#why he didn’t give himself up to Cia

[adrift-in-thyme]

listen hear me out—

Warriors singing Just a Man and/or The Underworld

:)

- hero-of-the-wolf

YES

[kaleldobrev]

After Everything

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben & Hughie Campbell

Summary: You and Ben have a heart to heart

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (17x) & Soft!Ben

Authors Note: Takes place in the Hughie’s Best Friend is Dating Soldier Boy Universe (will probably come up with a better name for that sooner or later). But this takes place after A Simple Misunderstanding & I Want Them To Hear; and closer toward the end of season 3 (an alternative version of season 3 where Ben is not locked away by the CIA — spoiler alert) | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Y/N?” Ben called out, his brow furrowing when he didn’t get a response from you. “Y/N?” He called out again, and again there was no answer from you; no answer from anyone. “Where the fuck are you?” He mumbled to himself.

“She’s outside on the porch,” Hughie said from behind him, trying his best to be helpful, as he sensed Soldier Boy was starting to get a little frustrated not being able to find you.

Ben turned around and looked at Hughie who had a smile on his face; but not Ben, Ben’s face was that of pure annoyance. I didn’t fucking ask you, he wanted to say. But he took a deep breath, thinking about what you would want him to say in this moment. “Thanks,” he went with through gritted teeth.

Hughie gave him a slightly puzzled look, surprised that Soldier Boy didn’t give him some kind of smartass answer or telling him to fuck off. “You’re uh, you’re welcome,” his voice hesitant. Is he pranking me? He thought.

Ben simply nodded in response before walking away in the direction of the back porch. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled to himself, in a slightly mocking tone.

“There he is,” Hughie mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear him.

Opening up the back door to the porch, he saw you on the porch swing holding your knees close to your chest. You were staring mindlessly off into the distance as the wind blew; not only messing up your hair, but slightly moving the porch swing. You looked so beautiful like this to him; only moonlight lighting up your face as you wore one of his t-shirts that looked like a dress on you.

“Hey Princess,” he said, expecting you to respond to him automatically like you always seemed to do; but this time, you didn’t. “Sweetheart?” He questioned. Again, no response from you. Fuck, you must be out of it, he thought. He walked toward you now, placing a hand on your shoulder and slightly shook you as he said your name. He didn’t want to admit it, but you not answering him slightly scared him.

Within seconds of him slightly shaking you, you finally turned and looked at him, slight sadness in your face and eyes. “I’m sorry, were you calling me?” You asked him, your tone definitely indicating that you were upset, but he didn’t know why.

"Yeah. I was calling you in the house and the cu—Hughie, told me you'd be out here." It took all of his strength not to insult Hughie, but it was hard for him because he found it too easy to pick on him. There was a small part of him that honestly questioned how you were best friends with him of all people, given how different the two of you seemed to be.

"Sorry," you apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Ben scoffed. “You didn’t scare me,” he said. “Just didn’t know where the fuck you were.” He tried to give the impression of being nonchalant about it, but he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince: you or him. Reality was starting to sink in, as feelings that he once had for Countess of all people, he was starting to have for you. Fuck, he thought — he was afraid to lose you.

"Wanna sit?" You asked him, patting the seat next to you. "I could use your company," your smile genuine.

He nodded at your question, and without a second thought, sat down next to you, back against the swing unlike you, spreading his legs and bringing the bottle of Jack up to his lips; taking a large sip. "Always wanted to ask ya. Why the fuck are you best friends with the cum guzzler anyway?"

You let out a small laugh, not needing the clarification of who he was asking about. "Well, we've been best friends since kindergarten, and we kinda just clicked ya know? I mean, we were the only two kids that would rock out to Billy Joel," you paused for a moment, remembering a memory. "I remember on the first day of kindergarten, I thought he was so cool because he was wearing a Billy Joel shirt, and no one else at school was."

Ben couldn't help but laugh, thinking how ridiculous it was that you of all people thought that the pussy in there was remotely cool. "That's fucking funny, Sweetheart."

"I was very easy to impress back then," you joked, as he handed you the bottle of Jack so you could have a sip. "In all seriousness, it was pretty hard for him and I to make friends."

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, raising a brow. "You had a hard time making friends?"

"Well, when his mom left and when my brother..." you took a deep breath, not wanting to relive the memory. "It was hard letting people in ya know? I mean, we both lost significant people in our lives and we both figured well...why let more people in if they're just gonna end up leaving anyway?"

This was something that Ben had never once considered; and Hughie's reactions of you and him being together were starting to make sense to him. Hughie was afraid to lose you just as much as Ben was afraid to lose you.

“Trust issues can be a fucking bitch,” Ben said, taking the bottle from you once you were done. "When Countess and the rest of my team gave me to the Russians it was…hard. I thought the only reason they did what they did was because the Russians paid them more money than they could ever imagine but…it was never about the money.” The last few words were in a whisper, and his voice sounded defeated, heartbroken, and betrayed. “I loved Countess the entirety of our relationship but the entire time she was playing me.”

Your heart started to break for him. He was genuinely hurt by his teams betrayal, and most of all Countess’. You were never a fan of her growing up, as you always considered her to have a fake personality, but you were never going to tell Ben that; that was something that he didn’t need right now. “I can’t imagine what that must of felt like.”

“It felt like I was being gutted,” he answered, his voice still full of heartbreak. He handed the bottle back to you and you took a baby sip before handing it back. You readjusted yourself, and decided to lie down on your back with your head in his lap. You stared up at him, and watched him take another sip from the bottle; it was his turn to stare off into the distance. "You don't plan on giving me up anytime soon do you?" No hint of joking in his voice.

"No," you answered quickly. You placed your hand on his cheek, slightly cupping it. "Never," you emphasized.

He took your hand from his cheek and kissed your wrist. You never really thought about where and how Ben usually kissed you, but this felt different compared to any other moment that you've had with him. A realization started to wash over you, the realization that once everything was over, you didn't want to be without him.

"You know Legend's house in Puerto Rico that he stole from me when Vought and Payback sold me out?" Ben asked.

"Of course," you said. "Why? Did he finally give it back to you?"

Ben chuckled softly, and you felt the reverberation in his chest through your body. "Yeah, he finally did...after some convincing," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. You knew there was no convincing, as convincing meant threats. "Well, I was thinking, after everything is all over, I want me and you to stay there for a while. It would be nice to see the old place again; see how much Legend fucked it up," he chuckled.

"I'm sure he didn't fuck it up that bad," you said, and Ben just looked at you, scoffing. "What?"

"Did you not see his penthouse? The amount of fucking fake gold that's in there?" His voice radiating annoyance. "Can't imagine him doing that to my fucking place," he mumbled the last few words.

"I'll tell you what, if there's an absurd amount of fake gold in your penthouse, I'll help you redecorate," you offered. "But, I can't promise it'll be much better."

Ben chuckled. "I'm sure whatever you come up with, it'll be a vast improvement. My only condition, is that you don't get rid of the shag carpeting, assuming that Legend didn't fucking get rid of it."

"Ben, the first thing I would get rid of is the shag carpeting. No one in their right mind likes shag carpeting," you said, teasing.

"Well I fucking do, so fuck you," his tone serious, and offended sounding.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. As much as Ben loved teasing Hughie; you loved teasing Ben just the same. "Okay fine. Your shag carpeting is safe for now."

"Over my fucking dead body," he mumbled, almost inaudible; finishing off the bottle of Jack.

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[waywardxrhea]

Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...

content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.

“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage. 

“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.

“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you. 

“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend. 

On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.

So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”

“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…

“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes. 

As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you... 

“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”

“Correct,” he told you with a nod. 

“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added. 

“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”

“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.

“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party. 

“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in. 

“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped. 

“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said. 

“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show. 

“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink. 

You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby. 

While looking around, something caught your eye so you made your way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”

“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.

“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth. 

You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”

“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar. 

While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”

“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile. 

The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood. 

As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback. 

He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”

“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms. 

“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”

“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes. 

You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”

What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips. 

“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed. 

Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”

With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”

“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”

You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”

“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”

“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside. 

“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him. 

He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”

Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.” 

And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them. 

“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss. 

You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.

“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks. 

He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”

“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him. 

As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”

With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him. 

When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it. 

He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process. 

Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again. 

After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.” 

“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body. 

“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.

 And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?” 

“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground. 

With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively. 

“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”

“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”

“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously. 

“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty. 

“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come. 

a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!

and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!

[i-dont-wanna-be-me-anymore]

Friends | Five H. x male!reader | Part 1!

Five Hargreeves x male reader

SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON 4 UNDER CUT!!!!!

Summary: Five, after gaining a job at the CIA, has found himself falling in love with his coworker, for whom which he both hates and admires. But after his brother gets kidnapped, Five has to resort to, for the first time in 50 years, trusting someone other than his family to help him. THIS IS KIND OF LONG SO BEAR WITH ME.

Warnings: fluff?, Cursing, mention of gun, frenemies SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 ‼️

A/n: I just really hated the whole relationship between Five and Lila, so I’m erasing it, erasing their 7 years together, and making an ACTUAL uninvolved and un-family love interest for Five. This is also based off of the fact that Steve Blackman said he wanted to give Five a love interest whether it be a guy or a girl. I AM NOW A HEAVY BISEXUAL FIVE BELIEVER.

Part 2

• • • • •

It’s been 5 years since Five and his family reset the universe and brought about this new timeline. 5 years of trying to make his life worth living and actually trying to enjoy the peacefulness of this new life. But he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Something that he needed in order to keep him stable or at least just keep him from losing it. Maybe that something was actually a someone….

He always hated the thought of being completely alone. Ever since the apocalypse, losing his family and people that he loved or cared about was his number one fear. He didn’t want to ever be alone again.

In his new job with the CIA, he’s been able to observe and oversee what things could attempt to hurt those people that he cares about. Helped him have control over his life for once.

The only downside of the job was having to deal with stubborn coworkers and the terrible work hours. However, there was one person in particular that he was thinking of.

Y/n. He was a royal pain in the ass to Five. He was a talkative person. Always wanting to know how Five’s day was, always asking about his cases. And when Five would interact with him, he would sometimes leave mid conversation just to piss him off.

He thrived off making him annoyed, like it was his reason for being there in the first place.

And although Five would never admit it, but Y/n did have some redeemable qualities.

He was intelligent. One of the most intelligent people Five knew, all things considered. In his eyes, he was smart and knowledgable when it came to his job, he took it seriously, but in other cases he would always act rather stupid.

Another thing, that Five again would never admit to others or himself, was that Y/n was undeniably hot. And Five was honestly somewhat attracted to him because of that.

Not attracted to him in the way where he wanted to be with him, no…

Never in the way where he wanted to have a life with him…

Get Past being coworkers and actually learn more about him…

Have longer conversation rather than the short and sweet ones that they already had…

No, not in those ways at all.

When it came to work, Five would always try to find a way to swerve around him, try not to get caught up in whatever stupid conversation he wanted to have with him. But when he did get caught up, there would be times where he would leave an implicit comment and then rush off, ending their conversation.

Despite interacting with him, Five preferred to work alone in the office. Allowed him to know everything that he needed to know without having to ask anyone, or communicate with anyone…unless it was his boss, Lance, whose office he was currently sitting in.

Lance sat in his chair, staring at the “teen” for a bit before speaking.

“How are you handling your job? You enjoying the experience?”

“Yes, sir, I’m very grateful for this job and I intend to do everything I can to be efficient and productive with it.” Five answered, his fingers pinching the skin of his fingers as he watches his every movement, not understanding why he was here in the first place.

“Mm, I like to hear that. You can send him in,” Lance says to his assistant, who quickly nods sending in the man himself, Y/n.

“You summoned me, boss?” He asked, glancing at Five for a quick second as his eyebrows twitch up at the sight of him.

“Yes, I did. Because I have taken it upon myself to assign you two as partners,” he points to both of them.

“What?” “Come again?” The pair say, both now standing as they look at each other.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think Five and I would make good partners-“

“That’s exactly the reason I’m doing it. Look,” Y/n and Five both sit back down.

“I know you two don’t like each other that much, maybe even at all, but I’ve seen you, Five, you don’t talk to anyone else in the office. And Y/n, you talk to everyone in this office-in this building really, and you rarely talk to him. I think with this opportunity, you two can actually get along and succeed in working with each other. And, maybe this will take your mind away from the Keeper case,” he says to Five, who leans back into his seat, a deep sigh emitting from him.

Y/n groans quietly, slumping into his chair. Five rolls his eyes at him, making Lance speak up again.

“I’ll make a deal with you two,” they perk up, “solve one case together and maybe I’ll reconsider allowing you two to work separately again, all right?” Y/n looks at Five, who does the same, and they both nod.

“Good, now leave,” the assistant opens the door for the two, allowing(forcing) them to leave.

Y/n sighs, “do you have any open and easy to solve cases?”

“Oh a shit ton, but I’m not gonna let you get in the way of my job,” Five spits, Y/n now looking at him with an unamused face.

“Well, that’s good, because I won’t let you get in the way of mine, either.” With that, the two walk out of the building, heading in separate directions from each other.

• • • • •

Weeks had gone by since then, and they still had not solved one case together. They attempted to lie and have one of them solve a case and the other also have credit, but that ended up backfiring because they didn’t get their processes of working on it completely in sync with one another. There were details either missing or added in each other their reports. Granted the case was solved, but not for their own benefit.

Y/n was starting to grow annoyed, wanting nothing more than to go back to how things were. Where Five was just a simple guy in the office that he would annoy just for the hell of it, and there wouldn’t be any consequences to their work ethic and values.

Later that night, however, Y/n got a call.

“What? What is it?” He answers, groggy from the fact that he just woke up.

“Hey, I need your help,” the person on the other line says, seeming like he struggled to get that out.

“Wha-Five?” He looks over at the clock on the wall, “why the hell are you calling me at 12 in the morning?”

“Just-I need you to help me, okay? My brother’s been kidnapped and…” he sighs, his siblings listening at him talk to the unknown person.

“It would be nice to have some backup,” Y/n grins, already getting up to get dressed.

“Aw, Five, I never knew you had it in you to actually ask for hel-“

“Are you going to or not?”

