#for “’undercover reasons’ but then she didn’t stop when they left to go beat up the villains

[vampire-rodeo]

A gift for @lesbospirk for the @startrekwintergiftexchange! sorry it’s late ❤️

Mariner/T’Lyn Film Noir AU (drawn w red/blue colored pencil, with noir filter). I like the thought that they’re posing as a couple for an undercover away mission…. Mariner lost the coin flip for the cool suit, but also i just wanted to draw a pretty dress.

[ladyelissarose]

‘More Beautiful You’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x partner female reader

Callsign; Delta

Summary; After a rough mission that you barely escaped alive from left you with new numerous scars, you’ve grown very insecure about your body. You’ve kept quiet about it, fighting your demons in silence, but how much longer can you hold it in when you have to attend a military ball and all you want to do it cover them all up and hide? Warnings: mentions of terrible scars, insecurities, some angst. Bullying words, Simon being a sweetheart :)

“DELTA!! DELTA-“

“-GHOST!! SHE’S HERE!!”

Ghost heart dropped and shattered into pieces when he saw your limp form all tied up with heavy chains and ropes on a wooden chair. You looked very small, and in terrible shape, nothing compared to what he had seen before. Your head was hanging down as your hair covered most of your face, but Ghost knelt down right away and pushed your hair away as he carefully lifted your face. Soap came close to Ghost to see you too, but he mid stop when he saw your face, and began to rake his eyes all over you, regretfully seeing the permanent damage. Your eyes slowly blinked but still stayed mostly closed as your tried to whimper out,

“I-I... I know nothing- I’ll say.. nothin-“

Ghost sighed sadly as he shook your head a little, trying to jolt you out of it as he cooed,

“-shh shh... it’s over-“

To his familiar British voice your eyes immediately shot open as best as they could, due to how bloodshot and swollen they were as you instantly began to cry,

“S-Simon?”

 “Yes lovie.. I’m so sorry-“

You shook your head violently, not wanting to hear him blame himself for something totally out of his control. 

“No- stop. Just help me out- I-I want to hug you.”

“oh.. ok hold on- Soap help me out!”

It only took minutes until you were finally let loose and now being cradled close to Ghost’s chest, as he carried you bridal style out of the basement, the one you had been kept in for the past 6 weeks. An undercover mission had gone wrong and they had taken you with them, and kept you hostage, beating the living daylights out of you, desperate for information you unwillingly gave. As the days passed the questions kept on repeating, and torture increased with every single question you didn’t answer according to their liking. It was always strong enough to make you pass out on them, but not enough for them to actually kill you. Everyday that ended and began, new bruises and wounds appeared along with the healing scars, you could never tell from day to night for the whole time was an entire living nightmare.

What kept you going was the faith you had in your team, and the heart you had for them. They were your only family, and you had grown extremely close, also you loved them all, much enough to the point where you now where sacrificing your well-being for them. But the biggest and number one reason to fight through it all, was for your love, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. The man after your own heart. You had stolen each other’s hearts without realizing it, after months of working closely with one another, after nights of comforting talks or silent midnight snacks after heavy nightmares, after stitching the unreachable gunshots, after you both held each other’s hands after an especially hard day, and lastly... after confessing your love at the same time during a fight about not selflessly throwing your life away for the other. Ever sense that clarifying day, you two devotedly and openly loved and cared for each other.

So, a lot of the nights as you were crying for Simon after a torture session in the dark, haunting basement, Simon was back at base endlessly crying, while searching day and night for any signs of you, refusing to give up. Now he sobbed another night away alongside you, but they were grateful tears as he held you carefully close to him, kissing your hair or any place that wasn’t hurt while laying together on the hospital bed, safe and sound, but haunted and scarred for now.. or perhaps forever. 

After everything you had gone through, the Cartels weren’t able to get anything off of you, but you sure as hell got a lot of information on them. Hence leading the 141 to a successful rescue mission of dozens of women and children who were being hurt by these people too. You were able to remember what they had said, once you woke up from who knows how many surgeries. The first thing you did was write down on Simon’s hand the location place, and on his other hand you briefly explained what they’d find there. Laswell was extremely pleased and grateful with your help, although it cost much of you, that’s why she planned on a large ceremony, to award you for your loyalty to the team and your bravery. Simon kindly urged you to agree because as he said,

 ‘You deserve it, this you deserve. Please.’

So finally you did say ‘yes’, but thought it was going to be a simple ceremony at base, but you came to the conclusion that it wasn’t when you got the formal invitation to a large Gala looking saloon. It was in 3 weeks, close but not that close. You were ok with it only because you’d be wearing your dress blues, that covered 99% of you and your new scars. But, after you agreed to it all Laswell mentioned that there was going to be a large fancy dinner, that required for night gowns to be worn.. something that would probably show than you were willing to let go. Now that devastated you, because you so badly wanted to wear a dress again, claim that feminine part of you... but some new changes made that look ugly and impossible.

Simon had spent the last days and nights locked outside of your restroom as you cried in the shower, refusing for him to see all the deep, dark scars that covered your stomach, back, arms and legs.. even the large one that started at your jaw and came down to your collarbone. Once you came out you’d be dressed in his large black turtlenecks and loose sweatpants. Even for bedtime, you didn’t wear just his t-shirts anymore, or just your tiny shorts.. now it was his whole dress attire that covered every part of you. He had gently and slowly tried to coax you out of your insecurities, promising you that he’d love and accept you anyway, as you did him with his, but as fresh as your scars were, so was your shattered heart. It’d hurt you to see Simon frown a bit when you refused bath time with him or to change in the same room anymore, but you couldn’t help but agree and stand by your choices every time those clothes went completely off.

You at one point were the one who had devoted all your time to help Simon out of his dark thoughts about himself, teaching about self love and acceptance, but now you had forgotten about what all that meant, as you rejected and hid your new self. Simon wasn’t good with words ever, he was the more ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of person, which you liked because his love language was touch and boy was it the most loving and gentle part of him. So at times when he didn’t know how to express with words how you looked ‘stunning’ in his large hoodie that practically covered all of you, he’d only come close to you and press a soft, balaclava covered kiss on your temple, and send you his best heart eyes that showed he was pleased with how you looked. You did understand what he didn’t say, and honestly it made you feel somewhat better, knowing he still loved you and feeling seen by him. Now came the dreadful day of the ceremony, you knew it was going to be an emotional, and stressful day for you, hence why you insisted Simon that you could go dress shopping on your own, and handle it. You could of gone dress shopping any other day that wasn’t on the ceremony, but it had been a battle with your inner self, which ended in your insecurities winning and you leaving it for the next day. And that next day stretched to being on the ceremony. You made it a point to go the most expensive place for evening gowns, thinking that the staff would be perhaps more professional and helpful to find exactly what you wanted, but you were so wrong. In heart wrecking tears you say in the ground clutching your self together like a ball, sobbing like a baby, feeling absolutely humiliated by the surrounding customers. At first you thought you had found the most perfect gown, forgetting all the flaws on your body as the gown spoke loudly with beauty and fine elegance, until a random mean girl called out in her bitchy voice,

“Awwww we got Frankenstein’s wife here!!” Soon after that comment many followed after, as her pretty friends joined in, thinking that their supposed low voices weren’t going to be heard at all.

“Does she really think it’ll look nice?”

“Oh my Gosh that one on her neck is so huge! No necklace can out do that look!”

“I think it’s a bad drunk tattoo? Cause it looks so freakin ugly!!”

“No she was struck by the ugly lightning, look at her arms and her leg through the slit on the dress!!”

Oh if you thought that a physical punch to the stomach hurt, this felt so much worse, like a punch went deep into you gut and into your heart. Now as you drank in their words and stood in front of the mirror, all you saw were your scars, peeking out everywhere, definitely looking like chopped up meat or like the lady had said, Frankenstein’s wife. If only they knew exactly how you got those, or what every single one of them meant to you, they would probably shut up or have new insults to release. This wasn’t even the dress you actually wanted to wear, but it was the one that covered most of your scars, so you were initially going to stick with it, but not anymore after that. There was only so far you could go to cover everything up, if not you’d look like a nun in the summer. You refused to let anyone in your changing room as you cried rivers away, not feeling up to moving or even trying to get out of the dress, too busy mind swirling your thoughts that were only hateful and sad.

‘They are so ugly... all of them. I’ll never be the same again or perfect. Just look at them. Oh god I hate this so much- I hate myself-‘

“Love? Baby it’s me Simon.”

‘Simon?’

Unbeknownst to you the store clerk picked up a phone call from Simon himself, being told that he would pay for your gown of choice. When she asked for your name or information so she could tell you, she realized that it was you of whom he spoke of. Without hesitation she told him that you had locked yourself up after a little scandal with some customers who they had kicked out due to their insults. She didn’t need to say more when Simon demanded to not let anyone near you and that he’d be on his way immediately. So it was indeed his soft voice that called out to you, and to which you replied too with a tearful cry,

“Si?”

“yes love... please let me in.”

“but-“

“-Delta.. it’s either a walking in, or a breaking in.”

You let out a whine as you lifted yourself off the go round and dragged your feet to the door, right away unlocking it but tucking your arms around yourself, as you still stood in your other dress, exposing everything. He carefully walked in and closed the door behind hm, locking it right away and keeping a distance, for just in case you weren’t ready for more. You noticed this and beckoned him closer with a small gesture with your head, wanting to have him close. Simon raked his eyes slowly around your face, sympathy was read all over his expressive brown orbs as he quietly asked,

“what’s wrong baby girl?”

With a small kick to the bottom of your dress you relied shyly while wiping some tears away,

“was going to wear this one... but not anymore..”

