#also so late to the firefly train but yeah I really like them.. rip

[sirenrena]

spring spring spring

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

You’ve Been Everything (Steve Rogers x OFC!)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC!Orchid Black

Rating: PG-13 - Cursing & Angst

Word Count: 1,787

Side Characters: Natasha Romanoff and Frank Castle

Synopsis: They haven’t shared a bed in months, the snap has changed them both. There is no one to blame.

Info: Based off the song If This Is The End by Ryan McMullan. All mistakes are mine and the dividers are from @firefly-graphics ♥️ This was going to be a Drabble but it got away from me and also it was not my intention to use my face claim for Remedy for Orchid, but Ksenia Solo just fit.

Being a vigilante wasn’t easy when in a relationship, it especially wasn’t easy when you were with the one and only Steve Rogers, the former Captain America. Things had been hard for Steve way before the snap had even happened, it was straining their relationship, with him on the run, Orchid back in New York, working alongside the likes of Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and occasionally the Spiderkid who had help and forcing Steve to go into hiding. (Not that Orchid blamed Peter, she had no one to blame really but Tony and Steve. Why couldn’t they be like two normal grown men and work their problems out, hell even go to couples counseling?) When the snap happened Foggy, Karen, Jessica, and Luke disappeared, Hell’s Kitchen needed Frank, Matt and her more than ever, along with Queens when Spiderkid didn’t return, Orchid was running ragged. While Steve was silent and stoic, it unnerved her.

What used to be nights curled up on the couch watching documentaries together, playing board games, and cooking together, turned into Orchid staying out late, walking the streets late into the early mornings, oftentimes sleeping on the couch, taking meals from Frank’s fridge of leftovers. Steve had taken to sleeping over at the compound many times, avoiding going back to the apartment in Brooklyn, any chance to avoid having to speak to his girlfriend. He had let Orchid down one too many times and the longing stares she gave him were just a reminder of it.

It was spring going on 3 years after the snap, Frank noticed the dark circles under Orchid's eyes were getting darker and darker. Sighing he scratched his jaw before clearing his throat earning the dark haired girl's attention.

“If Karen was here I would ask her to have this conversation was here, fuck, even Jessica, but since their not, I’ll do it. I think you need to break up with Nomad or whatever Stephen is going by these days. You can’t keep losing sleep over this relationship because whatever you guys have now is not a relationship. I mean you share more meals with me than you do him, I’ve shared a bed more with you than you have with him just this past year.” Before Frank could continue, Orchid reached out silencing the big guy.

“First off it’s Steve, and secondly I know you're right, it’s just, part of me still loves him. I mean whoever thought me Orchid Black would date a man like Steve? He was just so great at the beginning and even just before the whole Tony debacle. Even while searching for Bucky he made time for us, I made time for him, then when he went on the lamb, he made sure to get letters to me, he was a dream. It’s just fallen apart Frank after he lost Sam and Bucky, and I get it, I really do. I just wish he would let me in, but maybe I have this wall up to and it’s over you know?” Orchid felt the tears building up but she wasn’t going to let them fall, no she was going to be strong. She hadn’t cried since that day when she was at a steak out with Karen and Jessica, for both an article Karen was writing, bad guy she and Jessica were trying to take down, when suddenly her friends turned to ash right before her eyes. When she got back to Frank’s place she found out about Foggy and Luke, she cried.

“Then you know what needs to be done.” Frank sighed, taking a gulp of his freshly poured coffee. Reaching into the pocket of her ripped skinny jeans she pulled her phone out reading the time behind the cracked screen. If she left now, she could beat Steve back to the compound upstate and actually have a talk with him.

“Yeah, yeah I do. Can I borrow your truck to go upstate, to the compound?” Orchid looked up to see the keys to the Chevrolet that she had helped him restore hanging from his pointer. With a promise to return it safely within the next 12 or so hours she turned on heel making her way to say her goodbye.

Friday had just let her drive write on through the gates even though it had been over a year since she had last stepped foot on the compound. Orchid pulled as close as she could get to the front doors so that way she could get away fast, it also looked like it could rain any minute. Keeping her head down as to not bring attention to herself she walked into the building making her way to the Avengers living quarters.

“Hello Miss. Black I have informed Miss. Romanoff of your arrival and she asks you to please join her in the main conference room, she has the sangria.” letting a silent Fuck out from under her breathe, getting off the elevator she cracked her neck and knuckles trying her best to relax. Natasha stood in the doorway down the hall leaning against the door jam, a tiny smirk on her face, her red hair was growing in, mixing in with the white blonde she had gone while on the run, it was doing a nice ombré effect.

“You don’t call, you don’t text back, you don’t write to me, what did you do?” Orchid hugged Natasha as she walked into the conference room, she owed her everything, from her life, to the fact she was even ever with Steve. Blushing Orchid took a seat beside Natasha and crossed her legs in an extravagant leather highback chair, immediately taking a sip of the fruity wine drink, avoiding Natasha’s question.