“Okay, okay, fine, yes, I’ll help, where do you want me to meet you?”

“I think it’ll just be easier if I-“

“YOU’RE NOT DRIVING WANDA!”

“-If we pick you up. Jesus, Diego,” Y/n pulled the phone away from his ear as he heard someone yell, he assumed it was one of the many siblings Five had told him about.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in..five minutes?”

“Make it three.” The phone goes silent as Y/n grabs his gun and his badge, making sure it was loaded before heading down the stairs to his apartment building.

The family picks him up, in what he learned to be Wanda, and they head to the laundry mat.

There, him and Five go in front of the group as they hold their guns and a flashlight in front of them, checking in every area to make sure that they are safe and not at risk of getting hurt.

When they see Viktor, he’s loosely tied to a chair and not even looking as if he’s in pain.

Five helps his brother as Y/n makes sure his gun is still up, making sure Five’s family and him are safe.

A man then appears from the back, shakily holding a gun as he asks for their help.

Y/n eventually drops his hands and puts away his gone when he realizes that the man was asking for help to find his daughter, Jennifer.

After some explaining, Five tells the man that he’ll get her back to him in at least 24 hours.

“Five, what the hell, why are we helping that guy, what if he’s lying? And what the fuck is the ‘Umbrella Academy’?” Y/n had a million thoughts racing through his head after that conversation.

They weren’t stopped, in fact they grew into ones of more confusion as Five responded to him, and his siblings confusion, by holding up a jar of glowing particles.

They all ended up in an asian restaurant, watching the man entertain them with knife tricks.

“So, what? You guys all used to have powers?” Five nods.

“And now you don’t because your dad, who’s an alien, reset the universe and made this timeline?”

“Look, I know it’s hard to understand, and I would prove it to you if I could, but-“

“Well, you can prove it to him, Five, with this!” Ben holds up the Marigold as Five quickly shuts him down.

They all argue and banter as they all, except Ben, agree to not regain their powers.

Ben then heads to the bathroom and Y/n drinks a shot of whatever liquor they had there.

“Look, maybe this can be the case that we solve together? And then you don’t have to see me working with you again, hm?” Five proposes, making Y/n tilt his head to the side, agreeing with him, for once.

Ben returns and they all have shots, including Y/n who was just about to leave.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Y/n stands up and starts to leave.

Five looks at him and then back at his siblings.

“I’m gonna walk him out,” he follows Y/n, silently walking as they head outside.

“My apartment’s not too far from here, so you don’t have to drive me. But, I’ll, uh, follow up with you tomorrow I guess,” he chuckles, looking at Five for a second longer than he meant to.

“Yeah, I’ll…see you tomorrow,” they stare at each other, their bodies starting to take control as they go closer to one another with each moment of silence.

They step back once they hear the rest of Five’s siblings come outside.

“Uh-bye,” Five rushes off, hopping in the van as he silently curses at himself.

“What are you doing? You hate him…right?” Five thinks, staring at the back of his head.

He watches as the guy he’s started to hate walks away, unknowingly getting wrapped up in whatever crazy family shenanigans are about to happen.

• • • • •

A/n: I kinda fuck with where this is going, so if you guys liked this, let me know!

[cialovesklopp]

everything he’s ever wanted ➺ k.mbappé

( masterlist )

summary — he should have been on the pitch right now, battling with his teammates for victory but he preferred to be here. at his daughter’s ballet play.

pairing — dad! kylian x black! reader

song — maamou [ dadju ]

cia’s quick rambles — hey guys, hope you’re doing well. got so motivated while writing the next genius part that just had to write this quick blurb. it can either be read as a stand-alone or as small glimpse into kylian’s and amara’s life post mon-amour — also i recommend listening to the song, it fits so much 🫶🏾

if someone had told kylian mbappé seven years ago that this would be his life, he would have called that person crazy. 

and now it was his everyday reality. 

he thought the day he moved from paris to madrid would be the happiest in his life. but it paled in comparison to the instant when he knew that he had found the woman of his life. 

then he thought the happiest day in his life was when he won the euros in germany but it got quickly overtaken when he thought back to the moment where he put a ring onto her fingers after winning the competition. how their kiss had been splattered across every news magazine for several weeks and them having to give thousands of interviews. 

but even that meant nothing anymore when he thought back to the day that he saw her in a white dress. the day he vowed to cherish and love her for infinity. 

their love story that had started as a healing friendship with both of them having been hurt in the past. and over time it had bloomed into something more, more comfortable — more loving. he had actually thought that their wedding day was the most beautiful and perfect day in his life. 

and then came their daughter’s birth and it felt like overdosing on endorphins. if he had been swimming in happiness before, now he was drowning in joy. he had gotten all he had ever wanted from life. 

before meeting her, he used to dream about this future and having his own children, with a certain kind of sadness settling deep down when he woke up alone. now he dreaded sleeping because all his dreams had already become his reality. 

and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. for most people going to their daughter’s play would seem like the most mundane thing in the world. but for kylian, especially those moments were special.

his eyes were almost sparkling when he watched his little girl twirl in her tutu — her pink princess tutu that she had begged him to buy — while mimicking the teacher’s moves. there was no denying that his little star had him wrapped around her finger. he noticed the looks people threw at him. 

women lusting after him while fathers who had taken the time off to watch the play, were staring at him in awe. why was the kylian mbappé here? shouldn’t he be on the pitch right now?

of course he should but he had promised himself that he would be there. had promised that he would be present for her. and this was part of it too. 

the lights went out again as beautiful piano music played out in the back and then suddenly his daughter was in front of all the other girls, standing out from the other girls with her pink tutu in contrast to the other white ones. 

she smiled brightly as she danced on stage, spinning around in her tutu. his little ballerina. he searched the stage for her eyes and waved once they met which had her grin. 

this was heaven. ballon d’ors and champions leagues didn’t mean anything to him anymore. being able to watch his daughter dance meant more. he understood now what toni and luka were talking about when he first joined the team. 

it all made sense now. unfortunately for him the play ended way too early. it was too quick over for him — he could have spent hours watching her act around like a ballerina. 

the most ethereal moments often passed like a flash. 

“papa!”, without forewarning, a little bundle of energy was suddenly clinging to his legs, arms thrown around them. he was instantly brought back to reality while the familiar feeling of comfort spread through his chest. 

he smiled as he bent down to pick up his daughter, her small legs wrapping around his hips as he steadied her in his arms. 

her dark-hazelnut eyes beamed at him while a huge smile painted her lips, showing to anyone the two teeth that had fallen out.

she was his spitting image, neither questions nor dna test ever needed. from the shape and color of his eyes to his eyebrows — she had inherited everything from him. he was the only one to recognize that their daughter had her mother’s one million dollar smile. the one that had kylian thanking the power above for blessing him. for giving him the chance to find his own family. 

“i danced — like a ballerina. et regardes! maman a fait mes cheveux,” she pointed excitedly at her hair that had been braided into four cornrows with little pink pearls at the end of each one. for her small age, her head was packed with long and soft hair — the result of his wife’s never ending care for her hair. different routines and treatment to ensure their daughter had rich and healthy hair. — and look! mama made my hair

“tu es la plus belle fille de tout l’univers,” he pressed tender kisses on his daughter’s cheek, tickling her lightly which had her giggle. the most beautiful sound after her mother’s laugh. — you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire universe

kylian had never truly understood how people could love unconditionally. he could comprehend infinite; it was only understandable after meeting the love of his life. but unconditional — looking over all the mistakes and handing out care and love no matter what?

yeah, that didn’t make much sense to him back then. and then his daughter was born and he was ready to go to war for her. love and care for her no matter how many war crimes she could have committed. he loved her more than life. if she asked him to stop football so he could be home more often, he would quit instantly. she was his everything.

“belle,” she squealed, playing excitedly with the pearls in her hair. “maman too?” — pretty

“of course. maman is the most beautiful woman ever,” he replied and lowered his mouth to her ear. “but we don’t tell her that, okay?”

his daughter nodded firmly, as if he had just entrusted her the nuclear codes to some bombs. “why aren’t you playing with uncle auri? et uncle vini?”

kylian laughed. “parce que je voulais voir ma petite princesse.” — because i wanted to see my little princess

the little girl in his arms nudged him lightly on his head. “je ne suis pas une princesse papa. i’m a ballerina. i dance just like maman.” — i’m not a princess

“and you did that beautifully, my little star,” a voice called from behind him and kylian’s eyes at the sight of his wife. 

even after dating and being married, she still amazed him with her beauty everyday. he would always get those tiny butterflies, no matter how many times he looked at her. 

her smile still as radiating as ever, she walked quickly over to them —as quick as it was possible with a huge belly — and joined her little family.

the girl in his arms wiggled and kylian put her down so she could hug her mama. being six months pregnant meant she couldn’t pick her baby girl up anymore for the time being but she could still engulf her in big hugs. 

“i’m surprised you made it,” she whispered to her husband who placed a tiny peck on her neck. 

“i promised i wouldn’t miss those moments. told the coach that i couldn’t be there for the game today.” just like he had said, his priority wasn’t winning anymore. he wasn’t kylian mbappé, the star real madrid player anymore. he was now kylian mbappé, the father and real madrid player. and if being present in his daughter’s life meant missing more matches, he would take it. 

“how’s our future little football star?” he asked her playfully and she grinned. 

“our baby’s been kicking me the entire play. like since we arrived here it’s been punches here and there — oh, and by the way, the moms have got it out for you, as a heads up.” she pointed discreetly at a small group of women, who were watching them. 

“everyone knows i’ve only got eyes for you.” it was true, every living person that had access to social media knew that kylian mbappe was a proudly taken man, who honestly had forgotten that other women existed. he was her man and he felt blessed to be able to call her that. 

shoutout to her ex-boyfriend for screwing up. 

“you better not. don’t worry i know. and this,” she placed a hand on her stomach, putting it cautiously as their daughter was still speaking excitedly to the belly. “is proof enough. je t’aime.” — i love you

“je t’aime aussi.” — i love you too

his smile was plastered on his entire face, so much it hurt already. but how could he stop smiling, he was just so goddamn happy. 

he had been graced with everything he had ever wanted. 

[luimagines]

He Realizes You Like Him Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Warrior, Wind and Legend.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

To be honest here, Warrior has a warped perception when trying to figure out when someone likes him. Genuinely.

It was harder for him when he was just a boy and as a teenager it didn’t get any easier. Once the war had started it was easy to forget about it for the time being... that it until he leaned the reason for the war.

He realized that he didn’t like that kind of attention. But was that what happened when people liked each other? Was Cia only an extreme version, if genuine? Was she genuine?

He didn’t know. All Warrior knew was that he didn’t feel good when he learned about it and wanted to avoid it again if was within his power.

Now when he met you, he knew that he liked you. He tried to be nice and friendly and be your friend. At first. Then he came to the quiet acknowledgement that if there was a chance to be more than friends that he wouldn’t mind it.

But he had no idea if that was something that you would be up for.

“Are you gonna make a more or what?” Legend jabs him right under the ribs non to gently. “If you ask nicely, I bet you could ask for a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Shut up.” Warrior swipes at him but it lacks any venom or power behind it. Legend dodges it easily. “They wouldn’t see me that way anyway.

That makes Legend pause. If Warrior was looking in his direction he would see that that Legend is not only looking at him like he’s grown three heads but also like he’s the biggest idiot in all of Hyrule.

“You’re joking right?” 

Warrior sighs. “Why would I be joking? We’re just friends... but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Legend takes a moment to let that sink in before he pinches the bridge of his nose. ”Ok. Wait, so when you see them, do you get nervous or excited?”

Warrior finally looks at the Vet. “I mean... I like their company. I wouldn’t mind if they were next to me all the time. I like them. I like hanging out with them.”

“Answer the question.”

Warrior coughs. “I get excited.”

“I mean yeah- but they also seem to light up like a beacon whenever you see each other.”

Warrior blushes softly. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“They literally hung off of your arm for the entire morning.” Legend points out. “They hardly give hugs, let alone attach themselves to someone.”

That gives Warrior pause. He’s right. Warrior’s never seen you step outside of your comfort zone like that- but you were also holding onto him. He was so happy by it that he didn’t even notice it as different behavior.

“They also laugh at all your stupid jokes.”

“Excuse you, I’m a comedic genius.”

“Yeah- whatever. But you’re literally always around each other. Don’t you think that maybe they’re willing to hear you?”

Warrior doesn’t reply.

Legend won’t stand for him trying to justify this to himself in his head so he shoves Warrior behind a bush, not caring if he falls to the ground harshly or not and calls you over.

You jog over and Warrior stays hidden as he listen. Legend seems to have a smirk on his face. You don’t seem to notice. “What’s up Mr. Man?”

“Are you ever going to tell the Captain about your stupid giant crush?”

“SSHH!!!” You jump on him and cover Legend’s mouth with your hands. “Shut up! What if he hears you?!” 

Legend’s gets a knowing glint in his eyes. “Is that a no?”

“Shut up!” You flick his nose. “I’m thinking about it. I just... I know that he’s... His past is something that’s a tough subject and I don’t want to make things harder for him, you know?”

“Coward.”

“I’ll punch you.” You glare.

Legend waves you off and you roll your eyes as you leave. Legend takes a step back and looks back at Warrior who’s stuck, slacked jawed on the ground. “Better?”

Warrior nods.

Wind

Wind wasn’t actually paying that much attention when Wild elbowed him non too gently in the ribs.

Wind looks up to swipe at the young man for the jab but he’s cut off by Wild’s mischievous grin and a finger to his lips. Biting the loud retort that sits in the tip of his tongue, Wind glares up at Wild and crosses his arms. “What?”

“Look.” He whispers and gestures vaguely with his chin. Wind turns subtly and looks over with his eyes. You’re look down with a slight blush to your face. you seem very concentrated. 

Wind tries to follow your line of sight and sees that your looking at his hand. He’s confused. Why would you be looking at his hand? Why are you looking at it like it’s personally offended you?

He opens his mouth to ask you what’s up when Wild knocks into him again. In The back of his head, he’s amazed that you’re so concentrated on it to miss all of this. Wind glares up at Wild further. “What?”

