able to hold his gaze you played with the olive green buttons on his coat, “I heard at the party from Tony, that she will be working with you from now on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“You don’t trust me?” his voice cracked.

You whipped your head up, frantically shaking your head from side to side, “No no of course I do! I’m just saying it’s a risky game. To be around her so much... what if old feelings resurface?”

Your heart almost broke as he let go of you, putting some distance between you both, “You know all I ever ask for is that you trust me... and love me. I don’t think it’s a lot.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, I don’t think me asking you not to work with your ex is a lot. No woman would be okay with her husband spending that much time with her ex.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t I get through to you?”

“Maybe try speaking at a fourth grade level. Then I’ll understand. Since I don’t have a masters in literature from Sorbonne,” you rolled your eyes. Maybe he was intimidated by how smart Peggy is and decided to go for someone younger and dumber.

“I’ve never... been in love with Peggy or anyone but you really,” he told you, his broad shoulders hunching as he let out a sigh, “Not the way I’m in love with you. We were always more like friends than... lovers.”

“Is that better or worse?” you wondered out loud. Isn’t it important for husband and wife to be friends as well? Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“It’s much better. We would go months without seeing each other, and I didn’t miss her. Like I miss you when I’m at work. I can’t wait to get away and come home to you. Peggy is amazing, and I’ll always have a special place for her in my heart, but I would never even think about cheating on you.

But... I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe I would react the same way if you were to work with an ex. So I can just tell her that she’ll have to work with Nat, or someone else.”

“No,” you blurted.

Absolutely not.

Because A - You really did trust Steve not to stray. He wasn’t that type of man. And B - That would be admitting defeat. Admitting to her that you are afraid of her.

“I do trust you, Steve. I think... I just need to work on myself. If we don’t have trust then we don’t have anything right?”

“I trust you too, honey,” he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to me about this stuff okay? You can’t keep it bottled up.” You nodded as he worked on loosening his tie.

“Um... is that uncomfortable?” you asked, watching him pop open the first button of his shirt.

“The uniform? A little. It’s been a while since I put it on.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear it at our wedding.” You smiled. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t. While he looked so handsome in the black tux he had worn, the uniform would’ve made him irresistible. You would’ve spent the whole evening swooning over him.

“It didn’t feel right, I just wanted to be myself. Uh... doll,” he quirked a brow as he caught you staring at his crotch, “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, “My eyes are up here.”

“Yes, um, of course,” you whipped your head up as soon as you heard him, since you were too busy trying to make out the outline of his johnson, “And what beautiful eyes you have!”

“Tell me something. What is your obsession with this uniform?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You decided to feign ignorance.

“Really? You’ve been staring at me all night. Do you not like it? Do you like it? Sometimes I think I don’t understand women at all.”

You probably would’ve appreciated his suit even more so if you hadn’t spent so much time festering in your jealousy. “I think... it’s... kinda hot,” you sighed dreamily as he blushed a crimson red. “You’re like this big strong Captain, and I’m like this small woman, like a damsel in distress type of thing.”

“Oh.” Was the only thing that he said. He never believed you would be into something like that, not from all the feminist rants you tend to go on.

“Oh god. You think I’m a weirdo, don’t you?” You put your hands over your face to hide it from him.

“No no, hey, don’t be like that,” he cooed, pulling your hands away so he could look at your pretty face, “I can be your... big, strong Captain. And you can be my damsel in distress.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. So... how would it work? Do I save you from a burning building or something?”

“No, sweetie. You’re thinking of a fireman.”

“Oh, right,” he blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “We can do the fireman thing if you like. I can... be a fireman.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know. But I want to. Come on! Give me something to work with.”

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “How about... you keep the suit on?”

“On for how long?” he tilted his head like a cute confused puppy, looking down at his suit, “Oh! You mean on while we’re...”

“Yes. And I could, I don’t know, thank you for serving my country.”

“Yeah. I mean medals and all are nice, but I want a special kind of thanks from you, doll.”

“Ooo,” you felt up his biceps through his coat and shirt, he really was strong. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” you asked, batting your lashes.

“Um... yes.... You get on your knees, miss... I mean ma’am, shit,” he cursed as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. “What do I call you? Are you my wife in this scenario?”

“You can just call me doll, captain. I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” you smiled, cheekily pressing your lips to his in a quick peck but he held onto your waist before you could pull away. Sliping his tongue inside your mouth.

“Alright then, doll. Show me how grateful you are,” he puffed his chest out, so he could appear a bit more dominant.

You only giggled, taking your dress off because there was no way you could kneel in so much tulle.

Standing before him in just a strapless bra and a nude thong, you were vulnerable, but not scared anymore. He was your captain, he’d never ridicule you.

“I’m already feeling appreciated,” he said as he ogled you.

You dropped down to your knees, unbuckling him with some help from him, “It’s so big,” you gasped when you looked at his length, pretending to be seeing it for the first time. Although, you were still always surprised with the sheer monstrosity of it.

“We’ll make it fit, doll. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he smiled, tapping on your mouth, “Open,” he commanded.

You’re a natural, captain. You took a deep breath before opening wide. You’d been having sex regularly for the past three months or so, he had gone down on you more times than you could count, you felt as if he could live between your legs if he could. But he had never once asked you to return the favor, you didn’t have it in you to be the first one to bring it up either.

Licking your lips, you tasted someone of the preejaculate leaking out of his tip before wrapping your mouth around his head, moaning at the salty taste and the essence of him.

“That’s... ugh,” he groaned, “That’s good. Keep going,” he spurred you on, a hand on the back of your head giving you the slightest bit of push.

You took as much of him as you could, stopping halfway through when he hit the back of your throat, you pumped the rest of his length with your palm, holding onto his thick thigh for support, you bobbed your head, increasing your pace when he started moaning loudly.

Rubbing your thighs together to relive some pressure, your throbbing core desperate for some attention and friction, you knew your panties were ruined.

You had read your fair share of cosmos, and the many sex tips they offered, you knew they’d come in handy someday. You swore you remembered reading something about balls... to suck them? Bite them?

You fondled his balls, feeling him tightening in your palm, you were ready to swallow all of you. That was the only proper way of saying thank you.

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you off of him.

You looked up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, doll,” he heaved, “But I gotta come in your pussy.”

Your jaw dropped, to hear the golden boy using such filthy language. “Whatever you say, captain,” you rasped.

Gasping when he yanked you up, pulling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bed before throwing you down on the mattress.

Although Steve had always been dominant in bed, it was somewhat lowkey and subtle, he was never rough with you, he treated you as if you were made of glass, right now he was treating you as if you were literally a ragdoll.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You followed quickly, desperate to have him inside you asap, rolling your thing down your thighs and then getting rid of your bra before he even had to ask. You looked at him through your lashes, waiting patiently for his next command.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Now touch yourself.” It had always been a wet dream of his to watch you, instruct you as you got yourself off. Since your intention was to please him... he might as well make most of it.

You blinked at him before nodding, “Yes, captain.”

Fondling your breast you pinched your nipple, pulling on it before hissing exaggeratedly, smirking when you saw his hand twitch to touch you.

“What do I do?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

He shook his head, circling a hand around your wrist he shoved two of your fingers inside your mouth, “Suck,” he told you. “You like having your mouth stuffed, don’t you?” he asked as you noisily suckled on his fingers.

You shamelessly nodded, hoping that you’d get more opportunities to suck his cock from now on, he pulled your fingers out, bringing them down between your legs, pushing them into your willing channel. His own thumb rubbing on your clit working you up even moreso.

You threw your head back as you felt your climax approaching. “So close... captain.”

But he pulled your hand away from your pussy, tutting at your disobedience, “I didn’t tell you you could come.” He shook your head, giving you a minute to catch your breath before pushing two of his, much larger fingers inside you, “Gotta get you ready, doll. Since you’re so small.”

“Oh! It’s too much...” you moaned, holding onto the bedding.

“How're you gonna take my dick then, doll,” you watched as he licked your slick off of his fingers, “You taste like heaven, honey.”

“Thank you, captain.”

He unbuttoned his coat, he would be much freer without it and fuck you properly like you deserved.

You rolled your eyes when he folded his coat setting down on the floor, when you were literally lying naked before him with your legs spread wide, waiting as his tie and pants followed, “Really?” you scoffed.

“Can’t have them getting dirty, doll.” He knelt on the bed, now only in his shirt, spreading your legs a bit further so he could make room for himself, nudging your intimate lips apart with his length before slowing sinking into you.

He stayed like that for a bit, inside your heat, it felt as if he would explode then and there but he had to savor the moment. To have such a pretty girl wrapped around him.

Hovering over you he placed his elbows on sides of your head so he wouldn’t put too much of his weight on you, and so he could look at your as he fucked you.

He moved his hips against yours, rocking slow and steady, “You like that, doll?”

“Yes,” you nodded as he pulled on your hair to bare your neck to him. Biting your neck to mark you as his, “Do it harder, please, captain.”

“Harder?” he spoke against your neck, pinning both your hands above your head as he started rigorously pounding into you. “That hard enough?”

You were too fucked out to give a coherent answer, or to do anything but nod pathetically and take whatever he gave you.

“Ima come...” you clenched around him as your orgasm washed over you, rendering you immobile and weightless.

He thrusted into you a couple of times before filling you up to the brim - just as he had promised.

“Thank you, doll. That was really nice,” he smiled, laying beside you and pulling you closer to him, he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, captain. You sure know how to treat a lady right...”

“Maybe we can do this more often,” he suggested as you nodded in reply.

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

Shout out to my friend lizzygal (you can find her on ao3) who gave me the idea of Steve folding his uniform. It was too hilarious to leave out! Thanks for reading.

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!

#corrupting a good boy #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you

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visd3stele · 3 years ago

Text

Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

Text

sleep like the dead

“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.

“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.

“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.

“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”

He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand.

“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.

“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”

“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.”

They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along.

“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group.

“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”

“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”

“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”

“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.

“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”

“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”

It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down.

“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.

“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear.

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”

“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”

“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest.

“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.

“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”

“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.

“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”

“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”

“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”

“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”

“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.

“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.

“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”

“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray.

“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.”

The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.

“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.

“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.

“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.

“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”

#danny phantom #another flash is the pan DP fic #just something about Danny being so tired (also ODed on Nyquil) that he just misses his ghost sense going off #and the ghosts being there and without all the threats of death #just kind of hanging around #looking over him curiously snooping #how often do they get to like see him up close?#he's a freak! lets look him over also stack shit on his head!#and the weird space where you just cant remember being human and what sleeping is like but also being so envious that you cant do it anymore #((also just a note that Danny had all his enemies in his room and slept soundly but woke up in a jolt when his parents got home))#((take that as you will))

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amazingmsme · 3 years ago

Text

Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #diego armando #godot ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #i didn't really know how to end this #but i think it's sweet #flustered!phoenix is the cutest fucking thing ever ok #jealous!edgeworth #ok but writing godot's flirting & teasing flustered the hell out of me

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the-modernmary · 4 years ago

Text

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (prologue)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you'd probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: Age gap (15-ish years), smut, degradation, unprotected sex. This story is 18+ older. This is not a story for minors.

A/N: Hello, hello!! I figured that since I've made a writing tumblr, I should post my story on here!! This is a multichapter story, so I am very excited to go on this journey with y'all!! I already have multiple chapters written and published, so these should be coming out VERY quickly. If you don't want to wait to catch up, you can read everything I have on ao3! This chapter starts as a flashback, and then the next chapter and the rest from here on out will be actual plot!

masterlist || read on ao3

“If you were waitin’ on the sunshine, blue sky

Cheap high, lullaby

Then my best habit’s letting you down”

- The Maine, “My Best Habit”

Two years earlier

Your eyes scanned the University Ballroom, your champagne glass practically ignored in your hand. You hated all these alumni networking galas and avoided going to them as much as possible. Old, sleazy lawyers with much younger women on their arm reliving their best cases with each other and expecting all the new law students to laugh when they were able to get their defendant acquitted because of some dumb technicality. It made you sick.

It didn’t help that you were already going in with a bad attitude. Your ex-boyfriend had dropped by your apartment that morning to pick up the rest of his stuff, and he decided that the best person to help him with that was the girl he had been cheating on you with. You caught them together three weeks ago, and you had been so stressed from midterms that you hadn’t even had the chance to go out, get drunk, and have wildly irresponsible rebound sex.

But you had to suck it up for the night, at least until you were able to get the answer you came for. After that, you could go back to your apartment, replace your too tight and too short dress with some nice pajamas, and watch trashy reality TV until you passed out on your couch.

You scanned the room a few more times until you caught sight of a tall man in a dark suit leaning against the bar. Bingo. You set your champagne flute down and ran over to him as fast as your heels could take you. Once you were just a few steps away, you quickly composed yourself and walked straight into his line of sight.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rarely came to alumni events here at George Washington Law School, citing that he wasn’t even a prosecutor anymore and had much more important work to do back at the BAU, but he was going as favor to his old law school buddy. Plus, it was either coming to this or going out to the bar with the team, and seeing as he had just signed the divorce papers with Haley, he wanted to be somewhere he wasn’t going to be profiled all night. The free champagne was also a bonus.

