#being fair though. ey went from “oh suits just die oh god” to “oh wait they get repaired? that's good but i hate seeing them explode” to

[chiprewington]

"Enjoy your Vacation! You've earned it!"

Yet your head still aches. Keep alert, I guess.

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

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[from-a-reckless-writer]

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia. 

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly. 

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m. 

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did. 

Once. 

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her. 

But this-

This wasn’t right. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling. 

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go. 

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief. 

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily. 

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back. 

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear. 

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face. 

Can’t forget the pleas. 

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other. 

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed. 

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck. 

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you.  You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here. 

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her. 

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next. 

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real. 

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants. 

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?” 

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is. 

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew. 

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own. 

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible. 

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?” 

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara. 

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?” 

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.” 

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but- 

That’s not who she wants to see. 

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless. 

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things. 

Ever since Lena ended things. 

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!” 

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together. 

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-” 

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much. 

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all. 

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room. 

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. 

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.” 

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 2

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1885

Warnings: Language

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

Chapter 2

Natasha sat in the dark and noisy bar waiting for you to show up.  She’d chosen a booth up the back and she’d been trying to not attract any unwanted attention.  You were late.  She should have expected that given who you were.  Still, as she sat waiting, she started to wonder what the hell she was doing.  It was bad enough that she had to sit patiently waiting for criminals to reveal themselves for her job, did she really want to intentionally cause herself this kind of irritation?

She finished her beer and looked over to the bar, debating with herself whether she should get up and get another drink.  You were leaning on a bar stool, one foot propped up on the crossbar, and leaning forward as you spoke to the bartender.  He went to fix your drink, a flirtatious smile on his face, and you turned to Natasha and winked at her.

The frustration Natasha felt was almost overwhelming.  In just about any other circumstance she’d storm off.  She was not one to be kept waiting, and she definitely wasn’t one for playing these kinds of games.  Well, at least not from the position she was in now - she’d certainly been the one flirting with the bartender while her date waited for her before.  The question of who or what you were was too great though, so she stayed put - waiting for an answer.

When the bartender served you your drinks you brought them over with a number for the table and slid into the booth beside Natasha.  “Waiting long?”  You asked as you pushed one of the drinks over to her.  She knew what it was even before she smelt the coffee liqueur and she rolled her eyes.

“You know I have,” she said.  “And I don’t appreciate it when people order my drinks without checking with me first.”

“Oh come on,” you teased.  “It’s a Black Russian.  At least appreciate the pun.”

She shook her head and lifted the glass, taking a sip.  It was annoying that she didn’t actually hate the cocktail because it was a joke she’d had repeated on her more times than she could count.  “You’re really…”  She started and cut herself off.

“What?”  You laughed.  “Am I testing your patience?”

Natasha gave you a look that would normally level a man, but it just made you laugh harder.  The knife she kept tucked in her boot was becoming very tempting.

“I ordered some starters.  Just one of those sample plates.  I wasn’t sure if we were eating, or going somewhere else to eat.  Or just drinking.  Or you just wanted to give me the third degree,” you babbled.  “I’m hungry though.  So I needed the starters.”

“Who are you?”  Natasha snapped, cutting you off.

“I already told you,” you said, taking a sip of your cocktail.

“But what does that mean exactly?”  Natasha asked.  “How can you be patience?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s not fair.  I’m not actually patience.  I just wield it.  Just as Thor wields a storm,” you explained.

“Then why do I want to strangle you so badly right now?”  Natasha asked.

You laughed again, this time nearly spitting your drink out on her.  “I like it better when people beg me,” you said, sitting forward in your seat a little.  “Besides - you’re still here aren’t you?”

“Barely,” Natasha snarked.

You laughed and held out your hand, palm up to her.  “Oh, you want the part where you don’t feel annoyed, huh?”

Natasha looked at your hand for a moment, debating with herself whether she should take it.  Slowly she lifted her hand and placed it in yours.  You closed your fingers and pressed down softly on the back of her hand.  “Close your eyes,” you said.  Natasha narrowed her eyes at you before closing them.  “Deep breath in, and then out again.”

Natasha did as she was instructed, first taking a deep breath in, and slowly releasing it.  It was something people always told her to do, and while it often helped to focus her mind and still her nerves, it had never quite relaxed her the way it did right now.  It was like all the anger and annoyance she had about having to wait and not knowing what was going on, just melted away.

Her fingers linked with yours reflexively and she opened her eyes.  “So you’re a god?”  She asked.

You shrugged.  “I guess that’s what you’d call me.  But I was never really worshipped like a lot of the others.  People always took me for granted.”

“How old are you?”  Natasha asked.  It was hard to believe you were a god, not looking the way you did.  Yes, she knew her very own deities who could pass for men in their thirties, and yes, she looked a lot younger than her actual years - you were different.  You fit into the world in the way Thor or Steve struggled with.  You drew just enough attention to be considered cool, but not enough to be considered out of place.

You shrugged.  “I don’t really know.”  You took a sip of your drink while you considered the question.  “Time is tricky.  The further you are from when something started the harder it is to hold on to.  Sometimes I feel like I remember a time before man, but then… that … consciousness doesn’t feel familiar.”

Natasha blinked at you in disbelief.  Thor had an age.  He claimed it was fifteen hundred years old, which didn’t make a lot of sense as the stories that featured him predated that, but at least it gave a wheelhouse for the length of time he’d existed.  Maybe three thousand and fifteen hundred just felt the same when you were that old, or perhaps an Asgardian year just lasted twice as long as an Earth one.  You on the other hand were talking about true immortality.  A being that predated human evolution.

“How… how… how?”  Natasha stammered, gesturing to you.  “How do you look like that and speak like you do when Thor speaks like he just stepped out of ye olde England.  And … how do you look like us if you were here before us?”

You downed the last of your drink.  “Asgardians live in a bubble world of their own.  Their technology is stuck in a point that is both somehow advanced to ours and behind ours all at once.  I change because I live here, where everyone’s life spans are tiny and if I don’t keep up people accuse me of witchcraft and try to burn me at the stake.  I can’t answer the other part.  I don’t remember not existing, but I don’t remember when I started existing either.  I just… am.  I know I’ve changed over time.  But I don’t know how or why.   All I know for sure is that I can patiently wait it out and that if I want, I can grant that ability to other people too.”

The waiter came over, put your appetizers on your table, and took the empty bottle and glasses away.  Natasha looked at the bar longingly.  “I think I need another drink.”

“Go on,” you said.  “I can wait.”

“Can I get you something?”  She asked.

You took a jalapeño popper and turned it around in your hand. “Yes, please.  An orgasm.”  Natasha looked at you deadpan and you bit back a laugh. “Over ice please.”

Natasha shook her head and approached the bar.  She ordered herself another beer and gave the bartender a look that dared him to make any kind of remark about the cocktail you’d asked for.  As he poured the drinks, she looked over the food menu, trying to decide what she was actually doing here.  She wished Thor was on Earth so she could run things by him.  She was interested in this whole god thing, but she was more interested in why you’d come to her.

You had been flirting.  Natasha could pick up even the most subtle of flirtations, it was what she’d been trained for, and the cocktail order had been as far from subtle as you could get.  You weren’t only flirting though, and that was where Natasha was getting stuck.  You didn’t seem to want help with anything, and if you did, you were living up to your powers by dragging it out.  What had attracted you to her?

The bartender put the drinks in front of her as a couple of people at the other end of the bar started yelling to get his attention.  “Did you want to order food?” he asked in a flustered tone.

Natasha shook her head and put some cash on the bar in front of him.  “Keep the change,” she said, and head back to you.

“Can I ask you a question?”  She said.

“That’s why I’m here,” you answered, taking your drink from her.

“If you can grant patience to people, why don’t you?”  Natasha asked.  “I mean, look around, there are people at the bar yelling to get served.  The women in the line to the bathroom look like they’re going to explode, and those men at that table are one more disagreement away from starting a bar fight.”

You let out a huff.  “Whatever it is I am, I need people to pray to me - I guess that’s right.  There have been times where I’ve thought I’d be infinitely kind and allow everyone who had required patience to have it, but then they stop sending out to the universe that they need it, and I start to fade.  It’s a bit of a weird loop though because then they need it again, and I come back.”

Natasha blinked at you as she absorbed what you said.  “That’s…”

“Weird,” you agreed.  “Yeah.  So… it suits me best to just let people be.  Let them have their feelings.  That’s why I’m here.  New York is fantastic for people wishing for the patience to get through their day.”

“And that’s why you came to me?  Because I’m always praying for patience?”  Natasha asked.

“It’s what made me notice you,” you said with a smirk.

“So… what then?”  Natasha asked.   “Why are we here?”

“Well,” you said.  “Here I am, older than I even know.  Existing in a world of temporary things that do not understand me if I reveal myself to them.  And then things start getting weird.  People show up who can’t seem to die with superhuman abilities.   The Norse gods return.  People start accepting stranger and stranger things.  And there is this one person who just runs with whatever is being thrown at her.  Never questioning - just accepting.  And she calls out to me.”

Natasha tilted her head and a smile slowly crossed her lips.  “You were lonely?”

You shrugged and curled in on yourself, and for the first time since she met you, you looked scared.  Natasha downed the last of her drink quickly and stood up.  “Do you want to get out of here?”

You smiled up at her and nodded.  “I really would.”

Natasha took your hand and led you out of the bar.  She might not understand patience, but she knew how it felt to be lonely.  Maybe you could teach each other something new after all.

// NEXT

[voidmakyr]

Call me anyway (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader)

This is set in the TFATWS 3rd EP.

You are a former Flag Smasher living alone in Madripoor. You quit the gang some time ago. When the winter soldier stands in your door one night, you expected to be killed. But this wasn’t your end. It was the start of something that nobody saw coming. 

Warnings: smut, swear-words, (sexual) persuasion.

A/N: As always, english is not my first languagge. I am way too lazy to proof read. I really wanted to do something for Zemo but I just can’t get over Bucky? 

You tossed your keys down the hall table and stretched. You changed into a pair of boxers. It was another hot night, and as you pulled out the futon, you really wished the air conditioner were still working. You turned the box fan on and fed your cat. As soon as he’d polished off his fancy feast, took up pacing in front of the sliding glass door to your balcony.

Lightning flashed and you went over and slid back the glass door, moving the screen into place. You’d leave the thing open for only a little bit – the night air smelled good for once. Not a whiff of the usual garbage of madripoor.

You ducked into the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face you ran a washcloth under some cold water and rubbed the back of your neck. Cool rivulets ran down your skin, and you welcomed the shivers as you walked back out.

You frowned. Something wasn’t right…

You went over to the glass door and you saw that your cat had sat down on his haunches and was purring as if he were welcoming someone he knew.

What the…

The man from last night was on the other side of the screen. You leaped back and dropped the washcloth, dimly hearing the fleshy flop when it hit the floor.

The screen slid open.

You panicked, but found you couldn’t move. You knew this man. He was called the winter soldier.

Oh, man, he really was handsome. He was tall and with your apartment being small to begin with, he turned it into a shoe box. He looked even better than the photos you‘ve seen. Dressed in black with dark hair and matching brown eyes. He wore gloves despite the heat.

Wait a minute.

What were you doing, measuring him for a suit? If this really was the winter soldier, there was no time for staring.

Running, you should be running. You should be making a break for the other door, running like hell.

But all you could do was stare at him.

You craned your neck to look up at his face.

God, he was gorgeous.

He must be coming to kill you, you thought. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve a hit, but the longer you looked into his eyes, you could barely remember where you were.

You body swayed as he closed the distance between them. You were terrified of what was going to happen when he reached you, but noticed, absurdly, that your cat was purring and wrapping himself in and around the mans ankles.

That cat was a traitor. And if by some miracle you lived though the night, the cat was getting downgraded to mediocre cat food.

Your neck jacked back up as you met the man‘s steady, feral gaze. His stare burned.

And then the extraordinary happened. As he stepped in front of you, you felt a blast of pure, unadultered lust. Your body got wickedly hot. Hot and wet.

Your core bloomed for him.

It was chemistry, you thought numbly. Pure, raw, animal chemistry.

Whatever he had, you wanted.

„Don’t be afraid, (Y/N). My name is James. I wanted to ask you some questions“, he said.

His voice was low, a deep rumble in his solid chest. He had the sliver of an accent you couldn’t place.

„What questions?“, you breathed in a whisper.

„About your friends. The Flag Smashers...“

Dizziness made you reach out for the wall.

„Karli? Why..“ Confusion closed your mouth. „What do you want from them?“

His metal hand crossed the distance between your bodies and he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb. He tilted your face to one side.

„Are you going to kill me fast?“ you mumbled. „Or slow?“

„No killing. Just answers.“

As his head bent down, you told yourself you should fight him off in spire of his words. You needed to Gotthold arms of yours working, your legs, too. Trouble was, you didn’t really want to push him away. You took a deep breath.

Good heavens, he smelled fantastic. Fresh, clean sweat. A dark, masculine musk.

His lips hovered over your ear. The leather of his jacket creaked as his chest expanded.

„You are not one if them,“ he said softly, „not anymore, right?“

God, this had to be what people talked about when they waxed poetic about sex. You didn’t question the need to have him inside of you. You only knew that you were going to die if he didn’t take his pants off. Now.

You reached out, curious to touch him, but when you let go of the wall you started to fall. In what seemed like on motion, he turned around and caught you easily. As he swept you off the floor, you leaned into him, not even bothering to put up a pretense of fighting. He handled you as if you were weightless, crossing the room in two strides.

When he laid you down on the futon his dog tags fell forward, and you lifted your hand, touching the metal. You lifted your hands higher, touching his dark hair. They were thick, soft. You put your palm on his face and though he seemed surprised, he didn‘t pull back.

God, everything about him radiated sex, from the strength in his body to the way he moved to the smell of his skin. He was like no man you‘d ever came across before. And your body knew it just as clearly as her mind did.

„Kiss me,“ you said.

He hovered above you, a silent menace.

On impulse your hands went to the lapels of his jacket, and you tried to pull him down to your mouth.

He captured both your wrists in his metal hand.

„Easy.“

Easy? You didn’t want easy. Easy was not part of the plan.

You struggled against his hold and when you couldn’t get free you arched your back.

Your breasts strained against your Shirt, and you rubbed your thighs together, anticipating what it would feel like to have him between them.

If he‘d only put his hands-

„Sweet Jesus,“ he muttered.

You smiled up at him, relishing the sudden hunger in his face. „Touch me.“

The winter soldier started shaking his head. As if he were trying to clear it.

You opened your lips and moaned in frustration.

„Pull up my shirt.“ You arched again, offering your body to him. „Do it.“

His eyebrows were drawn tight, and you had some vague thought that you should be terrified. Instead, you brought your knees up and lifted your hips off the futon.

You imagined him kissing the insides of your thighs, finding your core with his mouth. Licking you. Another moan boiled out of your mouth.

——

Bucky was dumbfounded.

And he wasn’t a man who got struck stupid very often.

Holy Shit.

You were the hottest thing he’d ever gotten anywhere near. And he’d cozied up to a lightning stroke once or twice before.

You groaned again, your body undulating in a sexy wave, your legs opening wide. The scent of your arousal hit him hard as a body shot. God, he would have been sent to his knees if he hadn’t already been sitting down.

„Touch me“, you moaned.

Buckys blood pumped as if he were in a flat-out run, his erection throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

„That’s not what I’m here for,“ he said.

„Touch me anyway.“

He knew he should say no. This wasn‘t fair to her. And they needed to talk. He had questions about... what again? Maybe he should come back later in the night. Try again.

You arched up, pushing against the hand he‘d clamped around your wrists. As your breasts strained against your shirt, he had to close his eyes.

Time to go. It was really time to go. He would check back with Sam and Zemo and just come back later, or tomorrow, or-

Except he couldn‘t leave without at least having a taste.

Yeah, but he was a selfish bastard if he laid one finger on you. A nasty, selfish bastard to take any of what you were offering without knowing who he really was. Dangerous, murderous, broken... a monster.

With a curse, Bucky opened his eyes.

Man, he was so cold. Cold down to his marrow.

And you were hot. Hot enough to make that ice go away, at least for a little while.

And it had been so long for him.

He let your wrists go.

Your hands grabbed his jacket, trying to push it back from his shoulders. He wrenched the thing off, and as it hit the floor with a thud, you laughed with satisfaction.

Bucky bent down over you and captured your lips with his mouth.

This time, when you thrust your breasts out, he got rid of his gloves and slid his normal hand under your thin shirt and onto your smooth, warm skin. Greedy to know the rest of you, he peeled your shirt off and tossed it aside.

Your breasts filled his palms, your nipples tight buds underneath the soft satin of your bra.

Buckys control snapped.

He let out a hiss and latched onto one of your nipples with his lips, drawing it into his mouth. As he drew circles with his tongue, he shifted his body and stretched out on top of you, falling in between your thighs. You absorbed his weight with a throaty sigh.

Your hands came between them as you reached for the front of his shirt, but he didn’t have the patience to let you undress him. He lifted up and ripped the material off his body. When he came back down, your breasts hit the wall of his chest and your body surged under his.

He wanted to kiss your mouth, but he was way past anything soft and gentle, so he worshipped your breasts with his tongue and then moved down to your belly. When he got to the waistband of your boxers, he drew them off your smooth legs.