Wild looks exasperated and rolls his eyes. He takes his hand and hooks it with his other one, pointing to you afterwards. Now Wild’s just being weird. Why doesn’t he just say it? Wind doesn’t get it.

Wild seems to see that and drops his voice even lower. “Hold their hand.”

“Why?” Wind whispers in reply.

Wild face palms. “Because they can’t do it. They’re been trying to for the past fifteen minutes!”

Wind looks back over to you and seem to catch on that you’ve been noticed. You flinch and move away. It looks like you’ve been embarrassed to have been caught despite thee fact you weren’t subtle at all. Wind takes your hand before he can even think about it.

“Oh..” You say and squeeze his hand a little tighter. You open, no doubt to speak again but nothing comes out of your mouth. Instead you smile brightly and swing your hands together a little bit, clearly happy to hold his hand.

Wind still doesn’t get it, but he smiles back at you. You’re cute.

Wild jabs him again and this time Wind actually takes a swipe at the boy.

Wild is undeterred. He gets a face splitting grin on his face and points to you. He mouths ’they like you’ and winks.

Wind furrows his eyebrows and looks back to you and tilts his head. He’d hope that you liked him. He likes you too. You’re really cool and nice and awesome-

You let go of his hand and instead hold onto his arm. You’re purposely looking away from him but you’re humming a happy tune, looking at anything and everything but him. You’re face is still pink.

Wind looks back to Wild who’s only grinning wider and winks again.

Oh.... Wind lets you hold onto him with a slight blush to his face. He thinks he gets it now.  He means like that... Um... Uh-oh... What does he do with this information?

Legend

“What do I do?! I really like him!”

Legend froze in his tracks and back tracked the last two.

That was your voice.

...Who do you really like? Exactly?... He’s just curious.

“You talk to him like a normal person?” Your (assumed) friend (unhelpfully) offers.

You seem to not like the answer and groan loudly. “You know I can’t do that!”

“There’s nothing difficult about this. Just say ‘hey, I found a flower. It matched you. Here.’ Done.”

“You make it sound so easy.” You whine and Legend’s heartstring get stung along with it. “I really really like him. I don’t think he even likes flowers. He has this massive collection of anything and everything but flowers!”

“Then tell him you noticed the lack of- and you’re offering to give him the first.” Your friend sounds tired. Legend gets the idea that you’ve either been having this conversation for a long time, you’ve come to them more once for this sort of conversation.

“Why did I come to you?! This isn’t working!” You cry out.

“I don’t know! You’re making this more complicated than it need to be!”

Legend frowns and begins to unstick his feet from where he was eavesdropping. His heart sinks somewhat.

Whoever it is that’s got you in such a tizzy is one lucky son of a gun, Legend admits to himself. He keeps walking through your little village, taking in the little sights and all. It’s quaint and quiet. It’s lovely. He can see how it influenced you to be the person you are.

Legend doesn’t want to think about his own feelings right now so he decides to check out the local lake and go fishing.

He stays there, thinking despite the fat that he’s there to not not think about what he overheard. You seemed so nervous. He’s never heard you so high-strung Well there were a few times. It happens with the work that they do. But never for something as simple as giving a flower.

You must really like this person.

He put his cheek in his palm, not bothering to care if nothing is biting his line. It’s not like he actually came here to fish.

Someone pokes his shoulder.

He blinks out of his trance and looks up.

You’re smiling at him. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”

Legend’s heart bobs without his permission but he smiles back at you. “Sure, go ahead.”

You smile brighter and take a seat next to him on the doc. Legend’s eyes dart to where your thighs are right next to each other, but he’s quick to divert to the lake once more.

“Um..” You start. “Lege... Link...”

Legend nearly lets his fishing rod slip from his grip. “...Yes?”

“Here.” You hold out a very small flower. It’s purple with dots of white splashed around the edges. “I thought you’re like this.”

“...oh...” Legend delicately takes the flower.

“...I noticed you didn’t have any flowers in your collections.” You say quietly. You try to smile wider to feign confidence. It would have sounded natural if he hadn’t heard what he did, but now that he knows the context, it sounds scripted. You had to practice saying it. “Now you can start one.”

Legend finds himself staring at the flower then back to your face with a watery smile. His heart is pounding and he feels like yelling. He wants to take off running. Would it be too much to kiss you here and now? “It’s going to be my prized possession. It’ll be the star of the whole assembly.”

You snort, relaxing a little. “It’s just a little flower.”

“Well yeah...” Legend tucks  it safely away for safe keeping. He can never lost this. Ever. “But you gave it to me.”

Part 3

[skyward-floored]

He is furious.

Volga storms into Cia’s lair, shoving monsters and minions out of his way as his gut burns with rage. His mind is focused on only one thing, and nobody dares try and stop him as he approaches the sorceress. Cia is reclining idly on a chair as he enters, but Volga is unconcerned with whatever she’s doing, striding to her side as his chest heaves with anger.

“Oh Volga, I didn’t expect you back yet,” Cia hums, sounding only mildly interested. “Was your mission a success?”

Volga glares at her.

“You knew he was my son.”

Cia slowly blinks, and she flicks her gaze up, red eyes unreadable.

“Who?”

Volga slams his spear into the floor, a snarl escaping his lips. “The Hero. He is my son. And you did not see fit to divulge this information to me.”

“Oh that,” Cia hums, resting a hand on her staff, almost casually. “It never came up.”

“He claims you told him,” Volga hisses, feeling the urge to shift into his dragon form and demand answers. “Weeks ago. You saw it fit to inform him, and yet kept this information a secret from me?”

Cia has the audacity to laugh.

“It changes nothing,” she says with a wave of her hand, meeting his gaze. “I knew it would serve only as a distraction to our goals. That is why I informed him, and not you— it now consumes his thoughts, and the Sheikah leader’s as well. Their minds are filled with distractions, which makes them more susceptible to mistakes.”

She strokes a hand along the length of her staff, and her eyes flash.

“And Link is the Hero, and therefore mine. His relation to you is of no concern.”

She waves her hand in a clear dismissal, and turns back to whatever it was she was doing before.

Volga narrows his eyes, smoke trailing from his nose as he stares at her. He had not concerned himself much with Cia’s infatuation, focused only on the goals which she set before him. But now, learning his son is the object of such lust...

There is a different sort of fire in Volga’s chest now, one that he has not felt in nigh over eighteen years. Something that burns not only for himself, but for the hatchling he did not know existed until mere hours ago.

They may be enemies, but the boy is his kin.

And Cia seeks to chain him to her side, without any choice on his part.

“He is not yours,” Volga growls finally, the fire growing in his chest. “I am his kin, and therefore if he is anyone’s, he is mine. I reject your false claim on him.”

Cia’s hand tightens on her staff, and the fire in his heart stalls, a creeping fog overtaking it.

“Make no mistake, dragon,” she says in a low, cold voice. “You are only here by merit of your usefulness. And I do not tolerate meddling with what is rightfully mine.”

The fog creeps deeper, soft and inviting as it spills in. It beckons him to sink into it, but Volga resists, glaring at Cia.

“Witch,” he spits, starting the transformation into his dragon form, “you have no honor, using magic to persuade me. Curse you—”

Volga’s grip on his spear loosens, and he grunts, his transformation stopped as pain ripples up his chest and through his head. The fog follows it, dark and thick as it spills through, and the conversation and reason he had stormed in sink away into it, lost in the mists of his mind.

Cia smiles.

“Leave me, dragon. I have work to do. I will call you when I have another mission that requires your skill.”

Volga grunts again, a distant buzz of pain in his head. His anger is gone now, the fire nothing but embers whisked away by Cia’s magic, and he nods, giving the sorceress a small bow.

Then he turns and leaves the room, Cia watching him go with that same small smile.

[geminiwritten]

hold on ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you’re the youngest member of the boys and you hate that butcher insists on calling you ‘kid’ so you show him in more ways than one that you are not a child

notes: this is very weak, but it was kind of good writing practice because i definitely don’t write a lot of action (i’m so sorry if it sucks)! as always, please let me know what you think!

warnings: a lot of swearing, google translated french, age gap (not specified, but inferred) guns, violence, a dagger, explosion, descriptions of wounding (please don’t read if any of this is triggering for you!)

word count: 4310

Butcher is an asshole. You knew that from the moment you met him. He is rude, and brash, and impulsive to the point that made you believe he didn’t have an angel on one of his shoulders, only two antagonistic little devils. You often found yourself itching to dig your fist into his face, especially when he called you by the stupid nickname he coined the moment he met you. Kid, or The Kid, if you weren’t in the room. It vexed you beyond belief, and you knew exactly why.

Butcher is an asshole, but he’s also fucking gorgeous. He’s tall and broad, and his voice is so delicious, it often finds its way into your filthiest dreams. To say you were obsessed with the man wouldn’t be an overstatement, and it was no secret, everyone but Butcher himself knows it. You’ve wanted him from the moment you met him, but then he went ahead and called you ‘kid’ and you quickly realised that he didn’t see you as anything more than one of the boys. The youngest one of the boys.

“Are you okay, mon amour?” Frenchie asks, nudging you with his shoulder.

You look at the man sitting beside you, dressed head to toe in black with a bandolier slung across his body. The van rattles as it hits a bump, and across from you, MM casts an angry glare toward the driver’s seat.

“I’m good,” you reply, flexing your fingers around the gun laying across your lap.

You were no stranger to the weapon, having spent years training in the special forces before flunking out the minute you found out about the movement for Supes to be contracted into the military. You were furious and scared, and then you ran into an old neighbour whose mother used to be book club buddies with yours – Hughie – and the rest is history.

“Butcher’s on location,” MM says, tucking his phone back into the pocket on his vest.

“Make sure he waits,” Hughie calls from the front of the van. “It’ll take me five minutes to get eyes on the whole building, but he can’t go in blind.”

MM looks at Frenchie, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” Frenchie replies, “They will not be prepared for a raid, and they will have the information we need.”

“And how many are going to be willing to give it to us?” you ask.

He grimaces, “Not many, but I do not doubt your persuasion skills, mon cherie.”

“Persuasion,” you scoff, looking down at the weapon in your lap.

Don’t get it wrong, you weren’t some kind of super CIA motherfucker who should be feared by all, but you were pretty swift when you needed to be. You weren’t overly worried about the mission, not with Frenchie, MM, and Butcher at your back, but you hadn’t properly exercised your training in months. You know you’re going to be rusty, and you don’t exactly know what you’re walking into, but Frenchie does, and he’s confident in your ability.

The objective was simple. Frenchie had some old friends who were keeping tabs on his and Butcher’s movements and feeding them back to someone who was then getting them to Vought somehow. All you had to do was shut them down and find out who their contact was, and probably murder more than half of them in the process. Simple, right? Except for the fact that not even Frenchie knew exactly how many men you were running in on, or what kind of weapons they had.

“We’re here,” Hughie announces, just before the three of you in the back lurch forward with the sudden stop of the van.

You button up the fastenings on your fingerless gloves and check that your bandolier is packed with extra magazines before standing up. MM opens the doors for Hughie, and he jumps up into the back of the van with his laptop under his arm. Frenchie pulls a small stool from the storage cage and plants it in front of the flip down desk as Hughie begins unpacking his equipment. No more than five minutes pass before video images start popping up in black and white squares across the screens.

“Butcher,” Hughie says, tucking his earpiece in, “can you hear me?”

You fix your own piece into your ear before routinely checking the clips and fastenings across your tact suit.

“I can ‘ear you,” Butcher’s voice rumbles in your ear, and you can feel your cheeks flush pink.

“Alright,” Hughie scans the screens in front of him, “they’ve got pretty high tech surveillance, but their security isn’t great. I’m getting twenty-two heat signatures, most in the basement, a couple on the ground floor, and three on the fourth. According to Frenchie’s intel, there are other tenants in the building, so my guess is that three up top aren’t apart of this.”

“The two at ground level are most likely security,” Frenchie says. “There are always one or two of them watching the building’s main entrance.”

“But there’s another way in?” MM asks.

Hughie nods, “Looks like you can access the basement from the back, but that’s probably their main point of access, so you’ll want to find another way in.”

“You tellin’ me there’s one fuckin’ door to this place?” Butcher’s voice comes through the earpiece again, and you have to flex your fingers around your gun to remind yourself to focus.

“The backdoor and the building’s main stairwell,” Frenchie replies.

“Two fuckin’ doors?” Butcher says. “Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie, how the hell are we s’pposed to get out if things go wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Frenchie states, giving you an incredibly confident grin.

Your stomach twists nervously, but you don’t let it show, returning his grin with a nod and a small smile.

“There are windows,” Hughie says, “but only Y/N will fit, maybe Frenchie.”

“Then we go first,” you look at Frenchie, “through the windows and make sure Butcher and MM can get in the back.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Butcher snaps. “We don’t know what kind of weapons these cunts got, and if you two get overpowered, we won’t be able to get in ‘n’ help. We all go in the backdoor, force our way in.”

Frenchie chuckles, “You are a fan of forcing yourself into the backdoor, Monsieur Charcutier?”

MM snorts while you and Hughie snicker, but there isn’t a sound from Butcher.

“Look,” you say, “I appreciate your concern, Butcher, but we have the best chance of surprising them by slipping in where they won’t expect.”

Frenchie giggles again at your unintentional innuendo.

“Listen, Kid,” Butcher says, sending wave of irritation through your body, “I appreciate your concern, but I ain’t lettin’ you ‘n’ Frenchie get killed for somethin’ as trivial as a bit of intel.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, Butcher,” you bite back, at which everyone in the van startles. “Frenchie and I will meet you at the backdoor.”

You pull your black kerchief up over your nose and crack the van’s doors open, peaking out cautiously before stepping down and into the dark night. Frenchie and MM follow your silent footsteps toward the brick building, skirting around the side until you find the low and narrow basement windows. You point at MM and then toward the back of the building, and he nods before hurrying off.

“There’s a guard waiting outside the backdoor,” Hughie’s voice comes through your earpiece.

You hear a couple of grunts before MM says, “Not anymore.”

“Do you have Butcher?” Hughie asks.

“We’re in position,” MM affirms.