“Okay, seriously this is unlike you, usually when we get together you have so much to talk about, but lately you have been avoiding me. Come to think of it, both you and Rogers have been avoiding me, him I can understand somewhat, but when I ask him about you he just changes the subject. Talk to me Black.” It was Natasha’s turn to take a drink of her wine, while examining her friend, her ex-protégé of sorts that she and Clint once saved while on a mission. The circles under her eyes were much darker than they once had been, she was thinner than she had been before the snap, not that she had much to lose, she looked to be in a state of permanent melancholy, which wasn’t hard to be in the state earth was in.

“I’m breaking up with Steve.” Natasha stopped mid-sip and looked Orchid in the eyes, the trained assassin almost looked surprised but she was trained so well that if you didn't know her you wouldn't know. “It’s just that as much as I love him that we could have found our way back to each other after the snap.” Orchid placed her glass on the table and pushed her long locks of hair back with her other hand, a nervous tick of hers. Natasha sighed before slugging back the rest of her drink.

“You know you’d think as someone who runs group therapy he would be trying to make things work with you.” Scoffing Natasha leaned back crossing her arms clearly annoyed with her super soldier friend. Orchid just shrugged, and stared out the windows as the rain was starting to come down heavily.

“Well, just because you aren’t with Steve anymore doesn’t mean you can’t come see me or you can’t talk to me anymore. You were mine and Clint’s friend before you ever started dating him, Clint would be upset to see you like this.” the familiar feeling of tears building up came back, but she swore she wouldn’t cry and she won’t. Friday alerted them to Steve arriving back at the compound, Orchid got off the expensive chair so she could meet Steve at the elevator, in hopes of speaking with him in the living room. Natasha grabbed her hand giving it 3 squeezes, Orchid returning the sentiment.

Steve wanted to eat and catch up with Natasha and see if she found out anything new from anyone, then hopefully turn in for the night. Today’s group had been longer than usual, Mark who lost both his wife and daughter in snap, had finally gotten the courage to tell his story, and because he did, Luciell who lost her folks, wife, and son spoke for the first time as well. The meetings by the end of them always had him thinking of Sam, making him wonder what he would say, what he would do for the folks, was he making him proud?

Orchid, she stood right outside the elevator when he got off it. He had not seen her since he had gone home  to their shared apartment to get more clothes to bring back to the compound a couple weeks before. Orchid he noticed looked almost gaunt, not like the woman who had captured his attention years ago, the one he loved. Steve stood frozen staring at her, he didn’t notice the duffle at her feet till she slid it over to him.

“At one point in time I would have said you were the one for me and I’d like to think maybe you thought the same, but with all the pain we just didn’t cope all that well. It obviously tore us apart and we have been avoiding this for much too long trying to spare each other’s feelings, look where it’s gotten us.” Orchid’s voice cracked, so much for not crying. “We can’t even be in the same room as each other anymore and that’s not love Steve, so I’m doing you a favor and letting you go. You’ve been everything I could have ever asked for and so much more.” Getting on her tippy toes, Orchid leaned forward kissing Steve on the lips one last time. Not giving him a chance to talk or make a move, she sidestepped around him getting on the elevator letting the tears fall.

Perhaps part of her hoped that Steve would follow but the other part of her was just so relieved to have said goodbye. It was done and over. Upstairs Steve stood frozen eyes shut with a single tear slipping down the side of his face almost in shock. He knew it had been a long time coming but it still had hurt to see her go. An arm to his bicep pulled him from his gloom, a hope hit that it would be her coming back, but when he opened his eyes to Natasha’s green eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Will it though?”

“Yeah.”

[our-smooty]

Picnic Paradise

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Teen

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Fluff

Summary: 2Doc Week 2019 Day 1- Favorite Song: Kansas

That led them to today. 2D had planned everything and even made all the food. Murdoc handled the refreshments, making sure to hold back on the booze, but not too much. They were sitting in a little park, far out of the way of the main streets. It even had a little duck pond. It was sickeningly domestic, but also quite peaceful. Murdoc allowed himself to relax back on the checkered blanket they’d laid out under a suitably large tree. 2D pulled out a portable CD player and set it on the ground.

“Goin’ old-school, are we?” Murdoc chuckled. The CD player was dusty and dented. 2D pulled out a similarly well-loved CD case and popped in a CD, fiddling with the volume nob until the summery notes of The Now Now filled the air.

“Though it would be nice, and I put my iPod through the washer las’ week…” 2D answered, grabbing a sandwich from the cute little basket he brought with him. “We haven’t listened to it together yet, since you’ve been back.”

Murdoc grunted in agreement, reaching into the basket for a beer. “Sure, sure, it’s nice enough.” It was actually really nice to act like a normal couple for once. Murdoc had never had that with any of his past partners, had never felt comfortable enough to stick around. Stuart was, as usual, the exception to that rule.

They sat quietly, just each other and the good weather. They didn’t get weather like this very often in England, and it was one of the upsides of living in the States. The last few notes of Humility faded out, transitioning to Tranz, then Hollywood. Murdoc couldn’t help but laugh slightly; he could never get over the fact that they’d collaborated with Snoop Dog again.