Bucky felt something in his head pop as your scent reached him in a fresh wave. He was perilously close to orgasm, already. His release poised in his shaft, his body shaking with the need to take you. He put his hand between your thighs. You were so wet and hot that he growled.

Crazed though he was, he had to taste you before he invaded you.

He pressed kisses over your hips and across the tops of your thighs. Your hands tangled in his hair as you urged him exactly where he was headed.

He kissed your softest skin, drawing your core into his mouth, and you came over and over again for him until he couldn’t fight his own need any longer. He pulled back, shrugged out of his pants, and covered you with his body once more.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, and he hissed as your heat burned his erection.

He used what was left of his strength to pull back and look down into your face. Waiting for your okay.

„Don’t stop.“ you breathed. „I want to feel you inside me.“

Bucky dropped his head into the fragrant hollow of your neck. And slowly drew his hips back. The tip of his erection slid into place beautifully, and he sheathed himself in your body with one powerful stroke.

He let out a bellow of ecstasy.

Heaven. Now he knew what heaven was like.

____

You eased into consciousness slowly. It was like surfacing from a perfectly performed swan dive. There was a glow in your body, a satisfaction as you emerged from the buffered world of sleep.

„You are beautiful,“ he whispered.

His mouth came down on hers. But he wasn’t looking for anything. The kiss was not a demand. it was closer to a thank you.

Somewhere in the room, a cell phone went off. The ring wasn’t yours.

He moved so fast you jumped. One moment he was by your side; the next he was at his jacket. He flipped open the phone.

A flip phone? Weird.

„Yeah?“ The voice that had told her you you were beautiful was gone. Now he growled.

You pulled a sheet around your chest.

„Give me ten.“ He hung up the phone, put it back in the jacked, and picked up the pants he‘d been wearing. His metal arm reflected the tiny lights coming through the blinds.

The threat of re-dressing brought back some reality. God, had you really just had sex - really, really good, mind blowing sex - with the winter soldier?

„James... You are the winter soldier, right?“, you asked.

As he pulled black leather up his thighs, you caught a terrific shot of his ass.

„Not anymore. Don’t be afraid.“

When he sat down next to you, „I‘ve got to go. I might not get back tonigh, but I‘ll try.“

You didn’t want him to leave. You liked the feel of his body taking up more than its fair share of your bed.

You reached up to him, but took your hand back. You didn’t want to seem needy.

„No, touch me,“ he said, bending his body down, giving you all the access you could ask for.

You put your palm on his chest. His skin was war, his heart surging in an even pump.

„I need to know something.“, you said softly. „What the fuck do you want from me, if you’re looking for the flag smashers?“

He smiled a little, as if he liked your swearing.

„Are you trying to stop them?“, you asked.

„Yes, but-“

„Get out. I am not helping you.“ You stood up and put your clothes back on. There was no way, you were going to be a snitch. Even if you were no longer part of the team.

„(Y/N), they have... we need to stop them. They are dangerous.“, he said while looking to the ground. He didn’t seem to confident about that.

He now stood in front of your door to the balcony. Slowly you opened the glass door, took a look outside then went back to your bed.

„Because of the serum.“ You said calmly.

„You know about the serum?“

You laughed. „I don’t just know about it.“ You positioned yourself and got in a strong stance. You smiled. „I got it.“

With one forceful kick to his chest, Bucky got pushed out of your room. He could barely grab the railing to not fall eight down on the street. In front of him the glass door closed, big metal bars flew from the top to secure the entry even more. The blinds closed and he couldn’t see you anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was taken by surprise. It wasn’t pleasant. When he looked down on himself, he saw a little piece of paper in the small pocket of his jacket.

It was a phone number.

XXX-XXXX-XXXX „Call anyway.“

[salandition]

Its,,,,, so basic but Maybe Leon and Reader are training out near Circhester and get caught in a snowstorm? They find an old cabin amongst the trees and tHeReS OnLy OnE BED and they have to keep warm,,,, (Love your writing btw)

A/N: yes, the classic trope. I will gladly take a bite out of it :) Also this one kind of really dragged on, so it’s a bit long lol took me way too long to finish. if any of you recognize the title, ur a real one 

Chilly Down (Good Times, Bad Food)

Leon x Reader

--- --- ---

You feel like you should have expected something like this to happen. Despite what a great guy Leon is and how fun it is to hang out with him, he was sort of a magnet for trouble. He had an ability to draw in unfortunate events wherever he went it seemed. 

So you’re not completely surprised when you and Leon are hit with an unexpected snowstorm while training together outside of Circhester. Are you a bit miffed about it? Yes. But surprised? No, not really. 

“Training with the Champion is great and all,” you yell over the storm, one arm in front of your face to uselessly protect you from the snow, and your other hand is holding tightly onto Leon’s. Grabbing hold of him was almost more important than making it out of the storm- if you lost sight of Leon during this, you might never see him ever again. He’d find some way to end up on an undiscovered continent, you just know it. “But I think I’ll pass on your invitations after this!” You finally finish, continuing to trudge through the snow with him. 

“You know, usually I’d argue, but I think that’s fair,” Leon laughs, and then immediately shuts his mouth as a rush of cold air hits him and tries to travel down his throat. He hacks a few times- a few ice crystals probably hit his uvula or something- and then you feel a harsh tug on your hand. “Look!” 

Leon points toward a dim but very much real yellow glow in the distance. Immediately, the two of you head for it- desperate for any shelter you could be given. Part of you was doubtful, wondering if it was just some luminescent Pokémon or a random streetlight. Though even a streetlight would be better than nothing- that would mean you were back on the route’s path and could find your way back to Circhester if you were lucky. 

But it wasn’t a random streetlight. Thank whatever Gods that may exist- the light was coming from a big, sturdy wooden cabin, a sign being viciously blown by the wind read that it was even a hotel. What are the odds? 

“This is literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Leon yells as you both make a run for the cabin. 

“I believe it!” 

You almost fall with the amount of force that you and Leon enter the cabin with- both frantic to get out of the biting cold. You actually do fall, tumbling into a roll on the ground and snow scattering everywhere as Leon fumbles for the door and slams it shut before you bring too much of the storm inside. 

Heavily breathing, you don’t even notice the lady behind the counter before she coughs. 

Leon looks up with a beaming grin, laughing as he huffs and puffs, leaning against the door. “Hell of a storm, innit?” 

Not the smartest thing to say, but the lady gives out an amused snort anyway. 

“I’m assuming the two of you will be purchasing a room?” She tilts her head with a gleam in her eye. Something tells you that business isn’t going so well if she’s working in a hotel in the middle of nowhere and she’s still charging when you’re both obviously stranded- but hey, that’s life. You look up to Leon as you stay on the floor, hands on your chest as you continue to try and catch your breath. 

“Let me see,” you huff and wheeze, “those Champion benefits,” another huff, “big guy.” 

It’s not that funny but Leon laughs so hard that he starts to slide down the door, knees buckling beneath him, and you think that’s really funny so you start laughing too, rolling on the floor. The lady watches all the while, and if you notice a flying Rotom recording you while you and Leon lose your minds over nothing, you don’t say anything about it. 

Once Leon manages to shuffle over and pay the woman at the desk after your post-adrenaline delirium, she gladly shows you over to your room. You’re suddenly feeling exhausted after trudging through a snowstorm, so you don’t pay much attention to what she says as she leads you there- but it’s not like you need to. Leon does most of the talking as he keeps you steady with an arm around your shoulder. 

You don’t notice the look the woman gives you, nor do you notice the look Leon gives back. All you feel is the comforting rub of his hand on your arm, and it’s nice. 

“Enjoy your stay, you two,” is the only thing you pick up from her before the door is shut and you’re left alone in your newly-purchased hotel room.

There’s an important detail here, and that detail is the fact that there’s only one bed, and you’ve never shared a bed with Leon before. Sure, you’re friends, but you’ve never been the cuddling-type of friends. This detail is completely missed by both of you as luck would have it because as soon as you and Leon manage to remove your clothes, you’re out like a pair of lights the second your backs hit the mattress. 

No, the problem and important detail doesn’t really announce itself in your mind until morning comes. Well- afternoon, actually, if you managed to look at a clock. 

When you awake- at first, it’s not strange. It’s not strange until you recognize the hand around your waist, hair in your face, and legs entwined with yours- which is definitely not something that’s a usual occurrence for you. Recognizing all of these details, your eyes snap open, and you begin to take in the situation as it is. 

Leon and you both stripped down to your underwear, definitely cuddling, and definitely in the only bed available in the room as far as you can see. And from what you can tell with how the walls shake and the windows vibrate, the storm is still going strong. 

Right. 

“Leon,” your voice is hoarse from sleep as you smack your lips, your hand lifting up to shake Leon’s arm that’s wrapped tightly around your waist. “Leon, you daft idiot, wake up,” 

“Mmmgh,”

“I’ll… I’ll steal all your Pokémon, and run off to another country. Wake up, Leon.” The threat is creative, but lacking any real malice behind it as you continue to shake Leon’s body. A few more rough shakes and he finally blinks his eyes open. 

“Where… where am I?” He mumbles almost incoherently as he blinks a few more times, lifting himself up on his elbows as he takes in his surroundings. A bit of drool falls from the corner of his mouth. 

It’s kind of cute, but also kind of gross, and Leon is still kind of on top of you in nothing but his underwear. You begin to wonder if he’s ever going to notice- but finally, his expression seems to come to life as his mind wakes up and he looks up and down your body again. 

“...Right. Yeah, my bad.” Grunting, Leon finally rolls off you and to the other side of the bed. You want to laugh at the pinkness of his ears and cheeks if you weren’t vividly aware you probably looked exactly the same, so you bite your tongue for now. Apparently, the both of you have agreed to ignore your partial nudity for now as Leon holds his head in his hands, keeping his gaze off you as he asks, “why on Galar am I so tired?” 

“Maybe we were supposed to die,” you snicker, sitting up yourself and bringing up the covers as you do, trying to stay somewhat-modest. “And now our brains are realizing we’re actually alive and it doesn’t know what to do.” 

Despite himself, Leon giggles. “Yeah, maybe.” 

The window shakes from more pressure of the storm outside. It gets your attention for sure, and you realize that you should probably check your phone to see when this storm would even end. Very, very slowly, you shuffle out of bed, analyzing the floor and looking at how scattered your clothes are. It takes your tired mind a minute to find your bag, but when you do, it’s not good news. 

Of course there’s no service. 

“Ugh,” you groan again. “This sucks.” 

“Put on some clothes,” Leon says from the bed and you roll your eyes.

“They’re drenched, mate, and so are yours,”

Leon’s head snaps up from his hands at that. “Really?” You’ve got no reason to lie about that but he scatters toward his clothes anyway, feeling the damp and dirty texture of them with his own hands, as if that would change their outcome. You’re definitely not checking out his butt as he bends over to pick them up, because that would be silly and childish. 

Very nice view, though. 

Leon sighs. “Of course. Don’t suppose this hotel has a store of any sort?” 

“Good one,” you laugh. “Probably not, but I’ll check the bathroom for robes-“

“Oh, let me do it,”

“Why?”

“I’ve really got to pee, mate,” 

“Right on, then,” you point him toward the direction of the bathroom and Leon immediately makes himself sparse. You can only laugh as you watch him go, and while you wait, you gather all of your wet clothes and start to hang them all around the room so they might dry while you wait out the storm. 

“Good news,” Leon comes out of the bathroom and you look over your shoulder, seeing him hold up two white, fluffy robes. He tosses one your way and you catch it easily, wrapping yourself up quickly and Leon follows suit. “So, roomie,” Leon raises a brow at you, hands on his hips, “what do we do now?”

You wave your phone that’s in your hand. “We got no service, so we should probably check in with that lady who was at the desk if she knows anything about the weather reports.” Your eyes move to look at the bed. “And maybe you should talk her into changing us to a room with two beds.” For both of your sakes. 

“Right,” Leon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

More bad news, though. The lady didn’t know anything about the weather other than the fact that these storms usually lasted a day or two, so, in her own words, ‘if you’re lucky, you won’t be here much longer, but I can’t assure that. Also, you’re charged per night, per room.’ 

And all the rooms in this shotty little hotel only had one bed, so the idea of getting privacy at night was a lost cause. You weren’t the biggest fan of wasting your money or Leon’s on two rooms, anyway, especially since the owner seemed to be somewhat rude. So that’s nice. 

‘At least she had food’, Leon had told you positively, and you suppose he was right. She had a rather weak list of a menu, but ‘at least there was a menu’ so you wouldn’t have to eat whatever berries you had in your bag. The two of you seemed to dance around the fact that you were going to most likely be sleeping partly nude again tonight, except this time you’ll both be a lot more awake and conscious of it. You distracted yourself with the mediocre food that tasted mildly burnt or undercooked, no in-between, and playing with what Pokémon could fit in your small hotel room instead until both of your eyes were drooping and you couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. 

“So.” You stand on one side of the bed, Leon on the other. Both of you stare at each other with your hands on your hips. 

“So,” Leon nods. 

“Should we… make rules?” Looking down at the bed and up at Leon, you know that technically you guys could try to stay on your side of the bed and probably not touch each other all night. 

But you were keenly aware that this man is a cuddler and you had a subconscious habit to scoot over to the warmest thing while you slept, so it seemed like physical interaction was going to happen one way or the other.

“I think that’s a bit pretentious,” he scratches his chin and shrugs. His nonchalance is downplayed by the heat on his cheeks and the sweat on his temple. “It’s fine if we… Cuddle. Right?” 

You suppose so. “I guess,” you purse your lips. “Typically friends cuddle with clothes on, though. And these robes are too awkward to sleep in.” 

“I mean, we did it before.” 

That’s true, but again, both of you were a bit delirious. But you can’t really argue with that, and you’re getting tired of dancing, so you nod and sigh. With a burst of courage, you square your shoulders, narrowing your eyes. Leon looks at you strangely before he squawks, his hands flying to cover his face when you remove your robe, the material falling and pooling around your feet. 

“Some warning!” He chokes and coughs. You laugh through your embarrassment, quickly getting on the bed and under the covers. 

“Come on. We could be sitting here all night. Lose the robe,” you cheer him on and Leon glares at you through the spaces of his fingers. “Lose the robe! Lose the robe!” 

“Stop!” He laughs and you giggle along, but it slowly ebbs and abruptly comes to a halt when Leon does, in fact, lose the robe. It’s too much to ask for him to not notice how you stare, so of course he does- humming proudly as he snuggles under the covers. “Speechless?” Leon smiles. 

“Don’t push it, I saw you ogling me the first time,” 

He coughs when you smirk. 

“Fine. Come here and cuddle me if you’re so smart.”

“Fine, I will!”

“Do it.”

“I’m gonna.”

The two of you lay under the covers, Leon’s arms open and beckoning, and you- frozen, not moving an inch. It’s not until he gives you a cocky look and starts to wiggle forward that you finally bite your lip and shove down your ego, rolling over to his side. It should be awkward, and it is, but only because the two of you somehow manage to fit together perfectly and that’s a bit odd. Your head resting against his collarbone, his arms wrapped snugly around your body, your legs entwined in a comfortable and fitting manner. It all happens almost instantaneously as if you’d both done this for years, as if it was a habit.

“Not that bad, right?” Leon murmurs in your ear and hums when your fingers trail little patterns across the skin of his waist and back. You mostly just did it to ease your nerves, not realizing how intimate the action was, but you figure it’s fine if Leon seems to like it. His hands explore your hair and the nape of your neck, the feeling making you curl further against him with a sigh. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. “Still odd.”

He hums but doesn’t prod the conversation along any further.

Several odd minutes pass, your breathing slowing as your body relaxes against Leon’s. Right as you find yourself on that warm, lulling cusp of falling asleep, there’s a brushing feeling against the top of your head. Leon’s body shuffles and lowers on the mattress and you’re about to whine a complaint about him moving around so much- but you’re silenced by the feeling of lips against your forehead. 

The hand that was previously teasing the skin of your neck trailed up and lightly grazed your cheek as Leon’s lips moved across your forehead to your brow. The actions are relaxing, yes, but your body tenses regardless because friends don’t do this. 

“Leon,” your whisper is like a shout compared to the dark silence in the room. Leon freezes up instantly at the sound of it and when you open your eyes, his head is angled in a way with his lips still pressed against your temple so you can’t see his expression. “...What are you doing?” You lick your lips nervously.

“...I thought you were sleeping.” Is all he has to say. You can’t say anything in reply to that because it’s fairly obvious to the both of you that no, you weren’t sleeping. “Um.” The air that leaves his mouth is hot against your skin.

From where your head rests, snug against his chest, you can almost feel the thundering pace of his heart more than you hear it. You idly wonder if it’s possible for hearts to beat in sync with one another. 

“Leon,” you say again when he doesn’t offer any explanation. He sucks in a shaky breath, his arm propping up from under him as he finally comes into your field of view; his eyes downcast and refusing to meet yours as he scoots away from you and lays his head back on his pillow. His hand lowers from your cheek down to your waist, touching your skin and then jolting back and insecurely moving against his chest, instead. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, “that was a bit creepy.” 

You remember the feeling of his heartbeat, and you don’t think that’s creepy at all. 

You reach your hand forward, tenderly cupping Leon’s jaw as he had done to you. Finally, he looks at you- his golden irises shining like glowflies in the darkness. The moment held between you now is a stark contrast to the harsh snowstorm outside- if you strain your ear, you’d be able to hear the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the trees. 