Simon nodded understandingly as he took a look at your dress, he couldn’t help but feel like the dress wasn’t you, it didn’t speak or represent you. But it still looked gorgeous, it really did, so he worded,

“why not? It looks beautiful on you-“

“Not with all the scars Simon.”

He shook his head at your words and slightly raised his voice to show he didn’t like where this was heading,

“what about the scars? They’re you and it’s ok!-“

You slapped your hands to your sides as you insisted with a tone that matched his,

“But they’re all so ugly!-“

“-who said they were ugly? Hmm?”

He lowered his head a bit to get at your level somehow, while you only shrugged, not willing to answer him.

He then extended towards you and ran his hand down your arm to get a hold of your hand, and intertwine his fingers with yours as he looked at you attentively and understandingly. You could feel your lips trembling and the heavy ball in your throat weigh even heavier, making it hard to say what you wanted to say. All that could escape was a broken sob and a new rush of tears as you now hid your face behind your free hand. You kept your head down as you wept sorely, all the thoughts of the worst nightmare of your life came back like a hurricane, drowning everything else that was in mind. You heard shuffling behind the sobs that filled the room, and soon Simon let go of your hand, and before you could fear him leaving you, you felt his warm and loving touch rest on your hips. He gently squeezed there as he cooed softly,

“Please, look at me baby girl.”

You shyly opened your eyes as he caressed you there, and you could only see pure adoration in his eyes as he was now kneeled in front of you and looked up to you. That only made your heart feel so many more things at once. You then found the strength to rest your hands above his, as he began to worship you,

“Listen love, I’m not good with words... but, what I can for sure tell you that I know will help you... is the fact that you’re a diamond in the rough. And when you pass through rhe fire and it’s all over, you’ll be the most beautiful jewel that nature has ever bared. You’ll be so strong and bright, that nothing in this world can ever break you, or consume your light. Ok?”

You were left breathless by the time his last word was said, as you took in and held onto everything he said like it was a promise. If there were words that you’d burn on your heart or carve them into your skin so you’d never forget them, they’d be the words that Simon just said. You wiped your tears away as you shook your head slowly, and whimpered,

“ok... thank you Si.”

He sent you a wink and squeezed you hips one more time, before standing up to his full height, that was of course way taller than you. But it didn’t look or feel intimidating, if not the total opposite. Simon then looked around you and asked,

“So angel face.. what do ‘You’ want to wear? Not what others say eh? You. I want to see what Delta wants to wear.”

You felt a small spark of confidence hit you as Simon made it clear that he wanted to see you in your dress of choice. So while still feeling a little shy though, you took his hand back into yours and cradled it close to your body, as you pointed towards the white flowy dress in the corner. Simon glanced at you and smiled warmly, then he followed your finger, and soon his eyes found what it was you wanted. He gently tugged you towards it as he complimented,

“It’s lovely... definitely looks like something you’d wear. Daring yet Delicate. Like you hmm?”

His rare but sweet words got you to giggle a bit as your nodded, he then took that moment of your mood to put forth,

“let me put the dress on you.”

“what-“

“-please... I’ll be gentle hm? What do you think?”

But this would be the first time you had him see you after everything. What would he think? What would he say? Once he saw them all and how real they looked and felt?

“I love you. Even if I haven’t seen the rest-“

“Exactly. You haven’t seen it all- what if you change your mind-“

“I wont. So let me fall in love with that new part of you too, all of you. I want to see and love all of you. Please baby.”

You don’t know what took over your body And mind , it was probably his sincere pleading and kindness, that had you shimming off your dress and letting it fall to your feet in one breath. You didn’t miss the way a breathy sigh escaped Simon’s lips through his mask, or the way his eyes lit up at what was beheld in front of him. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to see more, it scared you, the reality of what could actually happen in the next seconds as his eyes found one new scar after another. The new scars that overcame the small few ones that were there when he first had seen you. You didn’t realize you were holding a breath until it was released heavily when you felt a soft touch press against your leg. Your eyes opened in shock, and there Simon was still... now planting a sweet, uncovered kiss onto the first scar that rested on your leg, right under your knee. His hands carefully caressed you, his thumbs rubbing cute circles where they could reach, as his lips traveled all over under your waist. His eyes locked on yours for a second, while he let his lips stay in place, showing you love in unspeakable words. He then began to reach higher, getting close to the scar you personally hated the most, and before you could think or say anything he mumbled against it after kissing it,

“Ahhhh this one… this one is my favorite angel face.”

And there, he planted a soft sweet kiss. His calloused fingers drew imaginary shapes and things on your plushy thighs as he went on to kissing up his way up your soft tummy, where your longest and deepest scar laid. What looked so terrifying and sad to you, look so magnificent and beautiful to him, as he worshiped its meaning and dove deeper into its feeling. None of this felt sexy or hot.. it felt so adorable and healing. 

 “No lovie… magnificent piece of art you are… could hang you up to keep you safe and untouched by anyone else but me forever.”

 You shyly but the tip of your pointer finger as he continued happily kissing very part of your body, smiling against your skin when he’d hit a ticklish spot and you’d let out a cute giggle if not a full chuckle. Soon Simon was able to pull the dress above your hips, now focusing on your upper body as he carefully started to put your arms through the dainty, lacy sleeves. One arm at a time he devoted his attention on, he’d kiss his way from your wrist to your shoulder as he pulled it gently through the sleeve. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he pulled you close to him, so he could access your neck and plant sweet kisses there too. His true love and passion for you was beginning to take an emotional toll on your heart, tears began to grow in your eyes and without second thought you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly against you. Simon was a little shocked at the sudden change, but he nonetheless melted into your arms and cradled you close, whispering heartfelt promises,

 “I got you lovie… I got you.”

You let the dam of tears flow out freely when he went on with his sweet words and gentle touching, reminding you how beautiful and unique you were, no matter what had changed or stayed the same. Slowly he let his arms roam down on your back, to reach the zipper so he could pull it up carefully, so he wouldn’t pinch your skin or catch your hair. You held onto him tightly and kept your face hidden in his neck while he worked on dressing you up, swaying you side to side so slowly you barely caught it, but it was enough to feel the sweet move. With a soft peck to your head Simon called out to you,

 “Ok my love, your ready… let’s see it.”

You pulled back a little to see his loving eyes, and gulped down what was left of insecurities as you replied,

 “Ok… let’s see it.”

 Simon’s eyes crinkled as he smiled under his mask, and held your hand to spin you around.  Once fully turned around, you found yourself in front of the large 10ft mirror, adorning the white dress ever so beautifully. Your arms from the wrist up to your shoulders were exposed, and from your neck to the top of your breasts you were exposed as well. But seeing the scars poke out from different directions on your skin didn’t sadden or hurt you anymore, instead you felt.. like a tiger. Boldly wearing your stripes while holding such a pride of being different than any kind, and knowing that no one get through you. Simon must of seen the boost of confidence you held in your silence but in your eyes as he complimented,

 “There’s my brave girl…”

You smiled to yourself as you admired the view of you in white, in front of Simon who was way larger than you and sporting black. You didn’t want to say it or admit it, but you liked how it looked, how it appeared. Warm hands snaked around your waist as deep words were breathed against your ear,

 “Wear this one tonight… I’d want to see you walk in this one.. please?”

 How could you say no to his sincere pleading? 

 “Of course… thank you Simon.”

 Through the mask he kissed your head softly once more, before pulling away and said in a little serious tone while looking in your eyes through the mirror,

 “I paid for it already, so just pick up the change at the counter. Then I had one of the ladies make an appointment for you at their salon place… you just walk in under my name and say what you want. And they will give it to you. Get everything you need.”

 You spun around and held your hands on his chest as your protested with worry,

 “But Simon- oh… are you sure, please don’t feel pity for me and waste all your savings on me-“

 With a finger on your lips he stopped your worried rambling,

“No no no… I didn’t waste, or feel pity. I simply just want to do this for someone I care about. Hm? I want to see you happy and all dolled up… you deserve it more than you know.”

 A smile made its way onto your face as you teased lightly,

 “The Ghost wants to see me all dolled up?”

 He looked away from your eyes for a second before finding your collarbone more interesting to look at as he admitted,

 “yes. After seeing you being drag to hell and back… yes. I don’t like black and red on you… white… I prefer the white.”

 You took his words in seriously, as he was being sincere and vulnerable with you. You nodded and kissed his covered cheek,

 “I do too… I like white… Um, are you going to-“

 “Yes lovie, Johnny is taking me with Gaz to go find a tux they said. So don’t worry your pretty head. Just take care of yourself. And remember what I told you.”

 “I will… be safe.”

“You too.. see you tonight, beautiful.”

 “See you later handsome.”

With one last squeeze to your palm in his, Simon walked out, leaving you missing his touch but not forgetting all his words. Who knew the big bad Ghost… had such a pure and golden heart?

Later that night….

The ceremony for the rewarding of your works was the absolute best and tearful. Price and Laswell stood by your side the entire time, and Simon was the one to pin your new medal, holding his gaze on you the entire time, allowing you to find peace in his eyes as your emotions swirled around inside. Having him there kept you together for the most time, and you were most grateful when it was finally over. For many people wanted your attention and asked one too many questions, some that you replied too and others Price had dodged due to protecting you. But now that passed and officially came the actual challenge... the ball. 

Simon tugged at the collar of his tux, already regretting going with Soap’s choice of tux for him. It wasn’t ugly, no, but it was well fitted and very spiffy for him, who usually found joy and comfort with large hoodies and Henleys, with a pair of either loose sweats or dark cargo pants. What he was glad about, was the fact that they let him in with a medical mask, that covered him from his nose down, at least. Everyone there understood his reasonings and never questioned him about it, and instead did their best to treat him like one of them, and not stare at its difference too much. Johnny stood in front of Simon as he tried to re-straighten his tie for the one millionth time, because Simon kept pulling at it every other second. 