When you saw that his name was on the RSVP list, you knew that you had to go.

“Agent Hotchner?” you asked, giving him your best straight A student smile.

He refused to look up right away, not giving you the chance to charm him. “I’m not currently on duty. If there is a case you would like the BAU to look over, that’s handled by our media liaison,” he said absently, taking another sip of champagne.

You frowned but kept your hand out for him to shake. “That’s not what I’m here for, I-” You took a breath to compose yourself. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a first year here- getting a joint JD and masters in forensic psychology. My goal is to become a prosecutor,” you pressed, and you were rewarded when he perked up in interest. He slid his drink on the table.

“Most law firms don’t usually want a prosecutor who’s going to empathize with the person you’re prosecuting,” he mused, and shook your hand, his grip just tight enough to pass as faux politeness.

You shook your head and clasped your hands behind your back, trying to ignore how warm his hands were. “I think the best prosecutors empathize with the defendants,” you admitted. “Isn’t that how you succeeded as both a prosecutor and as a federal agent? That’s actually why I came to you, I wanted to ask you a question... about my thesis,” you added quickly, figuring that the best way to get him to talk to you.

Aaron’s posture changed from half asleep to maybe listening, and your face went red. Sure, you only came to the event to talk to him, but you never thought that you’d actually get Aaron Hotchner to pay attention to you. “I didn’t empathize with the people I was putting in jail,” he told you, his voice ice cold. “That didn’t come until I worked in the BAU, and even now, I wouldn’t call it empathy. Just understanding of how they became the type of person they are.” He leaned sideways on the bar counter and you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. You shifted slightly and felt the hem of your dress move up your thighs ever so slightly. Aaron noticed too, if the lick of his lips was anything to go by.

You took his silence as your signal to ask your question. “You offered Jessica Michaelson a lesser sentence that had her released in just three years despite the fact that she murdered her brother in cold blood in his sleep. You had the evidence, why didn’t you push for premeditation?” you asked, and his eyebrow quirked upwards. “In the case The People vs. Michaelson,” you added unnecessarily, trying to break the silence.

“I know the case you’re referring to. I was the lead on it,” he reminded you, his voice edging on dangerous. “You know, most people aren’t interested in my days as a lawyer.”

You shrugged, hoping to appear more confident than you felt. “I’m not most people,” you agreed, biting down on your lower lip. His gaze was so intense, and it was affecting you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. It was turning you on, you realized with a start. It had been a while since you had last had sex, and it was driving you only slightly crazy. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Aaron grabbed a champagne flute from a server walking by, and shoved it in your direction. You grabbed it cautiously. “Did you read the police report on the case?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of the champagne. The alcohol was making you bolder, and you stepped towards him. “Then you’ll know that there was very little physical evidence tying her to the muder. We chose to offer the charge that would have stuck instead of risking her being found not guilty.”

You gritted your teeth together in an effort to calm yourself down. “She murdered four people within the six months after she was released from prison,” you reminded him.

That seemed to have struck a chord with Aaron, and his steely persona seemed to fade ever so slightly. He sighed exasperatedly; you were obviously getting on his nerves. “The prints and DNA that were collected and put into VICAP when she was in prison are what got her caught in the end, and that was the evidence needed to lock her away for life. We wouldn’t have gotten those prints without her original charge. It all worked out.”

You groaned and threw your hands in the air. “You couldn’t have predicted that, though,” you argued. “And people have been found guilty with way less evidence than you had in the original case. I think you just felt bad for her, considering her brother was a real piece of shit.” You were being difficult now, you knew that. But there was something about Aaron Hotcher that was pulling you in, and you wanted to see how far you could push him.

Aaron gave you a predatory grin and he stepped towards you ever so slightly, finishing his drink. He must have had multiple drinks too, judging by the soft flush on his face. “Oh, you do?” He seemed amused now. He slowly raked his eyes from your face, down your neck, and down the rest of your body, and you forgot how to breath. You knew that it was inappropriate and that he was a highly respected FBI agent, even if he was kind of an asshole at the moment. You also knew that the two of you were crossing lines that neither of you should have even been close to, but you shivered under the weight of his gaze all the same.

You shifted back and forth, your brain trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I do. And I know that you transferred to the FBI after Michaelson was arrested again, which makes me think that this case was your breaking point,” you ranted, your hands becoming more and more animated.

Aaron chuckled, but there was very little amusement behind it. “Are you sure you want to be a lawyer?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because you’re starting to talk like a profiler.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “No thanks,” you said firmly, and he just shrugged before making a move to walk past you. You sidestepped in front of him, effectively blocking him from going anywhere. But it was obvious that he was done talking about this.

In your mind, you had two options now. You could keep pushing him about a case that he obviously didn’t want to talk to you about, or you could switch gears in your brain and have him help you solve your... other problem. Aaron was attractive, and you were getting tired of guys your age. You noticed the distinct lack of a wedding ring on his finger, but there was still a tan to show that it had been there. So either he was recently separated or just trying to cheat on his wife. You wanted to not care whichever it was, but a pang in your heart told you to be considerate. Besides, you did not want to get involved with another cheater.

“Must be hard to be at these events without your wife here to scare off all the lonely female law students,” you mused cautiously. You didn’t want to come on too strong, but the alcohol in your system was slowly clouding your ability to be subtle.

Aaron cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “I’m not married,” he said, too quickly and too defensively. So he’s separated, you thought, and you stepped closer to him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out your endgame. “Well, I would love to discuss your work as a prosecutor more when there are less… distractions around,” you whispered, your words breathy. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, do I make you nervous?” You sounded a lot more confident than you felt.

Aaron just smirked and grabbed your free hand, covering it in both of his, and the action was surprisingly soft, even if it was way too late for him to try acting suave. His eyes, on the other hand, told a whole other story. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes were practically black. “I face the worst people in society on a daily basis. Desperate law students don’t make me nervous. In fact…” He stepped towards you, looking around to make sure nobody else was looking. Aaron leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with every word. “I think that I make you nervous. And more than nervous, I make you very excited.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled back, a smug smile gracing his lips. You yanked your hand back to preserve what little dignity you had left, but it was too late. “Now, if you would like to discuss my prosecuting career more in depth, then you can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU,” he continued, obviously proud of himself and the effect he was having on you. He pulled out a business card and upon further instruction, you realized that it wasn’t even his. Jennifer Jareu the name read. “Our media liaison will be able to help you organize that. Now if you don’t mind, I am going to retire for the night.”

Aaron finished the rest of his drink and brushed past you while you were still trying to get your thoughts under control. “Oh, and you’ll make a wonderful lawyer someday, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, and that snapped you back into action.

You followed, running around him and cutting him off. “And if I don’t want to discuss your prosecuting career?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. “What if I was interested in a… less formal meeting?”

That was all the permission he needed. Aaron grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the ballroom, the two of you moving so fast that nobody in the room even had a chance to put two and two together. There was an empty hallway just next to the entrance of the room and Aaron pulled you in that direction, pressing you against the wall and kissing you fiercely the second the two of you were alone.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss, but in a strange role reversal, he let you take the lead. It’s certainly not what you expected from Aaron Hotchner who, until now, had been controlling every aspect of your meeting. You realized then that this was his way of making sure you were okay with what was happening- giving you a chance to back out and change your mind. You just answered by tangling your hands in his hair, pulling so that he was at just the right angle to kiss you.

Aaron dug his fingers into your hips, hard enough to make you gasp out. You were definitely going to have bruises the next day, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He shoved his leg in between yours and tugged on your lip with his teeth, which made you whimper involuntarily. He smirked against your lips, obviously proud of the noises he was drawing from you. You pulled on his hair harder as a sign of irritation, but that seemed to only make him more amused as he pulled away to laugh into your neck.

“Are we just going to make out against a wall like we’re back in high school, or are you going to actually do something worth my time?” you breathe, fighting to keep your voice even and light. It only halfway worked as he dragged his tongue up your neck to your pulse point. And then he bit down, hard.

It took everything in your power to stay quiet, especially as he softly kissed the newly forming bruise. His attack on your neck was relentless as he pulled your hips and back forth against his thigh. You whimpered as you desperately tried to get any friction from the simple movement. Your skirt was now dangerously close to being pushed so far up your legs that you would be completely exposed.

You pulled away first- you had to or your legs were going to completely give out from under you. You desperately tried to get your breathing under control and, to your annoyance, he looked perfectly composed. The only thing giving him away was his slightly swollen lips.

His fingers trailed up your thigh, getting so close to where you want him. “What would you like me to do then?” he asked easily, his voice almost sounding bored. You were speechless, like your brain had just short circuited. There were a lot of things you wanted him to do, but the words were lost on the tip of your tongue. “If you want something, you have to ask for it.” That was a demand, and he punctuated it by pressing his thigh further into you. You were sure he was going to have a wet spot on his slacks. He took the hand not in between your legs and grabbed your jaw forcefully, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “Use your words, little girl.”

You realize that the two of you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and you had the power to decide whether or not to jump over. It gave you a strange sense of power. Logically, you knew it was a bad idea. He was too old for you, obviously going through some sort of relationship trauma, and wasn’t somebody you could talk to your friends and family about. But the less rational side wanted him so badly it hurt. You wanted him more than you’ve wanted anything or anyone in a long time.

You noticed your strawberry colored lipstick was smudged ever so slightly on the corner of his mouth, and that’s all it took for you to jump off the side of the cliff. “I want you to drag me into the empty classroom just down the hall and fuck me senseless. I want you to use me,” you moan before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking.

The look on his face is something you’ll never forget. There was a mix of shock and arousal, but also something primitive; His eyes darkened when you told him to use you, and there was a fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe even both.

He removed his hands from your mouth and legs, only to place his hand on the small of your back. He began walking towards the classroom you had pointed out, much too slow for your liking, but he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’re going to regret asking me to use you,” he practically growls in your ear, each word increasing your arousal. “Are you one of those lonely female law students you warned me about? So desperate and needy for a real man to bend you over a table and fuck you until you can’t walk straight? Ready and willing to whore yourself out for the first man who gives you a second glance?”

Your breath hitched as you stuttered out your answer. “Y-yes, Agent Hotchner,” you whispered as he opened the classroom door and guided you in.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, he was back on your lips again, lifting you so that you were sitting on one of the desks with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Call me Aaron,” he mumbled in between kisses, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You were a moaning mess at this point as his hands pushed your dress up to your waist. His hands and lips were somehow everywhere at once and you were so hot and all you could think about was getting your damn dress off, but Aaron seemed to have other plans.

He ran his fingers up your lace covered slit and he just chuckled into your lips. “You’re so wet for me, already,” he groaned and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “And I’ve barely touched you. Do my words really have that much effect on you? Do you like it when I call you a whore?”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and quickly pulled them down. You could feel his bulge pressing against you and all you could think about was how badly you wanted it. How badly you wanted him. Your hands moved down his chest to make quick work of his belt, and his pants followed after.

“Please, please Aaron,” you begged, desperately trying to create some friction against him. His fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your head back so that you were looking at him.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” His fingers slowly ran up your slit, not enough to give you any pleasure. He was teasing you and enjoying every second of it. “And I wish I could take my time with you. The things I want to do to you…” Two of his fingers entered you and you cried out loudly. “But somebody could walk in on us at any second. I’m sure they can all hear you moaning like a dirty whore, all for me. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? So desperate for my attention and approval.”

His words turned you on more than you would have liked to admit. “Yes, Aaron yes. Please-” you were cut off by Aaron curling his fingers, hitting that spot that made you want to scream out in pleasure. But all too soon, they were gone.

He inspected his fingers, which were now covered in your juices, before bringing them to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and you eagerly complied, wrapping your lips around his fingers and moaning at the taste of yourself. “I’ll just have to fuck you quickly here, and then you’ll be begging for more next time,” he groaned and finally- finally- entered you.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to him, thrusting roughly into you. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brought his hand to your neck. He didn’t put any pressure, but he wanted you to know that he could and would if you decided to get mouthy with him.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk you were sitting on, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes started to close in pleasure as his hips slammed into yours, but they shot open as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Look at me. I want to see you when you cum,” he ordered, and you nodded the best you could.

“Yes sir!” you cried out, unsure of what else to say.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Aaron released your throat and moved his hand down so that he was stimulating your clit. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as your legs started to twitch. Aaron took this as motivation to slam into you even harder, relishing each time you gasped out his name.

His pace was unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air. Keeping your eyes open was a challenge, but you were able to do it with his soft mutters of praise. “Even brats like you can be good girls,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You just need somebody to fuck it into you.”

You were unable to respond coherently, so you just settled on begging even more, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. Aaron seemed to know, and he sped up his fingers against your clit. You wanted to scream out for him, but your voice wasn’t working. “What did I say before?” he asks roughly. “If you want something, ask for it.”