“What’s so funny Muds?” Stu asked, sitting up again and ripping a few blades of grass up from the ground.

“Nothin’ Bluebird, jus’ can’t believe we’re here.” He hoped 2D would get it, but he didn’t have a lot of faith. As expected, 2D looked confused but nodded along anyway, like he always did. It was part of his charm, that naiveness and loyalty, one that Murdoc had taken advantage of for years. Not anymore though.

“It’s a nice park, innit?” Stu hummed, his mouth full of bread and cold cuts. Murdoc didn’t bother explaining what he meant. Things went quiet again until the opening bassline of Kansas started.

“Hey Stu?” Murdoc started hesitantly. The singer looked over to him and set the sandwich aside, giving Murdoc his full attention, those big black eyes trained solely on him.

“Yeah Muds?”

“I mean t’ask… What’s this one about?” He’d wanted to ask since he got home, but hadn’t had the courage. Today, surrounded by sunlight and greenery, felt like the right time. “The other ones I can puzzle out, but I don’t get this one at all.”

2D was quiet for a bit, studying Murdoc intently, before answering. “Well, I dunno. I wrote a lot of these real late at nigh’ or off my face. But I think… I was my way of sayin’ I could move on with my life. But at the same time I was missin’ you and I was worried you’d move on too so…” he was obviously getting upset, little sniffles and deep breaths beginning to interrupt his speech. “And I was so worried that you were upset at me for movin’ on and that you wouldn’t want me anymore cause of how much I changed and--”

Murdoc sat up then, facing the singer. He set his beer aside and took one of 2D’s hands in his own, squeezing gently.

“Stu, none of what happened back then was your fault. I was being a tosser, and you were jus’ throwin’ my own shit back in my face, and rightly so.” It wasn’t as hard to admit that as it would have been in the past. It felt good to be able to be open and honest with the person he cared about most.

“Maybe, but I coulda visited you at least,” Stu said, his fingers wiggling and fidgeting in Murdoc’s hold. “At the time I was scared and worried you’d be pissed so I jus’ tried to forget, but I couldn’t forget you Murdoc.”

Murdoc’s face flushed slightly. He could handle sex and dirty talk just fine, but he was still getting used to 2D’s sweet nature. “I’m glad you didn’t come. I was in a nasty mood mos’ of the time there. It wasn’t until the end when I sorted myself out.”

In the background, Kansas was ending leading into the next track. Murdoc took his free hand and raised it up to 2D’s face, stroking his jawline where a little bit of blue stubble was showing. “I uh, I don’t wanna make you cry anymore D. I wanna be better.”

“You are,” the singer responded, putting his hand over Murdoc’s and leaning into his touch. “You’re so much better, and I’m happy.”

Murdoc cleared his throat roughly, drawing back. “Ok, ok. Enough mushy stuff,” he said gruffly, trying to cover up the fact he was getting emotional. 2D just laughed a high bell-like sound that made the bassist’s heart lurch. Satan, he was in deep.

‘But we haven’t even gotten to Fireflies of Souk Eye yet!” he laughed, turning the volume on the CD player up. “That’s the real romantic bit.”

“You’re killin’ me Stu, you’re killin’ your boyfriend,” Murdoc whined, again laying back on the blanket. This time 2D followed, tucking into the bassist’s side and resting his head on his shoulder. Both men were staring up at the cloudless sky, admiring the way the light shone through the tree above them. Murdoc begrudgingly admitted to himself that maybe this date hadn’t been such a stupid idea after all, but he wouldn’t tell 2D that.

[amora-recs]

god save our queen┊bae joohyun┊pt. 1

des: deep inside the Black Forest lies a secret. I fell love for this secret. I died for this secret.

word count: 1.5k

parts: ii. iii.

   Travelling to another country at a young age isn’t anything new for most people. But as I set foot outside of the airport and into a whole new world, I couldn’t help myself but awe at the foreign streets, smells and people. It wasn’t too cold nor was it too warm, it was the perfect weather for June, the beginning of summer vacation. Although papa told me multiple times about the pretty cabin at the edge of the forest back home in Germany, I had never seen it. Neither his new girlfriend.

“… Are you ready?” my dad asked me, taking hold of my right hand softly as if this was part of our casual routine. Wake up, get a divorce, leave to another country. Completely and utterly ordinary. After a short nod of approval, we entered the black car, on our way to the Black Forest.

“It’s alright to cry, y’know?” was what my mother repeatedly told me as we left the courtroom.

   I knew it was alright, in fact, it was more than alright, it was necessary. Or so I thought. Any twelve years old would cry after finding out their parents just got divorced, right? Getting it out of the system and so on. But I didn’t feel the need to -- heck, I didn’t know how or what to feel. I was scared, depressed, confused, disappointed with myself! It was too much for my little head to comprehend all at once already, and now I also had to cry?! I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. And my mother acknowledged that. Hopefully. As I held for dear life onto my court bear, I glanced at the woman holding my much smaller hand. It’s going to be just the two of us now, huh? Does that mean I won’t wake up to the ticklish smell of pancakes anymore? Does that mean there won’t be any more bedtime stories and pillow forts? What about Cherry’s morning walks? Or the late park visits? I did all those things with daddy only. Will mommy take his place now? She had always told me she has to work… But daddy worked too, I’m sure she can do it! My train of thoughts came to a stop as soon as mom let go of my hand, the warm traces of her hold fading too fast.