 “No mate, ye got to stop pullin’ at it, makin’ a mess of yourself eh-“

 “-fuckin hell…’

Soap stopped his movements when he heard Ghost mutter such, and he couldn’t help but turn around to see what had caught he usually quiet pal, but his jaw dropped as well, when he finally saw it.

“Damn thas’ a fine lass… wait… thas’ Delta-“

“-fuckin’ sure is. Now excuse me Johnny, thanks for the help yeah?”

Johnny was left speechless at the sight of you, so he only shook his head and half-assed a salute to his Lieutenant. Simon smirked at his reaction and tugged at his suit a bit as he took confident strides towards you, as you walked down the stairs, that led to the main ball room. Simon let a sigh of shock escape his lips when he came closer, and fully saw you. Your hair looked lavishly full and bouncy, beaming in the light in every direction, resting ever so nicely above your shoulders, your skin glowed like it was covered in glitter, appearing so soft and shiny. Your makeup was light, but enough to bring out your very prominent features that Simon found absolutely breathtaking. And your dress, damn that dress. Simon was more than proud to see you in it, as it hugged your gorgeous being adoringly. It flowed all the way down to your feet, and from your waist up it hugged you tightly and finished up with a heart shaped top, that had hanging sleeves resting on your upper arms. The simple but beautiful jewelry you wore couldn’t ever compare to how precious and bright you looked right now, if not ever according to Simon. You glided down the stairs in confidence and in grace, taking each step slowly but steadily. Simon could feel his face grow red and hot, when you locked eyes with him and sent him a sweet, toothy smile. He shyly looked down at his shoes for a second before you squeaked delightfully,

 “Oh Simon! You’re matching me with a white tux?”

 Your feet finally touched the ground after the last step and you came to a stand in front of him, taking in his overly handsome appearance. Simon scratched his neck nervously and asked,

 “Do you want me to change?”

 You reached out to him and held his cheek as you reprimanded him softly,

 “Where’s your confidence Simon? Hm? You look absolutely amazing, thank you for doing this.”

 He finally grew the courage to hold eye-contact with you as he chuckled at his words coming out of your mouth. He then followed your eyes as you quickly looked away towards the magnificent place before your eyes. Elegant curtains in a ruby color draped everywhere, golden statues stood here and there. The carpets beneath you were made with fine hands and had the most antique designs on them. The place was pretty lively and loud for some time, everyone gathering at every table to chat with one another, or some meeting old friends with cheerful greetings or scoldings. The casino tables were filled with the best gamblers of the military who had a beauty warming their lap and stealing their cigars for a whiff of it. Upbeat yet homey music filled the room in every corner, keeping the spirits up and the demons out, lighting up the face of every worn out soldier and soothing down the most worked up ones, matching everyone’s mood. Simon then caught your attention as he stretched his arm toward you and asked politely,

“Come with?”

You sent him a cheeky smile, doing your best to feel confident while taking his warm hand into yours,

“Where to handsome?”

“Let me show you?”

“Lead the way.”

The saloon itself was breathtaking, but where Simon led you too was far more beautiful. In the back they had the most decorated garden, covered with different kinds of flowers, and a sweet little stoned pathway that led to a nice gazebo, covered in lights that looked like fireflies. You then looked back and thought about being in the wrong for leaving the party behind, but Simon tugged you on as he truthfully said,

“A lot of them are here for the food and loads of gossip. I’m here for you. Come on.”

And he was right. Most of the people there you didn’t know, and those that had approached you only came close enough to see you in the flesh and ask about certain uncomfortable things, then they left. All the nice people were at the first ceremony, now it was just the rich that stood around pretending they participated in the military work, when they actually only gave some money at times to make themselves feel good. Anyways, you now stood under the lights inside the gazebo, loving how lit it was. You forgot you had let go of Simon’s hand as yo reached up to touch the flowers that hung around on the pillars, touching and feeling their different textures, yet admiring how uniquely beautiful they all were. Simon’s hands covered yours as you cradled a specific one, and you leaned into his touch as he murmured into your ear lovingly,

“You see how these are all so different?”

“Hm hmm..”

“And how they are still so beautiful?”

“Yes...”

“Like you.”

You chucked a bit as you felt a bit shy, looking at the scar that covered your hand, while holding the flower,

“But Simon... I’m not beautiful like them..”

A kiss was felt under your ear as he persuasively said,

“Of course not.”

‘Of course not-‘

“You’re more beautiful than them. And none of them look like you... no one ever will..”

You turned around and held your hands on his cheeks as you then asked,

“You believe so?”

A sweet chuckle escaped his lips,

“Of course... there will never, ever... be a more beautiful you- oomph!”

That was enough said, as you suddenly ripped off his mask and planted your lips on his, while embracing him tightly from the neck. Simon smiled through the kiss while he hugged you back, and deepened the kiss, proud to have finally broken through your barriers, and convince you to believe the truth. He could feel the way you melted into him and into the kids, finally let him feel and receive you, love and adore you. Truly he knew, that there could never be a more beautiful you.

[sequinsmile-x]

Surrender

She opens her mouth to say it’s her, but Aaron beats her to it. The words out of his mouth before she can say them, as if he'd stolen them from her lungs, just as he had with her breath in the hotel before they came here. Making her laugh so hard she’d almost forced her wine out of her nose. A moment that felt so long ago now she could barely hang onto it.

"It's me."

A Minimal Loss AU

-x-

Hi friends!!

This...got away from me. Massively. But if there are two things I love, it's writing these idiots realising they are in love and AU's of Minimal Loss.

Sorry this ended up being a day later than promised, but I kind of like how it turned out.

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Canon typical violence/mentions of blood and injury

Words: 6.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first thing Emily does when she gets to the airport is upgrade her ticket. 

She hates flying commercial, which she knows is a champagne problem, so as soon as Aaron asked her to go to Colorado for an undercover assignment with child protective services, she groaned. She was happy to do the work, but the idea of sitting wedged in between two strangers in economy for over five hours was enough to make her decide she’d cover the cost so she could sit in first class, with the intention of re-reading the research Penelope had pulled together on Benjamin Cyrus so she could make sure she was as prepared as possible. A feeling deep in her gut that she couldn’t explain telling her that they were out of their league on this one, that there was something they didn’t know. 

“Emily?” 

She turns from where she is standing in line to see Aaron behind her, his go bag over his shoulder, and she frowns, “Aaron? I thought Reid was coming with me.”

He flashes her a tight smile before clearing his throat, “He couldn’t make it,” he says, offering no further explanation, “I decided to come in his place.” 

She nods, a mix of excitement and trepidation settling in her stomach, burning her chest as it bubbled upwards. One of the reasons she’d been so keen to take this assignment, to get away from DC for a few days, was because of him. She needed time and space, recent feelings she hadn’t expected overwhelming her every time he was near. 

It started when he knocked on her apartment door, his heart on his sleeve and as vulnerable as she’d ever seen him when he came as close as he came to begging when he asked her to go to Milkawakee with him. A sign she’d passed a test neither of them knew she’d been taking, her unwavering loyalty to him, to the team, even in the face of his disinterest and distrust of her enough to push away any lingering resentment he’d felt about her initial arrival. 

They’d become friends after that, something that she’s sure surprised him as much as it had surprised her. Aaron had come to her place the morning after they got home, his eyes lingering on the white bandage on her head as he said he’d come over to check on her. He’d looked so uncharacteristically nervous, so unsure of himself, when she joked that he could have just called her, that she’d let him in. They’d sat together and talked over coffee and breakfast she ordered in, because she had no food in her fridge, and everything was different after that. 

She had been the one to check in on him after Haley had divorce papers sent to the office. Emily had got halfway through one beer before she left the bar, unable to have fun with her friends when she knew that Aaron, the man who had quickly become her best friend, the person she knew she could go to and receive no judgement, was suffering alone and in silence somewhere else. She made it back to the office as he was leaving, and smiled wryly as she offered him her spare room for the night. 

He took her up on the offer and she stopped off at a store on the way home to buy him his favourite kind of scotch, one she didn’t like, and they sat on her couch, shifting between silence and mindless chatter, talking about everything except his broken family. 

That night she pretended she didn’t hear him crying in her spare room after they went to bed, and, for the first time but certainly not the last, she pretended she didn’t feel overcome with the desire to hold him close. To protect him. To storm across town and give Haley a piece of her mind over how this was handled, even though she knew deep down Aaron wasn’t anywhere near blameless for the breakdown of his marriage. 

After that, she noticed her feelings for him, the way she’d get butterflies in her stomach when he was near, or how just being around him made her day better, were getting stronger. The man she had once thought she’d never like let alone anything else quickly becoming the person she wanted to be around all the time. Leaving her feeling like nothing short of the teenage girl she had once been, not the grown woman she prided herself on being now. 

It was in New York that she could finally put a name to the feeling. When watching the footage of the explosion that could have, and should have, killed him, made her heart clench. The air in her lungs turning to stone as she struggled to heave in a breath, leading to a momentary response that JJ had picked up on. She’d waved it off, managed to move past it in the chaos of the moment, but it’s when it all fell into place. Puzzle pieces finally clicking together, the picture clear to her for the first time since she’d felt that initial pull towards him. 

She was in love with him. 