“Please… please can I cum?” you cried out, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. “Please let me cum around your cock!”

He nodded in approval and you had to muffle yourself in his neck to keep quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm, the overstimulation almost too much, but it wasn’t long before he was moaning your name, and you felt him fill you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, both breathing heavily as the situation started to sink in. You just let a guy almost 15 years older than you that you just met fuck you in an empty classroom, and you really enjoyed it. Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he was going through a full crisis.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you winced at the feeling. He pulled up his pants quickly. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, looking around the empty classroom. “I don’t have anything good to clean you up with.” A box of kleenex caught his eye and he grabbed a few tissues. It was better than nothing.

You chuckled nervously and waved it off. “It’s fine,” you promised, your voice coming out shakier than you expected, but he ignored you. He wiped the mess dripping down your thighs. You were cold. He must have noticed, because he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked softly, and it was a full 180 from the way he had just been talking to you.

“I’m great,” you admitted honestly. “Seriously, that was… great.”

Aaron smiled at you- the first real smile he had given you all night. “It wasn’t too much?” he confirmed, and you suddenly remembered what he had said to you earlier. ...then you’ll be begging for more next time. Was he planning on a next time? You wouldn’t have minded it.

You shook your head and slowly slid off the table. You took one of the tissues and wiped up the mess that was left on the table. “Not at all. In fact, I could take more. Next time.” Your voice was light and airy. Aaron watched as you picked your underwear off the floor. There was no way you were putting those back on, not when you had no idea when the floor was last cleaned.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he teased, eyeing you carefully.

“Well I can’t keep it if I only have your media liaison’s number,” you reminded him, your eyebrow raised. Aaron chuckled and pulled out another business card, except this time it was his. You plucked the card out of his hands and inspected it carefully. “I’ll call you sometime. You can do all those other things we didn’t have time to do.” You were on your tiptoes now, whispering in his ear. “You know… my mouth can do a lot more than just ask for things.” As you spoke, you slipped your panties into his back pocket. You just laughed as you heard a soft gasp escape his lips.

You made your way towards the door, your legs wobbling dangerously underneath you. You were sure that you looked like a mess, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you was Aaron Hotchner’s eyes glued to your ass. “Get home safe,” he told you and you let yourself smile. Maybe it was a bad idea to start sleeping with a recent divorcee, but the sex was great and you both knew where you stood with the other person. No feelings, just fucking out your frustrations and stress.

Oh yeah, coming to this event was definitely a good call on your part.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #my best habit #my writing

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 3 years ago

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Castlevania Season 4: I’m not mad, just disappointed

Season 4 is poorly written fanfiction, which is...better than a lot of things could be, I guess.

Spoilers below the cut.

Content warning: trauma, sexual assault, psychological manipulation

The Gods Have Had a Change of Heart

Or, “Season 3 Blocked and Ignored”

Season 3 felt like the fabric of the universe had been twisted just to inflict additional pain. Season 4 overcompensates in the other direction; trauma evaporates, and good things happen for no other reason than to make our favorite characters happy.

The Season 3 finale left two characters in particular totally devastated: Alucard and Hector. Alucard is violently betrayed in a horrifying sexual assault by the first two people he’s spoken to since Trevor and Sypha left. He ends up killing them in self-defense and puts their bodies on stakes outside the castle, alluding to his father’s habit of doing so and potentially hinting at a turn toward evil. Hector is seduced by Lenore and then enslaved using a magic ring.

Yet at the start of Season 4, it’s as if these things never happened. Alucard is troubled, but not totally devastated, certainly not evil. Taka and Sumi are referenced in exactly one conversation with new character, Greta, in which she says the rather tactless throwaway line, “I had a boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time once. But they never tried to kill me.” Hector is nominally imprisoned, but immediately seems highly agentic, perhaps even more so than before. He studies, lays traps, and makes secret plans with other people. Furthermore, his relationship with Lenore is completely transformed. From falling to his knees in abject horror and despair at being enslaved, he suddenly switches to light banter, in what is apparently a basically okay, mutually enjoyed romantic/sexual relationship. Manipulative, selfish Lenore is now a sympathetic character struggling to reconcile her own role and feelings with Carmilla’s plans.

The events of season 3 happened, remaining canon in the most basic, literal sense. But the emotional weight attached to them has disappeared into thin air.

Not gonna lie, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that Alucard and Hector were okay. I’m soft-hearted! I don’t like seeing characters I like suffer! I mean, conflict is important, and I can deal with (or even enjoy in a certain sense) seeing characters suffer if it makes sense and serves a narrative purpose. But as far as I can tell, the season 3 finale was nothing more than lurid, meaningless violence. I probably wouldn’t have continued watching the show if it devolved into nothing more than finding novel ways to torture the characters.

Still, it doesn’t feel quite right to pretend like nothing happened either. Or, really, not that nothing happened, but that those things didn’t matter, didn’t hurt, didn’t leave lasting scars. That’s...almost kind of worse.

But, I thought, I can sort of forgive this sudden shift in the stars, given that there may have been some sort of change in creative direction relating to Ellis’ decreased involvement with the show.* Plus, season 3 was insanity. It’s not like it was full of great writing choices, so if we quietly ignore some of them, maybe that’s for the best.

*I only later learned that Netflix actually chose to continue with Ellis’ season 4 scripts. It is not lost on me that maybe Ellis doesn’t know how to write about the lasting effects of traumatic sexual experiences or how power dynamics can make a sexual relationship problematic because he doesn’t understand that those things exist.

Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening

Pretty Pictures, Not Much Else

Unfortunately, the disconnect between seasons 3 and 4 isn’t the only problem with this season. Although I felt that season 4 was a bit less boring than season 3 (I particularly enjoyed some of the earlier episodes of season 4), it suffers from the same basic problems of Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening.

None of the characters experience any significant development, let alone any sort of coherent arc. Sypha has changed slightly, becoming more rough and jaded. I did really like the scene where she talks about becoming the kind of person who says “shit.” I think it really speaks to how entering into a relationship with someone means taking on aspects of their lifestyle, and how that can change you in ways that you can’t predict and therefore can’t exactly “agree” to. Sometimes those changes are good, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re neutral, and sometimes it’s difficult to know. But you have to accept that you’re sacrificing some aspects of the person that you could have been if you chose to live completely independently, or with someone else.

Trevor really hasn’t changed since season 1 when he first decided to take up the mantle of hero again. Likewise with Alucard. Hector and Lenore change, as previously noted, but that change is sudden, jarring, and occurs completely off screen in between seasons 3 and 4. Carmilla dies as exactly as she lived: bitter, angry, and violent. Saint Germain just kind of...gets fucked over in a nonsensical subplot, which is its own whole can of worms.

We also get several new characters in season 4, none of whom have developed personalities or motives, nor do they develop any of those things over the course of the season: Greta, Zamfir, Varney, Ratko.

And nobody. Does. Anything.

Trevor and Sypha spend the entire season trying to explore and aid Targoviste, which comes to absolutely nothing. They’re unable to help anyone, Zamfir dies, and they end up just jumping through a magic portal to the actually relevant subplot in the finale. Carmilla literally does little more than draw maps until she’s ultimately killed. Hector plays a minor role in Saint Germain’s extraction of Dracula from Hell; otherwise, he and Lenore basically just exchange banter. Saint Germain does sort of do some stuff? But it’s often unclear how he’s made his connections, who the people who are helping him are, or what exactly he’s doing in terms of his magic beyond “whatever it takes to get back to his lover.”

Sure, there are fight scenes, but they feel meaningless. There’s no context, no stakes. There’s also a LOT of dialogue, and it is. Not well written. Exposition is embarrassingly clumsy at times, and the philosophical musings are cliche at best, muddled and confusing at worst. There’s just not all that much going on.

That is, except for Isaac. But more on him in a second.

What Kind of Show Is This?

When the plot line adapted from Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse ended with season 2, the show struggled to establish a new identity.

Despite nominally dealing with themes like whether humanity is inherently good or evil and how to cope with wrongdoing and loss, seasons 1 and 2 ultimately boiled down to a pretty generic action-adventure/fantasy plot with found family/power of friendship elements. Main characters Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard don’t really wrestle with big philosophical questions or suffer any major defeats. They know that they have to take down Dracula for the good of the world, and they work together as a team to do it, with a little character development relating to their various backstories sprinkled in.

Then season 3 happened, and things got weird. The trio is broken up for what feels like a pretty trivial reason—Alucard has to protect the castle and Belmont hold, I guess? And the result of that decision is that the dynamics for the three main characters are completely unbalanced.

Ellis openly admits that he basically went feral with the writing of season 3, and it shows. The messaging in seasons 1 and 2 was cliche, but consistent. The message of season 3? Anyone’s guess.

Season 4 reversed the darkening of tone from season 3, but shares its inability to pick a story and tell it.

Isaac is the Main Character

Always has been.

While I can’t say that his character or arc are perfect, I can say that he actually has a character and an arc. He starts off motivated by his fierce loyalty to Dracula, then has to struggle to find his purpose once Dracula is gone. He goes from subservient to agentic. He goes from fully endorsing the genocide of humanity and not caring about his own life to seeing some worth in humans and genuinely wanting to live. He has an interesting moment that deepens our understanding of what night creatures are, while also serving as an exploration of the meaning of one’s fundamental nature. Most importantly, these changes happen naturally over the course of the show. They never feel forced or out of the blue, and while I feel like even more could have been done with Isaac’s character, there’s a lot to appreciate about what is there.

If there’s any thread holding Castlevania as a single, coherent work together, it’s Isaac. Not only is his character the best executed and the most coherent over the course of the show, his character explores themes that are larger than himself and relevant to the show as a whole, like those mentioned earlier: misanthropy versus a belief in the value of humanity; the ability to go beyond one’s “nature” or initial circumstances; and how to respond to being wronged or losing something important to you. Exploring the individual lives of characters is great, but really good writing usually requires going beyond that to reflect on broader questions and ideas. Isaac is the only character here that serves that larger purpose.

Sorry...I Just Don’t Buy It

The season 4 finale is crazy, although in a different way from season 3′s.

Varney being Death makes no sense on several different levels. I’m not going to spend a lot of time picking that particular plot twist apart, but I will talk about why I think it doesn’t work at the largest scale, and how I think season 4 might have been done better.

Last minute twists with zero foreshadowing are rarely a good idea, and this is no exception. Why introduce this “Death” entity at the last minute to be the most important battle of the season? The finale of the entire show, even? Besides the lack of logic or emotional buildup, this robs the show of the opportunity to make use of the antagonists that it already has. Since Dracula died, Carmilla has been the obvious choice for a new big bad. Why hasn’t she done more?

Season 4 feels crowded with characters and plot lines that amount to nothing. Why not bring some of these characters together? If Carmilla is the main antagonist, how come she never meets any of the protagonists (except Hector, who is a pretty minor player in this ecosystem) or even affects them in any way?

Season 4 feels like maybe it was trying to make something out of season 3 and the model that it presented, but it ultimately fails to do so. The writers throw the trio back together at the end anyway, so why not have them rejoin sooner and work together? Maybe Sypha and Trevor’s past experience with Saint Germain could have helped Alucard and Greta piece together what he was plotting sooner, rather than all four of them being completely blindsided by it in the penultimate episode. (Sypha and Trevor know that someone is trying to resurrect Dracula, but they fail to find out any actual detail about the plans, despite their supposed attempts.) Have characters actually do stuff, figure stuff out, advance the plot!

Likewise, maybe Carmilla becomes aware of Saint Germain’s scheming, sees it as a threat, and tries to take him down. Maybe she tries to get involved and somehow use alchemy or the Infinite Corridor to her own benefit. What does it look like when power-hungry Carmilla, who wants to rule the world, finds out there’s an entire multiverse out there? That could easily set her up to be a foil to Saint Germain, causing him to realize that what he’s doing is wrong.

What actually ended up happening in the show feels disjointed and often empty. In particular, most of the events that happen in the last two episodes just don’t really work for me. I didn’t like Trevor suddenly sacrificing himself to this random, new, super powerful enemy, or how the gems and dagger that he found just happened to be the perfect weapon to kill this new enemy, or how he inexplicably returns from the dead.

This kind of thing is what I mean when I say that this season feels like fanfiction. Trevor comes back from the dead for no discernible reason other than that it would really suck if he died. Greta as a character seems to literally only exist to be Alucard’s girlfriend and support him so that he doesn’t have to continue to be alone and potentially turn evil. Alucard’s trauma from Taka and Sumi and Hector’s trauma from Lenore are both conveniently erased. Even Dracula and Lisa are resurrected somehow and get their happy ending. And it’s like, I guess I prefer deus ex machina to the opposite (Does that have a name? When everything is going well but then something terrible happens for no reason other than to make things worse for the characters?), but they’re both bad writing.