For now, all you can hear is your heart in your ears and the voice in your head saying kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. 

You’re aware that friends don’t do this. They don’t look at each other like this and they don’t press their lips against each other so softly- meekly. Lovingly. Maybe if you’re experimenting, maybe if you’re a different type of friend. But you and Leon aren’t like that, you’ve never been like that. 

So if things are different now, that’s something that’s a treasured secret between you, him, and the snow. 

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 13- Confession

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

Hawks was not prepared for you to walk out of the employee bathrooms looking as good as you did when he finally returned to the agency to hand the reigns over to Endeavor for the night. He had really been hoping to wait to call in the favor Endeavor owed him for covering his patrols, but the more time Hawks spent with you the more he needed answers. It was growing harder and harder to deny the way looking at you made his heart race. The way part of him wanted nothing more than to make you laugh even when he was trying to ascertain what you were up to. And the way his heart stopped when you walked out of that employee bathroom, Mina quickly rushing out behind you and giving you a thumbs up and a wink before departing, only further confirmed that he desperately needed to know what your intentions were.

“Ready to go, Kid?” he asks as he extends an arm to you. “Ready,” you said as you exhaled shakily in hopes of clearing your nerves. You linked your arm in his and with all the charm you had come to expect from the number two hero he guided you out of the office and onto the busy streets of the city. You would die before admitting it, but looking at Hawks under the glow of the city lights made him look ethereal. So much so you could hardly pull your eyes away. The two of you were talking of that you were sure, and you assume you were giving intelligible responses, but in all honesty if asked to recount the conversation you wouldn’t be able to. You were too caught up in the wonder that Hawks had chosen you of all people.

Eventually the smell of food brings you back to Earth as you realize Hawks has brought you to a tiny hole in the wall restaurant on the other side of town. Hardly anyone else is inside, all the big crowds are deeper into the city, but something about the quiet atmosphere is refreshing after the noise of all the bustling crowds. “Hawks!” The owner calls out cheerfully as he makes his way around to the two of you. “Glad you finally made it. I’ve got a special table reserved for you out back,” the owner grins. “Ah you really do spoil me. Lead the way,” Hawks laughs as the owner does just that.

You’re guided to the back and out the door only to find an entirely separate seating area, deserted. Fairy lights provide the main source of light, giving the whole thing a dream-like quality. When the owner departs after seating the two of you, you and Hawks are left alone in the romantic atmosphere and you can’t help but feel nervous. Yet one look across the table at your date for the evening, especially when he flashes That Grin(tm) at you, eases your mind almost immediately.

The night feels nothing short of magical as the two of you laugh over drinks and the best ramen you’ve ever had in your life but as the food and alcohol settle in your stomach the conversation turns to deeper topics. “Can I ask you a potentially personal question?” Hawks asks. “Sure,” you shrug as you take another sip of your drink. “Is it weird having all your friends be pro heroes? You didn’t ever think about joining in yourself?” he asks. “You’re asking ‘cause of how I reacted to Chargebolt after that one patrol right?” you ask. He’s not. He asking to determine your possible motives. But he can’t say that, so instead he shoots you a sheepish grin and rubs the back of his neck as he lies “that obvious, huh?” “It’s a fair question and you’re not the first to ask,” you laugh. “It’s kind of a heavy story though, I don’t wanna bring down the mood,” you admit, looking away from the gorgeous, curious man across from you.

Suddenly you feel a gentle hand on your chin turning your head to make you look him in his eyes again. “You could never, Kid,” he assures you with as much faux sincerity as his brain can muster even if his heart is pleading with him to be genuine. You gulp and in that moment Hawks thinks he’s finally caught you.

“My mom was a pro hero. She didn’t break top 10 or anything but growing up she was Denki and I’s idol. I’m pretty sure she’s the reason he wanted to become a pro hero so bad in the first place. For a little while I wanted to be one too,” you begin. This was it. Hawks was sure of it. Any moment now you’d confirm your resentment that you never lived up to your mother and it would explain your rage and the training and your fascination with him and- “She uhm, she died in a villain attack when I was in middle school. Things just weren’t the same after that so I abandoned the idea of being a pro hero,” you confessed.

Oh...

Oh that was not what Hawks was expecting at all.

“When I found out Denki still wanted to be one I stopped talking to him for like a month. I forgave him eventually, obviously, but uh I refused to get back on the hero path. I knew too well the constant stress and pressure my mom was under and in the end all it did was encourage her to push too far and get herself killed. I know UA’s general studies course has a reputation of being for the hero course rejects but I only went to UA to keep an eye on Denki. If I couldn’t stop him from becoming a hero then at least I could make sure he didn’t push himself too far, y’know? Then I re-did the computer system and administration insisted I swap over to hero support. Eventually I realized that if it weren’t for my mom a lot more people would’ve died and while it sucks she had to make that sacrifice I know she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Even scarier Denki and Katsuki and Mina and Hitoshi and Eiji would all do it too. So while I can’t bring myself to become a pro hero myself, at the very least I can do my best to make sure the heroes get home safe.”

You’re not sure when exactly during your story you had begun crying but you swipe at your eyes to wipe the tears away now. You bring your gaze back to Hawks’ and open your mouth to apologize for ruining the mood but are instead surprised by the feeling of his lips on yours. There’s a split second of shock where you do nothing, but the moment it passes you return his kiss eagerly.

You are perfect. Every fiber of Hawks’ being screams that you are perfect. If anyone could possibly hope to understand him, his heart and his gut and now finally his head tell him it’s you. And with that realization comes an overwhelming amount of guilt. He had treated you like a villain when all you had done was be good to him and all those around you. He wants to apologize. God, how he wants to apologize. But that would require admitting he’d treated you with suspicion, that this “date” had been a ruse. So he says nothing, and he kisses you with passion and heartache and guilt and understanding and something that feels suspiciously like love. He kisses you with every single emotion that is coursing through him and hopes that will be enough.

Author’s Note: I feel like Hawks is the type who falls fast and hard once he lets himself fall. Writing this chapter was ROUGH. Hawks and (y/n) are in such wildly different places emotionally from start to finish. I’ve been trying to minimize the amount of written portions because it feels a bit like a betrayal of the smau format (and I like the challenge of restricting it) but there’s some stuff coming up down the line that just wouldn’t be discussed over text so there will probably be more soon. This was another monster chapter but we’re really getting into the thick of the story now so I’m not shocked

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu

[disasterfandoms]

Going Through Hell Part 3 || A Sonny Quinn imagine

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

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

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

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

“Y/N’s been taken.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[scuttling]

While You Were Sleeping (Okay, in a Coma)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Derek Morgan & Latina Original Female Character Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid Word Count: 2,058 Chapters: 1 of ? WIP Tags: SFW so far, Sophie is not in the BAU, While You Were Sleeping (film) AU, Coffee shop, Unrequited love, Canon-typical violence, Slow burn

Summary: What happens when Derek Morgan, the man Sophie Cortes is secretly in love with, goes into a coma, and everyone around them mistakes her for his girlfriend? As if things weren't complicated enough, his boss is sweet, kind, incredibly handsome, and makes sure she's taken care of while Derek is in the hospital. Plus, she thinks one of Derek's coworkers is more secretly in love with him than she is. Feelings shift, but how does Sophie explain to the world that she fell for Aaron while Derek was sleeping, without hurting everyone she's come to care about?

Read on AO3 or read more below! The morning that changes Sophie Cortes’s life forever begins much like any other: she wakes up at 3 AM to her blaring alarm, slides out of bed with a groan, tugs off the oversized t-shirt she slept in and pulls on a sports bra and leggings to go for a run. She knows this makes her sound like a lunatic, but with her schedule, if she doesn’t exercise before the crack of dawn, it just doesn’t happen.

After her run, she goes home to shower and change, grabs her bag and drives to The Busy Bean, the coffee shop she co-owns with her best friend Jocelyn. Jocelyn is the brains of the operation, the one with all the great marketing ideas, the one who handles the finances and vendors and supply issues and makes sure everything is Fair Trade or else—Sophie bakes cookies and makes macchiatos, but everyone’s got their strong suits.

She loves the coffee shop more than anything, its bright brick walls and dark wood floors, the smell of fresh beans and sugar, the bustle of regular customers they get from being so near Quantico; most of them are serious suit types, always in a hurry, but some of them are sweet, take their time to say good morning, like Sophie’s favorite customer, Derek.

She knows Derek is a fed of some sort, even though he’s not usually in a suit. He has that air about him, like he’s powerful and capable, like he’s seen things, but he never fails to flash her a megawatt smile, to lean against the counter while she makes his mocha and ask her how her morning is going. She’s a little bit in love with him.

Jocelyn knows this, and always makes sure Sophie is the one to wait on him; when she calls Sophie out from the kitchen specifically because Derek’s there, she knows he knows, and she flushes, but he says she makes his drink better than anyone, always asks her for a cookie recommendation on Fridays so he can take a box to the office, so she thinks it might not be completely one sided. Maybe. Or he’s just a really, really sweet guy.

On the morning that changes her life forever, he’s still very sweet, but she also sees a side of him she’s never seen before.

Someone tries to rob them. The man walks right up to the counter, no mask, no nothing, and tells her to put all of the money from the register into a cookie box or he’ll pull out the gun he’s got in his pocket and blow her face off. Her first instinct is to be pissed about this, which she knows is really stupid. She takes a step back, looks at the guy like he’s an idiot, crosses her arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how hard we work for this money? We don’t sit around… playing video games in our mom’s basement, like you do, by the looks of it.” The guy is obviously not happy about this, slams his hands down on the counter, and Derek, who is two spots behind him, leans slightly out of line to get her attention.

“Sophie, is this guy bothering you?” Before she can answer, the guy turns to look at Derek; he takes one glance at his hot, strong physique, and then his gun and his badge thing, and books it out of the shop. Derek tears off after him, and Sophie can see this ending very badly, so she grabs Jocelyn, asks her to cover the register and tells her she’ll be right back.

She jogs outside, expecting to see Derek manhandling the dumbass robber, or at least still chasing after him; she does not expect to see Derek laying on the ground, bleeding out, a bullet wound in his stomach.

“Oh my god, Derek!” She skids to a halt next to him, pulls off her apron—it’s mostly clean, she thinks—and lifts up his shirt, presses it to the wound to stop the bleeding. “Are you okay? That’s dumb, you’re not okay, but can you hear me? Are you going to die?” He chuckles, and that makes her feel a little better, but then he coughs up blood, and that makes her feel much, much worse.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, calls 911, and just stays with him, talks to him about nothing and everything, until the police and paramedics arrive. At that point, he has passed out, looks drained and weak, so unlike the Derek she has come to know… and love. Fuck. If he dies because of something that happened at her shop…

“Excuse me, miss, but we need to get him on the stretcher,” an EMT says, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. She backs off, knows he needs to be attended to, but she can’t leave him, she just can’t.

“Can I ride to the hospital with him? Please,” she asks the other tech, and she glances at her partner, who nods. Sophie sighs a breath of relief, sends a text to Jocelyn explaining what happened and that she’ll need to be out of the shop for the foreseeable future.

She notices that Derek’s phone has fallen off of his belt, and she picks it up, since the paramedics don’t seem interested. She absently decides to look through his recent contacts, to see if there’s someone she should inform of the accident: the last number he dialed belongs to someone named Hotch, and she vaguely remembers him mentioning the name before. It might be his boss, or something? He dials the number frequently, anyway, so she figures it’s worth a shot.

“Hotchner,” the man answers after two rings, and Sophie sighs, glad she got through to someone. Even if he’s not the person she should be contacting, he might know how to reach them.

“Uh, hello. I’m pretty sure you’re Derek’s boss, but even if you aren’t, you’re the last person he called, so… There’s been an accident. Derek’s been shot. We’re headed to the GWU Medical Center; I thought you would want to know.” She can hear the man moving some papers in the background, banging something around on his desk, maybe.

“We’re on the way; how bad is it? Is he conscious? What happened?” The paramedics signal for her to hop into the back of the ambulance, so she does, and she takes Derek’s limp hand. Her eyes well up with tears, and it feels real, now, that she has to relive it.

“There was someone trying to rob the coffee shop, and—and Derek went after him; he had a gun, and I guess he shot him. I mean, he obviously shot him. In the stomach. He’s not conscious; I don’t know how bad it is, but he was coughing up blood. Oh, god,” she breathes, voice shaky, and the man on the phone makes a soft sound of reassurance.

“It’s alright. He’s a very strong person, I promise you. He’ll be okay. You said you were headed to GWU Medical Center; are you with him now?”

“Yes. The paramedics let me ride with him. I can text you an update when we get there, his room number if he has one.” She can hear him talking to someone else in the background, but it only takes him a moment to answer.

“Please do. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Thank you,…?” He pauses, clearly wondering who the hell she is.

“Oh, Sophie. Sophie Cortes.”

“Aaron Hotchner. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

The paramedics push Derek into the emergency room entrance, and Sophie follows behind, feeling anxious and out of place, and worried about his injury. They push the gurney through a set of double doors, and Sophie goes to follow, but a stern looking nurse in gold scrubs puts a hand in front of her, doesn’t even look up from her clipboard.

“You can’t go in there.” Sophie’s heart-rate jumps, and she shakes her head.

“I need to go in there, I need to make sure he’s okay. Please.”

“Are you family?” she asks, giving her a once-over; she clearly decides that Sophie is not family, and she doesn’t want to lie, anyway.

“No, I’m not family, but—”

“Like I said, you can’t go in there. Family only.” She moves her arm, waits like she dares Sophie to try, but she just sighs, sags against the wall, and the woman walks away.

“But you don’t understand,” Sophie says weakly, to herself. “I’m in love with him.” She brings up a hand to scrub at the tears forming in her eyes, and another nurse, one with blue scrubs and braids and a kind smile, rests a palm on her shoulder.

“Come with me.” Sophie looks up at her—she looks kind of like an angel, but it’s probably just the fluorescent lighting—and nods, follows.

She takes her through a staff only door, sneaks her into the OR hallway, where they can peer through a window at Derek, surrounded by doctors, surgeons, nurses. Sophie has only seen this kind of stuff on TV, so she doesn’t know how it’s going, but the nurse who brought her tells her to stay there for one second and bustles off.

It’s really scary to watch: there are bloody cloths being thrown around, and tubes and clamps and other medical devices she’s not sure the use for, but after a moment, she can see a doctor lift up a pair of surgical pliers, and there’s a bullet between the prongs. That’s a good sign, she’s pretty sure.

The nice nurse comes back, and she scares the shit out of Sophie when she puts a hand on her arm, making her jump a foot. She smiles apologetically, and Sophie returns it.

“I found out his room number, if you’d like to go sit and wait for him to be brought in. It's an ICU, so technically visiting hours haven’t started yet, but I can make an exception—for an hour, okay?” Sophie nods, wraps her hands around the nurse's wrists.

“Thank you so much. Really—I just need to know he’s okay,” she says, and the woman nods understandingly and takes her to room 104, where Derek will be placed after surgery.

She texts the number to Derek’s boss, takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She gets restless quickly, stands up, uses the bathroom sink to scrub at her hands, because they’re still stained with Derek’s blood. It’s quiet, eerily so, until suddenly it isn’t.

Derek is wheeled in on a bed by a couple of nurses; he looks a little better, all wrapped up in gauze, and they hook him to machines, displaying a steady heartbeat. She breathes a sigh of relief. He’s alright. He’s not dead. That’s incredible news. She takes his hand, wills herself not to cry, murmurs that she’s so happy he’s alive.

As soon as the nurses leave, a group of people who can only be Derek’s coworkers enter the room. There is a tall, serious looking man with dark hair and a dark suit; a woman with thick fringe, a kind face; an older guy with facial hair who looks worried and weary; a skinny guy who looks about the same as Sophie feels; a petite blonde woman with the bluest eyes Sophie’s ever seen; and another blonde woman with crimped hair and glossy lips who has absolutely been crying. They look at Sophie, and she stands, drops Derek’s hand.

“Um, hi, I’m—”

“Who are you?” a doctor says suddenly from behind the group. The kind nurse who let her see Derek is behind him. The serious looking man reaches into his pocket, flashes a badge with a no-nonsense expression.

“We’re with the FBI. We’re his coworkers.” He looks over at Sophie, and she takes a deep breath. Before she can explain who she is, the kind nurse steps around the doctor, flashes Sophie a smile.

“And she’s his girlfriend.”

Uh. What the fuck?

Derek’s coworkers exchange a look that says pretty much the same thing; the tall skinny one looks like his heart has been broken.

Sophie opens her mouth to correct that extremely incorrect assumption, but she can’t find the words, and then she passes out.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[myrandom-fandomlife]

Expect The Unexpected

JJ Maybank x Carrera! Reader

In which something unexpected happens but you and JJ make the best of it.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Vomiting, Mentions of sex, some smutty themes in there, teen pregnancy, lots and lots of fluff, angst if you squint

A/N: So this has been about 3-4 days in the making, because I hit a bit of a block the other day but then I accidentally cranked out almost 2k more words than planned. I was gonna do some heavy editing but I ended up going back and adding a whole extra part of the story so it’s heavily unedited lmao. Let me know if you like it! 