“Sweetie,” she called out, her pretty eyes all watery. I hate seeing her like this. “Mommy has to go for a while now, so be a good girl for me, ok?” her question was soon followed by a kiss on the forehead, making me smile, nodding along with her. The next thing I knew, daddy was helping me put my seatbelt on, ready to go on our new adventure, as he said. My heart was pounding. What about mom? Why won’t she be coming? I hope she’ll be alright. Soon enough, everything turned into a blur. Everything around me was tinted in grey and the sudden need for sleep hit me like a ton of bricks.

   I woke up to the sound of birds. I fell asleep, again. After the emotional rollercoaster I went through who could blame me. I glanced outside the open window of the back seat, the joyful chirps getting louder and louder. The refreshing smell of evergreen surrounded me, complimenting the greenery in front of me together with the pale sun. The sky was still blue, barely covered by white clouds. “What a nice day…” papa murmured taking in the scenery with a big smile, making me smile along with him. I missed it. “How about we do some exploring after we get settled in?” he looked through the rear view mirror. All I did was smile more. I couldn’t help it! I thought, for a second, that maybe things aren’t so bad–

“What about our alone time, darling?” Patricia, apparently, asked with a pout, her dark red lipstick exaggerating her features.

“Oh, right! I completely forgot about it!” wait, what? “Sorry, doll. Looks like we have to go exploring another time.”

“It’s ok, I guess…” it was my turn to pout, planting myself deeper into the backseat. Not even the prettiest birds could cheer me up. All I can do now is wait.

    I’ve waited and been patient, for two whole months, but my promised ‘next time’ never arrived. I waited, looking outside the window of my room at the pretty trees and flowers. I waited, reading hundreds of books outside, in the small wooden folly. I waited, picking flowers, naming them, ripping them. I waited together with the fireflies every night, dancing and talking to them. But our ‘next time’ still never came… So tell me, daddy, when will it?

“I’m going outside for a bit,” I yelled, tying up my shoelaces. A sour taste tainted my mouth as soon as Patricia opened her lips, giving me ‘the ok’. At this point, I’m not even surprised by my dad’s lack of response. He gave up around two weeks ago. I winced as I closed the door behind me, ready for my so awaited adventure. It didn’t take me too long to reach my destination. After all, the cabin was so isolated for this exact reason. For two months I’ve wanted to see what’s inside this green beautiful mess, and now the time has finally come.

   I walked with a slight bounce in my step, it was as if my eyes gleamed, my mouth twitching into a smile. It all felt so fresh, so good, so green! I loved every second of my little on foot road trip. The sun was shining brightly, hitting my face from in between the trees. The gentle ripple, the cheery chirping, it all blended into a beautiful sonata I never got tired of… But the best part was the flowers. All those daisies, waiting for me to smell them, to sing them and to pick them up. The smell of berries, cotton and dried poppy tears accompanied the warm air. It was literally and figuratively a heaven in hiding. For some reason, I stopped. I wish mom was here. I wish dad was here. I wish they were both here. Why aren’t they here, why did mom leave? In just a few seconds everything fell apart and I didn’t know why. I could feel a line forming in between my brows and my eyes welling up. What kind of fairy tale is this?! All I have to do now is wait for Prince Charming to come and wipe away my tears and live happily ever after, right? Although it wasn’t a prince who wiped my tears, a princess sure made me smile. Her giggle was the first thing I heard. Then a sweet melody followed. It was soothing. It was pretty. My feet moved on their own as if I was attracted by a magnet, but it’s not like I wanted to stop either.

   Soon enough, as the melody continued, I stopped in front of a small glade, right at the mouth of a thin, sparkling waterfall shielded by green, musty rocks and a bed of flowers. A bed of daisies, to be precise. Though the princess standing in front of me caught my attention faster than I’d like to admit. She was wearing a white, supposedly strapless, dress covered by a dark green cloak, hiding half of her grinning smile and cherry cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with joy while she sang the group of bunnies a serenade. I blinked. Once, twice, thrice, yet I still couldn’t believe my eyes. So now magical princesses really exist? How and why wasn’t I informed?! My gracious steps were unfortunately futile as I stepped on a twig, scaring the small animals in the process. Before I could scare her away though, I tripped over my own feet, completely ruining the flowers underneath me.

“Oh God, are you ok?” the sweet smell of daisies filled my nostrils, making me feel more conscious than ever. I just royally screwed myself over in front of a very beautiful girl in the span of one minute. “Yeah, don’t worry.” I managed to answer with my face buried deep into the ground. The ground was nice. The ground didn’t have starry eyes and rosy cheeks. The ground also didn’t have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard, nor did it have hands that lifted my face gently, forcing me to support myself on my muddy forearms. 