God. This isn’t even getting into what happened with the Council of Sisters. And I don’t even really like those characters, but that doesn’t mean I want to see their characters handled poorly.

I’m not sorry that I watched until the end, but I can’t in good faith recommend the show as a whole. If you’ve yet to watch Castlevania, just stop at the end of season 2. While there are some shining moments in seasons 3 and 4 (4 more than 3), it’s just really not worth it.

#review #thoughts #television #animation #adult animation #video game adaptation #fantasy #Netflix #Netflix Original #Castlevania #storytelling #writing #characters #plot #character development #vampires #Isaac (Castlevania)

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avtrbee · 4 years ago

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Levi and Y/N Family Headcanons

Hey!! This goes along with Unexpected Surprise bc i cant get it out of my head?? This is basically just a rundown on how your family dynamics are hehe. Though this is mostly how Y/N’s relationship are with the children, I put as much Levi as i could. feel free to tell me if you want more :)

AU where everyone is happy and alive bc snk is sad and depressing as it is and we deserve some fluff!!

You and Levi found each other when Mikasa and Eren were only small children, Mikasa being 3 and Eren being 4.

You and Levi were hesitant to get married because of the nature of your jobs. You were a Survey Corps soldier while Levi was running some shady things, alternating between the Underground and illegally going up to see you. There was a huge possibility of your death and Levi’s capture but both of you gave in thinking that there’s no time to waste.

You and Levi had a civil wedding, only opting to sign documents in a legal office rather than a grand celebration. “Eren,” you say to your son before bringing him to the wedding. “You’re going to have a new sister today.”

You and Levi agreed to bring your children with you in your wedding to officially meet for the first time. You had let them see glimpses of each other before so they wouldn’t be too shocked at the sudden change. All four of you were going to be a family after all and you and Levi wanted it to work.

“What if you don’t like each other?” You ask, squeezing Levi’s hand on the night before your wedding.

“They will.” He mused, running his thumb over your hand.

“But if they don’t?” you insist.

“Then they will have to get used to each other.” Levi replied.

Eren and Mikasa surprisingly took each other well. For one, once Eren heard that he was getting a sister, he was the one dragging you to the legal office where Levi and Mikasa were waiting. He always wanted to have a sibling, but there is no way you were going to have another child. Your vagina was ripped by Eren when you gave life to the boy and it wasn’t an experience you wanted to repeat thank you very much.

Once you directed Eren to where Mikasa and Levi were, he burst to the door and held his hand out to Mikasa who was hiding behind Levi’s leg, clutching it for dear life. “Hi I’m Eren! My mama says you’re going to be my new sister!”

Mikasa cowered behind her father’s leg and stayed quiet before Levi shrugged his leg off. “Oi,” he warned.

She casted her eyes at Eren who gave her the widest smile. “...hi. Mikasa.” She whispered, ignoring Eren’s hand. Eren didn’t seem to mind, opting to fill Mikasa’s silence with his chatting.

With your salary as a soldier, you managed to buy a small house near the Survey Corps’ base and send Mikasa and Eren to the nearest school. It was a humble home compared to the houses in your neighborhood but it contained a small kitchen and room for the four of you. It was enough.

Despite being married, you and Levi would only see each other on the weekends. Levi still had business in the Underground which made it riskier to come home everyday. However, he entrusted Mikasa with you and Eren. He didn’t want her to spend another second in the disgusting place she grew up in and grow up like him, lacking in nutrients and sunlight.

This gave you and Eren the opportunity to bond with Mikasa, Eren most especially since they go to school together. You notice how Eren’s red scarf was often worn by Mikasa, and you take note to buy her new clothes and Eren a new scarf.

Being a soldier and a mother at the same time was hard, especially since you were facing a promotion which meant more paperwork and harsher training. You had to push yourself to be the best so you’d have a higher salary for your children and to make sure that you’d be fully equipped to survive the expeditions coming quickly in your way.

You could always sleep in the assigned quarters the military has provided you but you always worry if Eren and Mikasa have eaten enough or have eaten too much, or if they got home safely. Plus, it was nice going home with someone waiting up for you.

Despite Eren being your biological son and Mikasa being Levi’s, the kids seemed to prefer the other parent. Eren would run charge towards Levi’s legs when he comes home for the weekends, climbing on him and just generally snuggling. Eren never had a father figure before and is generally curious about almost everything Levi does. He often bombards him with questions as soon as he gets home and though Levi tries to act annoyed, you notice how he never complains.

“Why do you only come home on the weekends?”

“Because I have a job somewhere else.”

“In the underground?”

“Yes.”

“Can I go with you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.” Levi answered. “And disgusting.”

“But did you and Mikasa live there?”

“Yes.”

Mikasa would try to spend as much time with you as possible, but she wasn’t as explicit as Eren. She was more subtle in her crave of affection. She’s there when you prepare dinner and the first one to grab your hand on the rare occasion you pick them up from school.

One day, the kids got back from school to surprisingly find you in the kitchen and not at work.

“Hi mama!” Eren went to you with Mikasa hot on his trail. You gave both of them head pats. “Levi is upstairs, if you want to see him.”

“Dad is home? Already?” Eren asked excitedly, already ignoring you and making his way up.

You notice that Mikasa is still with you in the kitchen fidgeting with her hands, hiding herself in her scarf. You frown, suddenly worried about her behavior. You kneeled down to her height. “What’s wrong?”

She blushed, causing her face to be as red as the scarf wrapped around her neck. “Y/N...we’re having a parents day next week.”

“Yes, Eren mentioned.”

“...we...we talked about parents today.” Mikasa said, staring at you with her gray eyes. She took a deep breath and summoned her courage. “Eren said that Papa is going to his classroom and...and I know that I didn’t grow in your tummy like Eren did but Ms. Krause said that moms would cook for you and kiss your wounds and hug you when you feel sad and...and you do all of that! Could you come to my classroom instead, please, Y/N?”

This child...she was going to kill you with her words.

“Oh, my love,” you murmur, gathering Mikasa for a hug. Truth be told this was also a clever tactic so Mikasa wouldn’t see the tears gathering in your eyes. “I’d be honored.”

She pulled away immediately. “Really? You’d be my mama?”

You were bawling at this point, tears of relief and snot somehow mixing. Mikasa was crying quietly too, and you held her face with your palm, using your thumb to wipe her tears. “I’d love to.”

“Mama?” she tried saying. The words were unfamiliar on her tongue because she never had a mother before but Mikasa could get used to this.

“Yes?” you answer, giggling in happiness.

That night, as you lay in bed preparing to sleep, you couldn’t keep a smile off your face.

“What are you smiling for?” Levi asked, joining you in bed, smelling like soap.

“Mikasa asked me to be her mom.” You whisper.

“She called me her mom.” You say excitedly like it's some sort of secret.

“Is that why she was happy today? You’re making her soft.” Levi said. “But she needs you, I suppose.”

When parents day finally came, you arrived hand in hand with Mikasa as she led you to her classroom while Eren and Levi went the opposite way. There was a chorus of excitement and pride evident in Mikasa’s eyes. Phrases of “I never knew your mom was a soldier, Mikasa!”, “Whoa, that's your mom, Mikasa?”, and “She’s so cool!” echoed around the room. Mikasa didn’t mind any of them, content with your large hand engulfing her tiny one.

#levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #mikasa #mikasa ackerman #eren #eren jaeger

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syndianites · 3 years ago

Text

A Queen Serve and Protects

Chapter Six

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter TBA! Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Pollen tapped the tablet pen on the table. School had ended and the duo was officially home.

“Chloe,” Pollen began. “It has come to my attention that you don’t do your own work.”

“So?” Chloe nonchalantly replied, crossing one leg over the other from where she sat on the chaise in front of Pollen.

Pollen tried not to roll her eyes. “So, I want you to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

Chloe scoffed. “I am plenty self-sufficient.”

“Really?” Pollen had a sweet smile on her face. “Then prove it.”

:readmore:

Before Chloe could make any remark, Polle flew over to her school bag. It looked more like a purse, honestly, with how much makeup and accessories she had stashed away inside. Seriously, what did you need an extra pair of heels for?

Pollen shook off the thought and grabbed the binder Chloe used for class, as well as her homework folder. Brining both items back to the table, she flipped the folder open. She pulled out the first sheet of homework she saw- something math related- and waved a paw at it.

Chloe gave her a dumbfounded look. “You want me to do that? Sabrina normally does.”

Pollen raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, I get it.” Chloe grumbled. “What does doing my own work have to do with being self-sufficient anyway?”

“When was the last time you did your own school work.”

“Ughhhh!”

Letting out a little giggle, Pollen decided to make a compromise, “For every question you get correct, I’ll let you ask a question about the Bee miraculous and its powers. However!” Pollen held a paw up before Chloe could get too excited, “For each you get wrong, you have to listen to some history and background on the miraculous.”

“Ooo-kay? How is that a loss for me? I still get to know what I want to know,” Chloe replied.

If only the poor girl knew.

Pollen beamed. “I’m glad you asked! You know how much you love our ‘Bee Nice’ Sessions?”

Chloe groaned.

“Anything I tell you will come along with lessons. I will tell you tales that are important for a number of reasons. And you have to sit through all of them!”

Chloe’s eye twitched. That sounded excruciating. Buuuut, she did want to know more about what powers the Bee miraculous could give her. It was just a simple math worksheet. Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. So Chloe took out a blank sheet of paper and began working.

She was wrong. So, so wrong. Chloe was by no means a bad student. She got solid B’s and pleased her daddy enough with her grades to get by. Did she need to have a study session with Sabrina before each test or quiz to get the contents down? Yes.

But that was all pish-posh. She figured if she could pick up enough for a test or quiz a day before it, she could do homework with no problem. Apparently, she hadn’t been giving Sabrina enough credit. That girl made it so much easier than this.

It didn’t help that her notes were a total disaster. Half-finished sentences, unclear instructions, and a clear lack of interest in each page. For a moment Chloe cursed her own apathy. She wanted to know more, damnit!

By the time she finished she felt exhausted. Pollen, ever chipper, hummed as she looked through each question. She procured a pen and started making marks. That was a lot of red. Oh GOD, there was so much red.

Pollen tapped the pen to her chin in thought. Giving a nod, she wrote a score at the top of her sheet.

6/15.

That was just under half! And that meant she would have failed had it been a test. Chloe resisted the urge to hit her head on the table. She could not afford to be forced into tutoring. Again.

Despite Chloe’s despair, Pollen was excited. This was better than she was expecting! Sure, she had been hoping for closer to a 75% or 80%, but Chloe at least had the idea down.

Plus this meant she could drill some more lessons into her charge.

Rubbing her paws together, she addressed Chloe. “Alright. Since it is almost an even split, let’s go back and forth with questions and history. I’ll start with a history lesson first, since you missed more than you got correct. But since I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a choice here: Would you rather hear some history about my previous holders first, or about all the miraculous as a whole?”

“Your past wielders, of course! I need to know who would be so lucky to use the same miraculous as moi.” Chloe flipped her hair back to accentuate her point.

Pollen huffed. Nonetheless, she thought back to her past holders, humming all the while. Who would be the best to start with to help Chloe learn?

She smiled as someone came to mind. “Now, before we start, I should say that we aren’t always deployed to battle some great evil. Sometimes, we are let out into the world to help inspire something. For me, I either inspire Order and Control. Or, when that gets to be too much, I inspire freedom from Order and Control.”

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted. “Why would you go against your whole Order thing?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about past wielders first,” Pollen brought a paw up to her lips to hide a smile. “To get into that would mean I would have to talk about all the miraculous.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Tell me the basics about all the miraculous first. But! You better tell me about your past users after!” Chloe conceded, pouting at the little god.

Pollen started again. “Like I said, we don’t always need a great evil to fight. At their core, each miraculous is meant to balance out their respective aspects. Tikki- Ladybug’s kwami- is the kwami of Light and Creation, for example. She is largely put out into the world to inspire new ideas and innovation.”

Chloe scrunched her nose in confusion. “Didn’t you say you also get put out to stop Order and Control? Why would you ever want to stop Light and Creation?”

“Well,” Pollen looked off to the side. “You can’t endlessly create. Tikki works on a more individual scale. She inspires Light and Creation in people as individuals. I, however, inspire Order and Subj- Control in a much larger scheme. After all, a bee’s focus is on the hive, isn’t it?”

“In any case, sometimes people burn themselves out when creating too much or spreading too much light. If you give and give and give, what is left for you? Nothing. And those left with nothing often crumble and fall apart- or worse. Tikki, when she is needed to, can either help her holder ease off themselves or help their holder teach others to let go of such demanding responsibility.”

Chloe nodded slowly. That… sort of made sense. “So it’s like when Adr- a friend of mine kept being happy and smiling even after his mother died to help others stop being sad. Because he wanted others to feel ‘lighter’” She made finger quotes, “Despite the tragedy that happened?”