Finding Out

“So, your period is late, and you have had migraines, nausea, and food cravings for the last two weeks?” Your best friend Sarah Cameron says to you, walking back from her massive en suite bathroom into her even bigger bedroom. “We need to get you a test,” She’s currently helping you figure out your situation. You think you might be pregnant. It makes sense when you start thinking back to the times you and your boyfriend, JJ, had sex to see if you could remember a time you didn’t use protection. There were a few that came to mind. The most recent being when the two of you had been making out in the hammocks and things got a little too heated. That was a month and a half ago.  

Your stomach is turning from anxiety. You were only 18, and JJ 19. What would you do about school? Or Kie, your sister? Not to mention the fact that your parents would probably die. You can feel your eyes welling up but then your stomach turns and you have to rush to Sarah’s bathroom to puke for what seems like the 10th time today.

Sarah follows you, holding your hair and rubbing your back while you empty your insides into her toilet. When you’re about done she stands up to fill a small cup with water and hand it to you for you to sip on. She grabs a towel and dampens it with some warm water to dab at your sweaty face and forehead, “I’m sorry, Sarah.” You manage weakly.

“Oh, no, babes. You have nothing to be sorry for. How about you lay down on my bed while I see if I can find you a test? Want me to call JJ and see if he would come to see you?”

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot about JJ. No, don’t call him. I need to see the tests for myself first before I talk to him about it.” Sarah nods in understanding, helping you back to her bed and covering you with a blanket before leaving for what you assume is the store. Despite all you’re worried, you drift off, exhausted from puking your guts out all morning.

You wake up to the sound of Sarah clicking away on her keyboard at her desk. When she sees you sit up she turns to you, “Feeling any better? I got a couple of tests at the store, but I didn’t want to wake you when I got back.”

“A lot better actually,” Your head had stopped its incessant pounding and your stomach had settled. “Thank you for this, Sarah. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You walk over to the older girl, hugging her.

“Of course, anytime. Now, you have some sticks to pee on!” She tries to brighten the mood, making you chuckle. You take a deep breath and head to the bathroom. 

Wait 8 minutes and if you are pregnant, two bold pink lines will appear on the screen.

It had been 7 minutes and you were pacing around Sarah’s bedroom. “Y/N, calm down.” She grabs your arm, “Whatever the outcome, it will be okay.”

You sigh, trying to slow your breathing, “I know, I’m just anxious. Why do these tests take so long?” Just then, your 8-minute timer rings and you jump at the sudden noise, “Sarah I can’t look.”

“I’ll look with you, okay? You have to know.” She grips your arm tight as you walk to the bathroom, looking at the 3 tests on the counter. You gasp when you see six bold pink lines from all the tests.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” You walk to Sarah’s bed again, feeling like you might fall over. “Oh my god, Sarah. What am I gonna do? How am I gonna tell JJ? What will Kie, or my parents say?” You ramble, your breaths getting quicker with each word.

“Hey, hey. One thing at a time, okay?” You nod, “First thing you need to do, tell JJ. You may not want to but he needs to know, and I am pretty sure it would take a lot more than a product of your love to make him stop loving you. That boy is whipped, he’s not going anywhere. Also, if he tries to leave you Kie and I will kick his ass.”

You smile, Sarah’s words reassuring you,  “Okay, you’re right. I just need the right time to tell him. My parents are going on a date tonight, so Kie is working The Wreck. I could invite him over?”

“Perfect!”

Telling JJ

You breathe deeply, trying to calm yourself about the night ahead of you. You were going to tell JJ tonight. Sarah had offered to be there but you knew this was something you had to do on your own. Luckily, your nausea had calmed down after your nap at Sarah’s and your anxiety about the situation was doing much better due to Sarah’s reassurances.

Just as you were pulling your hair into a messy bun, you hear a knock on the door. Taking one more calming breath, you go downstairs and open the door.

The blonde boy’s eyes trail up your body clad in his hoodie and short shorts, “You look so pretty in my clothes, babe.” He moves forward to wrap his arms around you, “Are you feeling better? Sarah said you were pretty sick this morning,” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, nuzzling his nose into you.

You pull away and look up at his bright blue eyes. He frowns when you leave his embrace, sensing your tension. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, J.”

You see the panic rise in him, “Oh my god, are you okay? Is something wrong? You aren’t badly sick, are you? You’re doing okay and everything? I couldn’t stand it if-”

“I’m pregnant,” You cut off his rambles and his eyes widen.

“What did you just say?”

You feel fear rising in you, “I’m pregnant,” You repeat softly.

You’re about to start crying with the silence that follows when his face breaks into a smile. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant? My baby is in you? Oh my god, baby!” He picks you up in a hug and spins you around. He must feel your tears on his shoulder because he puts you down, looking at you with concern, “Why’re you crying, princess? I mean, I know we’re young but I’ve known since before we started dating that I wanted to have a family with you. This is like a head start.” 

His words make you sob, “No, it’s happy tears. I’m so relieved you’re happy. I can handle Kie and my parents and the pogues being mad, but not you. I have my first ultrasound on Friday and I want you to come. I figure we can get a few extra copies of it as our way of telling people.”

He smiles softly, “Anything for you and our little one. How are you feeling now? Are you hungry? Wanna sit down?”

You laugh at his antics, “I’m craving some spaghetti and I really wanna snuggle with my boyfriend while watching Disney movies.”

“One plate of spaghetti and a boyfriend who loves watching Tangled with his baby mama.” He winks at you, knowing your favorite Disney movie since you made him watch it on one of your first dates. He presses a kiss to your cheek, heading to the kitchen to make dinner for the two of you.

Later, when you’re lying on the couch together watching Flynn and Rapunzel launch lanterns into the sky, JJ looks at you seriously, “I don’t want to be like him.”

This makes your heart clench for the boy, “You won’t, J. I promise you won’t. You’re already nothing like them. When you met my little cousins for the first time, you were so compassionate and patient with them. That was the first time I really knew I wanted you to be the father of my children.”

He kisses your forehead, “I love you so much gorgeous, we’re in this together.”

You lay your head back on his warm chest, “I love you too, so much, J.”

Telling Everyone

Your ultrasound went well, you found out that you were 6 weeks along. JJ and you both tearing up at the sound of your baby’s heartbeat. You got a few extra copies of the ultrasound and that’s when you started getting nervous about telling your parents. About half an hour ago you had told the pogues to meet you at The Wreck where you knew your parents and sister already were. Now, you and JJ were standing outside hand in hand. He gave yours a little squeeze and you guys went inside. 

“Hey guys! What’s this meeting about?” Your mom immediately asked upon you walking in.

You saw that your dad was next to her, Kie and the rest of the pogues at a table near you also looking at you. “So, I called you guys here to tell you something and I don’t want any of you to overreact, okay?” There was a chorus of agreements from your loved ones, “I called you guys here to tell you that I’m pregnant.” 

You winced at the multiple gasps you heard, but you got reassuring looks from Sarah and JJ who was still holding on to your hand tight. “Before you get angry, JJ and I have decided to keep the baby and we want to raise it together.”

“Well, if you’re sure you want to keep it, then I’m not mad.” Your mom spoke first.

“I agree with your mom. Though, I need to have some words with JJ.” Your dad sent a pointed look his way, you knew it was all fun though. Your dad always had a soft spot for JJ given his home situation. He had been allowed to stay the night when it got really bad and you just knew your dad loved JJ as if he were his son.

“As long as I’m godfather, it’s cool,” came from Pope.

“Hey! No, it’s only fair that I am!” John B argued with him.

You turned toward Kiara, wanting approval from your big sister, “Kie, are you okay with this?”

She sighed, “Yeah, I’m honestly just in shock. Debating smashing JJ’s skull in, but I’m good,” But you knew she was joking because she had a huge smile on her face, “I can’t wait to be an aunt, though I’m a little disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“She only found out a few days ago,” Sarah jumped in.

“You knew before me?!” Kie was incredulous.

“Well, when she had a sleepover at my house earlier this week and was throwing up every ten minutes I was concerned so I asked her how long it had been going on. Then she told me her other symptoms so I got her a few tests,” Sarah shrugged.

Kie seems to accept it because she launches into another question, “How far along are you?”

“Well, we went and got an ultrasound today, and I’m six weeks along. I got some pictures too.” You hand the few strips of photos to your parents and the pogues to pass around. 

“Ah! My first grandchild! I’m getting this framed!” Your mom exclaims with tears in her eyes.

“Aw Miss C, don’t cry! You’ll be the best grandma!” JJ wraps his arms around her making you smile.

Kie holds her arms out for a hug from you which you gladly accept, “I love you all so much. This baby is going to have the best family.”

The Baby Bump

Seven months into the pregnancy, you were ready for it to be over. Your bump was pretty big now, and your back constantly hurt. Though the morning sickness had ceased, you still got migraines, cravings, and you couldn’t sleep comfortably for the life of you. Even with JJ there, you struggled to get to sleep every night.

Now, you were putting on a bikini because the pogues were all going boating today. When you managed to get into your swimsuit, you looked in the mirror, feeling self-conscious. Your baby bump just made you feel fat. Pulling at the bottoms to try and cover your butt a little more, you frowned. You had definitely gained weight from this pregnancy.

Before you could dwell on it more, JJ came into your bedroom, donning his favorite swim trunks. He came up behind you, putting his hands on your waist and pressing kisses to your neck and jaw. “You. Look. So. Hot. Right. Now.” He said in between kissing your soft skin.

“Really baby? I feel disgusting.”

“No, you look so sexy. Knowing you’re carrying my baby is even better.” He nips at your skin making your breath catch in your throat. 

You could feel his hard-on starting to poke your back, “Really babe? Now? We have to leave in 15 minutes.” Despite your words, your hand reaches up to tug at his hair.

He moans into your neck, “Guess we have to be quick then, yeah?”

Baby Shower

Even though you protested, your mom, sister, and Sarah had decided to throw you a baby shower. You were about 8 months along now and so ready to have your baby. You never found out the gender, wanting it to be a surprise. 

Your gender-neutral themed shower, held at The Wreck, was a success. You ate good food and played some fun games. Your friends wished you congratulations, asking to feel the bump and making small talk.

Your favorite part was the gifts, though. Your mom and dad agreed it would be best for the two of you to stay with them, at least until after college, that way everyone could help with the baby while you were getting an education. God knows you have enough rooms. 

Your mom was so excited about decorating the nursery, so you weren’t surprised when she bought you a matching crib and rocking chair for the baby’s room. Sarah bought you a very nice stroller and Kie got you a nice changing table that doubled as a dresser.

You received lots of diapers and wipes, so many cute clothes, bottles, a diaper bag, and a ton of cute toys. 

You, Sarah, your mom, and Kiara were cleaning up from the party when JJ arrived. You were trying to clean up some of the trash but he immediately kissed you and said, “Woah, take it, easy princess. I got this, you sit down.”

You scoff, “JJ, I’m pregnant, not dying.” You still sit down, but reluctantly. He had been acting like this around you since you guys found out, even though you told him it was okay and you could actually do more than sit down. You appreciated the gesture, a lot, but it was a little over the top. Even for JJ.

“I know, babe. I just don’t want you to be stressed. I want the next month to go as smoothly as possible for you.”

You swear your heart melted, “I get it, J. Wanna see the new baby clothes? They’re so cute!”

“Sure do, baby,” He pulls a chair up and wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I love you and the baby so so much. I didn’t even think it was possible.

“I love you so so much, too. I can’t wait to have our baby.” You lean your head on his shoulder, showing him the new baby items from the shower. 

Labor

When you couldn’t get to sleep because of a pain in your stomach, you thought nothing of it. This had happened multiple times before where the baby was kicking too hard for you to sleep. But, when the pains kept getting worse, JJ made you go to the hospital. Your mom, dad, sister, him, and you all scrambled to get dressed in the middle of the night. When you were pulling on a pair of his sweatpants, your water broke, so it was officially go time.

You all piled in the car with the baby bag that had been packed since the day of your shower. When you arrived, they brought you to a room in a wheelchair, immediately putting you on epidural. 

When you were fully dilated, it was time to start pushing. JJ was the only one allowed in the room for this part. He held your hand and let you squeeze it for the whole 2 hours but it felt like 2 minutes.

You heard the first cries of your baby and JJ saying, “It’s a girl. Princess, we have a daughter.” He sounded choked up and when the doctor let you hold her, you started crying too.

“Stella Marie Maybank,” You said softly as you looked up at JJ. You had discussed names for both genders for a long time and you were in love with the ones you picked out. 

JJ took Stella from your arms to hold her himself and he looked down at you with the biggest smile on his face, “Thank you.”

“For what?” You were confused by his words, wondering what he meant.

“For this beautiful baby. For sticking by me even when I didn’t deserve it. Thank you for giving me the family I always wanted. I love you.”

“I love you too, J. So much.”

Tags: @overly-b​ @midnightmagicmusings​

[altr5312916195]

The Ghoul Boys' Pizza Party

“I can’t believe I let you dupe me into coming to a children's pizza place, Ryan. You really got me on this one.”

Shane told his partner as they stood outside of the abandoned building.

“Okay, yes it’s an odd place to be, but you know there’s been some stories since the opening of Freddy’s.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Shane said, feigning interest as they approached the doors.

“There’s legends of child murders, shady business and family affairs. A few of the restaurants went up in flames.”

Ryan explained. The pair walked up to the doors with the owner, and their crew behind them. The man unlocked the doors.

“Not this one though?”

“Not this one.”

Ryan confirmed as the man pushed the doors open.

“Have fun dudes, I’ll see you at six.” He chuckled.

He handed them pale blue button ups, a golden security badge sitting on top of the folded shirt.

“Great!

Let’s try not to die in a fire.”

Shane said, as he pulled on his shirt, fastening the badge to it.

“No promises.”

Ryan told him, being the first to step inside, buttoning his shirt.

“Oh look at the confidence!

The swagger ole’ Bergara has tonight.”

Shane chuckled as he walked behind.

The door clicked behind the crew as the owner locked them in for the night.

“I got a good feeling about this one.”

Ryan looked back at Shane with a smile.

“As in we’ll find some ghosts, or we’ll be ghoul free and you’ll go home and sleep well?”

“I’m not so sure yet.”

He noted, while dragging his hand across the damp wall. He found some light switches along the way and flicked them on. The overheads failed to power up, but the stage lights flickered on.

“Oh I truly hate that.”

Shane noted as the stage lit up, getting a good look at some tattered animatronics.

“Yeah that’s.. Not what you want to see.”

The Boys stepped to the edge of the stage, while the big three loomed over them.

“So tell me about the lore here. What are we looking at, I seem to recall child murder.”

Shane broke the silence.

“Yes! Lore..”

Ryan broke out of his trance and looked to Shane.

“Fredbear’s Family Diner opened in the early 70’s.”

“Oh they beat Chuck E?”

“Sure did.”

“The old cheese miser, they beat em to it.”

‘No one said they did a good job though.”

“Oh of course not..

Child murder isn’t good for the business,

Ryan c’mon! You should know that.”

“Hey, don’t jump ahead now hold on. So the little restaurant does well on it’s own for a time. It’s owned by one guy, guy decides it’s time to branch out.”

*chuckles* “Does guy have a name?”

“He does.”

*Gasp* “He does!”

“It’s Henry.”

“Henry, no last name?”

*laughs*

That is correct.”

“Oh that’s- *laughs* Wonderful.”

“Right so he teams up with this man.”

“Oh a partnership!

Does he have a name?”

“William Afton.”

“A last name too! What a lucky guy!”

*chuckles* “His full name is in the police report”

“But not Henry’s? He builds this business

From ground up and they don’t even give him

A proper name. What horse shit.”

“The disrespect is real.”

“It is!”

“It gets more real when you find out Afton’s

Pinned for henry’s daughter’s murder.”

*Laughs* “What? No you’re

Fucking with me.”

“Shane, I'm so serious.”

“Stop.”

“Honest to god.”

“That douche, that british douche!”

“Wha- *wheeze*

Why’s he a brit?”

“I just get the vibes.”

Ryan laughed it off, but continued on as they walked the table filled room.

“Freddy Fazbear’s opens about late 70’s right?”

“Things are going steady? No dead kids?”

“No dead kids, then!”

*chuckles* “Oh no..”

“See this is when Henry’s daughter goes missing.

Charlie.”

“That’s her name?”

“Charlette, yeah.”

“Oh okay, that douche Afton kills her.”

“Exactly, and hides her body

In one of the suits.”

“No!”

*nods* “Henry builds these things

And ole Afton thinks it’s a burial ground.”

“What a dick. That’s a new level

Of disrespect Ryan.”

“But wait! *laugs*

He kills five more kids.”

*laughs* “Ryan, that's not funny.”

“Shane, you're laughing too.”

“Well of course! Your delivery

Was so nonchalant.”

*laughs* “So five more kids.”

“Into the suits?”

“Yep.”

“Unrelated to Charlie?”

“Exactly.”

“But why?”

“He never told.”

“So he was taken in for this?”

“Then released because

They never found the bodies.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, and then after Henry..

Well he kills himself.”

“Henry did? Oh god..”

“Right, Afton takes the rights.

Opens a new Freddy’s.”

“That douche bag..

He’s evil Ryan.”

“Truly, it’s scary.

But he opens this place,

Circus Baby’s.

His own daughter dies by

His animatronic, Baby.”

“That’s Karma.”

“You’d think.

You know his son dies too.”

“Who let this man have kids?”

“His dead wife..”

“OH MY GOD” *laugs*

“How’d she die?”

*laugh* “I’ll give you two guesses.”

“Sweet Satan.

Man’s got the worst luck.”