“You don’t seem fine to me.” it’s official, I’m dead. That has to be the only plausible explanation as to why was this happening to me. It’s normal for kids to have crushes, but this? This was ridiculous. I didn’t know what to feel. Could someone this pretty be dangerous? What kind of question is that? Of course, they can! The sudden realization made my heart pound and face pale instantly.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” I let out the breath I was apparently holding. “... Too hard that is.” in that exact moment, my whole face scrunched up in fear.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Of Bullets and Big Buck Hunter

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Language, as always, but this one is pretty tame. 

Written for @reigningqueenofwords Aim to Misbehave challenge! Thanks for letting me participate in this :) love me some Firefly. My prompt was  “Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets.”

“The usual?” Katie asks, before you can even flop down onto your stool.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you say. “How’s your momma doin’? Any better today?”

“Oh, you know,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you grimace. You’ve spent it working on a murder case, a fucking grisly one, which is not a normal thing for your tiny town, but Katie doesn’t need to know anything about that. She slides you a Jameson and ginger and you take a grateful sip.

Katie’s wiggling her eyebrows in a way that should maybe be meaningful, but mostly just looks like a seizure.

“What?” you ask. She jerks her head to the side a couple times, then raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly next to you, and you turn and look, which turns out to be a total mistake, because your mouth drops open a bit and you’re afraid your eyes are bugging out like a cartoon character. You get an impression of jaw and stubble and cheekbones, and then he’s turning to look at you. His eyes are green and gold and gorgeous, and you are 100% staring, shit.

“Hey,” he says, and his tongue flicks out over his lower lip.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Sam,” he says. The hand he holds out for you to shake is strong and rough, and you never knew you had a thing for hands but this particular hand makes you feel feverish in a really nice way.

You manage to croak out your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “You live around here?” He has dimples. Like cute little Shirley Temple dimples.

“Yup, born and raised,” you say, sorta wishing it wasn’t true. “How about you?”

“Just passing through,” he says, and you try to fight your disappointment. “My brother and I travel a lot. Here for business.”

“What do you do?”

“We’re hunters,” he says. You get the distinct impression you’re being lied to, because who the fuck makes a living as a hunter, but you don’t press it.

“Bet I can still beat you at Big Buck Hunter,” you say. He grins.

You win the first game, which is sort of a miracle, because you’re so distracted by him you can barely think straight. He’s just so tall, and he smells fucking great, and it’s sorta just not fair how attractive he is. On top of all that, he’s funny, and every time you laugh, he smiles like he’s proud of himself, and his dimples do a thing.

“I’ll get another round if you’ll give me another chance,” he says. His eyes are sparkling. So you dig up some change, and Sam orders more drinks. As soon as his back is turned Katie gives you a thumbs up. You’re just mentally high-fiving yourself for not doing anything too stupid yet.

You get your ass handed to you in the second game, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Maybe he wasn’t lying about being a hunter. He definitely knows his way around a gun, even a little plastic gun that looks flimsy and ridiculous set against his broad shoulder; there’s something kinda scary about how capable his hands look.

“I guess we need to have a tiebreaker,” he says.

“I’ll get drinks,” you say. He’s looking at you, smiling, with his head tilted, like the world’s sexiest puppy.

You’re halfway to the bar when you hear the rumblings of a fight about to break out: an indignant, “Hey, man!” and what sounds like a whole bunch of macho bullshit. You turn around with a sigh. Sure enough, it’s two of your regulars, guys you’ve had to book for public intoxication (and, in one case, urinating in the public park’s sandbox, which...gross) on more than one occasion.

To your surprise, Sam’s making a beeline for the little cluster of men.  

“Trust me, you don’t want to do this,” you hear one of them saying, a stranger, but then he gives Sam a look, and you realize this must be his brother. He looks familiar in a way that’s going to make you crazy if you think about it too much.

“Hey!” you bark from across the room. Craig and Turner’s heads turn to you, fast, and you give them your Scary Cop face. Turner mumbles something, but they’re backing down, walking away. Good. Sam gives you a quizzical look. You realize it must look funny, those two slinking away from little old you, and you smile to yourself.

Sam and his brother have a quick, muttered conversation, and then Sam starts walking back to you. He’s frowning. 

“My brother wants to go,” he says. You’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the regret on his face, which is all sorts of flattering.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say.

“I, uh-” he starts, and the way he shifts his weight and shoves his hands into his pockets is 100% adorable. “I’ll be around for another night or two. Rain check on the tiebreaker?”

“Yeah,” you grin. He programs your number into his phone, and smiles at you over his shoulder as they’re leaving. You wonder if you’re blushing in a cute, delicate sorta way or in a tomato sort of way. Probably the latter.

------

You’ve been at work for exactly one hour, and you are ready to scream. You’re pretty sure your head is going to explode. And sure, you stayed out a little too late last night, what with the gorgeous stranger who got your number!!!, but that gorgeous stranger is honestly the only good thing in your entire life at the moment. All hell seems to have broken loose, because nobody can make head or tail of this murder case, and you’ve spent the morning wading through paperwork.