“Yes, that could be a good example,” Pollen agreed. “If your friend gave away all his light and such to others, it could burn him out and leave him feeling empty and cold. Though, in this case I would lean more into the Peacock- he worked to give good emotion to others to cover their grief. But we’ll get there in a moment.”

“Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, is Tikki’s counterpart. He is the kwami of Dark and Destruction.” Pollen stopped as Chloe seemed to ponder that.

“If he is all about dark and destruction, wouldn’t that make him more likely to be evil?” Chloe mused.

Pollen, for her part, wasn’t bothered by the question. “If I am all about order and control, wouldn’t I be more likely to use and abuse people?”

Chloe bit her lip, but shook her head no.

“Exactly. Just because that is what we represent it does not mean we are prone to be good or evil. In the balance of all things, there IS no good and evil. Really, it just comes down to what a certain group likes or dislikes, or how a person’s morals are aligned.”

“Okay, no, Hawkmoth is totally evil. There is no doubt about that. How could taking control of others and using their emotions to turn them into monsters be seen as a good thing?” Chloe didn’t like the idea of Hawkmoth being in the ‘right’ at all. It went against everything he had done to Paris.

“Well,” Polled offered, “Does Hawkmoth see himself as evil?”

Chloe sat back in her seat. If movies were anything to go by, he probably didn’t. She sighed and motioned Pollen to continue

Pollen pushed on. “In any case, Plagg is often put into the world to ruin things. Surprising, isn’t it? But sometimes the best things are made in the ashes of destruction. Growing from losing things is important for many people. Like how your friend lost his mom- he likely felt sad and lost. But if he grew from that? He could learn to see that others will have his back and he can lean on them. Even in the hard times.”

Chloe looked away from Pollen. She was right, sort of. When Adrien’s mom died, Chloe had been there trying her best to cheer him up. Did it really work? No. But she helped him escape the house and run around the city with her, and watch stupid cartoons and shows, and sometimes, just sometimes, get him to smile.

“But losing your mom isn’t a good thing!” Chloe snapped back. “That devastated my friend and his family.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I painted it as such. Loss is a horrible thing to endure. But I wanted to make a connection to something you mentioned.” Pollen bowed her head. “Destruction is rarely a happy thing. But, a more positive example would be something more metaphorical- the destruction of insecurities, or breaking a bad relationship, or- or bashing down a wall so you can open up a room to have more space!”

Sighing, Pollen shook her head. “It is far too easy to see Dark and Destruction as a bad thing. Darkness can be used to hide when you don’t feel safe. Or it can be used to tone down how bright something is when you feel blinded. It can also be used as a complement and give things more depth.”

“Of course, Plagg has also been put out to tame destruction. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘fighting fire with fire’? It’s the idea that you fight destruction with destruction. But he can also help people see their bad habits, or the things that hurt them, and get them to reign them in and stop themselves before it’s too late.”

“Okay, sure, that makes sense. But didn’t you just describe Tikki and Plagg as opposites anyway? Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction? Why do they need to get people to go against their aspect when the other IS the opposite?” Chloe butt in.

Pollen brightened. “That’s technically later in this lesson, but I can touch on it now. You’ve likely noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir came together as a pair, correct?” At Chloe’s nod, she continued. “That is because they are like Yin and Yang- opposites that complete each other. While other kwamis do have opposites, none quite work the same as Tikki and Plagg. They were once a single being- one that was the kwami of Balance.”

“Well,” Pollen rubbed her cheek, “They weren’t a kwami, per se. But that is too much to explain for right now. You recall how Hawkmoth’s goal is to get the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous?”

“Of course, that’s all he ever talks about when he akumatizes someone!”

“Well, that’s because when you combine the two into one you can have any wish granted.”

“What!” Chloe slammed her hands down on the coffee table, startling Pollen. “That’s horrible! I mean, the power is cool, but if Hawkmoth got his grubby hands on that wish who knows what he would wish for!”

“Exactly! But there’s a catch with that- whatever you wish for will have an equal and opposite consequence. If you wished for someone to come back to life? Someone else must die. If you want to have all the power in the world? Everyone else must become powerless. These may sound simple, but the gravity is just as dire as the wish would be grand.”

Chloe fell back. “So, if I- well, if I wished for my mom to love me..?”

“It depends,” Pollen shrugged. “Maybe everyone else around you would hate you. Maybe your father would stop loving you. Or, in a more subtle fashion, she wouldn’t love the real you, just a facsimile of you. Whoever she thinks you are. Sure, there are ways to make a wish that has a mostly positive outcome- for the one making the wish- but the consequence will always hurt someone. Even if it has to be a lot of someones.”

The two fell into silence after that declaration. It was a heavy thought. What could drive someone to want to change something so badly they would be willing to suffer or let others suffer for it? How cold hearted must you be?

The whole thing baffled Chloe. She could just ring her father and have what she wanted with no consequence. Could she imagine doing something so drastic as to ruin someone’s life to make hers better?

Instead of voicing any of this, Chloe leaned forward. “So tell me about the other miraculous…”

#chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgois redemption #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #pollen (ladybug)#pollen #pollen the kwami #Kwami of the Bee miraculous #Bee miraculous #every time i get lazier and lazier with these tags #anyway if you reblog this i would kill for you uwu

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

In Your Eyes. Yan Izaya x Reader [COMM]

warnings: izaya orihara counts as a warning if im being honest. dude’s a jerk. word count: 3k.

7:12 PM.

This isn’t the time of day that Izaya would normally close his services. Not when most of his clientele operate under the cover of night, crawling out from their day jobs and towards him. Izaya’s second monitor is a testimony to that. Message after message flooding in, notifications going ignored after a brief glance. The inquiries have a wide range. From a businessman wanting to know if the wife in his loveless marriage is cheating on him as he suspects, to the yakuza seeking information on a rival group that has been infringing on their territory. These people, deep as their pockets may be, occupy an insignificant role at the time.

Izaya’s eyes flicker to the live feed coming in from outside his apartment. One sight in particular catches his attention, his lips quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. He stands from the leather chair behind his desk, stretches, and makes for the kitchenette. There’s a spring in his every step as he walks, fingers running over a variety of untouched teas. Earl grey, matcha, chamomile. Chamomile might be best here, he thinks. Izaya busies himself with boiling the appropriate amount of water. Any second now, he just needs to be patient…

There’s a tentative knock on his door.

Izaya already anticipated having a most prized visitor paying him a visit. The door was unlocked in advance, but the excitement in his veins is making it difficult to decide on what approach to use. Calling over to come in, or answering the door himself…? He decides on the latter. Playing the indifferent game is growing tiresome. When he swings the door wide open, Izaya’s greeted by the sight of you. You must not have been expecting such a swift response, as a cute gasp leaves your lips. Ah, how endearing a sight.

Not one to stand in silence for long, he extends an enthusiastic greeting. “Ah, [First]-chan, what a lovely surprise. Come in, come in.”

You do as he instructs, an uncertain smile on your face. He notes how you scrutinize your surroundings. Eyes shifting to every wall, your posture remaining stiff as you remain focused on nothing in particular. After a moment of deliberation, your attention returns to him, and you bow your head.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” you let out a strained laugh, fixating on the soles of your shoes. “I’m sure you must be really busy, but, uh… I had some stuff I wanted to discuss. With you, that is.”

“You’re in luck then, as I’m not doing anything at the moment,” Izaya pauses at the high pitched sound that signifies his water is done boiling. From how easily startled you are by the noise, he almost wants to tease you. Not yet, he decides. There’ll be time for that later. “Would you like some tea?” You nod your head. “If it isn’t any trouble.”

He takes this time to recall the cryptic text message you sent him earlier. How much self restraint it took not to respond -- for the greater good, he reminds himself -- the contents catching his interest. You’ve been remaining purposefully vague. Is it to tantalize him? Keep him in the dark for some unknown reason? How interesting, the myriad of possibilities you bring to the table! Izaya’s own theories are plentiful. Hearing it from you beats anything his own imagination could concoct. It was a gamble that you’d actually come by today since he never responded, a test to see just how important this discussion is to you.

It must be vital if you took the train from Ikebukuro to Shinjuku to get here, as he’s aware you have classes tomorrow morning. The day after that is clear of any university activities if memory serves. This further proves the point to Izaya that whatever it is on your mind must be taking high priority. How his heart flutters at the thought, anticipation rising as he whips together the tea. Humans once again exercise their adaptability, moving along in new directions, with just a tiny push from him.

When he returns, cups of steaming tea in hand, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on his couch. Your legs crossed, hands clasping together on top of your lap. Izaya’s oncoming set up footsteps must not have been enough to alert you to his presence, so he clears his throat. Just like you did before, you startle, jumping in place. Izaya tuts at your reaction.

“It’s not good to keep zoning out like this, [First]-chan. What if you trip and hurt yourself on the way home? Now, I can’t be having that.” He teases while handing you your teacup. You wear a sheepish smile on your face, cheeks turning a rosy hue from his teasing. This might be the first time he’s ever seen you this out of it. Upon closer inspection, there are bags underneath your eyes, and your overall reaction time is sluggish. Hm…

Izaya takes a set beside you, likely closer than he needs to be, but you never protest. A loud sigh leaves your lips as you sink into his couch. “I sent you a text earlier, but I don’t think you ever saw it.”

He nods his head in confirmation. The chamomile seems to be working its wonders already, your shoulders slumping down further. Easing you up in his presence has never been a simple task.

“I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” you take another sip, wincing at how the hot liquid burns as it travels down your throat, “What I realized is that, maybe I do rely on others too much. When Miki went missing earlier this year, you said something similar, didn’t you? That there was a lot I couldn’t do. At the time, I didn’t want to believe you. I still don’t know if I do. So that’s why I wanted to ask if you still think that of me.”

So that’s what is haunting your mind? A budding identity crisis? He wasn’t expecting something as ordinary as this, feeling almost taken aback that you’d come to him on the topic. Maybe it’s hypocritical of him to think that way. He often finds himself thinking back to the first time you showed up at his office, replaying your words and expressions in his mind like a projector. It’s unlike Izaya Orihara to be a sentimental person, yet he recalls your first meeting with immense fondness.

- - -

Namie had almost dismissed you. She informed Izaya that there was no practical way you could afford these services, and that taking your appointment would be a waste of time for them both. A standard broke college student isn’t worth all the effort. And on a regular day, he would’ve been inclined to agree. Maybe it had been the boredom, as nothing of interest was brewing in Ikebukuro at the time. Whatever the reason, in retrospect, he’s grateful for the chance encounter.

“A missing person’s case?” Izaya glances down at the coffee table, where you’ve laid out numerous personal pictures. All featuring the same girl -- Yamato Miki -- who you’ve come here today to seek help for. The job feels familiar, while simultaneously being unlike anything he’s been asked for at the same time. Information for the whereabouts of unsavory folk isn’t a rare request. This falls into a different category. You’re not asking out of ill intent, or he would’ve picked up on that by now. You weren’t lying when you said you were worried about the wellbeing of your friend.

His eyes return to you shifting in your seat. “I’m curious. Why not go to the police about this instead of me?”

From how your nostrils flare, he can piece it together before you even verbalize a response. This is the first question of his to earn such a blatant reaction. Everything prior, you had responded to the best of your ability, trying to keep your emotions in check. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I’d gone plenty of times, and none of them seemed to care in the slightest! Miki… she has a bit of a record, you see. Nothing serious, she wouldn’t ever hurt anyone, just stuff haunting her from her teenage years,” your gaze lowers, fists clenching by your side. “Since she used to run away from home a lot, they think it’s something like that.”

Izaya sees the pieces of this puzzle falling into place. It’s been about ten minutes since you came in, explaining your story, and his interest is starting to wane. There’s nothing that sticks out to him as unique. Maybe giving you the time of day was a mistake after all, like Namie suggested. Still, the question remains, why go to him specifically? You, a seemingly upstanding citizen, must surely have better options.

He’ll entertain this charade a tad longer. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

“It’s not unreasonable to think that,” Izaya can’t help but agree with what the police had told you. The change in your demeanor is subtle, former timidity melting away. Greedy as it might be, he wants to see more of this unsightly side of you. So he continues prodding without relent. “People with troubled pasts such as your friend have next to impossible odds to overcome.”

Your jaw’s clenching, he can see the imprints of how hard your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands. It’s simple to play someone like you to his own tune, he muses. Izaya just about had his fill of this. Maybe he’ll put a last nail in the coffin for good measure. Will you curse at him? Explode and yell? Break down crying? Storm off without a word?

“Chances are, she got in way over her head, and is currently laying dead in an alley somewhere. Or maybe she is somehow alive! In that case, what will you do then? If she couldn’t rely on you, her supposedly closest friend, why do you think that is? She either doesn’t trust you as much as you thought, or was taking advantage of your kindness all along.” Izaya can’t help the smile that curls onto his lips. Now that’s the look of despair he wanted! Being confronted with a fate you knew all along, and yet tried so hard to ignore. Only to fail, to be drawn into a vulnerable position of reality--

“So what?” The tone of your voice is eerily collected. You take a deep breath, glassy eyes refusing to break contact with his own, a sense of resolve keeping you in tact. Izaya tilts his head at this conjecture, as if to invite you to elaborate further.