You nod at Frenchie and he gestures for you to go first, so you turn to the closest window. You take a deep breath before crouching beside the window and gripping a lip in the brickwork to help swing your body through. Using your chunky black boots, you kick the window in and follow the momentum with your feet first. You hit the concrete floor with a thud, quickly darting to the side before Frenchie drops down in the same fashion.

“What the fuck?!” one of the men shouts, scrambling to get up from the old and torn sofa on which he sat.

Your hands are on your gun before you can remember thinking about it, and a gunshot bursts in your left ear as a thug across the room fires at you, missing completely. You take aim and shoot his shoulder, making him drop his gun and crumple to the floor in pain. Two more bullets hit the brick wall behind you, and two more of the gangsters fall with wounds in their shoulders. Frenchie is already rushing to the backdoor, and you cover him easily by dropping three more men with pistols and hitting one in the leg who was scrambling toward the stairs. A cluster of lankier looking men cower in what looks like a makeshift drug lab, all wearing rubber aprons and protective goggles over their eyes. You turn away from them and take down another heading for the stairs, watching him fall on top of his comrade before whipping around and firing at a thug who was pointing his gun at Frenchie. The bullet cracks as it hits him in the side of the head, but you don’t have time to regret your aim before someone tackles you from behind. You duck forward, gripping his thick arms before he can strangle you, and use his momentum to throw him onto his back on the floor in front of you with a loud thump.

Your gun is back in your hands as you scan the room over its barrel, a familiar sense a satisfaction quelling your fight mode when you find every assailant either downed or cowering with their hands up. The backdoor creaks open, and MM and Butcher march in with guns up before stopping abruptly at the sight of the pacified room.

“What did I tell you, eh?” Frenchie says, and you hear it more in your earpiece than from across the room. “She is fucking incroyable.”

“Holy shit,” MM mutters, lowering his gun.

Butcher’s eyes are wild above his face covering, filled with an emotion you can’t discern as he stares at you across the dark room.

“Alright,” Frenchie shouts, pulling his kerchief down, “where the fuck is Lafeyette?”

The room stays quiet, but the four of you slowly cast heavy glares across the fallen thugs until one of the timid lab assistants points a shaking finger toward the two men collapsed by the stairs.

“Time to talk you filthy sac de merde,” Frenchie spits, as he and Butcher stalk toward the men.

MM nods at you as he readjusts his gun and widens his stance, guarding the door in case anyone thinks of trying to escape. Your fighter instincts settle at the slight sense of security, and you sling your gun over your shoulder as you approach the small drug lab.

“What are your names?” you ask the men.

Three of them glance at the shortest of the four, and with trembling hands he moves his goggles onto his head, revealing two clean circles of skin around his bright blue eyes.

“I am Gabriel,” he says, his accent thicker than Frenchie’s, “this is Théo, Lucas, and Éliott. They do not speak English.”

“Can they understand it?”

He nods, “Mostly.”

“Good,” you nod and hold your hands up, “I’m not going to hurt you, unless you give me a reason to.”

They all shake their heads vigorously.

“Are you here because you want to be?” you ask them.

“No,” Gabriel replies, and the other three shake their heads again.

“How did you get here?”

“Théo and I came together,” Gabriel says, “without papers, and Monsieur Toussaint said he would get us citizenship. Lucas and Éliott were here already, and they have kept us from leaving.”

You gesture to the bench full of laboratory equipment, “You make drugs for them?”

“Oui,” he nods, “Lucas is a- uh, how do you say un scientifique?”

“A scientist,” MM calls out from behind you.

“Oui,” Gabriel nods again, “he teaches us to cook.”

You frown, “Do you have any family here?”

“Théo has family in America,” he replies.

“Does he know where they are? Can you contact them if we help you leave?”

His bright blue eyes sparkle with hope, “Oui!”

You nod, “Good, we’re going to try and help you, okay?”

You barely finish your sentence before MM screams your name, and you feel the weight of a large hand on your left shoulder, dragging you back and blocking your ability to grab your gun. You crouch under the pressure and reach your thigh holster with your right hand, gripping the hilt of your dagger. You unsheathe it as you turn in a full one-eighty, escaping the assailant’s grasp and sweeping underneath his arm with your dagger outstretched. The blade slashes horizontally right beneath his kneecap, causing him to buckle as you rise to your full height and lacerate his throat. You leap back to avoid the spray of blood and falling body, watching the man slump face first into the concrete floor at your feet.

When you look up, you find every pair of – conscious – eyes on you, a mixture of terror and disbelief written across the room of faces.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks, though there is more pride than concern in his expression.

“I’m good,” you reply, crouching down to clean each side of your dagger on the dead man’s shirt before tucking it back into your holster.

Butcher drops the collar of who you assume is Lafayette, and you still can’t read his face behind his kerchief as he stares at you.

“Uh, guys,” Hughie’s voice speaks into your ear, “someone heard the gunshots, you’ve got emergency response on site in less than five minutes.”

Frenchie swings his foot into Lafayette’s stomach before nodding at MM, “Let’s go.”

You turn to the four lab assistants and gesture toward the backdoor. They scramble to remove their protective gear before hurrying toward MM who guides them out. Frenchie jogs past you, but Butcher stops and holds his hand out.

He pulls his kerchief down, “I’ll do it, you get out of ‘ere, Kid.”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, “now go.”

You’ve already got the gas canister in hand, and he knows you’ll pop it before he can argue, so he turns and mutters something inaudible as he stalks toward the door.

With your kerchief securely up over your nose, you release the pin and throw the gas into the room before turning to the lab table. You work quickly, pouring the two vials that Frenchie gave you into an empty beaker and setting it atop a lit burner. In five long leaps, you’re out the door and slamming it shut before sprinting away.

Butcher is waiting for you just around the side of the building, his hand outstretched. You barely have time to grab it before a huge explosion blows through the low basement windows and shakes the entire building. Butcher pulls your body against his, pivoting so that his back is to the blast as it knocks both of you off your feet. You hit the ground and your ears ring, but you don’t feel a single bit of debris hit you thanks to the body lying on top of yours.

“Fuck,” Butcher curses, though his voice sounds distant in your ringing ears.

You look up at him, his face inches from yours and smattered with dust and dirt. The adrenaline coursing through your veins has your whole body on high alert, overly aware of every part of him that is pressed against you.

He looks down at you, his pupils blown wide as his gaze darts to your lips. He licks his own, his chest heaving against yours and your head spins with a thousand filthy thoughts. For a split second, you think he might kiss you, and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation, but then he pushes himself up and offers his hand. You sigh and take it, letting him haul you off the ground.

“You alrigh’, Kid?” he asks.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” you spit, snatching your hand from his.

You run toward the van and leap into the open doors, Butcher at your heels. Hughie slams on the accelerator before Frenchie has even closed the doors, and you instinctually grab onto the nearest thing to steady yourself. It just so happens to be Butcher, and you know not from the scratch of his beard against your temple as you cling to him, but his scent. Warm and woody, with hint of apple-scented soap and whiskey.

You retract quickly and fall into the seat on the opposite side of the van, resting your head back against the blocked-out window.

“What the fuck, Frenchie?” MM exclaims. “You said that would be a small explosion, that it would look like an accident.”

Frenchie grimaces, “I did not account for the other reactants in the lab.”

Butcher sits quietly across from you, his eyes trained on you as you do everything you can to avoid looking in his direction. You focus on your gun, unlocking the empty clip and clicking the safety on. MM and Frenchie speak with the four timid men huddled at the back of the van, asking them a series of questions before deciding where would be best to take them.

After a painfully long drive, Hughie stops the van and Frenchie helps the four men out of the back doors. He tells you all to go back to the safe house and he will be there soon. The rest of the ride home is tense and silent, MM not daring to speak once he sees the irritated frown on your face as you fiddle with your equipment, packing it into cases and locking it in the van’s storage cage.

Once safe inside the decrepit apartment you currently call home, Hughie grins at you, “Holy shit, Y/N, you are fucking bad ass.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, starting on the clips of your tact suit.

“I wish I saw all of it,” MM says, “you’re deadly.”

A small smile quirks the corner of your lip, and you let out a small sigh as you release the last buckle on your Kevlar vest. You drop the heavy thing on the dining table along with your bandolier.

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t listen to me,” Butcher states, at which you roll your eyes, “but you did good, Kid.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowing at him. “Do I look like a fucking child, Butcher?”

Hughie’s grin vanishes and MM freezes on his way to the couch.

“Do I?” you press, holding your arms out as if to emphasise your attire. “Because a fucking kid couldn’t do what I just did, yet you insist on calling me by that fucking name!”

He doesn’t flinch the way Hughie does, nor are his eyes as wary as MM’s. He remains his usual cool self, though his frown is more curious than irate.

“Didn’t realise it bugged ya so much,” he says.

“You don’t fucking realise much, do you, Butcher?” you snap, before turning on your heel and marching toward the room that was designated yours.

You march inside and slam the door, but a pair of heavy boots are hot on your heels, and you curse the landlord for not installing any locks as the door swings open again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Butcher demands, slamming the door once again behind him.

You unzip your outer jacket and throw it on the bed, “Didn’t I make it clear?”

“Uh, no, actually,” he steps toward you, “I’m not fuckin’ pissed about the raid, I’m pretty fuckin’ impressed, but you’re still throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin’-”

“Like a child?”

His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest, “I was gon’a say kid.”

You clench your fists in an attempt to refocus your frustration, digging your fingernails into your palms until it stings.

“Look,” he says, “I know you’re capable, and fuckin’ talented with a gun, but I wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, I was tryin’ to keep you safe.”

“Because I’m so young and stupid?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I can’t fucking handle myself even though I just prevented all of you from getting your fucking asses kicked?”

He sighs, “I never said you’re fuckin’ stupid.”

“But I am young,” you mutter, your voice revealing more emotion than you intended.

His brows shift into a dubious frown, “What’s this fuckin’ obsession with your age?”

“What’s your obsession with my age?” you snap, “Calling me ‘kid’ all the time and acting like you’re my fucking babysitter.”

“Oh, so fuck me for caring ‘bout your safety, is that it?”

“No, Billy, that’s not it,” you sigh, tearing your gaze from his to focus on unclipping your thigh holster.

“Then what is it? ‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve fuckin’ done!”

Your holster comes loose and you grip the hilt of the dagger with white knuckles, standing straight again.

“You haven’t done anything!”

“Then what haven’t I fucking done?!” he exclaims, unfolding his arms and throwing his hands up.

The little voice in your head splits into a thousand, screaming a thousand different commands at you. Cry, yell at him, throw something at him, scream, hit your head against the fucking wall, punch him in the throat… kiss him.

Your ears, still numb from the explosion, fill with the sound of your thumping heartbeat as you take three quick steps toward him. His height is intimidating, but you don’t have time to regret your decision as your fingers curl into the material of his shirt and pull him toward you. You have to stretch onto your toes, your other hand finding his chest for stability as you crush your lips against his.

For a second, you think you’ve seriously fucked up, but then his mouth begins to move against yours and your knees buckle. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist and holding your body against his as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. You part your lips with a sigh, and he takes all control, claiming your mouth and wiping your mind of any thought that isn’t him.

In two easy steps, he backs you against the bed, sitting you down without his lips ever leaving yours. He crawls on top of you, straddling your thighs and catching your hands as they find the buckle on his belt.

“Love,” he sighs against your lips, “hold on.”

You blink up at him, slowly coming down from your high, “To what?”

He chuckles, “I meant slow down a sec.”

“Oh,” your cheeks burn, and you snatch your hands out of his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever fuckin’ apologise for that,” he says, a dopey smile on his lips, “but I don’t know-”

“I do,” you interrupt him, holding yourself up on your elbows.

He raises his brows, “What do you know?”

“I know that I want you,” you reply, “and I know that you want me. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but it fucking feels like it, so please, Butcher… please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes lingering on your lips before trailing down your body to where he sat. “I know I want you, but why the fuck do you want me?”

You snort, “You’re kidding, right?”

He only frowns.

“Butcher, I have wanted you from the moment I fucking met you,” you fall back against the bed with a sigh, “I don’t know how you haven’t fucking noticed.”

He leans over you, holding himself up with a hand either side of your head. “Why?”

His voice is so deep and his eyes so dark, you struggle to breathe as your clothes suddenly feel like they’re strangling you.

“Because you’re-”

“An asshole?”

You giggle, “Yes, and rude, and brash, but you’re also fucking beautiful.”

His heavy breathing suddenly stops and his eyes widen as they search yours, as if looking for some sense of deception or sarcasm. You open your mouth to reassure him but he swallows your words with a kiss, his lips crashing into yours with bruising force. His mouth moves across your jaw and down your neck, and you whine when pulls away before quickly realising that your high-neck undershirt is in the way. His fingers find the hem and yank it up over your breasts, not bothering to remove it completely before his lips assault your chest, biting and soothing your skin in five separate spots as you writhe beneath him.

He moves down, placing a kiss on your sternum and your stomach, before pausing at the waistband of your pants and looking up with hungry eyes. “You sure ‘bout this?”

His hot breath fans your skin and goosebumps rise in response.

You nod, “Yes, please, Butcher. Yes.”

The buckle and button are loosened in a second, and he groans at the sight of your lacy black panties. He places a hot, wet kiss just above the hem before sitting back and unbuttoning his own shirt. He doesn’t manage to shrug it off though, because you take the opportunity to grip either side of it and pull him back down on top of you. The feeling of his skin against yours makes your whole body clench, and you know you’re kissing him sloppily but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Your fingers find his belt again, struggling to remember how the damn thing works when he pulls away with a gasp, “Hold on.”

You frown, “What now?”

He chuckles, “No, sweethear’, not like that.”

His hands take yours guiding them up over your head until you feel the wood of the headboard at your fingertips.

“I said, hold on.”

END.

[unreliablesnake]

Tough love (Simon Riley x reader)

Note: A sad story for Valentine’s Day? Yeah, I’m sorry for ruining the mood. Tough choice is the first part but you don’t need it.

Ghost kept his distance. All you knew was his last name and his sleeping preference—sleeping for two or three hours at a time, usually in the most uncomfortable positions—nothing more, nothing less. He was strict; he was barking orders all the time, yelling your head off without even raising his voice, and giving you long lectures after the smallest mistakes.