“Well, yknow

Maybe don’t murder children for funsies.”

“Fair point.”

There was a metallic creek behind them as they walked the restaurant.

*soft chuckle*

“Oh no..”

“I-

I’m not turning around.”

*laughs* “Please do,

We’ll turn around together.”

*Deep breath*

“Okay.”

“One.”

“Two..”

“Three.” The boys turned to face the stage once again.

“Ryan the bear moved.”

“Freddy.”

“Oh, Mr Fazbear himself.”

“The big man..”

Freddy’s eyes glinted as they shifted to gaze at Shane and Ryan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Shane.. There’s a child in there.”

“A real one?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Can’t be.”

“What?”

“I said what I said.”

“I- wha-

Alright, okay.”

“Can we sit, and finish the story?”

“You’re not scared?”

“No.”

Shane simply told him, and pulled out a dusty chair. Ryan sat next to him, and sighed. Though his eyes often darted between Shane, and Freddy.

“Fine..

So Afton has a few restaurants running.”

“Despite Henry killing himself.

Got it. Douche.”

“Well the first Freddy’s shuts down.

Not because of missing kids, but faulty walk around suits.”

“Faulty walk around suits,

What did a worker almost die

While handing out cake?”

Ryan starred at his partner silently. Shane laughed.

“They did?”

“That’s when they finally bring Afton in.”

“And then let him go?

Five kids, dead.

Business partner, dead

Worker, dead.

They let him go.”

“It’s insane, but yes.

So they shut the first Freddy’s down.”

“This one, right?

They rebuilt it in the 90s right?”

“Yeah, some things happened in between.

Five kids, spring lock accident, bite of 87’.”

“A kid bit someone?”

“An animatronic bit a security guard.”

“Oh.. Oh well that’s us tonight.”

Shane gestured to the pale blue shirt, gold badge shining in the dim light of their flashlights.

“That’s.. Foreboding.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.

You know they’ve gone through

Team of animatronics

After team of animatronics.

They finally decide to put it all to rest.”

“Everything closes down?”

“All of it.

Years later, Afton’s off the grid.”

“He’s dead?”

“That’s a theory.”

“A game theory, got it.

Now we’re here.”

“Right.”

“Let’s get hunting then.”

Shane stands up, and Ryan follows. He looks down at his watch.

“One thirty A.M.”

“Five more hours.”

Ryan sighs nervously. They move from the main dining hall into a hallway. The dim lights of the stage stay behind them. They turn into a new room, a small stage in the middle.

“Who’s that?”

Shane pointed to the red fur, and yellow eye that peaked at them behind a purple curtain.

“That would be Foxy.”

“The pirate.

Chica, Bonnie.”

“And a puppet.”

“Where is that one?”

“Storage.

Lot of people think Charlie is in that one.”

“Oh fun, gotta love living in a box forever.”

Shane walked to the tiny stage and reached out for the curtain.

“Dude! Stop what’s wrong with you?”

*chuckles* “C’mon it’s fine.”

He pulled back the curtain. A sharp creak rang out as the silver hook fell on Shane’s arm. He hissed in pain and pulled back.

“I fucking told you!”

“So the gears are loose, Ryan.

Shut up, I’m not dead.

Just give me a bandaid and an alcohol wipe.”

“We’re gonna need shots after this..”

“Oh please.”

Shane scoffed as one of the crew walked over and wiped at the cut with a small wipe, and slapped a bandaid over it.

“Good as new!”

Shane smiled, and thanked the crew member.

“Now, how bout a good ole spirit box?”

Ryan sighed, and pulled out the spirit box, setting it on one of the tables next to them.

“Alright Foxy, it’s gonna get a little loud in here.

Bet you’re used to it from all the screaming kids though.”

“Well he hasn’t been around em in a while.”

“It has been a bit.”

Ryan clicked the spirit box on. The loud shuffle of noise began as everyone listened in anticipation. Seconds passed and Ryan sighed again, disappointed.

“Nothing! C’mon Foxy boy, you got nothing to say?”

The room was quiet save for the radio channels shuffling.

Then something broke through.

“Save them.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as goosebumps hit his arms.

“No.”

*chuckles* “That.. that was the clearest thing

We’ve heard..”

Ryan looked at the tattered red fox and stepped back.

“Shane what the hell was that?”

The words “Save them” struck the cold air again.

Shane laughed, albeit nervously.

“The kids need help Ryan.”

“Shane stop.”

“Ryan they need you.”

“Shane it’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Ryan picked up the spirit box, and turned it off. He quickly ducked back into the hallway.

“Oh come- Ryan come on.”

Shane followed him out. They continued down the corridor.

“Shane it’s not funny,

There’s kids in there.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“You don’t?”

Shane hesitated.

“No, I don’t.”

A dim light at the end of the hall led them to an office.

Computer screens lined the wall.

“I’m sorry I can’t find it

Easy to joke about these kids.”

“Ryan stop.. It’s fine. It’s what we do.”

They looked to the screens as they argued and Ryan stopped mid sentence.

“Chica’s gone.”

“What? No she’s no-”

On the main screen, the stage, there was only two animals up there. Freddy, and Bonnie.

A crash came from the kitchen.

“Is the whole team in the office?”

Ryan asked, and counted the members in the room. They were all there.

“Shut the doors.”

Shane fumbled for a door, there was none. Just a hole in the wall. He muttered in confusion as he hit the red button labeled door. A metal door came slamming shut.

“I don’t think that’s very safe.”

“But the animatronics outside are?”

“Pick your poison Ryan.”

“We are going to die here..”

“Oh stop! *laughs* We’re fine.”

“Shane I don’t think you understand!

So many people died here.

Kids, nightguards, shift managers. Families, Shane.”

“Ryan, it’s not true.”

Ryan shook his head, and turned to look back at the screens on the wall. Shane put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Come on, Ryan..”

He laughed awkwardly, while Ryan shrugged his hand away.

One of the monitors glitched, coming back to show Foxy in a new position.

“It moved.”

“I see that..”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing, we watch them.

What time is it?”

“Three.”

Ryan sighed, and sunk into one of the roller chairs by the desk.

“Ryan what are we doing?”

“I don’t know! Okay?

We’re stuck here until dawn. Let’s just ride it out.”

Shane sat down next to him, and watched the computer screens. The main screen glitched as Bonnie moved off stage, leaving Freddy alone.

“Shane, why do you think they’re moving?”

“They’re programmed that way aren’t they?”

“You think they do that at Chuck E Cheese?”

“Well, yknow..

I don’t know. I’ve never been in this position.”

Ryan shuffled around again for the spirit box and clicked it on.

Shane groaned and flinched as the sound screeched through the small room.

“Oh you love to hate it..”

Shane joked as Ryan shushed him. Shane pouted and sighed, leaning back in the chair. More banging came from the kitchen.

“Let’s eat.”

“Ryan.. *laughs*

Ryan the chicken is gonna eat us.��

“Shane..”

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Ryan turned off the box to hear them better. Things went quiet until something slammed against the door. Ryan jumped back with a shout, and Shane pointed his flashlight towards the window.

In the window a purple shadow stood smiling.

“It’s Bonnie.”

“I see him, Shane.”

“What do we do?”

“Everyone stay still, maybe it’ll go away.”

They both spoke barely above a whisper. Minutes passed as the bunny stood unmoving. Humming echoed through the halls.

“Ryan..”

“I know.. I-i know.

What time-”

“Four.”

“This is our purgatory, Shane.

We’re done for.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

After what felt like hours the hulking form finally turned to leave.

Ryan sighed in relief.

“See?”

“Don’t jinx it Shane.”

“I’m sorry.”

He went quiet, eyes falling back on the screens as they watched Bonnie roam the halls. Chica had found her way back to the stage, Foxy was unmoving.

“Why are they moving? What do they want with us?”

“Stop asking questions I don’t have answers to!”

Ryan huffed out. He looked down at his feet, the golden badge glinting in his eyes as a thought hit him.

“William always came in dressed as a guard.

That was his MO.”

“And we’re the guards. What if they’re

scared of us?”

Ryan looked at Shane, dumbfounded.

“What if they are scared of us?”

“One hour left.” Someone from the crew informed.

“We have to get back to the front doors.”

A soft beeping began to ring out. Shane looked around for the source. In the corner of on of the screens a small red battery flashed in time with the beeping.

“We’re losing power.”

“To what?”

Shane shrugged.

“We’re not going to make it.”

“We’re going to make it.”

Something slammed against the door, a dent being pressed into it.

“We don’t get paid enough for this!”

“It’s Foxy, that bitch!

“Shane, you'll make him angier!”

“Yeah? Well he can suck it!

That’s right!”

“They’re kids!”

“Oh please..”

Another slam rang out, as the beeping grew louder, more urgent.

“Five thirty.”

“Shane what do we do?”

“We’re going to get to that door.

He’ll go away soon.”

The banging grew louder, and Ryan moved to cover his ears. He shrank back in his chair, eyes shut.

Despite all this he heard something in the back of his mind as images flash in his head.

It’s me

“Shane!”

Shane stood up, standing between Ryan and the door. The banging stopped. The fox walked away. Ryan relaxed a bit. Until the power went out, and the door opened again.

“We’re going to run for it.”

“We cannot do that!”

“We can.”

Shane grabbed Ryan’s arm and booked it down the halls, dragging Ryan behind him. Foxy wasn’t far off on their steps in the hall.

“Ryan run faster!”

“I ca- I can’t!”

He choked out. His eyes were on the small crew behind them, worried of who may be left behind. Chica met them at the end of the hall as she stepped out from the kitchen. Shane narrowly avoided hitting her dead on and led them into the main room.

“Look there’s the door!”

Ryan laughed in pitiful fear, and small relief. Until Bonnie stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh god, oh fuck.”

Chica, and Foxy had the crew trapped, the doors barely out of reach. All of the voices grew louder around them. Ryan clutched his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, and Shane’s tight grip on him released.

“Shane?”

Ryan asked, refusing to open his eyes.

Shane looked at the animatronics as they circled the team. They were so close he couldn’t let it end like this. But he also couldn’t reveal himself. He panicked, his eyes began to turn a deep red as he looked around for another way out. But those kids, they wouldn’t get out of his head. They were so loud.

“OH JUST STOP IT”

He screamed, and they listened. The voices were silent, and Ryan opened his eyes. Shane grabbed his arm again and yanked him to the doors.

The owner opened them up just as Ryan and Shane made it back outside. Though Shane was prepared to barrel through the glass if necessary.

Ryan fell to his knees as they finally made it to the end, and laughed in morbid relief.

“Hey! You guys made it! Did ya have fun?” The owner smiled at them.

Shane helped Ryan up, and glared at the owner. He ripped the badge off his shirt, and slammed it against the man’s chest.

“We’re suing.”

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 2: Fuck-ups and Textbooks

... I know I said I’d update weekly, but here we are. From now on I’ll post every Friday, if not more often. Than you for such a positive response to Chapter 1, it warms my heart! Enjoy :)

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 2, Fuck-ups and Textbooks

Chapter Summary:  You narrow in on the pool of suspects while desperately trying to convince yourself that dream psychology is a pseudoscience.

Words: 2225

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

A man stood above you, backlit, so you couldn’t see his face. You were laid supine, staring up at him - vulnerable, but unafraid. He spoke to you, but his voice and words were indistinct, muffled, as if you were underwater.

He knelt over you, placing one hand to the side of your head. It was silent, still, unmoving except for the dim lights shifting behind him. You felt your breath quicken as the figure shifted almost imperceptibly closer. His tie fell forward, dangling over your chest. It was a beautiful cerulean blue, silky and expensive looking. You reached up to touch it, and the man caught your wrist in a firm grip.

“No,” he said, his words clearer but his voice still indistinct. Low, deep, familiar… but you couldn’t place it.

He released your hand and moved his to your waist, lightly caressing, stroking downward until he caught your hipbone. Your pulse quickened and you gasped and arched upward into his touch, feeling his fingers dig in tighter in response.

“I thought so,” he murmured, swinging one leg over to cage your body with his. The hand that wasn’t gripping your hip wove into your hair and came to rest at the base of your skull, pulling your head up as he leaned down to catch your mouth with his…

Your phone alarm blared, waking you with a start. The dream slipped away, leaving you alone in your hotel bed, a noticeable wetness between your legs.

“God fucking damn it; I can’t have anything,” you muttered, throwing off your blanket and hopping into the shower. You hadn’t dreamed about sex in a while, hadn’t thought about sex in a while, too preoccupied with proving yourself at work. The dream left a longing in its wake, one that would unfortunately have to be addressed at a later time, because you stayed in the shower far too long and needed to meet Hotch and Morgan downstairs.

____________

You bustled into the lobby, clutching your case files and coffee. The others stood by the front entrance, facing away, seemingly discussing something amongst themselves. Hotch turned at the sound of your heels clicking towards them. You smiled, nodding your head in greeting, and-

Oh my god.

You froze in your tracks, face feeling suddenly numb. You registered Hotch frowning in confusion, but you couldn’t say anything to reassure him, not yet.

His tie.

It was the same one, the one that draped over your bare chest in the dream last night, the one attached to the man who you’d been thinking about all morning despite never seeing his face. The same one that hung loosely around Hotch’s neck last night on the balcony, the one that made you feel so voyeuristic that you couldn’t make conversation with him knowing its unknotting exposed his throat, making him appear stripped bare in comparison to the tailored suits he practically lived in.

“You alright, kiddo?” Morgan asked. “I mean, I know I’m a stop-you-in-your-tracks kinda guy, but I woulda thought you’d be used to that by now, huh?”

Morgan’s lighthearted cockiness gave you the boost you needed to shake your head and keep walking forward. “Sorry, thought I forgot my phone. I’m good. Let’s go, what’s the plan?”

Hotch seemingly accepted your answer, but kept his eyes on you as you got into the car. “Local police have rounded up friends and family of the California victim at the station. I’d like you to take the lead on interviews today. Morgan and I will be available should you have any questions, but we’re going to search our victim’s apartment first. Is that alright?”

It wasn’t actually a question, of course, but you gave verbal confirmation just the same. After the incident last week, you wanted a chance to prove yourself in an interview setting with a slightly less hostile subject.

They dropped you off at the station with instructions to compare notes with Prentiss, JJ, Reid, and Rossi after each interview. After setting up the room and conducting a tearful conversation with the victim’s mother, your first interview of the day, a conference call with the others in Arizona and Nevada revealed that the team had missed something big in the initial review of victims: they had all attended the same small, liberal arts college in San Diego.

“So, uh, who wants to tell Hotch?” asked Emily over the phone. Silence on the line, but you could tell what the others were thinking - no one wanted to be the one to deliver the news that you had overlooked such a clear commonality in the victim profiles - one that could have led you to an obvious suspect pool hours ago.

“The most fair way to decide this would be a random selection tool, here, I can pull one up on my phone,” replied Reid, accompanied by tapping sounds as he typed something in.

“No, she can do it, she’s with Hotch already,” said Rossi. “Let’s not waste time on this. Let us know what he says.” The others murmured their sympathies, but ended the call just the same, satisfied with avoiding Hotch’s quiet brand of wrath for the time being.

Sighing, you slumped in your chair in the interview room. Best to just get it over with. You dialed and held your breath, but not for long, as he picked up on the first ring.

“What did you find?” he asked, expectant.

“I just got off the phone with the others, and, it… it looks like they all attended the same college. PLNU, here in San Diego.”

A few beats of complete silence on the other end. You cringed, holding the phone away from your head like it was a bomb about to go off.

After what felt like ages, he responded. His voice was low, stern as always, but it had a clipped quality that you recognized as the closest you’d ever seen Agent Hotchner get to rage. “How did we not find this out during preliminary research?” he asked.

“Well, um, two of them didn’t actually graduate from there, so it wasn’t immediately obvious,” you offered.

More silence.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’re right though, we should have figured this out earlier. I’m sorry, I’ll -”

He interrupted you. “Thank you, I’ll tell Garcia to get a suspect pool together.” Line dead.

You sighed and laid your head in your hands. As far as tough conversations go, that was easy on the surface - hell, you’d had bosses scream at you when you worked retail for something much less consequential. But Hotch was different - he commanded respect without demanding it, and he had a way of making you feel like the only true measure of success was his praise, and by that same vein, his disappointment made you feel like an utter failure. For a man so cold and closed off, he drew the attention and admiration of everyone around him. When you started your internship, JJ had filled you in on what happened to his family - both wife and child murdered by one of their subjects. You weren’t sure how a man who had gone through that was still standing, much less working in the field that exposed them to that danger in the first place. But that was Aaron Hotchner, right? There was a reason that any member of his team would take a bullet for him without a second thought.

You’d only known him for a month, but you thought you probably would too.

____________

The rest of the interviews progressed smoothly, and you found out through conversation with your fellow team members that all three victims had taken a class with the same TA. One of them had mentioned a creepy teaching assistant to her friends at one point or another, shaping this up to hopefully be a pretty clear case of unhinged stalkerdom. Why the grandiosity in transporting and hiding the bodies no one was quite sure, but you, Morgan, and Hotch were on your way to his house along with a SWAT team to figure that out.

When you pulled up outside his address, a little yellow bungalow in La Jolla, you felt your upper lip start to sweat. Morgan and Hotch were pulling on their vests, checking their guns, and you, an intern without weapons privileges (or training, for that matter) were hiding behind the corner of the SUV.