“So what if she might be as bad as you say she is? Miki is my friend. I don’t care for some arbitrary method of judging people based only on possibilities. I’ll see the truth for my own eyes and decide myself.”

Well… to be honest, he was expecting an entirely different reaction. For you to scold someone like him is borderline laughable, yet here you are, doing just that. So why does he find himself even more drawn to you than before? There’s been passion ignited inside you by his own hands, social etiquette thrown to the wayside. Instead of letting this newly lit fire run rampant, you control the flame, refusing to burn as he intended you to. Izaya Orihara has never been one to back down from a challenge. Maybe this isn’t a waste of time after all.

Izaya leans in, resting his temple on his fist. “Pray tell, [First]-chan, what would you do in the event that I’m right? And your precious friend is involved with stuff she shouldn’t be?”

“I’ll give her a good wakeup slap,” you place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition. “Then chew her out for making me worry as much as she has. In the end, I want her to know that she can come to me with anything, even the worst she has to offer. That’s what friends are for.”

A mindset like this is idealistic to say the least. Optimism has never been a field Izaya has excelled in, as he bases things on concrete reality. Is that even the correct label for your way of thinking, he wonders? You’re not ignoring the possible truth, making excuses for her, or even considering enabling her poor behavior. No, it’s a strikingly unusual approach, that takes far more patience than most people have to offer. The shift in outward demeanor from soft-spoken to this unrivaled confidence backs it up further.

Izaya wants to know more about you. To peer behind the curtain that is your mind, poking and prodding at everything within reach. Seeing how much you can withstand before falling apart at his hands. It looks like you were wrong Namie, he thinks. This is turning out to be interesting.

“If that’s the case, I’ll lend you my help.”

You blink. “Y-you will…? But you just went on a tangent about how my ‘deadbeat’ friend isn’t worth the effort.”

“What can I say? Your impassioned speech tugged on my heartstrings, [First]-chan,” he coos, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Maybe I’m growing soft after all. Alright, now let’s start with you giving me your phone number--”

“Hold on!” you exclaim, putting up a hand. “I don’t need help from someone like you.”

Now it’s his turn to be thrown off by another person’s words. Maybe a taste of my own medicine, he thinks.

Here he was, figuring you’d grovel at his feet for help. Now that he’s extending a hand out of what you should perceive as goodwill, you… don’t want it…? There’s no quick, witty response. The cogs in his head are turning, trying to comprehend this bizarre situation, and coming up with nothing satisfactory. He hears what’s most definitely Namie struggling to cover up a laugh in the distance.

“Were you not just trying to convince me?” Izaya quirks up an eyebrow. That’s how he perceived your earlier lecture, as a way to bring him over to your side. For a rare moment, there’s no condescending lilt in his voice, only a genuine attempt to rationalize your actions.

You’re already moving on from this loss, picking the scattered pictures up and returning them to your handbag. “Not really. I just didn’t like the thought of you looking down on someone without really knowing anything about them.”

This time, Namie isn’t capable of muffling her laughter. Izaya sighs as he leans back into his couch. How troublesome you’re proving yourself to be. Do you not realize that a few phone calls from his behalf would be enough to ruin you for the rest of your life? Or maybe you do realize, and don’t care either way. Whatever the case, he’s not letting this go. It’s not everyday someone manages to leave him at a loss for words.

“So it’s back to the police then, hm?”

You shake your head at his guess, frowning. “I’ll just figure it out on my own. Thank you for your time, Orihara-san.”

Now you’re standing to leave. Turning your back to him, you make for the door, leaving Izaya to try and piece together what’s happening to him. Izaya follows after you, intent on changing your mind. Anything to keep you close so he can continue observing.

“What exactly are you planning on doing? It sounded to me like you had no leads or connections. I’m not sure how familiar you are with investigation work, [First]-chan, but you’re not off to a very good start.” Izaya calls over, successfully getting you to stop in place. It’s a relief to know he hasn’t lost his touch. You don’t look fully convinced, so he continues on.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to be helpless all on your own,” Izaya points out, your grimace growing deeper with every word. He’s getting somewhere, he just needs to reel you back in. “We wouldn’t want my earlier premonition to come true.”

“I guess so,” you agree without enthusiasm, lips pursing. Izaya can’t help but feel satisfied with your compliance. Then you continue walking towards the door. “I need to give it some more thought. I’ll call your secretary this evening.”

With that, you’re out of sight, the door shutting in his face. Hm. He doesn’t get the feeling you’re acting like this out of spite. No, you’re sticking true to your own convictions, trying to get a feel for how to best work things out. Izaya’s already planning to run multiple checks on you. He has a growing curiosity for knowledge on you that needs to be quenched. What school you’re going to, where you currently live, if you have a record--

“I can’t say I was expecting that,” Namie comments in her usual monotone. From the skin tightening underneath her eyes, Izaya can tell she’s still fighting back a smile. “Someone turning down your offer to help and lecturing you? I almost feel undeserving of such a wonderful sight.”

Izaya sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I’m glad you enjoyed your boss being berated so much.”

“There’s almost nothing better,” she concurs with a nod. “When you’re finished standing there and moping, I already brought her social media up. I figured you’d want to see it after that display.”

This is enough to capture his undivided attention. The boredom from this week is a relic of the past, Izaya’s enthusiasm for human beings returning in full bloom. What a terrifying beast you’ve managed to awaken. You’ll make for a fascinating source of entertainment. He already finds himself looking forward to the next time you cross paths, Izaya confident in his ability to make this happen. He excels at interrupting the flow of people’s lives unprompted.

- - -

The rest is history, so they say.

Izaya’s whittled you down this far, creating a codependency that pleases him, a result of hard work on his behalf. You stare at him with doe-like eyes. Vulnerable eyes. Waiting with bated breath to see if he’ll confirm or deny your deepest concerns.

He wraps an arm around your slouching shoulder. "Now that you have me, what you are or aren’t capable of on your own doesn’t matter anymore. Isn’t that right, [First]-chan?”

“I... I guess it might be.”

#btw the title for this fic is just a reference to the weeknd #the lyrics felt somewhat fitting...#i kept listening to it when writing this #izaya #Izaya Orihara #orihara izaya #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere izaya #yandere #yandere x reader #durarara #durarara imagine #yandere durarara #durarara x reader #yandere imagine #yandere scenario #my stuff #commissions

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untilenglandisnomore · 4 years ago

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PadMay 2021 – Day 2: How should Padmé be remembered?

(rocks up a week late with a chai latte) Played fast and loose with the word “should” here and ended up thinking a lot about Imperial propaganda.

Summary: Imperial Supreme Commander Darth Vader is sent to investigate accusations of a university lecturer spreading treasonous Rebel propaganda. A class on the life and work of Naboo’s former Queen Amidala brings back painful memories.

As far as punishments go, it would appear on the face of it that Darth Vader had lucked out. Being sent to assist the ISB might be painfully boring but at least it wasn’t painful. It seemed almost incongruous to the Emperor’s rage at his apprentice, once again, letting the Rebels slip through his fingers.

Vader knew better. Pain, he was used to. Pain, he could tolerate. Wasting his skills and time on pointless political suppression, investigating academics for spreading Rebel lies irked him immensely. The Emperor’s way of reminding him that he was replaceable, disposable.

And to rub salt in his wounds, he was commanded to investigate the faculty at the University of Theed. To be mere clicks away from his beloved’s final resting place was a pointed twist of the knife.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he could get back to hunting down the Rebels, so the Sith pushed all thoughts of her out of his mind.

Or at least, that was his intention. Begrudgingly, he followed the ISB Agent into the lecture hall. The Agent was to lead the interrogation, Vader was there to provide leverage.

The class had already started. Fifty pairs of eyes turned on them and the lecturer stopped abruptly.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a strong voice despite the fear spiking through her blood at the sight of Vader.

The Agent gave her shark-tooth smile. “Agent Elliot, ISB. We’ll just be sitting in your lecture today. Making sure everything is up the standards of our great Emperor.”

The way he cocked his head towards Vader made it clear it was not a request.

The lecturer stiffened. “What does education have to do with security?” she asked.

“Sedition,” said the Agent, “is a crime.”

She gave them a flat look. “Fine. Take a seat. Be sure to let us know when the truth runs up against the Emperor’s delicate sensibilities,” she snarked.

Vader felt a brief bit of surprise at her insolence and then almost amused. He really did not like Agent Elliot. There was something about the steel in her eye that made him wonder if all the Naboo were just like that.

They stood at the back of the hall, Elliot pointedly taking notes on his datapad, and Vader glowering, and the lecturer got back to her class.

“Okay hopefully you’ve all read chapters five, nine and ten on the Invasion of Naboo and the Clone Wars.”

There was some half-hearted murmuring across the room. The lecturer rolled her eyes.

“Come on guys. Fine. Does anyone in this room not know who Queen Amidala was?”

There was a smattering of laughter and snorts of disbelief.

Darth Vader didn’t hear the lecturer’s reply because what was left of his body went numb and a distant ringing filled up his ears. He stood frozen as the lecturer set up a holoprojector and suddenly it was her. Her face, lit up and larger than life before his eyes. Her voice breaking through the ringing in his ears and bouncing around his skull.

“Like so many of the people that we tell ourselves we're here to serve, Teckla lives in a district that rarely has electricity and running water as a result of the war.”

Vader could feel his heart stop in his chest. His mind went completely blank. He watched, as if from a very far distance, as the holoprojector floated up off the desk, crumpled up like a piece of flimsi, and then shattered into dust.

Stillness fell over the room as all the students and the lecturer stared at the spot where the holoprojector had sat seconds prior.

The lecturer seemed to recover first, giving herself a little shake and pointedly not looking at Vader.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve got printed copies of this speech on flimsi,” she handed out sheets for students to pass around while they started to whisper to each other, furtive glances in Vader’s direction.“So everyone take a couple of minutes to read the speech and take some notes.”

The students followed their instructions as the lecturer awkwardly scooped up the remains of her holoprojector and deposited them into a bin.

“Okay,” she said at last, “what does this speech tell us about the Clone Wars?”

A handful of students raised their hands, the lecturer pointed to a bothan girl, one of the few non-humans in the class.

“The war was causing lots of suffering and the Senate weren’t doing a good job stopping it. This is why the Emperor had to take over, to ensure peace.”

The lecturer glanced over at where Agent Elliot was standing and didn’t try to hide the roll of her eyes.

“I suppose it could be interpreted that way. Senator Amidala spoke out against corruption in the Senate many times.”

“She didn’t support the war,” said another student, a human boy, “doesn’t that make her a Separatist?”

“And she signed the bill asking the Emperor to hand power back to the Senate. Isn’t that treason?” added his friend.

Another disdainful eye roll in the ISB Agent’s direction as the lecturer trotted out the party line through gritted teeth.

“Senator Amidala was a close, personal friend of the Emperor. The Emperor supports democracy and free speech, but order had to be restored after the war. Senator Amidala was a great leader and surely would have supported the Empire had she lived long enough to see the excellent things it has achieved.”

“Professor?” another student put up her hand. “I was going to do my paper on Senator Amidala and the days around the rise of the Empire but there’s hardly any sources? Should I pick another topic? Do you know how she died?”

Genuine curiosity broke through the lecturer’s stony façade but as she opened her mouth to answer, she yelped and jumped back as her entire desk broke in half.

She stared at the desk. She stared at the rows of students gaping in shock. She stared at Vader.

Her eyes narrowed minutely at the Sith and then, apparently throwing all caution and good sense to the wind, she continued her answer.

“It’s a matter of some… contention,” she started slowly. “Senator Amidala was last seen at her home on Coruscant several hours after the formation of the Empire. She took her personal ship, and left Coruscant. There’s no further sources on where she was or what happened to her.”

The lecture hall felt very cold all of a sudden. Despite the ominous feeling in her gut, the lecturer continued.

“Official Imperial sources reported her death as an act of terrorism by a Jedi. They claim she died a martyr for the Empire.”

“And you don’t think that’s true?” asked a student. It was a fair question. The disbelief was clear in her tone.

The lecturer glanced over again to Vader and the Agent. She shrugged.

“Without any evidence to the contrary, it might as well be true. I think her actions as Queen and as Senator tell us exactly what Amidala would have thought of the Empire.” She ignored the twitch of the Agent’s brow at her tone, and pointed to a student. “Yes, Ilya.”

The class continued, moving on to discuss the boring, political, parts of the Clone Wars which Vader, for one, had no desire to relive.

None of it was new to him anyway, so he allowed himself to zone out the class, gingerly picking through the whirlwind of his thoughts.

Her. Somehow of all the days, of all the classes, they were discussing her.