Sometimes you thought the decision to join the 141 had been a mistake. If you were working with Price, there would be no problem. But Ghost? It felt like a nightmare most of the time. Nothing you did was right, there were approximately two times when he complimented you in the past year and that was it.

But one day while you were looking for cover on the field, a bullet grazed the microphone on your neck, successfully destroying the only equipment that kept you in touch with your superior. Despite the damage, you could still hear him. You could hear the panic in his voice, the desperate trying to get in touch with you.

“Come on, tell me you’re okay. You got out of my sight, but I saw you were shot,” he said. You wanted to answer, you wanted to tell him you were okay, but there was no way to do that. “Please, say something. I’m begging you, love.”

Love.

This was a first. He had never shown any sign of having a soft spot for you; quite the opposite, actually. You always had a feeling that you were bothering him, that maybe he would prefer to work alone rather than having to rely on your help.

But now here you were, listening to the lieutenant silently cursing to himself as he clearly tried to figure out where you were hiding. He told you he was coming for you. He told you to stay put if you could hear him. So you stayed where he said you should be waiting for him, locking the door and waiting for the three knocks that would give away it was him.

And then came the gunfire, followed by the knocks two minutes later. You opened the door without hesitation and were greeted by the familiar skull mask, but you didn’t have the chance to say anything because he pulled you into a tight hug. Hesitantly, but you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his chest.

“You’re bleeding,” he noted when he let you go and cleared his throat.

You raised your hand to your neck and saw the red liquid that tainted your skin. “Oh,” was all you said. You didn’t even notice. Must have been the adrenaline.

Ghost put a hand on the healthy side of your neck and pushed your head to the side by putting his thumb on your chin. “It’s not that deep. You’ll live.”

You gulped and tried to nod, which wasn’t an easy task given he still kept your head tilted. The silence that fell between you was something new, something you had never experienced. It felt like you were in the company of a good friend, even though you knew he barely tolerated you. Yet a small part of you that lurked somewhere in the background was trying to point out the elephant in the room.

Love.

He had called you that. Why? You desperately needed an answer to this question, but you didn’t know how to bring it up. So you remained silent and followed his instructions like a good girl. The two of you stayed together for the rest of the mission, and by four in the morning you were in the CIA safe house that Laswell offered you two.

“Why did you call me love?” you brought this up when you were both getting ready to sleep for a few hours.

He gave you a surprised look. “I didn’t.”

“You did,” you informed him, “when you tried to reach me after I was shot. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I did.”

Ghost cursed under his breath as he turned away and ran a hand over his masked face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” Hesitantly, but you put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. When he turned around, you noticed that there was a troubled look in his eyes now. “I know you’re probably expecting some big confession from me, but I can’t give you that. Go to sleep, we’ll leave in the morning,” he said.

Things went on as if nothing had happened that night. One mission followed another, you didn’t even have time to go home and sleep in your own bed, but at the moment you knew it was for the better. You didn’t think about that conversation, or about that cold shoulder he had been giving you for weeks now. Gaz noticed that something was off, and he clearly told the captain about his suspicion since he one day asked Ghost to talk to him in his office about something.

You only knew it was related to the tension between you because Ghost avoided you after that conversation. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was a sign that you should take an offer you got from Phillip Graves. Again. That guy didn’t give up, he offered you more money, better conditions, and the position as his right hand.

So you knocked on the door of Price’s office one day, taking deep breaths to calm yourself before the conversation. When you stepped inside, you found Ghost there, sitting in the chair across from the captain. You nodded with your hands folded behind your back, waiting for the lieutenant to leave or your superior to say it was okay to talk in his presence.

“What can I do for you?” Price asked with a smile, his blue eyes shining as he watched you.

Oh, how fast this happy shine will disappear once you tell him about your plan. You felt kind of bad for him. And Ghost? His eyes were darkened and emotionless. Letting out a long sigh, you took a step forward and gave Price the piece of paper you had in your hand.

“I’m leaving the 141,” you announced.

The captain groaned as he took a look at the letter. It was official, you were allowed to leave not just the task force, but the CIA as well. Laswell knew, but you had asked her not to warn her friend. Not until you had everything settled.

“Excuse me,” you suddenly heard Ghost say, then he was out the door before you could stop him.

Not like you wanted him to stay. There was nothing left to say. You didn’t feel comfortable or appreciated, so the best option for now was leaving. You weren’t running away like a coward. No. You just knew your worth.

[runnning-outof-time]

Thanks for sending another GIFt my way, Cia!! 🥰 I know I say it every time, but these little surprise presents put the biggest smile on my face! I decided to write a little something with John on this one because I’m currently in Tommy land with my requests and wanted a little break. I…I’m not quite sure what it is, but it was fun to write. Enjoy!

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Stop Showing Them!

John Shelby

Warnings: death-threats jokingly made

(Y/N) gets the embarrassment of a lifetime when she finds her boyfriend showing his family her childhood pictures.

“What’re we all doing in here?” Tommy Shelby questioned as he entered the living room of his family home to see that it was packed with people.

“Come take a look at this, Tom!” John waved him over with one of his hands while the other balanced the large book he was holding.

“What’s that?” the older of the two questioned, his eyebrows furrowed as he moved to his brother’s side. It didn’t take him long to realize that what John was holding was a picture book, full of pictures of a young girl. He couldn’t help but laugh at some of the things John was explaining to him.

“And you see this one is…”

“What have you got there, John?” (Y/N)’s voice came from the archway to the kitchen, cutting John off and making the room go silent.

“Nothing…” John trailed off, shutting the book quickly, making it let out a loud clap.

“John…” she looked at him with a deadpan stare, like a predator that had eyes set on its prey.

“There ain’t nothin’ in this book, love,” he insisted, trying to smoothly transfer both his hands and the book behind his back. His attempts failed though, so he just awkwardly held it at his side, like a schoolboy would hold his materials between classes.

“Then why are you hiding it? Hmm?” she questioned him, popping her right hip out so that she could rest her hand on it, her eyebrows raising as she did so. John let out a sheepish chuckle, looking down at the ground as he nervously scratched his top lip with his thumb. “John Michael Shelby, tell me what’s inside that book,” she demanded now, her voice flat.

“I’d give it up, John, before you make things any worse,” Polly suggested from where she was sitting, an amused smirk present as she watched the couple go at it.

“She’s going to give you hell if you don’t tell her, John,” Ada added in, also invested in the situation that was unfolding.

John looked from his aunt and sister to his brother, who was still standing by his side. He hoped that Tommy would have some guidance, but he knew he was on his own the second the elder Shelby sibling raised both of his hands. “This isn’t my war,” he mumbled, unable to stop himself from chuckling at his younger brother’s misfortune. John sure knew how to get himself into the worst of situations. He was going to have to get out of this one by himself.

“Well?” (Y/N) asked again, waiting for him to give her an answer.

“Your mum gave it to me…the last time we visited her,” he offered some details, but not the ones (Y/N) was looking for.

“What’s in the book, John?”

“It may or may not be pictures from when you were younger,” he spoke quickly and in a low voice as he scratched the back of his neck, hoping all of the things he was doing would have made it hard for her to hear him.

“You’re kidding,” she gasped, telling him that she heard his words loud and clear as she rushed over to grab the book out of his hands. “John!” she shrieked as she flipped through it, seeing all of the embarrassing portraits that had been taken of her throughout her younger years. She immediately knew that this was the book that her mother had kept of all of the ‘mess-ups’; of all of the purposefully terrible pictures.

“It was your mum who gave it to me,” he stated, holding his hands up in surrender while trying hard to conceal the grin that was threatening to break onto his features.

“I can’t believe you went and showed them to your family though!” she exclaimed, trying (and failing terribly) to not let her flustered nature show.

“It was so hard not to,” he defended himself.

Arthur and Michael walked into the house then, and were immediately confused by the situation that greeted them. “What’s going on in here?” Arthur was the one to ask.

“(Y/N)’s got some pictures from when she was younger…she was just showing them to us,” John stated, a smug grin now present as he gave them a botched description of what was going on.

“No, that is absolutely not what was going…John!” she stopped herself when John took the book from her hands and began walking over to where the other two men were standing.

“Wanna see them?” he asked, glancing behind him and hurrying up his step when he saw that she was following him.

“Stop showing them!” she exclaimed, smacking his shoulder and grabbing the book back from his hands just as he started showing them the photographs. “I’m going to kill you, John Shelby…and I’m going to use this book to do it! Ugh!” she exclaimed, wielding the book as she showed him what she meant.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that, sweetheart,” John brushed her statement off, grinning at her.

“I can’t believe you,” she huffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as a smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

———

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @valentinabloom @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite

MASTERLIST

[crisis-starter]

Heya!

Back with another part!

Isabeau time!

This is the CIAS version of Bad Touch if that makes any sense.

I hope you enjoy!

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

The favor tree was always a marvel to Isabeau. A gargantuan tree, capable of granting wishes, or at least giving you hope. Faux hope or not, it always brought a smile to his face. He was tempted to wish for confidence in what he wanted to do. But, for the current situation, that felt selfish. So he wouldn’t wish that for now. After all, maybe he could muster the courage up himself with no help from some ethereal god! Plus, the change god was lazy. They wouldn’t really care about a silly confession, right? Wait, maybe thinking that may be considered a tad sacrilegious. Stop thinking about it, Isabeau.

Siffrin approached, holding an almost exhausted expression. Isabeau could tell that something was up. Siffrin, despite sleeping for a few hours, looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Isabeau saw Siffrin muster up a strange expression. Eyes closed, smile a little too wide. But still decided that this wasn’t going to worry him too much. Siffrin faced Isabeau and said, “Isa.” Isabeau decided to comment on the exhausted demeanor, but try not to be too mean, “Sif. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I get it.” State that he can relate! Good step! But it didn’t look like it did anything.

Try again! Maybe… a distraction? Isabeau looked at the favor tree with a bright smile, “Anyway, I was just looking at the Favor Tree! Isn’t this tree cool?” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. But he responded at least, “Yeah it is…” Isabeau replied, cheerfully, hoping it was contagious, “Glad you agree!” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. Something was wrong. Nothing was really working!

Siffrin spoke up again, “One could say it’s a pretty…” This tone… it was set up for a pun! Isabeau looked at Siffrin, ready for the laugh of a century, “Uh huh???” Isabeau always loved to hear Siffrin’s puns. Not only that, but their voice, their combat skill, the look in their eye when he spends time with everyone, everything, every tiny detail that someone might not notice right away… is it not understandable why Isabeau’s heart fluttered around the little rogue? And here came the punchline, “…TREE-mendous tree.” Isabeau ignored the unchanging mask in favor of uncontrollable laughter. Siffrin joined him!

Isabeau felt like grabbing Siffrin’s shoulder as he wound down, but stopped himself. Siffrin’s expression changed to something… odd. It looked like they yearned for something as they kept their eye on Isabeau’s hand. At the same time, it held some level of desperation. It made the fighter sad. He stopped himself, once he caught Siffrin’s gaze and remembering Odile’s warning. Siffrin looked back, clearly coming to some kind of conclusion.

A sharp pain started to develop in Isabeau’s head. Siffrin’s expression turned serious. This… perplexed Isabeau. So he tried to ask, “…Uh, Sif? Ah—“ Without a word, Siffrin grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to his level and…

What?

Wait.

What?

In shock, Isabeau pushed Siffrin back to process what on earth happened to cause the rogue to kiss him out of nowhere. Or, rather, the whole situation itself. The headache was getting worse, the air growing sickly sweet. He didn’t like it. But it took 2 seconds to find a second detail that triumphed over the change in the air. Siffrin expressed… horror. Complete and utter horror. But, seemingly, it wasn’t with Isabeau, it was with-

The headache stopped. The air changed. It was back to normal. Siffrin’s expression quickly changed to that smile from before. But for some reason, it was more unnerving and fake, “Hi Isa! I need to do the Favor Tree thing!” Still recovering from the shock regarding the kiss, Isabeau responded, “Oh! Sorry, I’m in your way then, aren’t I? I’ll get out of your hair, see you at the Clocktower!!!” As he witnessed Siffrin walk towards the tree, he called, somewhat quietly, “Sif?” Siffrin ignored him, Or maybe they didn’t hear. He sighed, then proceeded to walk towards the field in the north of Dormont.

He took a breath in, and out. Then he started to think. What about that first one? Start with the first weird expression. That expression he saw Siffrin had when Isabeau was about to touch him. Didn’t Siffrin have a problem with touch? If so, why did they react like that? Like they were waiting for it. Almost silently begging for it. Why?

Second issue: the air and the headache. Awfully convenient, them happening at the same time. Not convenient. That makes it sound good. Coincidental? Strange? It just felt the slightest bit like a bad omen. Was it Craft? If so, what kind? It felt like time was pushed back a few minutes, so it might be time craft. But wasn’t the use of time craft a death sentence? Then again, the King is using Time Craft just fine. Keep a pin on it just in case.

Third issue: the conclusion, and the sudden change to seriousness along with the actual kiss. It was impulsive, yes. What conclusion did Siffrin come to to warrant such an action? What happened to warrant such an expression? Did Isabeau do something wrong without realizing?

Fourth issue: Siffrin’s expression before time decided to… malfunction? Horror. Pure terror. The way they hugged themselves implied that they were horrified by themselves. Honestly, Isabeau would be very disgusted with himself if he did that but this… that was… he almost wanted there to exist a kind of craft that help someone read minds. It would be royally invasive and Isabeau might never use it because it’s rude at the very least. But it would still be nice to know exactly what he had to work with to make his friends (and crush) happy.

Hold on… Isabeau was forgetting something. The exhaustion… Siffrin wasn’t sluggish, but he did look a bit tired. Or maybe ‘a bit’ is an understatement. The laugh that Siffrin produced also sounded vaguely fake. Like the scene was practiced. And the fake smile after the time rewind thing? It just looked like they were… improvising.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd, running up to him in a panic before Siffrin arrived. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

Isabeau approached the meadow overlooking the House of Change. The sight of such a building being distorted so badly did not help alleviate the worry that filled his being. He sighed quietly, hoping to calm his nerves. Isabeau sincerely hoped that Siffrin would recover. Or at least things would get better soon.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Haha, I was going to post this last night.