It was only further confirmed for her when relief washed over her when she saw he was okay, that he’d walked away from what had killed his friend. It was overwhelming, something she could have easily drowned in, and she was grateful for the short, but quiet. journey home. The nature of the case meant everyone else, Aaron included, fell asleep, and she could keep an eye on him, protecting him silently and privately. 

She was in love with him, and even though there were moments when she was sure he loved her too, his gaze bright as it occasionally lingered on her a little too long, she felt paralysed by it. Frozen in place as she convinced herself nothing could come of it, that he was still so hurt by the divorce that she’d only break her heart in the process. 

She’d come second all her life. To her mother’s job. To every partner she’d ever had, something always took precedence. To the cause whilst she was in Vienna, well aware if Clyde and the others had to sacrifice her to take down Ian they would have done. She wouldn’t mind if it was only Jack she thought she’d come second to, Aaron’s love for him, how good a father he was, one of the many things she loved about him, but she refused to be a rebound to his marriage. To be someone Aaron could push his love onto until he found somewhere more stable to put it. A more permanent home for it all. 

She nods and clears her throat, pushing her love for him back into the box it belonged in, the lid never quite fitting properly, allowing parts of it to always flow free. 

“Well,” she says, smiling at him, “I hope you brought clothes that make you look more like a social worker and less like a fed.” 

He frowns and looks up and down and his usual outfit of a suit and tie “What’s wrong with-”

“Next please.” 

Emily turns as Aaron is cut off by the woman at the desk behind her and she smiles and nods, stepping forward before she looks back at Aaron, “I’m about to upgrade my ticket,” she says, nodding towards the desk, “I can pay for yours too-”

“Em, no, it’s okay,” he says, already shaking his head, achingly familiar with her generosity, “I’ll be fine.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Aaron, just let me do this,” she says, beckoning him up to the desk with her, “Knowing you’re stuck in economy will really ruin the taste of my champagne.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head at her, and he considers arguing with her, but she simply raises her eyebrows at him. It was a conversation they’d had more than once, her willingness to spend money, to do so without thinking, something he was still uncomfortable with. But he knows he can’t say no to her, that this was how she showed she cared, and he selfishly wanted to experience every moment of it she offered him. Letting it allow him to believe for even a second that she felt half of what he felt for her. 

Her beauty had always been undeniable, even as she stood here just a couple of paces at him, a look on her face he’s sure she’d give a child if they were misbehaving. He now thinks it’s one of the reasons he’d been so resistant to her being on the team at first. That his attraction to her, even when he was still married to Haley, was somehow her fault, a reaction he knows was nothing short of unfair. 

He knows he shouldn’t have been surprised that her beauty was more than skin deep. That it shone from inside of her too, her empathy and kindness second nature, something she did without thinking or trying. She helped him find somewhere to live after his marriage ended, let him stay at hers that first night when the idea of going back to his empty home with divorce papers in his briefcase was too much to bear. She’d gone furniture shopping with him, her distaste for his taste clear as she gently made fun of him, insisting that he clearly needed her. 

He realised he was in love with her the moment he heard an officer was down in New York when Detective Cooper was shot. For a terrifying few moments, he’d thought it was her. Well aware that she’d always put herself between danger and someone else, a tendency to self-sacrifice that rivaled his, and the fear, immediately chased by the relief made him realise what had been in front of him for longer than he cared to admit. He loved her. More than he thought possible. 

There were moments when he wanted to ask her out, to make one of their regular dinners an actual date, but he always held himself back. Sure that she deserved better, that she didn’t need the complications of being with a divorced father. So he stopped himself every time, convincing himself that he could be happy just being her friend. 

“Come on,” she insists, exchanging a wry smile with the desk agent who was watching them with interest, “You know it’s a drop in the bucket for me.” 

His eyes meet hers and she smiles at him, a smile that could convince him of anything, and he nods, “Okay, fine,” he relents, pushing down the rising discomfort at letting her pay for this, “But I’m buying dinner when we get to Colorado.” 

She rolls her eyes at him but nods, “Fine, you can buy dinner at whatever wonderful establishment the tiny town we’re going to has to offer.” 

His response is a smile before he passes over his passport and boarding pass to the woman in front of them, and it makes her stomach flip. Forcing her to bite the inside of her cheek in an attempt to stop her smile from spreading.

It’s a moment she looks back on in the coming days, a flash of hope and happiness that keeps her going when everything goes wrong. 

___

It all goes downhill very quickly. 

The death of the woman who worked for Child Services, her name escaping Emily in amongst the worry about everything else, set everyone on edge. Emily stands in the corner of the chapel, well aware of Aaron standing near her, the smell of his cologne, of him sneaking out from underneath, offering her more comfort than it should. 

“They’ll be on their way by now,” he says quietly, and she turns to look at him, her eyebrows furrowing, “The team. They’ll be on their way.” 

She nods and looks back at what’s happening in front of them, carefully analysing everything that was being said, the power that Cyrus had over everyone unsettling in a way she hadn’t experienced before. 

“I bet you wish Reid had been able to come,” she says quietly, grateful for this moment that almost felt normal amongst everything. A few moments alone with her best friend, the man she loves, enough to ease her rise anxiety a little. The fact they were powerless, stuck in here with no way of escaping, feeling a little easier to swallow because he was the person she was stuck here with. She looks at him and shrugs slightly, “That way you wouldn’t be stuck in here.” 

Aaron frowns at the thought of it. It’s enough to make him tense, every muscle in his body tightening for a moment as he considers what she’s said, thinking of how he’d feel if he was stuck outside, watching the compound from a distance, knowing his options to help were limited. Here he could see her, could reach out and place his hand on her arm if he wanted, provide comfort to the both of them as things continued to escalate. 

He knows he couldn’t do it. That he couldn’t stand out there and wait for the hostage negotiators to work it out, or for the inevitable stand down with a man who was clearly on the edge. That the idea of a minimal loss situation, when she could be part of that loss, was unthinkable. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than here with you,” he says, the serious tone to his voice enough to make her turn to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed. He sighs and reaches out, briefly squeezing her shoulder before he can stop himself, dropping his hand before someone can see them, “I would have had them tear this place apart to save you.” 

She smiles at him, because she knows even though he means it right now, it isn’t true. He wouldn’t risk everyone like that, he’d do what he had to do. Because he is a good man, an honourable one, and that was part of why she was in love with him. 

Any response she may have had is cut off as Cyrus announces to his followers that he’s poisoned them all. His speech sanctimonious as he eventually reveals he has done no such thing. It makes Emily and Aaron look at each other, fear they are trying to hide from the other, but failing, reflecting in both of their eyes. 

“This is…” she fades off, her eyes flicking to Cyrus, not missing how he was watching them, his face stern as their eyes meet. She looks back at Aaron, “I don’t think this is going to end well.” 

Aaron nods, his agreement nonverbal as Cyrus approaches them. Aaron clenches his teeth as he watches how the other man looks Emily up and down, leering at her in a way that makes him want to hit him, his protective instincts thrumming under his skin. 

“You two are looking mighty cosy back here,” he says, looking between them, “You guys worked together long at CPS?”

Emily smiles at him, “I’ve only been there a couple of years,” she replies, drawing on reality and adapting it, something she’d done during her time with Ian. The lies easier to remember if they were born out of truth. She nods towards Aaron, “He’s been there a lot longer.” 

Cyrus looks back and forth between them, a smile that turns Emily’s stomach spreading over his face, “I’ve got to say,” he says, stepping towards Aaron, his hand firm on his shoulder as he goes to move past him, “You really don’t look like any social worker I’ve ever seen.” 

He squeezes Aaron’s shoulder before he leaves the chapel, sleaze and narcissism following him like a bad cologne. 

Emily blows out a steady breath, concerns that their tentative cover could be blown increasing by the second. Her worry for Aaron, her jokes the night before that he looked nothing like a social worker as they ate apple pie at a local diner reverberating around her head. Turning from a gentle way to make fun of him to something that might genuinely put him in danger, stealing the breath from her lungs. 

“I hope the others get us out of here soon,” she says, her lips pressing into a firm line when she looks up at him, “He’s already escalating with this test with the wine.”

“Everything will be fine,” he replies, and she almost allows herself to believe him. To be drawn in by the comfort he always seemed to exude, drawing her in like a moth to the flame, something she’s so sure would one day burn them both. 

She isn’t sure how much time has passed, what day it is anymore, when they are dragged unceremoniously from the seats they’d taken, huddled together in the back row of the chapel. She’s pulled up by her arm, something that makes her yell out before she can stop it, her muscles protesting the sharp movement. 

“Leave her alone,” Aaron seethes as he’s pulled up himself, one of Cyrus’s lackeys on either side of him, holding him in place. 

“The boss wants to see you both,” the man holding Emily up says, his breath fowl as he leans in closer. She makes a point of not reacting, of not giving him the satisfaction. Her eyes briefly meet Aaron’s and she nods, silently letting him know that she is okay. 

Aaron clenches his jaw, tight as he’s forced down a hallway, focusing on the footsteps behind him, of Emily’s heeled boots hitting the floor, a rhythm that brings him comfort. Assures him that she’s okay because she’s with him and he won’t let anything happen to her. 

Their eyes meet as they are forced into seats opposite each other in a small hallway, the space between them so small their knees almost touch. 

“Which one of you is it?” 

They look at Cyrus, and she feels her heart drop into her stomach. The fury on his face, the tone of his voice, led her to only one conclusion. 

He knew. 

Her eyes flick to the supplies the team would have sent in behind him, the supplies she knows will be bugged, and she looks back at him, well aware whatever happened next the others would be able to hear. 

“What do you mean?” She asks, purposely playing dumb, desperately trying to gain some time to figure out what to do, the bad outcome she’d been fearing since they stepped onto the compound feeling inevitable. 