He briefly mused on whether it was the Force, or his own cursed bad luck. Or, more cynically, if this was engineered by his Master, as part of his punishment.

They remembered her, quoted her speeches and still respected her as a leader, as Queen and as Senator. And yet they knew nothing about her.

They didn’t know that her laughter was musical when she was happy, and a graceless snigger when he made a particularly lewd joke. They didn’t know how the air in a room seemed to change when she walked into it, like all the atoms had ceased moving. Or how it changed again, when she spoke, always uncompromising and direct, like static electricity crackled between her sentences. They didn’t know all the good she could have done. Would have done.

He had robbed the galaxy of her blinding, beautiful presence. She was the only good thing left and he killed her and it was all his fault.

A blaring alarm shook him out of his reverie as students started to pack up their bags and awkwardly file out the door past him, shooting him apprehensive glances as they went.

The girl from before, who had asked… who had asked about that, was loitering behind to approach her teacher.

“Um,” she started, “so what should I do my paper on? So many of the books in the library have been taken out by the new censorship laws, it’s so hard to find good sources.”

The lecturer flashed her student a smile. “It just so happens that the Senator Amidala’s father used to work at this university, he’s an old friend and he dropped off some of the Senator’s old memoirs.”

She went to her bag and pulled out a datapad. “It’s all been copied to the holonet, and,” she rolled her eyes in Vader’s direction, once again demonstrating a remarkable lack of fear for her life, “edited to remove anything that could be interpreted as anti-Imperial. There’s lots of good anecdotes from her time as Senator, and a fair few political essays.”

They started to talk further about the student’s paper but Vader wasn’t listening, his legs moving before he was fully conscious of it, coming to a stop in front of the lecturer and snatching the datapad from her hand. She gave him an unimpressed glare and he was suddenly overcome with a need to explain himself.

“The ISB will need to review this,” he said stiffly, “for evidence.” He abruptly turned on his heel and walked out the room, nearly running over Agent Elliot in the corridor.

“Other than her having an attitude problem, there’s not much to go on here, she’s not distributing illegal material as far as we can see,” said the Agent. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the datapad in Vader’s hand.

“Nothing that concerns you,” replied Vader, and stalked away in a flurry of black fabric and disdain.

It wasn’t until he was back in his chambers aboard the Executor that he dared take out the datapad again, too often surrounded by nosy Imperial officials and gossipy stormtroopers.

He flicked it to a random page and at the first line he read, let out a snort of amusement, the sound odd and distorted through his vocoder.

“In a democracy, citizens have a duty to stand up against tyranny. In order to benefit from the rights and freedoms that democracy brings, citizens have an obligation to be vigilant against the rise of authoritarianism.”

This, thought Vader, was definitely not Imperial approved material. Distantly, he wondered if he should report it, this incendiary material was on the holonet, anyone could read it.

People would know what she thought. More would remember her as a traitor.

He preferred to imagine that he could have convinced her, that she would have come to see that the Empire was necessary. But. He quietly knew the truth. She was stalwart in her beliefs and a hell of a lot more stubborn than he was.

She would have been proud to be labelled a traitor by this Empire. She would hate to be remembered as a martyr for it.

She always did have the last word, Vader thought dryly, resolving to conveniently forget about the memoirs being on the holonet, and settled onto a chair to read every word she had written.

#padmay #padmay2021 #Darth Vader #padmé amidala #vaderdala #just some fresh nonsense from my brain prison #I definitely think some of my uni lecturers would have been totally unphased #by a robot breaking their desk in half with psychic powers #Anakin skywalker #anidala #sort of

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sachigram · 3 years ago

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With Teeth Chapter 3

((click here to read on ao3!!))

“Is that man coming by here again?”

Izaya pauses in his typing, sparing a glance at Namie, who is staring at him from her side of the desk. She looks bored, but that's nothing new. She hides her emotions well. It's one reason he can tolerate her, despite her unpleasant personality and obsession with her brother. She's fun, hard to predict. She's a challenge.

“What man?” Izaya asks, knowing full well what she means. She scoffs at him, and he grins at her. “You'll have to be more specific.”

“That one. The one you're obsessed with. Heiwajima. He's been coming by here every month around this time, skulking and making rude comments. This will be the seventh month, right?”

“Observant, aren't you?” Izaya asks, turning back to his typing. “I can't predict what Shizu-chan does, you know that. He does what he wants.”

“Yeah, but there's a pattern now. People like him don't normally have patterns, do they?” Namie tilts her head at him, something other women might do to seem cute. With Namie, it's always a disarming tactic, something she does to seem smaller when she's actually a power player. Izaya is used to her by now, even without reading her mind.

“That's part of what makes him so unpredictable. He's random until he isn't, and then he breaks his pattern when you least expect.” Izaya waves her away. “Ask what you want to ask, and stop with the games. We're both busy people.”

“You've got something on him, right? You're blackmailing him? It has to be something like that. He wants you dead even more than I do, and that's saying a lot. There's no way he'd suffer in your company more than he had to.”

“Whatever I do or don't have on Shizu-chan is between him and me. That makes it none of your business, Namie-chan! Unfortunate for you, but true all the same.”

“Are you guys fucking or something?” she asks, and she shrugs at the look Izaya gives her. “What? There's not much else you'd keep secret. If he gave you something actually juicy, you'd be holding it over his head much worse than this. Unless you had something to lose too, you wouldn't care what happened to him.”

“You are the definition of an 'over-thinker',” Izaya informs her. “Sometimes things are what they are, and nothing more.” Almost on cue, a thundering knock raps at the door, and Izaya motions for Namie to get it. “Who knows who that could be! Look professional, would you? We're running a business, here.”

“Yeah, I'm so curious who it is,” Namie says sarcastically, wrenching the door open to reveal a grumpy-looking Shizuo. He doesn't bother greeting her, just steps around her as he stomps into Izaya's apartment.

“Shizu-chan, what a surprise!” Izaya calls. “Terrible to see you, as always.”

“Fuck off and die, flea,” Shizuo says, heading straight for Izaya's fridge. Namie watches him for a moment, and then she turns back to Izaya.

“Shall I leave you to your fornication?” she asks.

“Oh, I don't know,” Izaya muses. “You're pretty, Namie-chan, when I don't have to look at your face. Maybe you could join us for the evening.”

“I'd rather be eaten alive, thanks.”

“More like you have plans already to stalk that brother of yours. Don't bother; he's having a date night at with Mika-chan at your favorite Italian place! He made reservations yesterday.” Izaya tilts forward, smirking at her as her face reddens with rage. “Run along, won't you? Who knows what they might do for dessert?”

Rather than retort, she picks up a folder from Izaya's desk and throws it as hard as she can. The papers fly out, flowing through the air like confetti, and she slams the door behind her hard enough to make even Shizuo flinch.

“Fuck. What's her problem?” Shizuo asks.

“Lots of things. She has more problems than most,” Izaya says, going back to his typing. He makes a mental note of the fact that Shizuo went straight for the pork tenderloin Namie prepared the day before, and then he looks up at his expected guest. “How's the bloodlust?”

“Same as it always is. Too fucking much,” Shizuo replies, already chomping away on cold leftovers. He never bothers with reheating them, anymore.

“And yet, you haven't bitten anyone. It seems you either have more self-control than I ever would've guessed, or you're exaggerating your symptoms.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shizuo says, and he flops onto Izaya's couch, giving Izaya a scrutinizing stare. “Does your secretary not know you're a witch?”

“Of course she doesn't,” Izaya replies. “Why would she?”

“She practically lives here.”

“She works here, Shizu-chan. This is an office, first and foremost.”

“Funny. I thought it was your apartment.” Shizuo takes another bite of food, his cheeks bulging almost comically with the amount he's eating all at once. When he speaks again, it's with his mouth full. “Even your place is a front. No one knows anything about you, huh?”

Izaya gives him a withering stare, grimacing at the grotesque way Shizuo eats.

“You're awfully conversational today. Why the sudden interest in my life? Usually you just barge in here, eat my food, and sit in silence until you're the true monster you've always been.”

“I guess I'm just curious about the way you do shit. Shinra told me all about how rare it is, what you are. He said you're probably keeping my secret so I'll keep yours,” Shizuo says. He finishes the last of the container of pork tenderloin, and then he goes back to the fridge.

“By all means, tell everyone what you know about me. The people who don't immediately run screaming from you will hardly care. I've been called terrible things, and for good reason. Calling me a witch in public will hardly matter.” Izaya turns back to his screen.

“Got no reason to tell anyone about you. I don't give a shit what you are.”

“Wonderful.”

There's silence for a bit, the sound of Shizuo chewing, of Izaya's fingers clacking against the keyboard. Izaya spares a glance up at Shizuo, who seems to be thinking about something, his brows furrowed. Curious in spite of himself, Izaya can't help but dip into Shizuo's mind. He snorts, and it draws Shizuo's attention.

“If you wanted to go to Shinra's place for this, you should have,” Izaya says. Shizuo snarls at him.

“Don't fucking read my mind.”

“Then stop thinking so loudly.”

“You said you didn't read minds often!”

“And you said that was a lie.”

Shizuo growls, his mind going to static as he considers throwing Izaya's entire counter out the window. Truth be told, Izaya wasn't lying when he said he doesn't try to read minds very often. It would be helpful for him in his line of work, but he was always more interested in doing the work himself. It was more fun, more challenging, easier to convince himself he didn't need his magic to be as powerful as he was.

“I hate you,” Shizuo hisses. It's the truth, Izaya can sense. Shizuo hates everything about this, being here, relying on Izaya, speaking to Izaya, smelling Izaya's scent all around him. Like this, Shizuo's mind is so loud and consumed with rage that Izaya pulls back, unwilling to listen to all that incessant noise and clatter.

“So go to Shinra's, then.”

Shizuo doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. Izaya doesn't even need to read the beast's mind to know what he's thinking. Shizuo doesn't want to be seen that way by anyone he actually cares about. Izaya doesn't count in Shizuo's simple mind.

Of course it would be something like that.

Izaya pushes it from his mind. He's always loved seeing the worst aspects of other people, seeing them at their lowest, their breaking points, and choosing to love them anyway. Part of what makes Izaya able to love mankind as a whole is being there when they break, observing them as they either pick up the pieces or destroy others as they have been destroyed. It doesn't matter how it happens, whether Izaya has to cause it himself, or not. Their choices are their own.

Even in Shizuo's case, he's choosing to come here, to rely on Izaya, to trust in Izaya to help him remain himself.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Shizuo barks, snapping Izaya from his reverie.

“Oh, nothing,” Izaya lilts.

Creepy fucker. Shizuo thinks it, so clearly it seems almost direct, as if he wanted Izaya to hear it. Knowing him, it's more than likely. Shizuo doesn't censor his thoughts or his words, after all, and he's never been afraid to tell Izaya what he really thinks.

Seemingly content with the amount he ate, Shizuo sits back on the couch, his legs bouncing in nervous anticipation. He's always filled with anxiety on nights of the full moon, and Izaya can't exactly blame him. Even if Shizuo has a higher pain tolerance than most, the transformation is still incredibly painful, and Shizuo worries about keeping his sanity more than anything else. He's terrified of hurting someone, anyone, even Izaya, and he finds comfort in the fact that Izaya would never let him get close enough to actually hurt him.

Sometimes Shizuo is so human it's sickening.

***

The first time Izaya was consciously aware he was dealing with a dangerous, inhuman creature, he was in middle school.

Tsukumoya Shinichi found Izaya first, of course, an incredibly tame bloodsucker, but an irritating one all the same. He was Izaya's first official client that wasn't a desperate spirit, and he also had the annoying habit of popping up out of nowhere, eager to poke and prod at Izaya like a test subject, much like Shinra, but much, much more adept at getting under Izaya's skin. Izaya was just beginning in his potion-making back then, and Tsukumoya was enthusiastic about needing to feed less. A fellow lover of humans, it had been a long time since Tsukumoya had taken a life. He knew the right amount to drink, but he also had the habit of getting lost in his work, forgetting to feed, and always risked taking too much from the first victim after a period of accidental starvation.

“That's where you'll come in. You could have an entire market of potions for those like me, those that don't want to hurt anyone in the world of the living,” Tsukumoya explained. He had popped up out of nowhere again, met Izaya on his walk home. The sun was freshly set, and Izaya was walking home from Shinra's, enjoying the rare break of caring for the toddlers since his parents were home.

“Isn't making a potion as simple as reading a recipe?” Izaya asked, already irritated by the vampire's presence. “Couldn't you do it yourself?”

“I could,” Tsukumoya said, “but it would only be a drink at that point. I'm not a witch. There would be no magic in it.”

“How fortunate for me,” Izaya said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Tsukumoya merely laughed at him, as he always did. The vampire seemed to view Izaya as a trinket of sorts, the kind of thing one might pick up on a whim, and then keep for a long time.

“Just think about it, would you? There aren't many options in this world, or the next. Witches are few and far between, as you're aware,” Tsukumoya said. “It's been centuries since I met one as powerful as you.”