“Remember, we don’t know if this is our guy!” Morgan yelled to the other officers. “We need him alive, don’t go shooting for no reason, got it?”

Hotch turned to you hurriedly before they moved across the street to enter the home. “You okay?” he asked, placing his hand on your upper arm.

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you, looking into your face intently. "There’s several officers waiting with you out here, this will take less than two minutes.”

You nodded again, unsure how to tell him that you weren’t afraid for yourself, but for them. For him. He was indestructible, fearless, more than twice your age with more than 20 times the experience in the field. But you still felt an innate urge to be there, to protect him in case something went wrong.

His potential as a cult leader is really being wasted at the BAU. Hell, I’d die for him.

Therapy, you decided. You needed therapy.

Hotch nodded, oblivious to your internal conflict, dropped his hand from your arm, and headed towards the house with the others. You heard Morgan yell, a loud bang as he presumably kicked the door in, and more shouting. Your breath hitched in your throat as you counted the seconds, dreading the sound of gunshots.

Luckily, it didn’t come. They exited the house, striding towards you. Hotch’s hair had been disheveled in the commotion, falling onto his forehead. He raked it back with one hand, sighing.

“Nothing. Doesn’t look like he fled, but Garcia didn’t mention anything about him being at work during this time. Morgan’s gonna call her and see if she can find a location; let’s search the house.”

You nodded and followed him, feeling guilty for your overwhelming sense of relief that the suspect hadn’t been home. Morgan stood in the front yard, charming Garcia on the phone. You smiled. It was only a matter of time before those two stopped being idiots and admitted their love for each other; you couldn’t imagine being one of the more seasoned team members that has dealt with their antics for years.

Trailing Hotch through the front door, you noticed immediately how… bare the home was. The furniture was all standard IKEA gray (you recognized it, having furnished your apartment on a budget), the walls were absent of any decoration, and there wasn’t a single knick-knack or distinguishing piece that made it appear as if someone actually lived there. The obvious plainness stood in stark contrast to the sunny exterior and palm trees and other greenery surrounding the home.

Morgan strode in behind you, apparently having concluded his flirting session. “Cozy, huh?”

You nodded. You didn’t have much experience profiling suspects’ living quarters, but you didn’t need to be an expert to know that something was off here.

“Split up. Take the bedroom,” Hotch directed, nodding in your direction. “Tell me if you find anything.”

The bedroom was just as unremarkable as the rest of the house. You tore through drawers of neatly folded clothing, pulled out mounds of blank notebooks from the desk, dug through a trashcan filled to the brim with just tissues (you truly didn’t want to know), and just when you were sure there was absolutely nothing of import to discover about this guy, you pulled up the corner of the mattress to find what must have been dozens of books on criminal psychology stacked within the bedframe.

The suspect was very notably not a TA for a criminal psychology class.

“Uh, Agent Hotchner? Sir? I think I found something,” you called out.

Hotch appeared in the doorway. “Show me.”

You pulled up the corner of the mattress, gesturing for him to look underneath. Moving closer, he placed his hand on your lower back, and looked over your shoulder.

“Criminal psychology?” he asked, unmoving.

You nodded, glued to your position, breathing shallowly, wanting to move to examine the books but effectively pinned between Hotch and the foot of the bed. Your gaze shifted to the left slightly, and you were met with an eye level view of-

That fucking tie. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He moved away to pull the stack of books out of its hiding place, and the muscles in your lower back where his hand was resting suddenly relaxed. You berated yourself internally for being so weird around him - it was a tie, for fuck’s sake, something that your mind had picked up on yesterday and inserted purposelessly into your dream.

Dream psychology is bullshit, you reassured yourself for probably the hundredth time today.

Hotch began to leaf through the books, and you saw that certain passages had been intensely highlighted and circled, with notes scribbled in the margins. He paused to read a few of them before snapping the textbook he was holding shut and standing up.

“Let’s get these packed up and go through them back at the hotel. It’s getting late.”

[alovesongshewrote]

They’re So Pretty, It Hurts | Zoe

Plot:  Several minutes of the reader being a disaster

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings:  Pining.  So much pining.

A/N:  it’s woman loving hours, lads.  

Tags: @yagirlcheesely @moppetwithamanbun @tales-of-hisirdoux @blixeon

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Sometimes, you go to a bookstore, and you see a pretty girl.  You make eye contact, and it’s only for a second, but it still takes your breath away.  Her eyes are just so blue, the colour of the sky when the sun is finished rising.  You could get lost in them, you wanted to get lost in them, but instead, you look away almost instantly because being perceived is Not Fun.  Still, your cheeks are warm, and you’re desperate to steal another glance at her.

This is one of those times.  Except you worked at the bookstore, but that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.  Bottom line, you’d made eye contact with a cute girl and instantly fallen in love with her.  It be like that sometimes, but we manage and move forward.  You managed and moved forward by hiding behind one of the shelves.  You were not the best at managing and moving forward.  You may have actually gone backwards, I’m not sure.  Either way, your heart was racing, practically beating out of your chest.  It felt you couldn't breathe, like oxygen was made of cute girls, which sounds nice but is, in practice, really impractical and very suffocating.

“Uh, (Y/N)?  You good, mate?”

“Hhjkjadfhkaljdfhakhfd-”

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

Your lovely, lovely coworker, Hisirdoux Casperan, had noticed you hiding behind the shelf, which wasn’t difficult at all, really.  You didn’t care though, you were mostly hiding from the cute girl.  Literally, anyone and everyone else who entered the bookstore could see you, but that didn’t matter.  As long as she didn’t see, everything would be fine.  Douxie, however, thought you may have had a stroke.

“(Y/N)?” he gave your arm a little poke, “(Y/N)?  (Y/N) darling, are you-”

“Alkjdhfalksdhfajlksdfhakjf, yeah, sorry, I just-” you didn’t finish your sentence.  You just kind of floated away into the void, attention stolen again by the cute girl.  Her hair was pink, her clothes very punk-rock.  Yeah, yeah, you were a goner.  God, she was pretty.  Oh.  Oh, fuck, she was coming this way.  

You jerked your head to face the books you were hiding behind (something about true crime?  It looked cool, but now was not the time,) while Douxie faced the cute girl head-on.  You would never know where he found the confidence, but you respected it.

“Zoe!  This is (Y/N), she’s the new one I was telling you about.”

Zoe.  Zoe.  You liked it.  It was pretty, like her.  Oh, god, she was talking to you.

“(Y/N), huh?  Cute name, it suits you.”

If you could think coherently, you would have been wondering if that meant she found you cute, but you couldn’t think coherently.  At the moment, your thoughts were mostly “AKJKDSFHKJHG,” and “KSHFJAHFKJHAKDFHKALDFHLAJSDFHKLJADSHFKLHASKDJFHKALS,” and you still couldn’t breathe!  It was very valid of you, to be honest.

“Uhh, thanks.  You too.”

Good, good, that was what a normal person would say.  This was a normal, average conversation.  You definitely didn’t have a huge crush on her or anything, nooooo-

“So, uh… true crime?”

You blinked a few times in confusion before realizing that she was referring to the shelf you were leaning on.  Oh, yeah, true crime.  Oh, god, she was looking at you, they were both looking at you, QUICK THINK OF SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT TRUE CRIME.

“Uh, yeah, I like… crime.”

Oh, wow that was dumb.  I mean, it wasn’t the worst thing you could have said, but you would always remember that one of the first things you said to Zoe was “I like crime.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You… like crime?”

Too late to back out now, “...Yes.  I’m…  I’m good at crime.  I enjoy arson.”

It was stupid.  Really stupid, like, you didn’t even know where that came from.  But it made her laugh.  And you knew at that moment that you would do anything to make her laugh again.  Her smile was a blessing that brought light into your world, and you wanted to see it every day if she was okay with that.

“Ah, I like you, you’re cute.  Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you later.  And you!”

You were trying to recover from the first six words of that sentence, but now she was pointing at you!  And looking!  Eye contact!  Ah!

“Stick around Arcadia, ok?  I wanna see you again.”

“I-I um-” you were straight-up dying now, ok, “Well, you know where to find me!”

Her smile was the most important thing in the world and you would die to protect it.

“Aight, I’m out!  Bye guys!”

“See you, Zo.”

“B-bye!”

As soon as she was gone, you collapsed against the bookshelf and buried your face in your hands.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, WELL, that could have gone better, but it didn’t go worse, and for that you were thankful.

Douxie stared at you for a second.  He’d seen friends in this state before, as often as the night prior, actually.  Zoe had had the same reaction when she first saw you that you had to seeing her now, and he’d promised to introduce you.  She’d been so calm earlier because she’d been practicing what to say in the mirror for, like, a day.  You, on the other hand, had not prepared for this.  It was finals week and you had not studied.  Shit, you hadn’t even known about finals week.  Your friend had just devised this gay little plot and it left you a flustered mess with no study materials.  There were no cue cards in this world, only pretty-girl-panic and fits of uncontrollable blushing.

He knelt down to get on your level, “You okay?”

“Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Understandable.  You wanna chill in the back for a minute?”

“Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

It wasn’t a verbal confirmation, but you nodded, and he took that as a yes.  He helped you to your feet and led you to the back, which was technically his house, but whatever, semantics. 

“Here, I’ll just let you chill for a bit.  I’ll be back soon, please don’t die.”

“I won’t!”

He smiled at that and walked back into the shop to continue dealing with the public.  F in the chat for Douxie.  In the meantime, you just curled yourself into a ball on his couch and made a low humming noise.  Man, were you bad at… everything or what?

“Mrowr?”  You looked up to see a familiar mass of black fur, his head tilted in curiosity.  

“Ah, hey Arch.”

“Mrp.”

“You know you don’t have to do the whole cat thing with me?  I know you can talk.”

“Well, it’s nice to pretend sometimes.  Besides, we don’t know when that door’ll open again or for who.  It’s best to stay inconspicuous.”

You let a small laugh escape you as you started to calm down, your lungs finally getting the oxygen they’d so desperately missed, “I mean, that’s fair.”

“Mrpt?”  which, in cat, meant, “So, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s this girl.  Zoe.  Pink hair, blue eyes, the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever seen.  I just… she’s really cute and I made an absolute fool out of myself in front of her.”

“Mrooooooooooooooooooooow,” meaning, “(Y/N), dear, I know this Zoe.  She’s friends with Douxie.  The bar for general foolery is pretty high.”

“You really think so?”

“Mrow!”  “(Y/N), I know so.  If you like her so much, you should talk to her more!  You’re a nice person, I’m sure she’d like you!”

“Thanks, Arch.”

“Prrbt,” “You’re welcome.”

“Well, I should probably get out there.  Go be a functioning member of society.  Thanks again, bud,”  you gave the cat-dragon a little scratch behind the ears, smiling again at how he stretched up to meet your hand, “See ya around, cat man.”

“See you, (Y/N).”

You gave the familiar one last grin before you slipped out the door, glad that you could breathe, finally.  And then that was ripped away from you by a cute pink-haired lady in the middle of the bookstore.

“Oh!  Zoe!  Hi!”

“Hey, (Y/N)!  I just realized I uh, sort of forgot what I came here for.” 

“That’s understandable!  It happens to me all the time!”

“Heh, yeah,”  she stopped talking and just stared at you for a second.  You did the same before remembering that she said words, and that meant something.

“O-oh, yeah.  What is it that you were looking for?”

“Oh, just,” she pulled a post-it note out of her pocket and handed it to you.  Her finger brushed over yours and you could almost feel a spark there, “Just this.”

“C-cool!  Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, I’ll be right back!”  you gave her a quick nod before running upstairs to grab the book.  While you were distracted, Zoe had her own little meltdown, but she composed herself as soon as she noticed you coming down the stairs.

“Aight, so here you go,” you handed her the book, fingers brushing hers, electricity running through them.  Literally, there was electricity.  You waved it off though.  It was a magical world, and this wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen today (nope, that little award went to “I enjoy arson.”)

“That’ll beeeee, nothing.  Take it.”

“Wait, that’s-that, why?

“I mean, it’s not something I’m allowed to do but, eh, you’re cute.  And I told you I enjoy crime, didn’t I?”

“I’m-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” you said, immediately losing any cool persona you may have had.  Zoe didn’t mind.  She thought you were cute no matter what you did.  That in itself was made evident by the blush on her cheeks.

“O-oh.”

You smiled a little.  You did that, you were the cause of it.  You could only hope that she was also okay with this.

“Well,” you bit your lip.  The longer she stayed quiet the more you doubted your flirting skills, “I’ll be seeing you!”

“Wait!”

Your head shot up, eyes immediately focused on her, ready to hear whatever she had to say.  Man, you were a simp.

“I uh… I was wondering if I could get your number?  With this?”

You were pretty sure you died for a second, but when you recovered, you stuttered out a, “Yeah,” and quickly wrote your name and number on the post-it note she’d handed you.

The smile she gave you when you passed her the note was quite possibly the best thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Well, I’ll call you!  Or text you, or whatever…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous she was, because that was a solid mood, “I look forward to it!”

And with that, she was gone, but she couldn’t stop thinking about your laugh, and how she’d do anything to see your smile again.

Inside, you were thinking the same, or you were until Douxie re-appeared from wherever he'd been hiding.

"Congratulations!"

You jumped an entire foot in the air, something you didn't really think was possible until right then, "Jesus Christ, Casperan!  Don't sneak up on me like that, God.  That's the seventh time today, we need to get you a cowbell or something, my Go-"

"So, did it go well?"

Your satisfaction painted itself on your face, "Yeah," you hummed, looking out the window, "It went well."

[jamiedc-they-them]

Sibling Duty Part VII

Requested Imagine: Daisy does all she can to help you through the latest twist in your story.

“So, she’s healed?”

“Yes, everything seems fine.” Jemma answered her best friend. She didn’t mind the questions, if anything, she found them a bit comforting, she wasn’t the only one shit scared of what the newest twist to your tale would be.

“Seems?” Daisy pressed.

“Well, May was fine, but now she feels others’ emotions. I just….I can’t say what will happen with Y/N.” The brit explained.

Daisy took a moment, ideas running through her head in an attempt to make preparations.

“On three?” She asked, looking back to her friend. Said friend nodded.

“On three.” She confirmed.

They silently counted up to that magical number, before Jemma pushed the button. It took another second before they heard a gasp.

Your gasp.

Your hand shot up, slamming against the glass. You sounded panicked, you just didn’t look it.

“Hey, hey! Y/NN, you’re ok. You’re ok….Look – Look at me, Y/NN. Look at me. You’re ok.” Daisy, though keeping her voice soft, rushed through the words. She put her own hand on the pod, where yours laid.

At least, it did, until you let it slide off as you observed your surroundings. Your breaths started to calm. However, Daisy couldn’t help the small stab of hurt that hit her when you just let it fall.

It was like you didn’t care.

“Where am I?” You asked, voice almost monotone; it was devoid of any of that joy or underlying humour that they had known and loved you for.

It was devoid of emotion all together.

“On the Zephyr. We got you and May out. Jemma – well, Jemma’s a different Jemma timeline wise, but – the…same….Jemma.” Daisy looked to her friend, finding it hard to fully explain this to you.

Jemma took the reigns, stepping up and hovering over your pod, “I –” She stopped, not fully being able to remember, “—I can’t tell you. But, I’m still me at heart, Y/N. Just like you are.” She explained, or rather decided on. She then opened the pod, a SHHHH hissing from it as it opened.

Then, you helped yourself up, holding up a hand as they went to assist you, “I’m not broken. I’m fine.” You meant it in a firm, but loving way, it did not sound that way though.

You sat up fully, opening your eyes and seeing the rest of the team looking at you with a happy look that you were back.

Your eyes then settled on someone you thought to be dead, “….Coulson?”

He nodded, “Hey, Y/N. Resurrection does it’s thing once again. Well, kind of, I’m an LMD now. Still working out the kinks, but I’m here.” He shrugged, still having that same smooth smile.

You nodded, attempting a smile but failing to do so. You did, however, manage to raise your eyebrows.

However, you knew that you looked unimpressed.

“That was meant to be happy.” You confessed, voice still dull.

The sisters shared a smile before looking back at you, “You’re not….hiding them again, are you?” Daisy asked, feeling a bit bad for having to ask it.

Hurt hit you, but it didn’t – couldn’t show, “No, I promise.” You raised your voice, but it sounded like there should’ve been a crack in it there.

“Ok, ok,” Daisy’s voice was calm and soothing, “That’s ok, Y/NN. We’ll work on it. But, I’m sure Coulson knew, right?” She looked back at him, he nodded, “See? You’re ok, Y/N. That was ok. However you show it, it’s ok.”

“It’s not,” You argued dispassionately on the outside, but filled with annoyance on the inside, “I – I should….I should be able to not fucking talk about it.” You did not sound like the annoyed person you were in this moment.

“I know. May had a similar experience, Y/N, only…well, maybe it’s the same thing.” Jemma guessed, putting a hand on your arm. As she did, she gasped; she felt all the anger, frustration, rage, concern.

“Bloody hell.” She gasped, immediately removing her arm and taking a breath to calm herself after the wave that had hit her.

“I’m sorry.” You meant it, everyone could tell that.

“It – it’s ok, Y/NN, it’s not your fault.” She assured. Daisy put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, rubbing it in an attempt to help.

“What is it?” Elena asked, arms folded, but she did look concerned.

“Y/N does feel, she just can’t externalize it.” Simmons was blunt, but she had to be here.