Cyrus chuckles bitterly and steps words them, leaning down so he is at their level whilst they are sitting, “Which one of you is the FBI agent?” 

Emily can feel Aaron’s gaze burning into the side of her face but she doesn’t turn to look at him, knowing it won’t help them. That any hint that they were both lying could be deadly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aaron says, his voice measured as he looks at Cyrus, his eyes stern as he stares him down, “We both work for CPS.” 

Cyrus smiles again, shaking his head before he stands back up straight, pacing as he shakes his head. He turns back to look at them as he pulls the gun from his holster, pointing it straight at Emily’s head. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do anything other than stare straight ahead, but she hears the sharp intake of breath from Aaron. The exhaustion from the last day or so, the lack of sleep and food and water enough to make his usually unbreakable exterior crack. 

Cyrus chuckles, “Oh, she’s fearless isn’t she,” he says, pressing the gun into her skin, pushing the bangs out of the way with the barrel of it so he can see it, see the pressure it applies to her temple, “So sure of herself.” He keeps the gun in place and leans in, his face so close to hers she can feel his breath, can see the plaque  on his teeth, “If only you were a few decades younger,” he says, smirking at her, “You’d be perfect.” 

He stands up straight and points the gun at Aaron instead, smiling at him as their eyes meet, “Maybe it’s you,” he says, casting a glance back at Emily as she makes sure she doesn’t react, despite every part of her screaming as she sees a gun pointed at Aaron’s chest, “As I said, I ain’t ever seen a social worker who looks like you.” 

She knows they are running out of time, that Cyrus isn’t the type to be above just starting to shoot, and she blows out a steady breath as she looks at Aaron, his eyes locked with the other man’s, both of them unwavering. She can’t help but think about how much she loves him, how she knows she’s strong, that she’s seen and done more than anyone else knew, but she wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him killed in front of her. Wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt of costing a young boy his father because she hadn’t said anything. 

She just hopes, if they make it out, Aaron forgives her for it. 

She opens her mouth to say it’s her, but Aaron beats her to it. The words out of his mouth before she can say them, as if he'd stolen them from her lungs, just as he had with her breath in the hotel before they came here. Making her laugh so hard she’d almost forced her wine out of her nose. A moment that felt so long ago now she could barely hang onto it.

"It's me."

He flashes his gaze to hers as he silently tells her to be quiet, his attempt to protect her clear. It's an all too brief meeting of their eyes before he's pulled upwards by Cyrus, not using the strength she knows he has against a man they both know he could take.

Her stomach twists, the bitter taste of guilt and agony climbing up her throat at the realisation he was doing this to protect her. 

She watches as Aaron is thrown to the ground, held in place by the man standing behind her, his grip on her shoulder so tight it would hurt if she could feel anything. Cyrus kicks Aaron several times in the gut, drawing out groans that Emily is sure she’ll never stop hearing. 

“You had enough, cop?” Cyrus says, kicking him in the head before he spits on him, making Emily’s body tense, anger running through her veins, 

“I can take it,” Aaron grits out, spitting as he rolls, his palms on the floor as blood drips from his mouth. For a moment, Emily thinks he’s lost his mind, that he’s antagonising Cyrus, and she shakes her head, “I can take it.”

She looks past him to the boxes of supplies and it dawns on her, she was talking to the others, not to Cyrus. Letting them know not to come in, not to risk everyone on the compound, and for a moment she hates him for the honour that made her love him. Terrified that it would get him killed. 

Cyrus’s mocking  smile falls from his face and he kicks Aaron again, forcing him onto his back, his boot pressing firmly into his chest, putting pressure on already damaged ribs, “You can take it, can you?” He asks, putting more pressure on Aaron’s chest, making him yell out, the pain stealing his breath. “Maybe you can take this too.” 

He pulls his gun back out of his holster and aims at Aaron’s left arm, pulling the trigger without a second thought. 

This time, Emily can’t control her reaction. It makes her yell out, gaining Cyrus’s attention, seemingly reminding him she was in the room. He looks past her to the men behind her. 

“Get her out of here.” 

She’s pulled to her feet and tugged backwards, her eyes meeting Aaron’s as he looks up at her, his face already bruised and swollen from Cyrus’s attack. 

They lose eye contact as she disappears around the corner, and the last thing she hears is another thud, another kick aimed at the man she loves.

___

When Aaron wakes up, the first thing he notices is the pain. 

He isn’t even sure when he fell asleep, doesn’t remember passing out, or anything much past when Cyrus shot him. He groans, opening his eyes and blinking them against the dim light of the room. He looks around a little, unable to do more than simply turn his head, even though somehow hurting his chest. He was in a bedroom, lying on a mattress that he was sure he’d consider uncomfortable in normal circumstances. 

“You’re awake.”

He turns his head a little sharper to his right, groaning when the movement rocks his whole body against the lumpy mattress, and his eyes meet Emily’s. Something he knows is relief washing over her face as she stands from the seat next to him and sits on the bed, the sight of her hand wrapped around his the moment he realises she’s holding it. 

“Em,” he says, swallowing thickly as he rests his head back down, “What…what happened?”

“I convinced him to put us in the same room,” she says, squeezing his hand, something he actually feels this time, “I’m not sure if he believes I’m a social worker,” she says, laughing humourlessly, the sound making her chest ache as it escapes, “But I think he’s more distracted by the fact that this can’t go on forever than worrying about us anymore,” she swallows thickly as she looks at his face. One of his eyes is almost swollen shut now, and his lip is split. The sight of it makes her ache, her heart cracking in her chest because she knows it’s her fault. 

That he had been trying to protect her. 

He tries to sit up but can’t, the pain burning in his abdomen, the familiar feeling of cracked ribs stealing his breath, “Em, can…can you help me sit up?”

She nods, already standing up to provide support as he sits up, her hands on his back taking most of his weight as they work together to have him sitting against the headboard. The new position eases some of the pressure on his ribs, and he looks at his left arm. His eyes land on a strip of blue fabric over his arm, blood staining the fabric, just beneath the tie he’d insisted on wearing, and he looks back at her. The bottom of her shirt was ripped, a strip of it missing at its hem, revealing some of her pale skin. 

She looks down at herself and tugs at the ruined shirt, a vain attempt to cover her exposed skin, she sits next to him on the bed, closer than she usually would, desperate for any comfort she can soak in from him, their situation and how dire it was settling in now she could no longer concentrate on waiting for him to wake up. 

“I never thought I’d say it,” she says, looking at his arm, her eyes fixed on the makeshift tourniquet and bandage she’d put on it, “But I’m glad you insisted on wearing the tie.” She looks at him, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes meet, “The bullet was a through and through, I heard it hit the floor,”  she explains, “We just need to get it stitched up when we get you to a hospital. You have cracked ribs,” she says unnecessarily, worried what what happen if she stopped talking, concerned that if she wasn’t talking about this her anger that he’d done this for her would win out, “And your face is pretty messed up,” she smiles sadly when he chuckles at the way shes said it, his right hand flying to his ribs when it hurts, “But you seem okay apart from that. I’ll feel better when you’re seen by a doctor though,” her smile slips from her face, “You…you were unconscious for a long time.” 

He watches her carefully as she looks down at the bedspread beneath them, the movement making her hair move. The usually soft and shiny locks stuck together with sweat from the last couple of days of not being washed. He spots a bruise on her temple as her bangs shift and he frowns, reaching out for her without thinking, ignoring the painful pull in his ribs as he pushes her hair out of the way to get a better look at it. 

Her eyes snap to his as soon as his skin touches hers, his skin warm and soothing as he gently runs his thumbs over the bruise left behind by Cyrus when he presses the gun against her skin. 

“Em-”

“I’m fine,” she says, reaching up to capture his hand, linking their fingers together to drop their hands to the bed, not missing the relief on his face as the pressure is removed from his chest, “It’s just a bruise.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing, his hand tight around hers, showing strength neither of them was sure he was capable of right now. She smiles and shifts closer to him, their thighs touching, something that brings them both more comfort than they would ever admit to.

“Aaron,” she says, her hand squeezing his, “You had the shit kicked out of you, you were shot…” She drifts off, shaking her head as she chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “I’ve got one tiny bruise, I’ll be fine. I am fine.” 

She clenches her teeth, her jaw tight as she looks at him, everything she’d been pushing down for months mixing in with what they’d been through breaking free. Any reason she had for not talking to him about this before, about keeping an emotional distance, long gone. Because in the time she was separated from him, when she knew Cyrus could have been killing him and she wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. Aaron’s sacrifice for her, the way he’d given himself up without second thought in an attempt to protect her, removed any previous fear she had that her feelings were one way. That he was mistaken in how he felt about her, so clouded by affection and love for the wife he had lost that he was pushing the feelings onto her. 

He loved her. He’d almost gotten himself killed for her, and she felt like she should be the brave one this time. 

“Why did you sacrifice yourself like that?” She asks, even though she’s sure she knows the answer, the way he’s looking at her, touching her, the only confirmation she needs. 

“You ask that like you weren’t a few seconds behind me,” he says, smiling softly at her, “I saw it on your face. You were going to let him hurt you to protect me.” 

She can’t deny it, instead, she looks down at their joint hands, his blood dried under her fingernails, a stain she’s sure she’ll always see, “Aaron…”

“You know why, Em,” he says, his words soft as she slowly looks back up at him, her wide eyes meeting his, “You know why.” 