But I just passed out before I finished editing.

Fair, it was 2:30 AM and I definitely should not have been awake.

I’m having a bit of trouble with Mirabelle’s so it might take me a bit.

Also uh…. This is not being posted in chronological order.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi! Can I request something?

I would love some fluff with Frank with these prompts: thunderstorms, pillow forts and cuddling under a blanket

I hope it's okay that I picked three... I couldn't decide on just one :) Thank you 💕

Hello lovely! I made this a hurt/comfort/fluff fic. I hope that’s ok! I am so happy to give Frank all the gentle things. (Title based on Hold On by Michael Buble)

Stronger Here Together

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank receives comfort after a nasty mission.

Warnings: swearing, implied depression, non-graphic descriptions of violence

w/c: 1.8k

Keeping his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Frank desperately tried not to let the pounding raindrops drive him past his current stimulation threshold and into total insanity. This mission was the worst he’d had in a while, with the universe kindly throwing every possible worst case scenario at him despite his growing irritation. 

First, the target zipped across state lines mere hours after he’d gotten set up in a vacant motel room, meaning he had to completely reevaluate his stakeout location and do a whole other recon session in a new area. Then, the bastard made the brilliant move of teaming up with a local sex trafficking ring to peddle the drugs he’d been selling all over the tristate area. Which, fine, Frank was always ready to rid the world of some fucking perverts but these particular perverts happened to be toting massive amounts of guns, which was why he now had 4 crudely sutured wounds aching across his torso. 

Of course this was far from the end of his horrific three week endeavor. After nearly passing out from blood loss, the overwhelmingly understanding agents of the CIA and homeland decided to blame him for shit going south. And that meant he’d received earful after motherfucking earful from Madani about every little misstep he had apparently taken. All of this made up the shit sundae—top that with the pulsing aches from injuries and stiff muscles, the sheer exhaustion from the stress and intense lack of sleep, and the fact that he hadn’t seen you in 19 fucking days? Yah. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe his current mood. 

He’d sent you a short, discrete text from his burner, just letting you know that he was coming home and where his mind was at. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d come back from an equally long, equally stressful trip and exploded on you when you tried to dote on him. Though he’d never admit it, he still has nightmares about the hurt in your eyes and the sound of your sobs after he screamed at you to leave him alone. He’d man up and talk about his feelings if it meant never seeing you that upset again. 

Letting his mind wander, the tension in his body faded slightly as his thoughts drifted to images of you. His gorgeous, gentle, thoughtful girl who deserved so much better but refused to let him go. After that first rough experience, you’d learned to be less persistent with him, to treat him almost like a feral dog. Lay out some things and let him care for himself before coming to you. 

And that is exactly what you were doing while Frank drove home to you—busying yourself with household chores as you tried to make the space as cozy as possible. Though you were a bit nervous about his reaction, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to cheer both of you up on this gloomy Sunday. Once the living room was set up, you finished wiping down the counters, lit a scented candle, and nestled into an armchair while you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. 

After a 7 hour drive, and a mile long trek through the pelting rain from the one free parking spot he could find near your apartment, Frank was ready to collapse and block out the world for a week. The rough, soaked denim of his jacket was rubbing at his skin, making him downright miserable as he trudged the last few blocks to your place. Hauling himself up the stairs and in front of your door, he knocked once before resting his head against your door frame. 

Opening your door, your sweet smile morphed into a concerned frown as you took in the stiff, sopping wet man before you. 

“Oh Frankie, what happened?” Carefully pulling him into your apartment, you let him remove his boots while you snatched your softest towel from the linen closet. Handing over the cloth, you helped him strip off his drenched outer layers as he cleared his throat to speak. 

“Couldn’t find a spot. Had to walk a bit.” His voice was more gravelly than usual after being silent for so long. You tutted in sympathy, taking the damp towel and clothes from him. 

“Bet that was exactly what you wanted after the past few weeks. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll throw these in the wash. Did you want to shower?” You resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, not wanting to overwhelm him. 

Frank nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face as he shuffled to the bathroom. Turning the shower on and removing the last of his saturated clothes, Frank sighed and rubbed at his strained eyes. Taking a moment to look around, his spirits lifted slightly as he realized you’d clearly prepared the space for him. The small tiled room was pristine and scrubbed of any debris, with a clean towel and fresh set of clothes hanging over a towel bar. Christ, he loved you. 

The sounds of water bombarding ceramic walls soothed your nervous heart as you started your coffee maker. If you’d been the one to walk a mile in a torrential downpour, you’d be craving a hot drink and some soft fleece blankets when you got home. Thankfully, you already had the latter covered. 

There was a small squeak from the bathroom as Frank turned the shower off, shuffling around behind the door before emerging in a tee and sweats. Nodding his head at you, he grunted. “Thanks for the clothes.” 

“My pleasure, pumpkin. Make yourself comfy, I’ll have coffee ready in a bit.” Pulling two mugs from the cupboard, you bit back a smile as Frank turned and finally surveyed your hard work. 

“The hell is that?” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle that burst out of you at his grumpy confusion. “It’s a pillow fort!”

“A…pillow fort?” Frank scratched the back of his head, looking inquisitively at the structure you’d built. 

Nodding eagerly, you came to stand next to him. “Yup. When I was little, my siblings and I would always make forts on rainy days. I haven’t done it in years, but I thought we could both use a pick me up today.” Shifting from foot to foot, you looked up at him through your long lashes. “If you don’t like it, or it’s too childish, I can put it all back and we can pretend it never happened.” 

“Hey, no, you don’t need to do that, doll.” Frank wrapped his arms around your hesitant form, drawing you into his chest before kissing the top of your head. “I wasn’t expectin’ it, is all.” 

“Would you like to sit with me? Or did you need some time alone?” Your words were slightly muffled by his muscular torso. 

With a snort, Frank tilted your face towards his. “Fuck no. Spent enough time with myself the past few weeks.” Kissing you tenderly, he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I’ve missed ya like hell, sweetheart.”

“God, I missed you too, Frankie. So much.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed a kiss to your nose. “Why don’t you show me around the new setup?” 

Giggling happily, you took one of his hands in two of yours and tugged him over to the towering stack of cushions. “Well this is the entrance, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” Frank’s mouth twitched, feeling the dark cloud over his shoulders begin to fizzle away as you showed him the comfy nest you’d built. 

“And, if you come inside…” You scrambled into the fabric cave on all fours, Frank followed in a more rigid manner, his aching joints not pleased about the new posture. 

The structure you’d built was quite impressive. You’d utilized damn near every piece of furniture in the living room, but that meant it was tall enough for you both to sit up and sturdy enough to not collapse on top of you. There were strings of small lights hanging from the makeshift ceiling, and a pile of the softest blankets and pillows you owned waiting to be burrowed in. Everything about it was so unbelievably you that Frank could have cried. 

“So…” Sitting back on your knees, you gazed at him with wide eyes. “What do you think?” 

“It-it’s perfect, doll face.” He pushed past the crack in his voice, hoping you wouldn’t question it. “I love it.” 

“Would you like to lay down?” You offered, pulling back the duvet at the base of the pile of blankets. 

“Fuck yes.” Frank groaned, making you laugh. 

Plopping down on the squishy surface, you made grabby hands at him, earning you a hearty chuckle before your broad-shouldered love crawled on top of you. He peppered your face with stubble-rough kisses as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Frank!” You laughed, placing two fingers over his lips. “As much as I love your kisses, you should really lay down. I can see how much tension you’re holding.” You punctuated your murmur with a soft hand placed between his shoulder blades, fingers massaging the resolute knot beneath his skin. 

With an appreciative groan, Frank’s chin dropped his chest, his body inadvertently sagging downward as it stopped resisting gravity. Towing him atop your own horizontal body, you gently positioned him so that you could continue to knead at his upper back while he melted into a puddle beneath your fingers. 

Letting out a soft sound that was more moan than hum, Frank squashed his face against your neck. Kissing his forehead, your free hand came up to card through his damp hair. 

“Better?” You teased, knowingly. 

Nodding, your stoic boyfriend remained silent and pliable in your embrace. 

Carefully pulling the blankets over the two of you, you grinned as Frank shuddered with a satisfied groan. The poor guy was practically falling asleep, head pillowed on your chest as you tugged at his hair gingerly. “Did you want something to eat or drink before passing out? I think the pot of coffee I started is about ready.”

“You made coffee?” The muscular lump of boyfriend that was splayed over you rumbled hopefully at the notion. 

“Course I did. Wanted you to have something to drink when you got home. It’s decaf though, figured you’d also want to sleep.” 

“Mmm love you.” Was the only response you received. With a giggle, you nudged Frank so that you could see his face, which had gone peacefully slack thanks to your ministrations. 

“I love you too, pumpkin. Sleep first, or coffee first?” 

“Sleep. ‘M tired as fuck.” 

Chuckling, you pulled the blankets tighter around the two of you. “Sleep well, handsome. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[sashaisready]

Chapter 7b - All of them

Nick Fowler x Shy CIA Employee

Under the Radar Masterlist

Chapter 7a - Underestimate

Warnings: descriptions of violence, sexual references and references to sex trafficking

Wordcount: 3600

(Final part! Thank you so much for reading and big love to anyone who’s reblogged/commented - I’m so grateful and hope you like how it ends!)

You blinked, the initial adrenaline from your fear giving way to confusion as you stared dumbly at Nick. He was dressed in a navy sweater and chinos, not his usual suit but his off-duty, more comfortable clothes. Concern danced in his eyes as he kneeled on the floor and moved to you. He put his gun away as you sat up and gripped his forearms tightly, squeezing your fingers into his skin as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. 

“Nick?” You finally managed to eke out, your eyes wide like saucers.

“What…how…uh…?” You whispered, trying your best to piece it altogether. Why was he here? He’d saved you…but how did he even find you?

He was saying something to you but you couldn’t concentrate as suddenly Walsh appeared too, his face paling as he came across the scene in front of him. You couldn’t blame him, it must’ve been quite a tableau as Joe laid there bleeding out and you held onto Nick for dear life. 

“Holy shit” Walsh barked, the deep timbre of his voice suddenly pulling you out of your stupor. He ran over to Joe’s crumpled figure and checked his pulse.  

You could hear Nick now. He was asking if you were alright, gently holding your face in his hands as he switched between looking into your eyes and assessing you for injuries. He seemed…scared. 

“He’s alive” Walsh said quietly as he pulled out his cell and began calling an ambulance. 

Nick scoffed. “A pity…”

You heard that. 

“He’s…he’s in Cotton” you croaked. 

Nick and Walsh exchanged a confused glance as Walsh gave instructions to the 911 operator over the phone. 

“He’s part of Cotton…” you continued, your nails digging into Nick’s forearms. “He was always working for them. That’s why we couldn’t catch them. He…he tried to traffic me” you said gravely, feeling chilled as you said the words out loud. “I caught him and he…he tried to kill me…I grabbed the letter opener I-“

You tried to explain but the words came out a jumbled mess as the two men looked at you with concern. You nodded to the file on the ground that had been dropped in the scuffle, hoping that would make everything clear. 

Walsh grabbed it and his face dropped as he flicked through. He passed it to Nick and you watched his face drain of colour and his expression harden, he snarled over at Joe then peeked at Walsh. You could practically see him restrain himself from finishing Joe off. You couldn’t fathom what he might’ve done had his boss not been here. 

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay” Walsh said kindly.

Nick just squeezed your hand reassuringly, seemingly unable to articulate himself at that moment. 

Walsh nodded as he listened to his phone “Ambulance will be here very soon” he mumbled.

Watching their reactions suddenly made everything a bit more real, as if this had all seemed like a horrible dream but now other people were witnessing it and that meant you weren’t going to wake up. The tears fell thick and fast as Nick pulled you into his shoulder and nuzzled his nose into your hair, pulling you up and carrying you to the front of the building so you didn’t have to look at Joe any longer.

“How…how did you find me?” You whispered as he put your down in one of the chairs in the lobby.

“Grant” he said. 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Grant?”

He nodded, stroking your hair. “He called Walsh and I happened to be at Walsh’s house having dinner with him and his wife. I was about to go home when he got a frantic call from Grant, saying you’d come into the office late but not come out again - and neither him or Ernie could open the office door. He said he could hear shouting and knew something wasn’t right, especially as you weren’t on the CCTV”.

“He…he tampered with it” you said meekly. 

You didn’t miss the subtle tightening of Nick’s fist.

“Grant and Walsh are old friends so he knew Grant wouldn’t call him at home for just nothing” Nick continued, his eyes hard. “When we told me it was you…I…I insisted I come” he said blankly.

He cleared his throat. “We rushed over in my car. I saw Joe first…his gun to your head like that. It all went in slow motion” he paused, chewing his lip. “I thought you…were gone. I pulled the trigger before I even knew what I was doing”. 

You nodded solemnly. “I tried to get away…but if you hadn’t been there…” you croaked, unable to speak it aloud.

“But I was” he whispered. “I am”.

He took off his sweater and placed it gently over your shoulders. You couldn’t help but admire the way his t-shirt underneath hugged his torso. The smell of his cologne filling your senses as he draped the sweater over you.

“It’s okay I’m fine-“ you protested but he just tutted.

“You’re in shock. We both know I’m going to take care of you one way or another so let’s just skip the attempts to persuade me you’re okay” he said sharply. “I’m still your superior here”.

You smirked. He was still Nick. This was how he showed he cared, and you knew better than to fight him on it. 

Besides, you couldn’t deny it felt nice to be in his arms again.

Blue lights suddenly shone in your eyes and you could see through the glass doors that the ambulance had arrived. Ernie and Grant were out there, rushing to meet the paramedics. Grant caught sight of you and his face relaxed into relief, giving you a nod. Your eyes filled with tears as you realised you owed him your life. You suddenly feel grateful for every exchange and casual chat you’d ever had with him. He knew you. He cared about you. You weren’t invisible to him. When you didn’t come out, he knew something was up. You shivered for a second, wondering what might have happened if it was one of the other guards on shift tonight..