The team all shared a look. It just made you look down.

“Great, so I’m fucking that up, too.” Daisy had never spun around so fast to face you when you spoke.

“You are not fucking it up.” She was firm, and she sounded livid.

“Daisy, face it, I was never the best at emotions; Coulson can attest to that when he first grabbed me to come on the team. He had to coach me about caring. I was always the shut off type, you know that from when we first met. Maybe this was just it’s natural conclusion. Reach an end point with my emotions where I only feel them and never show them like a normal person would.” You didn’t mean to have a speech, but here you were.

Daisy looked crestfallen, but the Quinjet shuddered as it came to a holt.

As the others ran up, Daisy grabbed your hand. You heard her groan a little at the weight of everything hitting her, but she kept a hold on your hand.

“Daisy, you can –” You started to say, but she cut you off.

“I’m not letting go, Y/NN,” She kept walking, but you heard the frustration, “I just got you back, I’m not losing you again,” – The desperation and concern – “I’m just not.”

 You had landed in the 1970s; 1973, to be exact. You had all been ordered out to find….something. You weren’t entirely sure.

Daisy put her hands on your arms, “I’ll be with you, ok? Every step of the way,” She felt the sisterly love; actually feeling it this time: the warmth, the care, the love, “There’s my sister.” She said, bopping you on the nose affectionately.

“Now, come on, we ‘ve go the 70s to conquer.” She quipped, leading the way out.

You sighed, a small one. You might’ve been broken emotionally, but the world wasn’t broken. You could stop that.

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You walked out with your younger sister. You had just brought clothes from the shop you were exiting: You, a cream top and dark blue trousers; your sister: white type with a checkered jacket, same coloured trousers and black heels.

She observe herself in the window reflection, as you looked around the area. It was almost completely like how the stories sold it to you.

You felt a sense of nostalgia despite having never been in this time.

“Hey, looking sharp.” Coulson said to you both as himself and May approached you.

You both turned to him, sharing a nod with May; seemed you both were in the same boat, just on different sides of it.

“Thanks.” Daisy said for you both.

“Where’s Agent Sousa?” Coulson asked. Ah yes, agent Sousa, the man who was also out of time. A man that they had saved, a legend of SHIELD. Now, he was on your team. If you could, you would’ve shown a pretty excited side to yourself; a fanboy that would’ve rivalled Coulson’s.

Even though you couldn’t show it, Daisy’s intuition told her that you had something you wanted to express. She held your hand, being hit with the feeling of excitement, “Oh, wow. Y/N is very excited about having Mr Sousa on our team.” She announced.

You could talk, obviously. You just….didn’t want to seem like a dick.

The two parental figures looked at you, “I’ve read about him. Always been a fan.” You explained.

“Yeah, that’s fair, he is pretty cool.” Coulson agreed.

“Don’t you both start, now.” May groaned. Daisy laughed, she felt you wanting to as well. She gave your hand a loving squeeze as a sign: I got this for the both of us.

You hated putting this amount of pressure on your sister.

“Anyway, he’s still inside, picking out his threads.” Daisy answered Coulson’s question with.

“How’s he handling the transition?” May questioned.

“Honestly, the fact that he’s not projectile vomiting from the shock is a miracle.” Right as she said that, the man of the hour left the shop.

He was in a suit, the same suit he was in before.

“What happened to blending in?” Your sister asked, looking at his lack of choice.

“I just don’t understand the functional appeal of those…elephant, pants.” Sousa confessed. Maybe the vomit was coming.

“It’s the clothes of the decade. All full of over the top and extravagant things,” You gained a look from the others, “I like it.” You stated, bluntly.

God you hated this turn in your life.

“You mean bell-bottoms?” Daisy asked, slight teasing bite to her words.

“Sure. How do people in your time function with all the extra fabric around their feet?” Sousa continued to ask questions. You found it funny, a bit. The main feeling you felt was pity.

“We have a gym. We keep in shape to fit in the things.” You answered.

“I got news for you. This isn’t actually our time period.” Sousa looked panicked at Coulson’s words.

“Well, fortunately, there’s unfashionable squares in every decade. So, you’re set.” Daisy said trying to help his worry a bit, or her worry.

“And nobody seems to look you in the eye now.” Sousa seemed very annoyed at this.

“We do, just not as much anymore. That and –” May finished it for you.

“Wait ‘til they all get cell phones.” She did so as you all started to work down the street.

“So, I was thinking, how do you guys know I was supposed to die in 1955?” Sousa asked as you crossed a road.

“It’s in the history books.” Coulson wasn’t wrong. It was.

“Yeah, but…But what if you always plucked me out of time? Does that mean I always survive? And if we end up in your present, will we even be in the same timeline?” The agent out of time’s questions were starting to hurt your head now.

“I’d stop thinking about it. Your brains will spill out.” Daisy said, trying to apparently stop her’s from hurting too.

“Mine already are.” Daisy gave you a smile as you continued walking.

“Simmons can explain, sort of, but maybe you’d feel more comfortable staying back on Zephyr One.” Coulson suggested.

“No. No, no, no. I’m here, no going back. Might as well dive in and embrace the 1970s.” Sousa was addiment.

“There wasn’t any going back anyway.” Your sister grabbed your hand again to see what stance you were taking: it was a firm one by the feeling you had.

Still holding your hand, she pulled you back as a man on roller blades went past with a boombox resting on his shoulder.

“Starting now….” Sousa concluded as he turned around, “I can’t believe this old hideout is still running.” What he was talking about, was an old SHIELD hideout used in time in the 40s. Apparently, the team had already been inside of it.

“Did you ever stop by back in your day?” Coulson asked.

“Once or twice. Only the top brass knew about it. Good place to lie low.” The man answered.

“Oh, yeah? I wish I could’ve seen it back then. I heard Dooley had a reserved booth with one of those plaque things next to it –” Coulson was starting to fanboy.

“Ok, dad, let’s not keep Enoch waiting any longer. He’s been chilling for like four decades.” Oh yeah, Enoch was still around. That was nice to hear, even if you guys had apparently been forced to leave him in the forties.

Daisy led you down the stairs, but Coulson was the one who typed in the code on a panel that was horizontal instead of vertical.

“See? Flashy.” You said to Sousa, pointing to the way the keypad had been laid out.

“See you haven’t lost your wit.” Daisy complimented. You looked to her and she gathered that you meant to smile, grabbing your hand confirmed the playful emotion inside of you.

It was in full Seventies swing, the bar. From the looks to the soundtrack. To be honest, you should’ve been expecting it, but here you were.

“So much for laying low.” Sousa seemed to have a wit to him. Ok, he wasn’t as straight and narrow as you had pegged him for.

“Wonder what all this is about?” Coulson wondered.

“Maybe it’s a party.” You supplied.

“Happy birthday Richard.” Your sister joked. She felt the humour you held inside at it.

“Maybe Enoch will know what’s going on.” So, the search for your friend began.

May was walking back to you both with drinks, seemingly drunk already off the joy from everyone else, “Oh. Ok.” Daisy said, getting up and helping the older woman sit down, “Glad you’re enjoying yourself. Any word on Enoch?”

May seemed to be coming down from the high, “Oh, uh, negative.” She answered. The two women then looked at you as you surveyed the room, “How about you?”

You stopped and looked at them, “Nothing yet.” You said, before going back to it.

“I’m worried that it’s more serious than we think. Also, I might be drunk.” Ah, so it was an actual drunkenness, not just the emotions off of everyone else.

“Yeah, I think you might’ve discovered a new form of Contact High. Hmm. Because they’re all three sheets to the wind.” Daisy quipped as she took a sip from her drink.

“I’m at least one sheet to the wind. Give me a moment.” May said as she took a moment. She then explained that, after talking to the staff, they hadn’t seen Enoch in over a year.

However, a bigger problem came your way, a Malick was in play: Wilfred Malick. Some kid named Freddy, whoever the fuck he was, was still alive apparently.

Daisy moved tables, leaving you on your own for a bit. You wondered, kind of wishing you still had your drink to help calm the nerves.

“Hey,” You turned and saw Sousa approaching you, “You alright?” He asked, seeming genuine.

You knew you could lie, but you didn’t, “No, not really. Not like you or anyone else can tell.”

“Ok, let’s get a range on it,” He held out his free arm, “Can I?”

“So gentleman like….Sure, go right ahead.” You answered, holding out your arm.

He touched it, steeling himself as they all flooded him at once, “That’s a lot.” He admitted.

“Complex creature like myself does. Broken people tend to not be so straight and narrow.”

“Here,” He held out what was left of his drink, “Think you’ll need this more than I do.” He shook it, as if it would make it more appetising.

“How will we know if it works?” You asked as you took it.

“I’ll know. I’m not as straight and narrow as you’d think. Sometimes I need that to help get me through some nerves before a mission.” He confessed.

“So, you’re a bit drunk when you go on an op?” You drank some of it. It was sweet, but had a kick to it.

“A bit. See? It helps, don’t it?” He held his hand out for it, you gave it back.

“Sure,” You coughed a bit. You couldn’t lie, it had helped a bit.

“It’s not creepy, you know?” You looked at him to continue, “This. The whole, emotions thing. People express ‘em how they express ‘em. Course, some ways are wrong, but I think we both know we know what those are. But, you and yours, nothing wrong with it. Can almost be like a superpower, make people feel how you feel, turn the tables on ‘em.” He told you.

You went to speak, before he felt the emotions change, going into a protective fire. He followed your eyeline, seeing Daisy speaking to someone, and he wasn’t taking no as an answer.

“Come on, let’s go.”

You went to your sister, Daniel was forced to let go of your arm as he played the boyfriend card to get the man away. The man’s name was Gideon Malick. Oh no.

Actually, no, Sousa played the fiancé card rather than the boyfriend one.

Either way, it worked and it got you away, “What was that about?” Sousa asked as the three of you kept your voices hush.

“Long story, but apparently, Freddy’s son Nathaniel is still alive, and he was supposed to die in 1970.” Daisy quickly summed up for the two of you.

“Another change in the timeline. Get any intel?”

“No. But I did get a clue on where we could find some.” That led you three to the back room.

“Seems like there’s a story with you two.” Sousa said, hoping that only you would hear it.

“With me and Dais?” You asked, wanting clarification. He nodded, confirming it, “Yeah. We didn’t know each other for a large part of our lives, almost feels like we’re playing catchup now, really.”

“How’d you reunite?”

“By happenstance. Coulson pulled me out of the academy. Kind of wasting my time there: closed off and not making any friends. I was decent, though, at fighting and all that.”

“You were more then decent, Y/NN.” Daisy cut in with.

“Fine, good –”

“More.”

“Pretty good –”

“More.”

“Amazing at it.”

“There you go.” You rolled your eyes. Sousa didn’t have to fully feel the emotion you felt to know it was an affectionate one for your sister at her boost of your confidence.

“Anyway, nice play back there with the whole fiancé thing.” You told him, seeing him lose eye contact with you for a second.

“Quick thinking.” He defended it as.

“Sure.” You sounded dull, but he knew it was teasing.

Daisy managed to find a lamp, pushing it up. Upon being questioned by Sousa, she explained that she had been here a few days ago…in 1931.

Ah, so it wasn’t the 40s, but the 30s instead.

It was a back office, with computer equipment scattered around and only one on.

Now, you all had a mole, giving HYDRA names that were on a list that was shown on the computer. The list had names of people to wipe out.

As you went to leave, you saw Coulson and May cornered by Malick and Chronicoms. Daisy and you shared a look, “What are you thinking?” Sousa asked, not wanting to be out the loop.

“Trade.” You answered in sync.

It got you out, but now the Chronicoms knew you were in play as well. Now it was bigger than before, now they were hunting others. You couldn’t get anywhere at once.

Some of the Chronicoms followed you up. Your sister quaked one back, while you used the shadows to make a rope, pulling the Chronicom back and snapped his neck.

“W—What the –” Sousa started to say, astounded at what had just happened.

“We’ll explain later. Let’s go!” Daisy said, pushing you all onward.

She felt your anger for just a second. But she felt it.

She felt it’s power.

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Enoch had returned, drifting a car around the corner and stopping right where you were, “Enoch, you’re here!” Daisy said, breathless, as you all entered his car.

“Yes. As I have been for the last forty years,” He met your eyes in the mirror, “And it is good to have you back, agent Johnson.”

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Now, buckle up.”

 You all made it back to the Zephyr, all standing together and planning on where to go next, “So, HYDRA’s attempting Insight in 1973?” Mack questioned as you all walked to the main part of the ship.

“With no Heli carriers?” Elena finished the question.

“According to Malick, SHIELD has a system of satellites and lasers, which as I say it, sounds really cool, but it’s definitely not cool.” Coulson got through the sentence rather quickly, trying to not make himself sound made at the end.

“Coulson,” He looked to you when you spoke, “Now’s not the time to fanboy.” He nodded, but you saw how he seemed to fight a smile.

“And it explains the launch pad at the Lighthouse. Must be where they’re planning to send up the satellite.” Mack guessed.

“Any idea who the targets are?” Elena asked.

“We found a dossier of mostly SHIELD assets. Bruce Banner, Nick Fury –” Daisy started when Sousa took over.

“Peggy Carter –” And you added a name.

“Alan Connelly.” You got looks of confusion from everyone but Coulson at that moment, “…What?”

“Whose that?” Daisy asked.

“Dad of the kid I helped out when Coulson picked me out for the team,” You looked to your friend, who smiled at the fact you remembered the boy, “Kind of want to keep the kid alive. Timeline’s sake and all that.”

Coulson knew it was far more than that, however.

Now, this happy-ish moment was broken up by the Zephyr beeping at you. The clock was going haywire (the click would tick down to your next jump). Now, though? You were going to jump again, and even Simmons couldn’t override it.

It was Simmons who had realised what was going on: The Chronicoms had changed their plans and were jumping early, instead.

With that, there was a shuffle, before you had landed in your new time period: 1976.

“Three years? How the hell did we just jump three more years?” Sousa asked as you both followed Daisy.

“I told you, I don’t know. We can’t control it.” Daisy was growing frustrated.

“Well, who does?” That answer was simple: The Chronicoms did.

To stop insight, you had to flood the area. You had a job, get into the security feed. That was to make sure there was no one left behind.

“I’m going with them. I’d rather be out there working the problem than in here where we disappear at any moment.”  No one seemed to argue, so off you went.

It was an alleyway, a dirty one. However, the walk down did go with now issues. So, that was new; and nice.

“You do your thing, we got your back.” Sousa assured Daisy as she started to get the items she needed from the bag. He then looked to you, “You…do whatever it is she does?”

“Hack? Nah, not my thing. I was all about –“ You pulled out your pistol, “She was the flip side of that.”

“Now I’m a hybrid between the two.” Daisy spoke up as she pulled her laptop out.

“And I’m….less of that.”

“Still play a role,” He comforted, before looking back to your sister, “I’m guessing you don’t really carry a piece, do you, seeing as how you got that super serum power. I mean, Y/N does, which doesn’t make too much sense with her own power.”

Daisy opened the control box, “Yeah, it’s not really a super serum thing.” She said as she plugged wires in.

“Didn’t expect a straight answer out of you.” Sousa quipped as you both kept watch for Daisy.

You heard a groan from Daisy, “How is there a firewall already?” You both walked over to her, to try and help. So much for keeping watch.

“Seems things just get just get worse the later in time you go. I think this is my last stop.” The man was honest.

“It’s ok. This is just a setback. My software will crack it. It just needs a minute to load.” As she said that, the computer beeped, with the words: EXPLOIT SUCCESSFUL appearing on the screen.

“Maybe you need a bigger computer. That thing’s too small.” At his words, Daisy chuckled.

“What?”

She pulled out his phone and took a picture, “What’s that?” He asked, slightly fearful of the thing.

“This is a phone.” Daisy found humour in this moment, dragging on each word, “But only old people use it for calls.” She showed him the photo.

He looked amazed, “How did you do that?” He asked, amazement in his tone.

“Check it out.” She zoomed it in. She let him continue to play with the phone as she looked at you. Her smile dimmed a bit as she realised that you couldn’t emote.

You looked away from her vision, gulping a bit.

“Yeah, you look ok for a guy who just aged 20 years.” She pulled the phone away, putting it back in her pocket. However, those words seem to hit him, hard.

“Looks like I missed a lot.” It was meant to be just to himself, instead the two of you heard it.

“I’m sorry. This is just so weird and messed up, but the Chronicoms jumped, and we had to dive in after them. Without us, it’s….it’s way worse.” Daisy explained. You didn’t even think, you just put your hand on his arm. However, as soon as you did that, he jumped at the pity you felt.

“Sorry.” You apologised, moving the hand away right away.

“It’s ok, I get it. Just…wish I could’ve said some goodbyes.” He said. You both then went back to watching Daisy’s back.

May radioed to tell you that herself and Coulson were in, “Copy that. I’m working on unlocking the next checkpoint. Just give me a sec,” She turned to Sousa, “Hey, can you open that panel?” He moved over to do just that.

“How are you holding up?” Daisy asked, quickly looking at you before going back to the computer.

“Holding up as best I can, really…” You weren’t quite sure how to answer.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Daisy asked.

“Paranoid, scared.”

She looked, again, “Why?”

“Well, they could jump at any moment. We could be stuck here and –” As you rambled, Daisy approached you, putting a – what was meant to be – calming hand on your arm.