She closes her eyes and blows out a steady breath, shaking her head as she laughs wryly, “I’ve been convincing myself for months that you didn’t feel the same way,” she says, opening her eyes, hoping he will ignore how they shine, “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He smiles, a lopsided thing because of his swollen face, but it eases something in her gut, “The same reason you didn’t,” he says, wishing he could pull her into his embrace, that he could hug  her as tightly as he’d wanted to for longer than he’d care to admit, “I was worried you didn’t feel the same way,” he shakes his head at himself, “I’m still not sure why you do.”  

He’d spotted it, the final puzzle pieces about how she felt about him slipping into place, the moment he sacrificed himself to Cyrus. A look in her eyes he’d never seen before, love and affection and anger slipping past her well-built defences for the first time since they’d met. 

She sighs, shifting closer, their faces close enough now she could lean in and kiss him, “Aaron-”

“All I’m saying sweetheart,” he says, the nickname slipping free without him meaning it to, the use of it making her heart swell, “Is you are way out of my league.” 

She shakes her head at him, “You’re ridiculous,” she says, locking away the information for when they were out of here, reminding herself to tell him all of the reasons he was wrong, to tell him he was perfect for her again and again until he believed her. She looks at him, lost in the colours of his eyes that she’d never seen so close before. Flecks of gold she knows she’ll count one day soon, something about him that she would know and no one else would, “I love you.”

He smiles, relief easing some of the pain in his chest as it washes over him, the words he’d never expected to hear from someone other than Haley sounding nothing short of magical from the woman sitting close to him.

“I love you too.” He says, and she smiles widely, something he’s sure should feel out of place given their situation but it feels perfect. She leans in to kiss him but he stops her, shifting back to stop her lips from touching his, “Not here, not like this.” 

She frowns at first, irritation forcing her to pull back a little, but it is gone as soon as it is lit in her belly. The fire of her anger put out by the way he was looking at her, the romantic fool she knew that lingered under his hard exterior shining through. As absurd as it feels, she knows she’s right. 

She never wants to remember their first kiss being in this place. 

She nods and presses her forehead into his, her eyes closed as she breathes him in, “You’d better not die on me then. Otherwise, I’m going to be really pissed.” 

He chuckles as she pulls back, his hand tight around hers, the warmth of his skin a much-needed reminder that they were both still here, that they were alive. “Deal.”

___

They get separated in the explosion, and for an agonising couple of minutes, she thinks she’s lost him after all. It’s only when she sees him limping out afterwards, his good hand pressing into his damaged ribs as he makes his way to her side, that she feels anything close to relief. 

It was over. 

She cries when he hugs her, his good arm around her back as he pulls her close, with no real strength behind the action. Tears she’d suppressed for what felt like forever burning down her cheeks. When she pulls back to look at him, she sees tears on his face too, the relief they felt for getting through this ordeal palpable. 

If the team thinks the hug is odd they don’t say anything. And they also don’t say anything when she insists on getting in the same ambulance as him, refusing to let him out of her sight for even a moment until she’s forced into another room at the hospital. The team meet her there, her go-bag over JJ’s shoulder. She hugs her friend gratefully before she goes to the accessible bathroom, washing quickly with water and hand soap before throwing her hair up and changing into fresh clothes, abandoning her ruined shirt in the trashcan in the corner. A token of these last few days she didn’t need to keep.

The next time she sees Aaron is a few hours later. She’d sent the team to the hotel, and all of them trying and failing individually to get her to go with them, and she feels nothing short of glad to be alone. To have some time to think about the last few days, everything she’d seen and experienced. The feelings for the man she loved that she’d finally given in to, her white flag of surrender stained with his blood remorse that it took almost losing him to get him. 

She’s led into his room by a nurse who quickly leaves them alone, and she smiles as their eyes meet. He still looks awful, his face black and blue and somehow more swollen than when she’d last seen him. There’s a bandage on his arm now, stark white and clean, and he has a couple of IVs, one of which she’s sure will be antibiotics to stave off any infections he may be at risk of. 

She smiles as she sits on the edge of his bed and is grateful when he reaches out for her immediately, their hands linking together like it was something they’d always done. “Hi,” she says, feeling strangely embarrassed by the simplicity of her greeting, “How are you feeling?” 

He smiles, “As okay as a man with five cracked ribs, and a new hole in his arm can be.” 

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head at him, “Aaron.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, lifting their hands to his lips, pushing back a groan at the pain that licks up his chest at the movement, before he kisses her knuckles, “I’ll be okay, I promise.” 

She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to figure out what to do next, what to say, and she clears her throat, “I…never said thank you,” she says, her smile shaking as their eyes meet, “For saving me from him hurting me.” 

He nods, squeezing her hand and pulling her closer, grateful when she shifts towards him, her presence more of a balm to him than any of the medication the doctors had tried to make him take. He’d refused them all for now, wanting to make sure he was clear-headed for this, for her, so that there was never any part of her that would doubt this was what he truly wanted. 

He shrugs like it was nothing, like he couldn’t have died for her. Like he wouldn’t have if that’s what it came to. 

“It’s what you do, for the person you love,” he says, and she smiles widely, her cheeks aching with it. She knows they have a lot to talk about, that their confession in the room they’d been locked in was merely the start of it all, but she knows whatever comes next, at least she’ll have him by her side. 

“I guess it is,” she replies, her eyes drifting to his lips before flashing back up to his. He nods gently and she leans in to press her lips against his. 

They lose themselves in each other, surrendering to the love they held between them, and in that moment nothing else in the world matters. 

-x-

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[the-east-art]

Ode to the Tree that Lightning Struck - Wip part.

[ Hi! Will someone please read this argument and tell me if it sounds real/makes sense?]

Seven days and they weren’t even past the Great Plains yet meant that Ness and Joey were going slow. Meandering or only covering a handful of hours a day. We’re they looking for something? Maybe reluctant to leave the last place they had been with Arakiel. A medley of reasons why the pair would be going so slow flitted through Sylvins’ head. It made the current situations uncomfortably different than what she could remember from their interactions in the past. Joey and Ness had always been focused and goal driven then. Now their only goal seemed to be to make it to New England some time before they died of old age. 

oOo

Joey was pacing the room, looking out the window occasionally. A butterfly knife in her hand flipped and twirled. Butterfly knives weren’t really useful, as far as Sylvin were concerned, but they were an equivalent of a fidget cube that Joey could use that wouldn’t conflict openly with her gruff exterior. Ness was standing by the door to the bathroom, the look of concern on her face partially obscured as the gust of steam fogged up her glasses for a moment. 

“Are you okay?” Ness asked, voice pitched higher than it’s baseline. It reminded Sylvin of the kind of tone you use when talking to a customer at work. 

“Just washing up.” Sylvin replied smoothly, adjusting the towel around her body as tight as it would go. Joey stopped her pacing and let out a bark of laughter. A single staccato beat. 

“I’m surprised the place has any hot water left.” The corner of Joeys’ face lifted in a half smirk half smile. When Sylvin didn’t return it the expression shifted. “...you know you were in there for an hour, right?” 

Sylvin did not know she was in there for an hour. It felt like five minutes. Or, in retrospect, maybe an eternity. 

“‘Course.” Sylvin gave a firm nod. 

“Did you need something before you get dressed?” Ness asked kindly, head tilted to the side slightly, eyeing the towel-as-dress. Sylvins’ hair continued to drip onto the floor. 

“I’m not wearing that.” Sylvin hitched her thumb behind her to gesture to the bathroom. Joey gave a grunt. Confusion or approval? Impossible to tell. 

“You wore it for four years, it’s not good enough suddenly?” She asked skeptically and Sylvin felt her lip curl subconsciously. 

“Arakiel isn’t here to keep it pretty anymore. I need new clothes.” 

“Well, we don’t exactly have spare clothing for you.” Joey folded her arms and scowled. Sylvin remembered this from her time above water too - Joey’s stubbornness. Doesn’t matter - Sylvin could match it. 

“I’m not wearing that dress anymore.” Sylvin said firmly. Arakiel can’t have actually worn that dress for four years - sometimes the girls would go undercover to places and in the past four years Arakiel must have tagged along. Even the angel would have needed different clothes to blend in if she was pretending to be part of a construction crew or a lawyer or something. Whatever it was the girls told folks to let them into their houses and discuss whether or not they’ve seen a ghost or werewolf or whatever. “I need clothes.” 

“What, you’re gonna walk around Walmart in a towel?” Joey counters, and that corner of her lip rides up. Everything else about Joey is symmetrical, but her expressions never are - like only half of her face works properly. Sylvin stares down the stare with a stony expression - for some reason that makes Joey back down a little. 

“You can borrow some of our clothes.” Ness suggests. Her snake bites glint in the shitty motel light. Ness is all angles - from her hair to her patchwork clothing to the scars that criss-cross her arms like some kind of ancient code, written in bite marks and burns and cuts. Sylvin knows better than that though - it’s all a facade. Or something like that. Sylvin would need to actually get to know her to be able to actually diagnose it. 

“That isn’t gonna happen for different reasons.” Sylvin bites. An hour standing in the shower, her limbs hurting like she’s clung to a comet for the last four years, hurtling through space. Her legs have a bit of a tremor and she wants to sit down more than anything. But that might be read as an acquiesce. She can’t lose her ground. “I’m way too short and fat to fit into your stuff.” 

Joey gives and huff and Ness’ eyebrows knit together. 

“What do you want me to do then?” Ness says the words carefully and measured. The customer service voice doesn’t budge. It latches onto Sylvin, somewhere between her shoulders, rankles her more.

“I think even prisoners of war get clothes.” Sylvin states, and some kind of dark emotion caught between shock and anger flashes across Ness’ face. It feels a bit like triumph, like winning, when Sylvin realizes she’s getting under Ness’ skin. Joey is practically blowing steam out of her head. 