At this point you might not even be mad if your head exploded. Maybe then it’d hurt less.

“...FBI,” comes a low, familiar voice from outside your office. You half-hear an exchange that sounds like even more paperwork headed your way, and then there’s a knock on your doorframe.

“Come in,” you say absently, still absorbed in the form you’re filling out, trying to figure out how exactly to describe the way the victim’s heart was ripped out without sounding like a complete psycho. You hear the door click closed, and you look up.

Sam. Sam wearing a suit. And yeah, okay, that’s definitely the best thing you’ve seen all week, but what the fuck are Sam and his suit and his ridiculously attractive face doing in your office?

And then you look next to Sam, at the man you assume is his brother, and you do a double take. He looks so damn familiar. You can’t place his face, and now you’ve been staring for a couple seconds too long...but he’s staring at you the same way, brow furrowed over bright green eyes (yeah, you notice his eyes, because apparently the gorgeous gene just runs in the family) and your headache intensifies.

“Shit,” the brother says suddenly, his face draining of all color, and just as suddenly, you remember.

“Hands up,” you say, and you have your gun trained on him before he can blink. “Put your hands up where I can see them.”

Sam is looking from you to his brother and back again, completely mystified.

“Dean? Do you guys know each other?” he says. And then, to you, “You’re a cop? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop?”

“First of all,” you say, through gritted teeth, “I didn’t not tell you. You didn’t ask. Second, your brother is about to be under all sorts of arrest, so I’d suggest shutting up.”

“I can explain-” Dean says.

“Dean, please explain why the pretty cop is pointing her gun at you,” Sam says, with the bitchiest bitchface you’ve seen this year and the tone of someone talking to a very slow toddler.

“Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets,” Dean says gingerly.

“You shot her?” Sam asks.

“No, I shot him,” you say. You can’t really help the note of pride that creeps into your voice. It had been a good shot, even if it had (obviously) not done its job.

“I was a demon,” Dean says, as if that explains everything. Sam rolls his eyes. You shake your head, trying to clear your ears, because you can’t have heard that right.

“Come again?”

“I think we need to have a conversation,” Sam sighs, and you give him your best “no shit” look. “I promise, we can explain everything. Here, you can handcuff Dean to the chair, if that’ll make you feel better, just give me a chance.” Dean glares at him, but sits down slowly with his hands raised. He doesn’t struggle when you cuff him.

You train your gun on Sam instead, and he winces, but also looks a little impressed.

“Talk.”

“Okay, so...we’re not exactly FBI agents.”

“No shit.”

“Well, what I told you at the bar last night...that was true. We’re hunters. Except we don’t hunt deer, we hunt monsters.”

You blink at him silently a few times.

“Ghosts are real. So are vampires, ghouls, all sorts of monsters you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Why in hell should I believe you?” you finally ask. 

“You’ve had some unusual deaths in the last week, right?” Sam asks. Your head is spinning, but you manage to nod. “We’re investigating those. We think it was a werewolf.”

You look from Sam to Dean and then up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer: whoever is out there, please save me from these raving motherfucking lunatics, amen.

“Hey, Cas, I think someone is praying to you,” Dean says with a little smirk.

And then, without any warning, there’s a man in a trenchcoat standing in your office, and it’s only because of years of training that you manage not to scream. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“What did you do this time, Dean?” the man asks, eyeing him impatiently.

“Dude, seriously? She’s freaked enough,” Sam says. Dean looks smug, like this might be retaliation for shooting him and handcuffing him to a chair.

“This is our friend Castiel,” Dean says. “He’s an angel. Angels are also real. Proof enough?”

Castiel raises a hand awkwardly. “Hi. I’m sorry for startling you.”

“Huh,” you say. It comes out all weak and shaky.

“Dean, try not to be such an asshole,” Castiel says. He rolls his eyes and vanishes.

“You’re taking this really well,” Sam says. In spite of everything, the warmth in his voice sends a rogue butterfly flapping through your stomach.

“Your brother is a demon.”

“Was!” Dean corrects.

“Your brother was a demon,” you say to Sam. He nods encouragingly. “Now he’s not?” He nods again.

“I promise, the thing you met was not Dean,” he says. “If you shot him now, he’d die.”

“Let’s not test that theory, though,” Dean says hurriedly. “You saw my eyes, right?”

“Black,” you croak.

“Yeah. That’s what demons look like,” Sam says. You stare at him stupidly. 

The truth is, it makes entirely too much sense, and in spite of yourself, you’re starting to believe him. You’d always wondered about those creepy-ass eyes...and about the round you’d put right through Dean’s heart, which didn’t even slow him down.

“We can help you find the werewolf. We’re sorta experts.”

You squeeze your eyes closed for a moment.

“I need a second. Or, like, a thousand seconds.”

“As long as you need,” Sam says. His voice is like goddamn velvet.

“If you guys can help with the murders-” you say slowly, and you’re hearing your own voice as if it’s far far away, and you really can’t believe what you’re saying, but- “then yeah, we could use your help. The deputy out there can show you around.”