“So you've said before,” Izaya replied.

They walked in silence for a while, Tsukumoya still grinning like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and Izaya with a small frown on his face, irritated by the fact that between Tsukumoya, Shinra, and the twins, he was always having someone trail after him. They were passing by an alleyway when Izaya's body screamed at him to RUN and NOW. He felt the pinpricks of danger along his skin, but he was rooted to the spot, too curious for his own good.

“Stay back,” Tsukumoya said, his voice calm, but tight. “That one's pretty strong.”

“What is it?” Izaya asked, straining to see through the darkness of the alley. He could see a figure, huge and looming, but he couldn't make out any details. As if in answer, a ferocious growl sounded, and Izaya was bombarded with the ugliest thoughts he ever heard in his life.

Kill, kill, blood, bite, KILL, KILL, KILL—

Izaya pulled back with disgust, and his sudden movement seemed to trigger the creature, who lunged forward. Tsukumoya yanked Izaya out of the way, too fast for Izaya to truly follow, and then Izaya got a full look at what was after him.

The creature was massive, covered in patches of thick, course fur. It had glowing eyes filled with madness, singularly focused on Izaya, the same thoughts running through its head. Teeth, sharp, jagged teeth, were in the creature's gaping maw, too large to truly fit.

“Werewolf,” Izaya said aloud, as fascinated as he was on edge.

“Yeah,” Tsukumoya answered, “and we interrupted his meal.”

Only then did Izaya notice the blood all over the creature, the viscera under its claws and in between its teeth. He inhaled sharply, and the creature lunged again. It seemed to be all Tsukumoya could do to dodge it.

“You shouldn't be out walking on nights of the full moon!” Tsukumoya said through clenched teeth, throwing Izaya over his shoulder as he ran up the side of the building, the wolf hot on his heels. “Haven't you read enough to know what's out here by now?”

Izaya had. He knew what was out here, knew the risk, but he didn't care enough to stay safe indoors. He couldn't bring himself to regret his decision, not when he could see firsthand what a werewolf could truly do. He propped himself on his elbows to watch the werewolf from over Tsukumoya's shoulder, and his stomach felt like it was dropping to his feet when the vampire detached from the building, free-falling in a careful spiral towards the ground.

The wolf fell after them, still only thinking the same thoughts as before, and Izaya didn't know what Tsukumoya's plan was, didn't wait to find out. He gripped his hand, and the wolf seized, a confused yelp leaving it as its arms and legs snapped to its sides, sending its body careening into a crumpled heap on the hard concrete. Tsukumoya wasn't breathing heavily, not the way he should've been after such physicality, but Izaya reminded himself that for as human as Tsukumoya seemed, he wasn't, and he had no need to breathe. He set Izaya down on the ground and moved towards the still snarling wolf, who snapped at them repeatedly, still trying in vain to bite them.

“Was he one who could've used a potion?” Izaya asked, watching in awe as he approached behind Tsukumoya. He felt fear, certainly, but not nearly enough to leave.

“No,” Tsukumoya said, “this one enjoys the hunt.” With that, he lifted his foot, bringing it down hard on the wolf's head. Bits of skull and brain-matter splattered onto the ground and walls as the wolf's growls ceased, and slowly, the body left behind became that of a man's. Izaya stared at the grisly scene, finding it strange that the first tangible thought he had was that he wished Shinra could be here to see this.

“Sorry,” Tsukumoya said, turning to Izaya. “He would've just killed someone else next month. It was better this way.”

“Yeah,” Izaya said, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. “I've never used my power like that on anything living before.” He didn't really even mean to. He didn't realize it was happening until he was doing it. Tsukumoya only laughed, of course.

“Oh, Izaya, that's only the beginning of what you could do.”

***

Hours later, and Shizuo is back to his usual pacing, his looming form weaving between the coffee table and the TV. Izaya is staring at his computer screen, trying to keep up with the chatroom conversation, but it's nothing he's interested in, and his attention keeps drifting elsewhere, his vision blurring as he loses himself to his thoughts.

He was up the last few days with another assignment. Shiki has been keeping him busy lately, definitely trying to occupy as much of Izaya's time as possible. Shiki really enjoys his petty tormenting, and Izaya has to admit he's been stepping out of line these past few months. He hasn't admitted to anything, of course, but he doesn't have to.

—like shit.

Shizuo's thoughts cut through Izaya's. Shizuo is glancing at him as he paces, his mind the usual maze of self-loathing, bloodlust, and emotional static, but it's clear he's thinking of Izaya, too, specifically that Izaya doesn't look well. Shizuo is thinking of the last time he saw Izaya in the middle of the city, and how he resembled a caged animal, manic, listless, poised to strike. Izaya's jaw tightens, and he fights to keep his expression neutral as he stands and moves to the kitchen, bypassing Shizuo.

Shizuo's thoughts continue to carry as Izaya makes tea. The monster is thinking of how small Izaya is, like this, with Shizuo's form so massive in comparison, but also all the time. Shizuo has always thought of Izaya as flea-sized, a beanpole, something annoying to be flicked away, but somehow Izaya always returns. Shizuo thinks Izaya is completely out of his mind, would have to be in order to keep coming back to annoy him.

But there's a comfort in that, isn't there? Izaya thinks, and Shizuo goes completely stiff, his body turning slowly to face Izaya.

Get the fuck out of my head.

“It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud. You're practically screaming them at me.” Izaya finishes with his tea, and makes his way back to his desk. “Besides, is it really even considered eavesdropping if you're thinking of me?”

Yes. Shizuo's ears are pulled back, his teeth bared. You've invaded enough of my life, you fucking parasite. Let me think in peace.

“Monsters don't deserve any peace,” Izaya mutters, but he grants Shizuo's request, and leaves his mind. At least, Izaya tries to. It's strange. He's never encountered this before. Izaya doesn't read minds often, at least on purpose, but most people are always subconsciously guarding themselves, even without being aware of Izaya's abilities. With Shizuo, he's both protecting and projecting his thoughts to the point that he's pulling Izaya in more than he's pushing him away. If Izaya had to guess, he'd say it's because Shizuo has never had to guard himself. For all of Shizuo's confounding nature, he's incredibly simplistic and straightforward, and his close proximity to Izaya is only making his thoughts even louder. Izaya groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

What's wrong with you? Shizuo sends, and Izaya blinks up at him when he realizes Shizuo is now sending his thoughts freely and directly.

You're making my head hurt. Izaya thinks back. Shizuo growls a bit.

Good. You deserve it. Fuck you.

Izaya snorts and sips at his tea. This is new for them. In all the time Shizuo has spent here in his transformed state, he's never really conversed with Izaya before. The conversation isn't exactly thrilling, but it's an improvement over Shizuo's usual brooding pity party.

Izaya turns off his computer, deciding he's done playing with his humans tonight. He carries his tea with him as he pads over to the couch, passing by Shizuo again, who glowers at him the entire time. Izaya sits down on the couch and turns the TV on, flicking through some different channels before he decides on a cartoon he likes.

Shizuo isn't looking at the screen, but his ears are twitching towards the sound of whimsical music. Izaya wonders if Shizuo deprives himself of all creature comforts on nights of the full moon because he's afraid of this being his new normal, afraid of accepting this is his life now. It's laughable, and Izaya does laugh, can't stop himself. Shizuo's head whips towards him, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, still incredibly human even in that distorted, monstrous face of his.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm only watching TV,” Izaya says, and he sips at his tea. Shizuo goes back to his pacing, his ears pulled back. He's pissed, as usual, and he wants to ask questions, but he knows Izaya won't answer them. Curiously, Izaya delves a little deeper into Shizuo's mind, wondering what it is exactly that Shizuo wants to know.

Out of my head. Shizuo sends angrily. Izaya pouts and obeys, wondering how Shizuo even sensed him eavesdropping.

You're no fun at all, Shizu-chan.

***

The first thing Izaya really notices when he stops floating along is that he doesn't recognize where he is. It's a normal-looking house, filled with pictures on the walls, and it takes a few moments for Izaya's eyes to focus on them long enough to make sense of the faces. Shizuo's picture is there, and he's smiling, flexing for the camera as Kasuka stands stiffly at his side. They're both young, and like this, with Shizuo's dark hair, it's incredibly easy to see the similarities between them. From a distance, they could be mistaken for the same person.

“Why are you here?” A voice asks from behind Izaya. He turns to face Shizuo, a spitting image of the child in the photograph. He's maybe ten years old, if Izaya had to guess. He's looking at Izaya like he knows who Izaya is, despite the drastic difference in their ages. “Get out.”

“I'm not sure why I'm here,” Izaya says, his hands going in his pockets. “Is there something you wanted to show me?”

“Fuck, no. I want you to get out.” Shizuo's fists are bloody, and his body is covered in tiny scrapes, his clothes filthy. He's been fighting. Izaya can't help but wonder when the fights started, how young Shizuo was the first time he was jumped.

“Am I dreaming?” Izaya asks aloud. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but it's possible he passed out. He hasn't slept, and he hasn't eaten. He thinks of Shizuo in werewolf form, pacing around and refusing the comforts he desires and he scoffs.

“How the fuck should I know?” Shizuo's fingers twitch, and he's glancing nervously at the stairs. His parents are up there, Izaya realizes, and Shizuo is afraid of them for some reason. No, that's not it. He's not scared of them. He's scared of them being scared of him.

“Were you fighting? You're so young here,” Izaya says. The Shizuo he met was already broad-shouldered and blond, carrying a heavy reputation with that strength of his. This Shizuo is nervous, jittery, unsure of himself.

“You're in my head,” Shizuo accuses, and then he jolts as a door upstairs opens. “Why are you always in my head?”

“I don't know,” Izaya says honestly. “I'm beginning to think you want me to be here.”

A woman begins walking downstairs. She's strikingly pretty, her face similar to Shizuo's and Kasuka's, her dark eyes large and kind. She moves to Shizuo's side, putting her arms around him. She doesn't acknowledge Izaya.

“You didn't mean to,” she says, petting through Shizuo's hair. “You were trying to help.”

“I still hurt her,” Shizuo says, leaning into her and closing his eyes. He seems to have forgotten about Izaya. “I couldn't stop myself.”

“Kasuka said you were trying to do the right thing. You were only trying to scare the bad men away. You're a good, sweet boy, Shizuo.”

“Where's dad?” Shizuo asks, and his mother pulls away a little, giving him a false, gentle smile.

“On the phone with the police. Don't worry, they just want a report of what happened.”

“I already told them what happened.”

“Yes, but they want to hear it from an adult.”

Izaya looks from the scene to the doorway, which is shrouded in darkness. He makes his way over to it, stepping through, and he finds himself outside the wreckage of a convenience store, multiple people buried in the rubble. Shizuo is there, breathing heavily, Kasuka at his side.

“Was this your first time hurting an innocent person?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo snarls at him, tears in his eyes.

“Go away.”

“I can't,�� Izaya says, and he walks towards the woman's unconscious body. “You throw your little tantrums all the time. Who knows how many people you've injured?”

“I don't mean to!” Shizuo shouts. Kasuka isn't paying either of them any attention, is only looking towards the distance where a cacophony of sirens are moving closer to them. “You hurt people more than me. You ruin lives all the fucking time, you like doing it. You're the real monster here and you know it!”

Izaya ignores him and looks around, deciding to explore all he can while he's here. Shizuo follows after him, face still contorted in rage.

“How would you fucking like it, huh, if we walked around your memories, all the things you don't want people to see out in the open? All the things you're scared of, ashamed of? How would you like it, flea?!”

Izaya scoffs, turns to tell him to shut up, but everything shifts around them, and they're suddenly in Izaya's childhood home, the twins both screaming in their cribs as a young Izaya curls in the corner, sobbing as the lights flicker around them and doors open and slam repeatedly. Shizuo's expression changes as he looks from Izaya's younger, terrified self, to the real Izaya in front of him.

“Flea?” Shizuo is older, suddenly, and he looks so fucking concerned that it makes Izaya's teeth click together.

“OUT!” Izaya roars, and the scene dissolves around them. He and Shizuo both wake with a start, still in Izaya's living room, Izaya on the couch, Shizuo curled up in the floor, human again, sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Wha— What was that?” Shizuo asks as he sits up, his voice unsteady. “Were you in my past? Was I in yours?”

“Get the fuck out,” Izaya hisses, scrambling to get off the couch and stand over Shizuo. “You had no right, no right.”

“I didn't do anything! You're the one with—magic. What did you do, huh?!”

“I don't fucking know!” Izaya snaps, and then he turns on his heel, marching towards the door. He steps into his shoes, throws his coat on. If Shizuo won't leave, then he will. He refuses to stay here with Shizuo looking at him like this, with pity clear in his gaze. The door slams behind him as he hurries out of the building, his skin prickling and his hands shaking more and more with every step he takes away from Shizuo.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #werewolf shizuo #witchy izaya

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