As soon as she made contact, she felt the fear. She tried to keep it out of her voice as she spoke, “It’s ok. We will be ok. We – Look out! —” She tried to warn you all, but you were shot before she could fully move you out of the way.

 “Good to see you move.” Sousa said as Daisy made some movement. She was conscious. Alive. So, that was something.

“Y/N….where is she?” Daisy was still barely conscious, yet she asked for you. It was definitely something Sousa had noted.

“Psycho? That’s unfair, and very well timed. Wow. Right as I’m walking in. Hi. Nathaniel. Uh, the three of you took me hostage and changed my life?” Nathaniel recapped for the pair, feigning hurt at Daisy’s choice of words as she ranted about him just moments before.

“Yeah. How about you unchain us, give me back my sister, and we hug it out? And HYDRA and SHIELD can be together at last.” She was sarcastic, but she meant the part to get you back. Or…at least know where you were.

“HYDRA? I look like HYDRA to you? Take a look at Ron’s suit. Guy’s here because he’s got mouths to feed, not because he worships a space octopus. No. Religion’s not really my thing.” Daniel explained what he actually wanted. He didn’t care about religion, just about them. About how they got here, and how you and Daisy got your abilities.

“Where. Is. My sister?” Daisy asked, running out of patience.

Nathaniel laughed as he lowered himself down, “We’re digging into her first. Now, I’ve never heard a scream with no passion behind it. No..raw emotion there. But, now I have. Guess I’ve heard everything. By the way, whatever she’s got going on beside her dark manipulation, that’s some series shit. I mean…damn. Somethings gone wrong with her brain waves.” Daisy lunged for him at that.

However, it had been what he was waiting for.

“There she is! There’s the fiery sister. You know, however Y/N feels on the inside, doesn’t matter. She yelled, kicked some of my guys, who were more angry than usual, has to be said. I mean, Christ, they beat her to a pulp. And that was before we even got her on the table.” Then, she was dragged away.

Entering the room, she saw you bloodied and bruised, “No!” She cried out, trying to fend them off to get to you. She was weakened, and tired. And shit scared, “NO!”

She was thrown against the table, “Hey, easy, easy! Neither of them die. Not yet, anyway.” Nathaniel stepped in before it escalated further. The man looked at Daisy, who was only looking at you, “Now, she’s alive. Stupid bitch can’t get a handle on whatever’s cooking up in there. She’s one angry person. She’s not very expressive, though. Seems to do that through action more than facial expressions. Don’t matter, though, I got what I wanted from her power. Now, I’ll get what I want from yours.”

Sousa had no choice but to watch. Watch through a tiny hole in the wall. Daisy was dragged out the room, but you were kept on your table, “Now, onto Y/N’s brain. Wanna find out how she infects you guys with what she’s feeling.”

“It’ll kill her.” One of his henchmen said. Seemed they weren’t all bad. Seemed that they were just genuinely in this to make money for their family, and hadn’t fully lost their moral code…yet.

“I’ll be careful. I just need a bit to get it into me.” Seemed Nathaniel wasn’t a remorseless killer either.

Daisy was dumped on the floor, and he was gone again.

Daniel tried to keep Daisy awake by telling her a story about his army days. However, he then turned the tables on her, “Tell me about Y/N?” He knew she was fighting with all she had to stay awake. And, in his time in the army, he saw how strong bonds between siblings or found siblings was.

“Y/N….wasn’t the most emotive when we first met. She was cold. Took – took a while, but we broke through. Now….now she’s back to square one in her mind –” Daisy managed to get through the sentence, stopping every now and then to let out a noise of discomfort or to catch her breath.

“And she thinks she’s broken?” Daisy managed a small nod.

You were barely awake, your breathing shallow. But, you were alive. Your brain trying to find something to comfort you with. The main thing was flashes of your time. If this was it, might as well have a recap, right?

It took you to Sousa, how you had started out a bit weary, but he had won you over. He was a good man. Good for your sister, if she followed through with the emotion her eyes communicated: a small bit of romantic attraction.

Then, it went to a particular phrase he had given you: “Can almost be like a superpower, make people feel how you feel, turn the tables on ‘em”.

“What’s she feeling?” Nathaniel asked. One of his men touched your hand.

“Fear, peaceful feeling…something else too.” He reported.

“How can she be both fearful and peaceful? What’s the other thing?” Nathaniel asked.

“It’s all building to something…” The man said.

“…What’s that?”

“….Rage.” At that, you shot up, biting into the man’s ear. You ripped it clean off, spitting it away, you pulled out his pistol and shot the guard. Nathaniel hid behind one, the man taking a bullet for Nathaniel as he ran away.

You ran after him, before you remembered that you weren’t alone here. You had a sister and a new, genuine, friend to help. To save.

The love you felt for them was greater than your desire to hurt Malick.

So, you turned back, going to save your family.

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“Is she ok?” Was the first think you asked when you entered the room. Your face was blank and voice monotone, but your concern was still heard by Sousa as he picked your sister up and held her.

“She will be, when we get out of here. How about you, though?” He asked, his concern being heard both in his voice in expression, seeing the state you were in.

“I’ll be fine. We need to get out of here, though.”  He knew he didn’t have time to argue, so he just nodded and led the way.

The building started to shake, shadows started to almost ripple: he was trying to get to grips with your abilities.

You just kept your focus on getting the pair out.

“How are you able to even stand?” He was still on it, but still sounded concerned.

“Lots and lots of adrenaline. That, and fear, guilt, rage, love. All the cliché shit.”

“It’s not cliché, it’s emotion.” He argued.

“Granted. And I get that there’s probably people like me both inhuman and not. But, still, having to shout them out is –” You pushed, pushing him back as guards ran past you and to the rooms you were just in.

You continued on your way, “Is annoying.”

A gunshot hit the wall, you used your ability to pull Sousa back, “Protect her!” You exclaimed.

A bullet hit you in the shoulder, but your grabbed that guard with your ability and pulled him into the dark. The others dropped their weapons, running away.

They were hired to do a job, but if they couldn’t get home to their families, there was no point to it in the first place.

However, one remained, he was shaken, “Go,” He looked as if he didn’t believe you, “I’m serious, go.”

He didn’t move. So, you did the one thing you could think of, you approached him and grabbed him. He was instantly hit with your genuinely feeling of tiredness and the want for this to be over, “Go.”

He ran.

“Good job.” Sousa meant it, having a not-too-much bloody confrontation.

“Let’s go home.” You blinked, almost happy that it didn’t get any worse.

You felt relieved.

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“So…back in the pod?” You asked as Jemma prepared it for it.

She looked back to you with a small smile, “Yes, I’m afraid. There is no other way. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, “Ok.” You went to get up to join in your sister (who was in her own pod) in a sleep as you healed.

Jemma and Sousa were instantly up to help you, but paused, “It’ll hurt.” You warned them.

“Y/N, you’re one of my best friends, seeing you in pain hurts me. But, if being in a bit more gets you to that pod that will heal you, then it’s worth it.” She was firm, but in her own loving way.

“…Ok.” You held out your arms, Jemma grabbed one, Sousa the other. They did cringe at the emotional pain, but they soldiered on. It seemed that two people holding you separated it between the pair.

They got you to the pod, resting you against it’s open shell. You looked to Sousa, “You gonna stay?”

He nodded, “I’m right where I need to be.” He assured you.

“You’ll be ok, Y/N. You both will.” Was Jemma’s reassurance.

“Ok. See you on the other side.” The two smiled.

You went back in, the pod door closing. Jemma put her hand to it as you felt your eyelids drop, you put yours where her hand was.

Then, once again, you were asleep.

[herohotline]

Can we have a Shigaraki x male s/o? The s/o is a doctor and when he sees Shigaraki he just goes into doctor mode? Can... can that be a thing, please?

A/N: (cracks my knuckles) let’s DO THIS BABY!!! good request!!! Also i went OFF this is sort of long hhgjfgjg

Pairing: Shigaraki / Male!Reader

Minor spoiler: if you don’t know who those gross gray hands belong to that are all over Tomura, specifically the one on his face, this story kind of gives it away in a single sentence.

Word count: 2,160

Working as a local town physician- or a quack, some people gleefully called you- had its benefits. You got to know your patients interpersonally, offer them better deals than an upstate doctor would, and you got to have multiple days off. You were your own boss and you liked that. 

But it had disadvantages as well. Like, say, getting caught up with the League of Villians. 

Now keep in mind that you never intended to be their somewhat personal care doctor. When you see a person hurting, you help them- you do it because you have the ability and you want to make a difference in any way you can. So when a wounded man with multiple bullet holes in his body comes to your back alley, yes, you hurry them in and stitch them up. 

Said man was Shigaraki, though at first, he refused to give you a name. It took a long time of him reluctantly squirming his way back into your office before he gave you any sort of personal details, including his name. He never explained how he got so many wounds, but to be fair, you never asked. 

And then you watched the news and realized that, oh, you recognized that blue hair and shaggy clothes, that man in the suit with the double personality, that teenage girl who was always so interested in how you took blood samples- you knew them. You had been helping the League of Villians. 

That alone should have made you run off. Surely helping a bunch of terrorists was illegal? You should pack your bags, move your shop as far as you can, or just quit medical practice in general. 

But you didn’t. Why? Well… You felt obligated them, in a weird sort of way. They showed themselves to you- their real selves. They never wore masks- or hands- in front of you. If you wanted, you could turn them in at any moment since you knew such explicit details about them. 

Though you never quite make it to the police station- in fact, you never even try. They’re awful people, but these awful people have put their trust in you. Maybe they did it because they thought you were stupid and gullible, and that might be true! Even so, you refuse to stab them in the back. 

Said group hadn’t come to your office recently though. It made you worry since now that you knew who they were, you kept tabs on their activity and things had been… silent. Was something wrong?

Drama has a way of finding you, so right as you’re looking out the window and biting your nails, the back door which they always enter through opens. Your head snaps back to see Shigaraki, his clothes visibly darker than usual and a limp in his step. He looks exhausted and pissed off, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Sit,” you cut to the chase and point to the chair in your office. He doesn’t bother biting back like he usually does- instead he just falls against the chair with a huff and starts to remove his shirt. You wince when you see the slashes and burns. 

Immediately getting to work, you crouch down beside him, placing your hands on his abdomen and concentrating. Your quirk helps you greatly with medical practice- once you place your palms on a living being, their body relaxes and numbs to a certain degree. It helps you do procedures and stitches pain-free, which is wonderful. Once you can tell your quirk has spread throughout Shigaraki’s body, you grab burning ointment, stitches, alcohol and other such things and then get to work silently. 

But, as always, you break the silence. “Where are the others?” You ask him quietly, still paying attention to his abdomen and rubbing cream around the burns. 

Shigaraki laughs. “Didn’t want to come.” Your brows furrow worriedly at his reply. 

“Are they alright?”

“…They’re fine,” he rolls his eyes and keeps his eyes strictly away from you. You’re not exactly satisfied with his reply- but when are you ever? He’s a secretive and touchy guy. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered…” You take his arm in your hand, looking at the gash in his bicep with a critical eye. “Why you never wear those hands when you come into my office. Was it so I wouldn’t figure out who you were?” 

Shigaraki finally looks at you then, his eyes wide in surprise. You purse your lips and sigh through your nose, continuing to work. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am… You’re all over the news.”

“How long have you known?” His look turns into a hateful glare. You’re not surprised.

“A few months.”

“You’re still helping us. You haven’t turned us in.”

“Correct.”

“Why?” Again, this is a question that’s on your mind fairly frequently. And honestly, it’s one that you haven’t ever truthfully answered. You look up at Shigaraki with a gentle gaze, stopping your hands from stitching up his wounds.

Should you be honest? Would it really get you anywhere?

“I care about all of you,” you say, pursing your lips and looking back at his bruised body. “I don’t understand what you’re all doing, and I don’t like it either. But I can’t just let you die, either… I care about you, whether I like it or not.” 

He doesn’t say anything after that and neither do you. The office is a dead quiet as you finish up taking care of his wounds, and even after that, it’s quiet as you give him painkillers and lead him to the door. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. 

—

“Let’s make an agreement.”

Shigaraki announces to the League, the rusty old motel that they stay at basically creaking in the silence. “The doctor is our ally- but he won’t get caught up in the aftermath. We mention him to nobody, we confess his help to nobody. He is an ally, but he is nothing more than that and no one needs to know.”

His red eyes glare at the members through the spaces of his father’s fingers resting against his face. “Is that clear?” 

And surprisingly, it is. “I don’t want ___ to get in trouble over us,” Toga frowns, her blade spinning in her hand. 

“He’s too pure to get caught up!” Twice shrieks before shrinking down in doubt. “I guess?”

“Then it’s agreed,” Shigaraki looks at Dabi and the others who offer nothing but silent agreement. He nods his head with a (satisfied) sigh. “The doctor officially owes nothing to the League.”

—

The months continue and life goes on- you take care of your patients, watch awful TV shows, kick back with some greasy food, and take care of your patients some more. There’s always an edge- relaxing is hard when you know that you’re basically a criminal harboring feelings for a bunch of villains, but nonetheless, things keep moving forward and no one’s put you behind bars yet. 

Yet.

Your heart races when policemen stop by your clinic, knocking politely on your door with focused glares as they enter. You act like nothings wrong, you act confused- you do what you need to do to protect yourself and the League. 

“I’m sorry, what are you doing here? Does someone need my help?”

“No, sir,” a cat officer sniffs the air. It makes you nervous- but what could his nose possibly find? You do a deep clean of your office every week and the League hasn’t been by since your last one. 

Your heart races anyway. 

“We’ve been tipped by a few people living in the area that they’ve seen shady people around. Would you happen to know anything about that?” Another officer pulls out a pen and pad. You pretend not to notice. 

“Well, it’s hard to say. There’s always someone that looks a little shady around… The other day I thought someone was going to rob me, honestly, but it was just a poorly dressed old man looking for his keys.” This, unfortunately, was true. “Could you be a bit more specific?”

The cat officer continues to make his way around your office and you look at him with a glare. Just parading around the waiting room is fine, but if he tries to go anywhere else, you know your rights and you know they need a permit. “Well,” the officer stops once he notices your glare, “I don’t want to alarm you, but apparently the League of Villians has been spotted around your clinic.”

“The League of Villians?” You looked at him shocked. And then you frown, “my clinic? People are saying that terrorists are visiting my clinic?” 

“That’s just what people have told us, sir.”

“Well, they’re wrong. You don’t think I’d notice people like that in my area?” You scoff and cross your arms together. “Believe me, if they entered my clinic you’d get a call from me. I would tell the police right away if I saw anything like that.” You hum under your breath and look to the floor. “But if those rumors are going around… do you really think they’re nearby?”

The other officer walks toward you and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We didn’t mean to offend you, we’re just going off of a few tips from passerby’s. But there’s enough of them to grow wary… If I were you, I’d start closing up the clinic early and locking your doors.” He looks down at you worriedly. “You don’t want to accidentally come across them.”

Too late, you think, but you nod at him with a solemn expression. “Of course. Sorry I was defensive… It’s just scary. Thank you for the warning.”

The cat officer and his partner gather up at the door, giving you a respectful bow. “Of course. We’ll continue to patrol the area.” With that, they leave and you finally let yourself collapse against one of the chairs in the waiting room. 

Your heart beats frantically in your chest as you begin to sweat from anxiety. Oh God, oh God. People have seen them? When? How? You were so careful..!

What are you doing to do?

—

“You need to leave.”

It’s the first thing you say when the door opens. It’s once again only Shigaraki- you don’t know if that’s better or worse than the others being here as you break the news. 

“What?”

“You can’t… You can’t come here anymore. I had policemen visit my clinic today. Apparently, people have seen you in the alleys and they’re starting to look for you.” You grab a bag that you’ve put together that’s full of medical drugs and supplies. “If you keep coming, they’re going to trace your movements and find your base. You need to stay away, Shigaraki.” 

The villain- the villain which you’ve been unintentionally falling for since the moment you met him- actually looks upset. For the first time in your life, you see real emotion. And it hurts so bad that this is the emotion you get to see. “The police were here…?” He blinks several times as he lets the information sink in. You watch him sadly, placing the paper bag in his hands gently. You notice how he gingerly takes it, keeping several fingers away from it so it doesn’t disintegrate. “What did you say?”

“Don’t ask me that,” you scowl at him. “Do you really think I would sell you out?”

Shigaraki winces, biting his lip nervously and lifting a hand to scratch his neck. You quickly catch it, not missing how he jumps from your touch. “Don’t do that,” you sigh. 

“…I need to go,” he whispers, but he looks like he wants to do anything but. He keeps staring at your hand that’s so innocently grabbing his- acting as if you aren’t holding something that could kill you in a mere moment. 

“I know.” You reluctantly let go. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t be able to help you anymore. At least not for a long time.” You gesture to the bag in his hands. “That should be enough… but you get hurt so often, it probably won’t be…” 

It’s that dreadful quiet again, the same kind when you confessed that you actually cared for his group of no good nobodies. You hate it- you don’t want it to be the last thing you feel around him, so you throw caution to the wind and wrap your arms around him. 

“Be careful, Shigaraki,” you whisper, grasping him tightly. Your heart leaps in your throat when you feel two careful fingers press on your back- the closest you can get to a hug back. 

And then he leaves, for the last time. It’s quiet again, despite your heart pounding in your ears. This is for the better, you know that, so why does it still hurt so much to let him go?

You don’t want to let him go.