Both of them make near-identical expressions of shock, and for a moment it’s incredibly obvious that they’re brothers.

“Seriously?” Dean asks. You shrug.

“Explains some of the shit I’ve seen,” you say.

Sam is grinning at you, looking like he just won the lottery or some shit. “You...took that well,” he says, pushing his hair behind his ears nervously.

“I’m pretty sure I’m insane and so are you,” you say evenly. “But it’s worth a shot, right?”

“We won’t let ya down,” Dean says. “Can I be uncuffed now?”

Sam watches you fiddle with the key. “Are you going to come with us? Show us the scene?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “I told you, I need a second. And possibly a Klonopin.”

He looks disappointed.

Dean bolts the second he’s uncuffed, saying, “See you at the car, Sammy.” He seems like he wants to be as far away from you as physically possible.  

Sam lingers, pausing at the door.

“Do you still want to get a drink later?” he asks tentatively.

“Do you still want to get a drink with me?” you ask, more than a little surprised. “I mean, I shot your brother...”

“Honestly? That makes me like you more,” he says, and those dimples are on full display. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

You’re grinning, and probably blushing like a tomato again. He seems to have that effect on you.

“He did,” you say. “And I’ll definitely need a drink, the way this day is going.”

“See you later, then.” He smiles at you one last time and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

You collapse into your desk chair and take a couple deep breaths.

Demons are real. A cute guy wants to take you out.

The world is a strange place.

.

.

Sequel is HERE. 

[revivedlegend]

Relationship Tag: Canary Wave for our trash selves

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

ALL THE CANARYWAVE ALL THE TIME MAN

Under the cut cause this is l o n g

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?: Mick, for sure. Sara’s more quiet fury.Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: I really don’t think either of them do. They might storm off to cool down on their own but I feel like Mick and Sara both know what hearing their partner threaten to leave would do to them so…Who actually keeps their word and leaves?: Again, like…I think they both storm off in the middle of an argument but not like leave leaveWho trashes the house?: ….I mean, probably both of them but the idea of Mick charring Sara’s stuff is pissing her off. But like they both do the knife throwing when they’re angry so…Do either of them get physical?: They probably both do tbh. Mick is the guy who said “I like you, Sara” before trying to kill her in canon. How often do they argue/disagree?: Probably a lot tbh. Not all the time but…maybe 65%.Who is the first to apologise?: Probably Sara more often but they’re both awful with words.

Sex:

Who is on top?: Alternates but we’ve established that Sara makes Mick more subby so…Who is on the bottom?: I mean, if Sara’s topping, that means Mick’s on the bottomWho has the strangest desires?: Probably Sara tbhAny kinks? Biting. Lots and lots of biting. We’re both hella ace though and haven’t figured anything else about these nerds yet.Who’s dominant in bed?: Sara. Let’s be real, it’s totally Sara.Is head ever in the equation?: Probably. If so, who is better at performing it?: I wanna say Sara just because Mick is pretty ace.Ever had sex in public?: NopeWho moans the most?: Whoever’s getting bitten lbrWho leaves the most marks? S a r aWho screams the loudest? Honestly? I’m…not entirely sure. You’ve got a trained assassin and a gruff quiet dude…I genuinely don’t know.Who is the more experienced of the two?: Sara. Hands down Sara.Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? I wanna say make love cause they’re fuCKING SAPSRough or soft?: Varies.How long do they usually last?: Pfffft hell if I know. Foreplay time varies.Is protection used?: Yup.Does it ever get boring? Doubt it.Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?: Idk the kitchen on the Waverider?

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?: Plan, no. But we do have that verse where they and Len somehow end up having Sarah fucking Walker from Chuck because all of our muses are related.If so, how many children do your muses want/have? …1 I guess.Who is the favorite parent? Sara lbrWho is the authoritative parent? Also Sara lbrWho is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Mick is the most indulgent dad ever.Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? M I C KWho turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Whoever can. Both of them I’m sureWho goes to parent teacher interviews? Sara cause she’s intimidating but looks less scary than she is.Who changes the diapers? Probably Sara tbhWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Sara; she’s hella nocturnal and a boarderline insomniac Who spends the most time with the children? Both of them tbh; family is automatically on the small list of people they care about.Who packs their lunch boxes? Mick and he gives them wAY TOO MANY SWEETSWho gives their children ‘the talk’? Sara obviWho cleans up after the kids? Probs SaraWho worries the most? Both of them but Sara is more vocal with her worriesWho are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? M I C K