He gave you a smile and in return you mouthed “thank-you” through the glass. He shook his head and shrugged modestly before escorting the paramedics into the office, they rushed by you in a whirl of fluorescence. You made a mental note to thank him properly once things were clearer. How do you even thank someone for saving your life? Freshly baked brownies or a nice bottle of wine didn’t seem like enough. 

“I’ll take you home” Nick said quietly. 

He scooped you up and walked you out into the parking lot. You glanced back over his shoulder and saw the ambulance staff rushing across the tarmac with Joe strapped to a gurney. He had an oxygen mask on and looked pretty lifeless. You wouldn’t cry any tears if he died from his injuries, but you knew they needed him alive to question him about Project Cotton. So you begrudgingly hoped he pulled through.

Walsh trailed closely behind, palm resting on his forehead as he yelled into his phone. So much for his quiet work dinner with Nick. 

Nick grabbed your chin and moved your head to face forward again. “Don’t worry about any of that” he said sternly. 

As Nick’s car pulled away, you saw other police cars pull up and other CIA agents arrive in forensic gear. Walsh must’ve made some calls.

You’d done enough. It was their job now.  

*

The car was silent. You didn’t really know what to say. 

Nick stared out at the road ahead of him. He hasn’t said much, but his hand was firmly on your thigh as he drove. Almost as if he was worried you’d somehow get away.

“Thank-you” you managed to say softly. “For…for coming…for firing your-”

Nick shook his head. “You don’t need to do that”.

“I do” you cried weakly. “Nick, you saved me”

He wrinkled his nose. His voice came out barely a whisper. “Please…don’t”.

You understood then. This was hard for him too. Of course it was. He had shot his colleague! He was….scared. But he was doing his best to keep his stoicism up for your benefit. He wasn’t making it about him. He was putting his feelings aside and staying strong. 

You’d never seen him scared before. 

You reached out and placed your hand over his leg, mirroring what he was doing to you. You kept it there for the entire journey home.

He didn’t try to move it.

*

When you got home Nick immediately got you some water, found some PJs in your drawers (he still knew where everything was) and set to work carefully getting you changed. It wasn’t sexual, it was gentle and tender. He pulled the top over your head and dragged the shorts up over your thighs. He pulled the sheets of your bed back and carefully put you down on the pillows. He even got the extra blanket you kept at the back of your closet and draped it over your legs. 

“You need to rest now, okay?” He said soothingly. “I’ll get someone to drop your car back in the morning”. 

You sat up, eyes wide with fear as Nick headed to the door. 

“Nick?” You asked, the hint of panic evident. 

He stopped, turning back to face you.

“I’m…I’m…well, it sounds dumb…but what if Joe’s friends come looking for me? What if they figure out I got him busted?” 

Nick shook his head. “They won’t. Don’t worry. Walsh texted me, they found a bunch of files hidden in with ours. Seems Joe was using the office cabinets as his own. Fuckin’ idiot. But they’ve already found a bunch of the guys involved and have warrants out for their arrests”.

“It wasn’t that dumb, Nick, those files were under our noses the whole time and nobody knew, Joe knew nobody looked there”.

He frowned. “Look. You’re safe, okay?”

You shook your head. “They know where I live, Nick” you said pleadingly.

He sighed, looking back at you for what felt like forever. 

“Okay” he finally said. “Wait here”.

He disappeared out of the bedroom and you heard heavy furniture being dragged. You sat up straighter and tried to peer out of the doorway to see what was happening.

Eventually he came back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He grunted as he hauled your heavy dresser across the floor, then pushed it in front of the door, barricading the two of you in.

And everyone else out.

He pulled a chair up and sat in it, leaning against the dresser.

“Every entry point in your apartment is blocked” he said calmly, pulling out his gun and placing it on the dresser in front of him. “Nobody will be able to get in. And if they try, we’ll know about it. And then they’ll have to get through me”.

You nodded, shooting him a tiny smile. He smiled back. 

You turned over and pressed your head against the pillow. You had barely pulled the blanket tight to your body when you were out like a light. The exhaustion from the evening catching up with you. It was as if, after being endlessly stretched and pulled in every direction, the rubber band had finally snapped. 

You slept deeply. Dreamlessly. 

You were safe. You were alive.

*

You woke up the following morning as the sun peered through the blinds, you frowned before your brain took a few moments to catch up and you remembered what had happened. 

You sat up in bed and looked over at Nick.

He was still dutifully at his post. Sleeping uncomfortably sat up in your chair, his arms folded, his head slumped into his chest. You felt a swell of warmth at the sight.

He must’ve sensed your movement because his eyes shot open and he seemed surprised to see you awake.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice croaky with sleep.

You nodded. “Feeling okay. Thank-you for keeping watch”.

“Of course” he said, as if you were thanking him for some trivial task rather than spending his entire night guarding you. “I’m glad you got some sleep”.

“Did you?”

He shrugged. “Some. But my sleeping needs don’t matter right now”.

“Nick…” you chastised.

“They don’t”.

He got up and began moving his makeshift barricade back to their original homes. 

“I have a meeting with Walsh later to hear the latest about Joe. Seems he’s in a stable condition. As soon as they have the okay from the doctor they’re going to question him and we can finally put an end to his operation”.

“That’s good” you said plainly, although you weren’t really sure how to feel.

Nick cleared his throat. “You were…really brave you know” he said quietly. 

You sighed, pawing at the sheet. “Well I don’t know. I had no idea who he really was even though I was working with him all that time. I liked him! Really liked him! I fell for it all so easily…and then I tried to stop him but…” your voice weakened.

“Hey…no” he soothed, walking over to the bed and sitting next to you. “None of us knew. I didn’t know. Fuck. I’m an agent. I should’ve known!” 

He cursed and put his head in his hands.,

“When I warned you about him…I didn’t know any of that. I just thought he was an asshole. I’d seen him take credit for junior staff’s work before. I saw him be creepy to some girl at a drinks thing. I just thought he was a loser. If I’d known…I never would’ve let you…”

He stopped and exhaled, running a hand through his hair. It was clear you were both carrying your own burdens of guilt. 

“It’s okay” you soothed, pressing your head against his. “Nobody knew. He even fooled Walsh”.

He sighed, sitting up to look at you. “I hope this isn’t inappropriate to say…” 

You held your breath, nervous about what the next words out of his mouth might be.

“….but” he continued. “Stabbing him in the neck with the letter opener was one of the most badass things I ever heard…”

You gasped, stifling a giggle. “Oh my god…”

“Seriously. Who the fuck are you? Are you in a Terminator movie?”

You shrieked, immediately feeling guilty for wanting to laugh at such a dark subject. But it felt good. Cathartic. A release. “I have no idea how I did it! I’m just grateful some guy from the 60s or whatever was too lazy to open his letters by hand”.

The two of you laughed before Nick suddenly stopped and looked at you intensely.

“Look…I know this isn’t appropriate when you’re feeling vulnerable…but last night has taught me I gotta stop missing chances. It could all end at any minute”

Your chest tightened as you listened to him.

“I meant what I said before. I’m sorry for everything I did. I miss you. And you don’t have to respond but I need to tell you…I love you. I think I always have”.

You stared at him in stunned silence as he continued. 

“I know that I may have to work to rebuild your trust and forgiveness and I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me but if we can even be friends I’d take it. Hell, even if we just make small talk around the office and chat about the weather that’s fine too. I just want you in my life in some way. It kills me that you’re not anymore. And I almost lost you. Really lost you. I can’t let another minute pass without telling you how I really feel and I promise that I never will again. I love you, princess”.

You stared at him dumbly, unable to speak. He took your shock as rejection and smiled sadly as he got up to go. You clutched at his sleeve and pulled him back down to the bed.

“I love you too”.

And you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And everything else just melted away. The feeling of his arms snaking around your body, his fingers in your hair, the urgency with which he pressed his lips to yours…it was all so familiar yet felt brand new at the same time. 

Everything was going to be okay. You would handle it together. He was right that he needed to work to earn your full forgiveness but you had faith you could rebuild your relationship. He’d saved you. 

And you’d saved yourself. 

*

You took a few weeks off, Walsh insisted. They arranged and paid for you to get ongoing therapy with a doctor you never could’ve afforded in a hundred years. She has started to help you begin to work through what had happened and you are beginning to feel more and more like yourself again after every session. You’ll never be completely the same, you still have nights where you dream of Joe and wake in a cold sweat. You have moments where you feel the ghost of gun on your skin as if it was still there. The cold metal against your flesh.

But it wasn’t.

You were still here.

Your doctor has also helped you start to shed your guilt for not seeing Joe for who he truly was. The burden is slowly shrinking.

It was surreal seeing your picture in all the papers after the story broke. The headlines were dizzying and surreal, and you had to stay off the internet until it died down. You even had to make your Instagram private after some tabloid stole some of your pictures for their exposè.

CIA AGENT CHARGED IN HUMAN TRAFFICKING RING SCANDAL / CIA AGENT THWARTED AFTER ATTEMPTING TO TRAFFIC FEMALE COLLEAGUE / INSIDE AGENT JOE PALMER’S SICK, TWISTED LIFE

Annie has of course been there for you every step of the way. She held your hand throughout, and continues to show up even when you say you don’t need her to. She’s provided home cooked meals and distracting days out. She let you stay at her place when you needed to hide out somewhere for a few days and block out the world. You’re lucky to have her in your corner. 

The CIA moved premises after what happened, it was better for everyone to start afresh and move on. Staff didn’t exactly want to work a few feet from where their former colleague had attempted to kidnap another colleague, before another colleague shot him. It wasn’t great for morale. Even if they had replaced the bloodied carpet.

Joe survived his wounds, getting charged for numerous counts of trafficking and criminal activity. He took a plea deal, giving up the entirety of his operation in exchange for avoiding a trial, shaving a few years off his sentence and getting a cell in a nicer prison. He’ll most likely still be too old to live independently when he finally gets out, so you don’t particularly care. Cotton fell to pieces the moment he confessed, with each of the big names finally put behind bars after such a long time evading justice. Joe’s meticulous filing system helped a lot in building a case, too. 

The CIA has a specialist team working on the files and retrieving the lost women, getting them back to their families. Fifteen have been recovered and reunited so far. 

Once you got back to work Walsh suggested they could look into field training for you. He said it’s clear you have a lot to offer and they’re willing to help you go the distance. After everything that happened you think you might prefer to stay at your desk and actually relish blending into the background for the first time in your career. Still, the offer remains open, and it’s nice to know you can pursue that option should you wish to.

Otherwise it’s pretty much the same as it ever was. You got a flurry of attention from your colleagues when you returned, an endless list of invites to lunches and drinks and offers to work on their projects. It’s died down a bit now. It’s amazing how quickly people settle back into their old ways. Still, it’s quite nice to go back to just you and your laptop. Quiet is good. You’ve learnt to understand that a quiet life is not a bad life.

Still, there’s one aspect of your life that isn’t quiet.

Nick and you have been dating for a few months now. He toes the line between affectionate and professional at work. An occasional hand on your waist. Twiddling a strand of your hair. A chaste kiss on the cheek in the break room.

The occasional bang in the supply closet.

When he drags you along to work drinks he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He pulls you down on his lap. He introduces you as his girlfriend. You’re no longer his dirty secret. No longer the quick fuck in the dark. You still don’t feel at home at those things like he does, but you like that he tries to coax you out of your comfort zone without pushing you to do anything that makes you unhappy. He smiles at you and looks at you with his brilliant blue eyes and you almost can’t take the weight of his love. 

Something shifted that night and it locked the two of you together in a way you can’t fully explain. Your therapist talks about you shared trauma but it’s more than that. Deeper than that. It’s as if you both found your way home. You talk about it a lot, you give each other the space to work through the complex emotions it provoked. But it also brought you back to each other.

Beige isn’t so bad, really. Beige is neutral. Safe. It goes with everything. You can’t go too wrong with beige, can you? Maybe beige isn’t the worst thing to be.

But it’s just one of the colours.

And you intend to live in all of them. 

[tiredemzz]

S4! FIONA C. AT SOME CHILDRENS BDAY BE LIKE <3

a/n: so how’s yall doing?.. I’m tired af cus I’m not a morning person lmao.

disclaimer: this is basically a rewrite of that tua s4 episode with the children birthday party with lila and diego but my oc is in this season! there will be oc x cannon involved since im shipping five x flame- not five x lila b/c it doesn’t exist on my acc. if you don’t like oc x cannon, then this acc isn’t for you sadly. also i will be adding the deleted scene with five and klaus b/c idk why they didn’t add that scene.. like why? also five & fiora r in there 20s cus its s4 & five isn’t apart of the cia b/c my boi needs a break. also dave is alive b/c klaus needs his bf <3

warnings: fiora breaking the 4th wall, gets a little spicy between five & fiora but they get c0ckblocked by klaus & dave lmao, fluff (ofc), fiora hanging with kids (she can’t stand them sadly but doesn’t mind them.), cussing (ofc), mentioning of fish head (aj aka her adopted father)

a/n: this is my first time writing for these characters, so my bad if they seem ooc. Especially five lmao. (my boy was written worse- fuck you steve.)

We see Fiona herself, smoking a cigarette outside of the birthday party place. She sighed softly in relief, taking a few puffs after a long day of singing in clubs, bars for men/women alike because the girl herself thinks that everybody deserves love in there time.

Except bad people, she really hated bad people and her adopted father, who basically forced her to do evil things and run errands for him but since he’s dead.. Fiona felt relieved and a bit of guilt flowing in her body due to her and adopted father’s relationship with each other but she chose to ignore it, putting out her cigarette and heading back inside to see Grace running towards her with her arms out, hugging Fiona’s waist, making her a bit shook but she looks down at Grace and saids “hey sweetheart, how is my favorite niece doing?” Grace looks up at Fiona and saids “I’m good Auntie Flame! Have you talked with Uncle Five yet?” Grace asks while Fiona blushed a bit by Grace mentioning Five towards her, it’s been a while since those two have talked really- Fiona heard that Five is taking a break to himself but she shrugged and said “I have not sadly. Been busy with my singing and doing alot of painting- so I haven’t really talked with anyone in a while.” Grace pouted a bit and asked “why Auntie?” Fiona sighed softly and said “ever since everything has gone back for normal, I been going to therapy to talk about the past and who I really am inside. Except I still have my powers because I want to have them forever, I don’t want them to go away. I enjoy having them. Been taking time for myself to focus on my mental health and yeah.” Fiona smiled softly at Grace while Grace understood Fiona and smiled back at her.