“You aren’t a fucking prisoner.” Joey bites out. Boiling anger rises up under Sylvins’ skin to match it. Joey takes a deep breath, and rolls her eyes. Her hackles lower. That’s a new trick. Sylvin doesn’t like it. 

“So you’re gonna let me just walk out the door?” Sylvin counters, and takes a step forward, trying to cover up the shake in her knees. 

“Sylvin-”

“No.” Joey says it like the word is made out of steel. “You know why? Because you’re naked right now and won’t put on your dress.” She reaches up and scratches a hand through her hair, dislodging some from her ponytail. Joey looks tired. Has Sylvin ever seen Joey not tired? “And the only shoes you are are your flats which I assume you don’t want to wear either. You’re - you’re trying to pick a fight here.” Joey advances across the room, coming closer. As Joey approaches, Ness moves closer to her. Away from Sylvins’ side. “But I’m not gonna fucking fight.” 

Joey walks right past Sylvin and into the bathroom, emerging a second later with the yellow dress in hand. Breezes through the small room to grab her keys and a bag. Ness sidles up besides her. You wouldn’t be able to tell, just looking at them, but they’re a pair. They’ve been a pair long before Arakiel came into the picture. They move with a synchronicity that can only come from years and experience. They move to one side of the room and leave Sylvin on the other. 

“If you want new clothes, I’ll get you new clothes. This fits, I’ll go off of it.” Joey waves the dress, tightly fisted in one hand. “Memorize this Sylvin - I’ll get you the fucking moon if you want it. You know why? Because Ark told me to take care of you, and I’m gonna. Those were her last fucking words on Earth - thinking about you.” She’s puffing again, angry, but this isn’t the kind Sylvin wanted. “Walk out the door while we’re gone if you want, but you aren’t getting far in a towel with no shoes. And I’ll hunt you down and take care of you, because I promised it to-” Her voice breaks. It’s an awful thing. Joey jerks the door open. “Come on Ness.” 

Sylvin stands, wet skin growing cold, hair dripping onto the floor. Empty.

[brokenrealitylooper]

White Meetings

This is an omake outside "canon" to R&L and RWBY, involving Weiss meeting her Beacon self, her about-to-leave-home self, and her escaped-the-ever-after self.

Just some fun like when Weiss met Westvale in "Extra Out Of Canon". Remember, it's basically a dream sequence, so things shift for no logical reason (like beds and door appearing when there hadn't been)

Regrets and Love

Author Extra Scene II

[Weiss Schnee-Torchwick meets other versions of herself from canon]

The first dream she had put her back in her dorm again. At first she felt a spike of panic as she bolted upright, but it ebbed when she saw nothing but blank white outside the open curtain, and nothing in the room besides the bed she had been laying on.

From one moment to the next, a mere blink, she found a much younger version of herself standing facing the window. She was dressed in her old white uniform—snowpea, she thought Ruby had called it—and Weiss thought she looked impossibly young.

“Where am I?” murmured the other...well, girl seemed to fit here.

“A dream.” Weiss’ comment startled the girl, who whipped around and froze, “I doubt you’ll recall when you wake.”

“Who are you?” Weiss-lite—thank you, Yang, Weiss thought, holding back a snort of amusement—paused, before continuing, “You look...almost like my sister, but you have my scar…”

Weiss knew she must’ve noticed the horizontal mark Neo had left behind, so she reached up to brush at it.

“I’m...a possible you, I suppose we could say.” she paused, then smirked—Roman’s smirk—and watched as the other her frowned, “I know I don’t look like it, but I’m probably older than our mother by now.”

Weiss-lite blinked, then scoffed, “You’re right, you barely look older than me; maybe thirties...”

“Thank you,” Weiss teased, making her counterpart scrunch up her nose, then sobered, “but the last time I was in my thirties was...right after a rather dark time.”

“Why?” the frown was very much one she remembered from her own youth, and even recently; confused but puzzling thing out with what little she knew, “Did the Fang do something to Vale?”

“No, you and our team manage to stop them, but Neo came back for revenge-” a deep breath, “-and took Ruby and Yang from us.”

“No.”

The flat response was expected—Weiss remembered her own thoughts, jumbled as they are, on seeing Rudy so still—as was the violent shaking of her head, “No way would that trickster beat us.”

“Not all of us, no,” Weiss agreed, closing her eyes for a moment, “But we took solo missions our first year or two after graduation, and Neo struck then.”

They were silent for a time, before Weiss-lite spoke up again, her voice soft and shaky, “How did you…”

“Go on?” Weiss asked, and received a nod, “I...didn’t. Not really. Chased Neo with Blake at my side until we found her dead; neck snapped. I learned later it was my eventual husband who did it as his own revenge.”

“Husband?”

Her younger self latched on to the word, obviously wanting something positive after the somber words, and Weiss let her.

Mostly for her own amusement, really.

Roman was her husband, after all.

“He’d been… undercover, we’ll say, for years by the time I met him. Built an organization that was stamping out the more malicious gangs outside Vale. Not a huntsman, though some might’ve confused him for such.”

“I don’t think I understand…”

“Remember, ten years can be a long time.” Weiss grinned, and her younger counterpart frowned, “Roman had changed, when I met him in that tavern in what became my—our—town.”

“Roman!?”

“The very same. He’d mellowed a lot since I’d heard of him last. I almost didn’t recognize him; it the combination of green eyes, orange hair, and sharp features that had me fixate on him before sitting at his table.”

So Weiss spoke, in generalities—some details, even now, were personal—of her time around Roman. The messages, the photos, the work together. Her company.

“Wait, why would you start a new company when the SDC is yours?”

“Because it wasn’t mine.” Weiss sighed, “I should probably go back a little.”

Disowned for prioritizing Neo over the SDC. Back to back missions until she’d met Roman.

“What was your company? Was… Roman involved?”

Weiss grinned, still so proud of what she’d done, “You could say that. Fallen Snow Incorporated was mine, though Roman helped me name it and work the kinks out. Our people—because his and mine were ours—often worked together. By the end not even the SDC could topple our place in the world.”

“The end?” Weiss-lite asked, curious and hesitant.

“I’m living it all again, after a fashion. Went from my bed in Riga to my bunk in Beacon right before our graduation.” Weiss hummed, “I think that’s why we can talk; maybe the lines are blurred from the change, two pasts mixing for a moment.”

The two sit in silence for a time, the light outside shifting gradually to orange, before either spoke again.

“Were you happy?”

“Full to bursting.” “I’ll keep her safe, this time.”

“I don’t think things will be the same for you. But thank you. Just remember to be yourself.”

0o0o0

With a blink, Weiss found the light from the window once again white, and her younger self gone. But instead was another woman, barely older than the last, blue dress simple and understated, her expression confused.

“When are you from?” Weiss asked, and found herself grinning when the other, still younger, woman spun to face her.

“Oh…” she breathed, “You’re me…”

“After a fashion.” Weiss couldn’t help channeling a little of Roman, obfuscating but not lying.

“So I end up sounding like Ozpin…” Other-Weiss groans, and Weiss herself fights back a giggle. That wasn’t a comparison she’d heard before.

“Actually, like my husband-” she paused to enjoy the surprise on her younger face, “-Roman.”

“I- you know what, fine.” she dropped onto Yang's bunk opposite Weiss, crossing her arms, “How’d that happen? Ruby saw him die!”

So she told her story again, starting from the beginning and keeping more detail; she’d learned from her last conversation.

All through it, Young-Weiss’ expressions shifted through every emotion Weiss expected, but in the end she just smiled.

“You were happy, that’s a hope I’ll try to keep. Nothing like that has happened, since my Beacon fell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing you, or I, could control. I’m going to go find Ruby and the other soon.” she growled, “We never should’ve separated.”

“You’ll find them.”

0o0o0

Another blink, and another alternate Weiss appeared. She'd probably be waking soon, Weiss imagined.

This woman stood firm, visibly certain of herself in her battle dress of blues and whites and silver. The small frown on her face lifted when she spotted her, changing to a faint smile as she took in what she saw.

“I age well, I see.”

Weiss laughed, standing to hug this doppleganger, “We do, though this is my second time. I plan to be gentler on my knees this time.”

“Tell me everything?”

“Of course.”

Once more she spoke, and this Regal-Weiss took it in with a thoughtful expression that shifted only a little as she went on.

It was… different, seeing how each of her other selves reacted to the news. The change in maturity between each, the shifts perhaps only a year or two apart, but visible when looking at her own face.

“As far as we know, Roman really did die on the airship.” her tone was apologetic, but Weiss wasn’t bothered much. Yes, a Roman had died, but he wasn’t hers.

“It’s alright. I know where my Roman is. And as I said, I’ve lost him once already.” she offered a reassuring smile, “Tell me about the others.”

The resulting picture Regal-Weiss painted rather surprised Weiss; she’d never really considered Jaune as a possiblity, she’d pushed him away rather thoroughly in her past, but...maybe they’d match in this woman’s world.

“I wish you the best.” Weiss moved towards the door, having realized the light was a deep orange of sunset now, “I found my happiness where I never expected it. I think you’ve almost found yours, with a little time and breathing room.”

“I think I’d like that.” was the reply, a faint blush on her cheeks, “Relearning him, showing him me now.”

“If Roman, and Ruby, taught me anything, it’s this; your loves aren't things to tame, they’re people to run with.”