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?: SARA LANCE IS A CUDDLY LITTLE CANARY OKAYWho is the little spoon? Honestly, it’s Mick more often than you’d think just because Sara clings to him a lotWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Is that even a question? Sara. Duh.Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? S a r aHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Shrug? Depends on the position I suppose?Who gives the most kisses? S A R AWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity? Throwing knives at shit. And drinking. Also Mick teaching her to bake cause please.Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Probably a bed cause then they can stretch out their legs?Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Sara.How often do they get time to themselves? Not often enough.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Mick if he’s hella drunk when he passes out.If both do, who snores the loudest? N/ADo they share a bed or sleep separately? Depends? They end up sharing a lotIf they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Again, depends, but usually, they cozy up. Mick is so goddamn warm always and Sara loves it.Who talks in their sleep? I feel like, if any of them, Mick would.What do they wear to bed? Mick’s a t-shirt and boxers kinda guy. Sara is tank top always and either shorts or just her underwear in warm weather and sweats in cold weather.Are either of your muses insomniacs? Sara’s pretty damn close but I feel like they both have difficulty sleeping.Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? ProbablyDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Depends on the sort of night they’re having.Who wakes up with bed hair? I mean…given that Mick’s head is shaved, I’m gonna have to say Sara.Who wakes up first? Sara, usually.Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? See, I feel like Sara would bring food for Mick to eat in bed but it’d be like toast and coffee and bacon, something easy. Mick would cook a proper meal but he’d just come in and tell her it’s ready.What is their favourite sleeping position? Sara sleeps on her side, one hand under her pillow able to reach for her dagger, facing the door. I feel like Mick sleeps either on his stomach or on his back with hands resting on his chest.Who hogs the sheets? Sara, unless the night is really cold, in which case it’s Mick and Sara just clings to him.Do they set an alarm each night? Nah. Sara’s got a pretty regular internal clock that gets her up and Sara is basically Mick’s alarm.Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yeah, probably.Who has nightmares? Both of them.Who has ridiculous dreams? Both of them but probably Mick moreWho sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Mick fucking Rory. He’s just lucky Sara is smol.Who makes the bed? Sara usually.What time is bed time? Ain’t that the million dollar question. They just get sleep when they can.Any routines/rituals before bed? Mick flicks his lighter a lot and stares for a while. Sometimes Sara meditates if she has the time to lower her heart rate and calm her mind.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Mick, hands down.

Work:

Who is the busiest? Sara, in most verses.Who rakes in the highest income? …I guess Mick cause he’s a thief. Except for Dr. Sara Lance verse cause…she’s a doctor.Are any of your muses unemployed? I mean they’re not legally employed but they have jobs so…yes and no, the both of them?Who takes the most sick days? …idkWho is more likely to turn up late to work? Mick probs but verse dependent. He’s gotta be at the bakery at like fucking 4 am sometimes.Who sucks up to their boss? …neither of them? In half our AUs, they’re self employed and they both give shit to Rip…I guess Sara given that she and Rip get along the best?What are their jobs? Verse dependent but in main it’s time traveling crime fighters.Who stresses the most? Sara, lbrDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I think Sara really enjoys her jobs in her AUs except for RENT AU. And Mick grows to like being a Legend and being a florist and…whatever he does in RENT AU. Is he a filmmaker since he’s kinda the Mark of the OT3?Are your muses financially stable? …I guess?

Home:

Who does the washing? SaraWho takes out the trash? MickWho does the ironing? Probably Sara?Who does the cooking? MickWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Neither of them, Mick would just burn the house down cause.Who is messier? MickWho leaves the toilet roll empty? MickWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Both of them but mostly MickWho forgets to flush the toilet? MickWho is the prankster around the house? MickWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? MickWho mows the lawn? MickWho answers the telephone? SaraWho does the vacuuming? SaraWho does the groceries? Mick - if he cooks, he picks the food though Sara usually goes with him to help.Who takes the longest to shower? SaraWho spends the most time in the bathroom? Sara

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Doubt it.How many cars do they own? …One? One plus Sara’s motorcycleDo they own their home or do they rent? Own probably. Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? I feel like Sara would want coast but Mick would want country - probably not a water guy.Do they live in the city or in the country? CityDo they enjoy their surroundings? I think so!What’s their song? The Way I Do - Starship, Firefly - Ed SheeranWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? Burn shit, fight shit, drink. Where did they first meet? Verse dependent. Main it’s January 2016 on a rooftop in…was it Star City or Central City?How did they first meet? Rip Hunter fucking knocked them out and brought them to a roof with the othersWho spends the most money when out shopping? Sara. Mick just steals she he wants.Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither of them tbhWho finds it amusing when the other trips over? Both of themAny mental issues? The list for both of them is too too longWho’s terrified of bugs? Neither of them.Who kills the spiders around the house? Whoever sees them.Their favourite place? Mick likes the kitchen. Sara probably prefers her/their room.Who pays the bills? Sara cause most of Mick’s money has to be laundered like crazy.Do they have any fears for their future? The future. Just…in general. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Mick tbh. The fucking sap.Who uses up all of the hot water? Mick.Who’s the tallest? Mick.Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? SaraWho wanders around in their underwear? SaraWho sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? SaraWhat do they tease each other about? Probably everything lbrWho is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? SaraDo they have mutual friends? Yup! The crew and Lisa, at the very least.Who crushed first? Probably Mick but Sara was probably the first to admit it to herself, if not to Mick.Any alcohol or substance related problems? They’re both boarderline alcoholics.Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Mick. Sara holds her liquor too well.Who swears the most? Mick but just a smidge.