“Now your Auntie Flame is gonna have fun, okay?” Fiona said, going down on one knee and kissed Grace on the forehead, making Grace giggle and said “ok but make sure you join me in the ball pit later, ok?” Grace asks her while Fiona laughed a bit and saids “alright alright, I promise I will but right now.. let me go have fun. Bye bubbles.” Grace giggles, waving at Fiona and going to have fun. Leaving a smiling Fiona on one knee and slowly getting up, standing on her feet.

Fiona began to walk around the place, seeing parents having fun with there children and slowly not smiling anymore since she never found her real parents but she decided not to give two fucks about it.

She noticed the bubbles, making her smile and popping one. While she popped one bubble, she felt someone watching her from afar and she noticed that a smiling Five was watching her while holding beer in his hand, making Fiona walk slowly towards him while smiling a bit and said “Five Hargreeves, my long time frenemy and the man who killed the fish head aka my adopted father. How are you old man?” Five deep chuckled a bit and said “Fiona aka the demon gal who hated me cus I killed her horrible adopted father and had to do it for my family. I’m doing well Flame, how about you?” Five said with a bit of a sarcastic tone in his voice and taking a few sips of his beer.

“Well, I been doing great. You mind giving me beer?” Fiona said with a bit of a soft tone in her voice, Five hummed a bit, giving her a beer bottle as well.

“Thanks Romeo, appreciate it.” Fiona said while smiling softly, opening the beer bottle, taking a few sips of it and just smiling softly at the children running around the place while Five smiled softly, just staring at her and asked “you thinking about something?” Fiona sighed a bit, looking at Five and answered this “yeah, just watching the children run around the place like they own it- reminds me of myself as a child. Good times good times really.” Five hummed softly at her answer and decided to hold out his hand, he asked “you uh wanna hold my hand love?” Fiona nodded yes and began to hold his hand while taking that hand back and deciding to grab on his tie with a bit of a smirk and asked “so you uh got any plans pretty boy? I’m loving the new look of the new you. Suits your pretty self.” Five smiled a bit, looking down at Flame and said “no, I don’t have any plans really.. didn’t expect you to be confident. Why’s that?” Fiona let go of his tie, answered with “I been using my charm- I call it the demon flirt charm. It’s uh something but eh. I don’t really like to be confident in myself.”

Five sighed softly, wrapping an arm around Flame’s shoulders and said “Listen to me sweetheart, you always feel confident in yourself. Be proud of that, be proud in your heart that you can still do the things that you love. You still kick ass Flame, still do and you can’t forgot that on how many times you managed to beat me at arm wrestling.. and sometimes Smash Bros when we were back in season two.” Flame started to laugh softly, feeling happy and said “yeah, those were good times- I mostly blame my author sometimes for stupid shit.” Five chuckled a bit at the last part on what Flame said. Suddenly Klaus, alongside his boyfriend Dave started to walk towards Five and Fiona.. Klaus said “Fiona! Five!” Fiona started to run towards Klaus, giving him a hug while smiling softly, still holding her beer while looking up at him and said “Klaus! I missed you buddy. How are ya? Also who’s the boy next to you?” Klaus chuckled softly, messing with Fiona’s hair a little bit and said “Fiona, homie- this is my boyfriend Dave. Dave, this is my homie Fiona.” Fiona waved softly at Dave while Dave waved back at her and said “It’s nice to meet you Fiona, heard so much stuff about you. Coming from Klaus ofc.” Fiona laughed a bit and started to stand next to Five while smiling softly.

Five started to ask “So, how long have you been sober Klaus?” Klaus responded with “Oh, uh, coming up on three years on January 15th, but who’s counting right?” Five said “that’s amazing” while Fiona gave Klaus a thumbs up, she was proud of her bestie becoming sober for three years and Fiona said “Really, good for you buddy. Proud of ya.” Klaus smiled softly at the two and said “thanks guys, really appreciate it.” Dave started to have an arm around Klaus while feeling proud of his boyfriend while Klaus, Five and Fiona did a toast with there beer bottles.

Feeling proud of themselfs for surviving.

Flame started to check her watch, sighing softly and said “I was supposed to join Grace at the ball pit- fuck. Gonna need somebody to go with me.” Five decided to go with her while the two waved goodbye at Klaus and Dave.

While the two were walking, Five said “I don’t really have a choice on joining, do I?” Flame said “nope, you don’t. You’re her uncle ofc.” As soon as they got to the ball pit, Five pushed Flame into it, laughing a bit at Flame while Flame got a little annoyed at him but soon she saw Grace, Grace was giggling and laughing at the duo while Flame rolled her eyes playfully. Soon enough, Five got in as well- he didn’t like it but eh. You win some, you lose some.

•

•

•

a/n: well- how’s that yall? good? good. hope yall enjoyed this little oneshot/drabble of s4 flame and everybody else. Yes- I added Dave b/c he and Klaus were fucking cute! Anyway, hope I wrote Five better then *cough* Steve *cough* did. I do appreciate freedback- so if you got any freedback on this.. let me know!

anyway, have a great rest of your weekend, day, night or wherever you live. Stay safe and take care of yourself ^v^

-author anon !

disclaimer, you are not allowed to copy and paste my work on to wattpad, a03 or deviantart or tumblr. that’s stealing and plagiarizing. And I will not allow that. >:(

[aalghul]

Nice post about Roy I like how kind your response was. But yeah as a Roy fan I find the idea that he would hate anyone but the man who killed his daughter to be silly. Cause like thing is Roy has a line till he doesn’t. Like you said Roy draws a line for himself with Cheshire but he never ever 100 percent commits. Even after the bombing and her holding a gun to Lian and threatening to shoot her while trying to escape prison, in his time with the League he still is hinted to love her and still lets Lian visit her. Flash forward to now they are still on again off again lovers/enemies. The old Titans ‘Roy breaks up with Cheshire’ story was written like it was the full end of their relationship but DC loves that concept and in comics they will always come back.

With Mia or people hurting his family Roy would not care at the end of the day unless that family member died sorry. Roy forgave a woman who babysat Lian and helped terrorists kidnap her and then broke his leg in an attempt to kill Cheshire. No he didn’t just forgive her he offered to let her keep babysitting Lian saying he didn’t think he had the right to judge anyone.

People other than Roy say he belongs in the light but Roy kind of hates that about himself and actively denies and resists it because he thinks the dirty work is the real important work. He worked in fantasy superhero CIA for years and even killed for them, left and made the Outsiders, initially didn’t want to leave and basically stayed till the last second till his mental health gave in, joined the League and didn’t actually have a great time with the group or ever really believe he belonged, had a horrible ending with that group and became a straight up villain after the ROA fiasco and worked on a team of villains all of whom except Slade he expressed some sort of sympathy for.

Roy just doesn’t give up on people and kind of really wants to do antihero work and tries to again and again. The age/maturity thing kind of gets it but that only matters where you connect Roy and Jason, they are peers and work together in some fashion off screen for a year in Outsiders, put a ROA recovering villain Roy with really any post UTRH Jason save Morrison Jason and you could write an intergenerational friendship arc easy.

People forget but before 52 first started a lot of people wanted a Jason Roy book. It was floated around as an idea for ages and rumor was even Winick made a pitch but can’t confirm. When 52 was first announced a lot of people thought not only that RHATO made sense and only Kory didn’t belong but thought the comic had real potential. And really it might have since Roy and Cheshire at one point would not have made sense for either character and notably everything about their relationship happened off screen. We give things a pass because of how well the stories are written. I think most issues with comics are people moralizing about the characters and saying they would never do this or that when 9 times out of 10 the writer just shat over the execution of a concept and the writing as is was shit.

-- i’m just going to include my thoughts down here --

I agree with everything you said about Roy just not being the person who holds a lot of hatred for people. He comes off as strict and even angry sometimes, but at heart, he’s one of the most understanding characters.

I always took Roy’s failed attempts at being an anti-hero as proof that it’s not what he’s meant to do. He keeps trying because he sees his sympathy and desire to do more as a sign that he needs to get his hands dirtier, but each time leaves him with the realization that he can’t be doing that type of work. He was reluctant to leave the Outsiders because he didn’t want to abandon them, that’s why he does leave as soon as Ollie provides funding for them (which he also does specifically because he knows Roy wouldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to, otherwise). The Outsiders did end in Roy himself realizing he couldn’t stay there.

I think Roy has always worked best in the various Titans teams he’s been part of. Unfortunately, Teen Titans (2003) set a new status quo with enough of the original Titans leaving and the team working under the leadership of younger members even when more experienced Titans were present. So we could never really go back to the titans as they were in any of the iterations prior to that.

I don’t think Jason and Roy worked together for a whole year; it was just Jason reaching out to Dick, and then subsequently teaming up with him and Roy to give them information of Black Lightning. Which definitely worked to let Roy know the type of person that Jason is (i.e. not a villain), but it was also very much through Dick, so it would again be a reminder of the time that Jason, as a child, teamed up with Roy and the others. Roy’s affinity to taking a guiding role when he works with team members significantly younger than him is just such an important part of who he is that I can’t get past it. I don’t mean to say that Roy’s going to treat Jason like a child, but that there’s going to be a significant gap between their friendship as compared to the friendship that post-flashpoint gave them. Roy is just at a completely different stage from Jason, who is essentially just beginning to catch up on life as a teenager. That difference can’t be ignored easily.

I didn’t read comics back then (and was also a very little kid lol) so I didn’t know about that being something people wanted back then! It must be disappointing to see how it’s turned out.

At the end of the day, I personally think that Roy and Jason could work together very well short-term, and then it would have to end in them walking their separate ways because Roy can never stay in the dark too long, whether he admits it or not. I get what you’re saying about good execution making all the difference, though! I just want to stay as consistent to Roy’s character as possible, so Jason and Roy as best friends/a long-term anti-hero duo never quite works out.

[fever-project]

All the LU Warriors headcanons I’m seeing in the tags makes me want to share my own so uh, have them.

He rarely talked for most of his life. He never really wanted to after puberty hit, he didn’t like how his voice sounded. So he barely interacted with anyone that wasn’t his immediate family. After the war started, however, he wanted to talk more. Even though Proxi could talk for him-which he was very grateful for-he wanted to be able to voice his own opinions by himself.

Speaking of immediate family, he currently has none. He and Linkle are not biologically related, but after the war they now consider themselves to siblings. Linkle’s older by two days.

Wars has a thing for his Zelda(I’m not calling her Artemis I do not like that name for her)but he hasn’t made any moves yet. He gets nauseous whenever he thinks about dating in any kind(mainly Cia’s fault). Zelda respects this, and doesn’t show that she has any romantic feelings about him whatsoever because she doesn’t want to scare him. Wars just thinks his love is one sided, making him wanting to ask her out even less. Linkle’s trying her best to help them out, but she hasn’t been successful yet.

Enough about love, because Wars is a-spec. He’s somewhere on there, I know it. Definitely not me projecting.

Wars loves clothing and the occasional dressing up. He never tells anyone this, but everyone during the war knew it. He got the others to participate too.

Legend once sarcastically criticized Wars’ fashion choice and he changed into his Koholint Hero’s Clothes for a week. Wars did not tell him why he did or what the clothes were called, but Wars felt so proud of himself. Legend just thought he was just making fun of him for his pink hair or something.

Wants to tell Legend so bad about Marin, but Marin probably told him that if he ever meets her Link, to not tell him he met her. She didn’t want to give him any hope that they’ll meet again, because they won’t.

Wars loves fairies. He loves them so much. He loves feeding them, dressing them up, taking care of them, all of that. Fairies love him too, because he tries to feed them whenever the chain isn’t looking. He tries to make sure that no one else knows, since he thinks it’s a bit embarrassing.

Wars wants to use everyone’s items one day. He had so much fun using the Spinner during the war, not to mention the Fire Rod. But he never really asks, since he doesn’t wants to come off as weird.

The ends of his scarf/cape thing used to be red, like in the game, but the dye faded after a few years. He tried to redye it, but it didn’t really work.

He was the captain of his own, specific group consisting of the wayward warriors from across time. They all did interact with regular soldiers, but they mostly worked with just each other and looked to Wars to guide them. Since he usually only command with these guys so I guess he was more of a lieutenant? Idk how ranks work tbh. Nevertheless, he was always called captain by the others, since most of them didn’t really know how ranks worked either. Captain just seemed to fit him. The others who did know about ranks just went along with calling him captain.

Impa helped him so much you have no idea. He was a pretty good leader by himself, but he always appreciated the help.

Both dislikes Tingle and is eternally confused by him. And disturbed. Can’t bring himself to hate him though.

Wars knows things. He’ll nod his head along whenever Time or Wind tell the group their stories, he’s heard them all before anyhow. He does the same with Legend, Sky, and Twilight when they share as well, since he’s heard a lot from their friends. He usually pretends that he doesn’t know anything, however. He’s just nodding along to nod along.

Wars hasn’t told Sky that he met Fi before yet. He doesn’t want to give him any false hope that she’ll wake up again.

he hopes that she’ll wake up too.

Wars doesn’t really understand Four’s negative view of dark magic, or anyone’s negative view of dark magic. A few of his items has a dark attribute, he’s worked with people who had dark magic(like midna), and he’s taken care of dark fairies. Dark magic is just like fire or water magic to him, it’s another type of magic that just so happens to be used by bad guys a lot.

Wars gets along pretty well with Twilight. I’d like to think he’s close with everybody, and besides Time and Wind(and the more teasing relationship with Legend) Twilight’s up there. Probably tied with Sky.

Probably interacts with Hyrule, Wild, and Four the least, compared to others. They all get along, but he almost never actively searches for them to hang out.

Very vague whenever he talks about his adventure. Usually just says something about the war and refuses to elaborate. Everyone’s usually fine with this since most of them do the same thing, but he’s dramatic about it.