[thesquidkid]

sometimes, I wish someone out there will find me

Alex is still in a hole, and Michael doesn't know what is going on. Oh, and Tezca can shapeshift. Angst with an eventual happy ending. Enjoy! (also on AO3)

Chapter 1 - and I'm the only one and I walk alone

“Hello, you’ve reached Alex Manes. Please leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”

The loud beep was starting to haunt Michael. Because each time he called Alex, it was higher-pitched. Each time he heard it, his heart sank deeper into his chest, his throat tightened, his knees became weak. And each time, he took a deep breath, and told himself that there was a very logical reason for Alex not picking up. That he was in the middle desert, with no cell service, busy chasing weather balloons. 

Every time Michael called Alex, he left the same message. 

“Hi Alex, it’s me. Michael. Just checking in on you. Call me back when you get this, so I know you’re okay –” And after a beat, his voice lowering until it was nothing more than a whisper, “I love you.” 

After that, he hung up, and tried to get on with his day. Alex was safe, he reasoned, the Dark Triad was in Roswell, where Alex most definitely wasn’t. Alex was a trained soldier; if anything came his way he would no doubt be able to defend himself. 

But none of that stopped Michael from worrying. 

—

The only time Michael left Alex a different kind of message was about Mimi DeLuca. 

He had received the news from Dallas, who had taken upon himself to alert everyone, leaving Maria with her grief. 

Michael had been sitting on Alex’s couch – their couch – with his feet propped up on the table, watching a documentary on emperor penguins in Antarctica. His eyes were fixed on the penguins sliding down on their bellies, but his mind was elsewhere. His left hand was holding on to the alien glass on his necklace, a desperate attempt to feel close to Alex. 

He drove as fast as he could, heading straight to the Wild Pony, and only calling Alex once he reached the parking lot, rather than getting in a car accident. Once again, he listened to Alex’s answering machine, and the beep that resonated in his head and his heart, before talking. 

“Alex, it’s Michael again. I know you’re busy, but something happened to Mimi. She’s –” his voice broke, but he took a deep breath and continued, knowing that he was on a time limit. He stood in front of the door to the bar. 

“She’s dead, Alex.”

He was quiet for a short second, as if he was taking the news in himself. Another deep breath. His hand moved the door, slowly opening it. 

“I know you’re busy with your balloons. But Maria is devastated right now –” He felt ridiculous saying it like that. Devastated was an understatement; the pain that came with losing a mother was much sharper. 

He walked into the bar, his heart sinking as he saw Maria at the bar. “When you get this message, call me when you can. She’s gonna need you Alex.” 

He hung up, and made his way to Maria. The beep that came with Alex’s answering machine was still haunting him; but at that moment he needed to be there for Maria. Besides, he reasoned once again, Mimi had been like a mother to Alex. Surely he would leave everything once he heard. 

— 

Michael didn’t get the chance to leave another message to Alex. He went undercover with Bonnie and Clyde, and his phone got smashed. He wasn’t necessarily attached to that thing, but it did mean that he no longer had a way to reach Alex. 

Or a way for Alex to reach him. 

But in that moment, it didn’t really matter. He had a cover to keep, and secrets to unravel. 

Spending an entire day with Bonnie and Clyde did allow Michael to discover more about where he came from. He ate an oasian fruit – which was truly the most delicious thing he had ever eaten – and saw an oasian salamander and an oasian tree. 

He even got a glimpse of the very thing he had always dreamt of: a way home. And built by his mother nonetheless. 

He still doubted the veracity of that last part. Bonnie did tell him that Clyde told what others wanted to hear, but considering that Nora built a way to reach aliens, it wasn’t such a far stretch to imagine that she had built a way home. 

Michael was deep in his thoughts, sitting against the wall to the barn. He thought of ways he could get Max to give him the missing piece, of ways he could get Bonnie out of Clyde and the third alien’s influence, of ways his life-long dream might be fulfilled. 

Just as he thought of home, the alien glass resting on his chest started to get warm, to the point that he felt his chest burn, but it wasn’t painful – not yet. He closed his eyes and brought his hand to it, at first feeling the comforting warmth of home, of Alex. 

But just as fast as it got warm, it got cold. It felt like Michael’s lungs had filled with ice, and he gasped for air, struggling to breathe. Where before he had felt comfort, he now felt pain and torment. His knuckles became white as he clutched the alien glass, like he was holding on to something – to Alex. 

And equally as fast, the cold disappeared, leaving Michael with a feeling of emptiness. 

“Are you okay?” asked Bonnie, standing in front of Michael. 

He opened his eyes and blinked back a few tears. His hand was still holding the alien glass, but there was nothing coming out of it; no emotions or feelings that could explain what had just happened. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat, but whether it was to convince her or himself, he wasn’t sure. 

She sat down next to him, with her usual bright smile, which he tried to return. She bumped their shoulders together, probably a human custom she had picked on. 

“Can you tell me about him?” she asked, turning her head to Michael, who raised his eyebrows in question. “Your boyfriend?” 

There was an air of innocence about Bonnie, which is what made Michael think of himself when he first saw her. She reminded him of what he could’ve been if he had a better childhood. One where the adults protected him from the horrors of the world, instead of making him witness them first handedly. 

“Sure,” he replied with a smile, the warmth in his chest coming back, but this time not due to the necklace. It was the usual warmth that was present every time he thought of Alex, of what they were building together. 

And so he talked. He shared things that he hadn’t told many people – if anyone – about. His fears, but also his hopes and his dreams. He didn’t tell her everything, wanting some things to just stay between him and Alex. But he told her about stealing the guitare from the music room, about kissing Alex in the museum. About kissing Alex again, this time much older, but still kids at heart, in front of the Wild Pony. 

He didn’t share the bad and the ugly. Not wanting to think about them, preferring the happy memories. 

All while he talked, Bonnie kept smiling softly, making comments and asking questions here and there. 

And she talked too. About life on Oasis, about some traditions they had that still survived the reign of the Dictator. She answered Michael’s questions about where they came from, and he answered hers about where they were currently. 

— 

“We need to tell Michael.” 

Isobel repeated for the fifth time. They were all gathered at the Crashdown, around the counter, thinking about the latest discoveries. 

Kyle was on FaceTime, appearing on Liz’s phone that was propped up against the paper towels dispenser. Dallas was sitting on a stool, drinking a little green man milkshake. Liz was behind the counter, her head in her hands. 

Isobel was next to Dallas, playing with one of the paper towels to occupy her fingers. Jenna was laying on a booth, looking at the ceiling, muttering under breath about bringing a gun to an alien fight. 

They were missing five crucial members of their scooby gang. 

Maria was still at the Pony, grieving her mother. She had told Liz that she would be fine on her own, and that they all should do the meeting without her. So at least they knew she was alive. 

Similarly, Liz had texted Rosa who was still at art school, and who simply responded with “good luck with the latest alien shenanigans”. So she too was alive. 

The same couldn’t be said about the other three. 

No one had any news about Alex, and even considering he was chasing water balloons in the middle of the desert, where there was potentially no cell service, they were still getting worried. Alex owned satellite phones. He should be able to reach someone, anyone, from where he was. 

The last they had heard from Max was when he had called Cam to warn her about Ramos. Once again, considering what they knew about the shapeshifting abilities of the third alien, and that Cam now had blue eyes, the conclusion was pretty obvious to make. The third alien had Max. 

Along with Jones’ body. 

The last one they had no recent news about was Michael. Cam had said that it was likely that Clyde had destroyed Michael’s phone, to stop him from having any contact with anyone, but that didn’t reassure anybody. 

“And how do you plan on doing that exactly?” Dallas asked Isobel, for the fifth time already, to which Isobel threw her arms in the air with a huff. 

“I don’t know!” she said, “But we need to reach him. He probably doesn’t know about the shapeshifting alien, and who knows what he’s heading into!” 

“Mikey is a literal genius, guys,” said Liz with a sigh, “I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Max now.” 

“Especially since Jones’ body is gone,” continued Kyle. “Can’t we just get one rest day,” he groaned, talking to no one but the universe itself. 

“Well,” Isobel continued, “we need to do something. We can’t just stand there, while our friends, our brothers –” she looked at Dallas, “are being held hostage.” 

—

Little did they know, their brothers weren’t exactly being held hostage. Tezca had used Max for his blood, with the end goal of reviving Jones. She knocked him out and drove him out to a particular point in the desert, where she sliced his arm to drain blood, before letting the sand swallow him. 

And Michael, well, he was talking to someone who was rapidly becoming a friend, about his past and his present. They talked about his home planet, but whether that meant Oasis or Earth was yet to be determined. 

— 

Miles away from both the Crashdown and the barn in the middle of the desert, a hole was forming itself in the middle of quicksand. The hole grew bigger and bigger until it spat out a man, before reforming itself, the sand hardening like any other sand in the desert. 

That man was laying on the ground, taking deep breaths. He sat up slowly and brushed the sand off of his leather jacket, before standing up. He first set his left foot on the ground, and used it to push himself up. 

With one last look to the ground, where the hole in the sand had appeared, he walked away. 

—

Michael had fallen asleep. As he opened his eyes, he was alone in the barn, a deafening silence around him. He turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Bonnie or Clyde, but there was no one. 

He brought his hand to his necklace, remembering when it had burnt then iced him. The feeling of emptiness, of loneliness, wasn’t gone, far from it. 

Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was happening. And that it concerned Alex. 

He got up and walked around the barn, looking for something to eat. He found some snicker’s bars and various other snacks – brought by Bonnie no doubt. He ate them in silence, listening carefully in case Bonnie or Clyde, or even the third alien, came back. 

But nothing. He was alone, and he was feeling it deep in his bones. He briefly considered walking out in the desert, but that might ruin his cover. So he stayed put, despite the feeling of dread that was slowly creeping up. 

The dread built up, until a cold sweat ran down his back, until goosebumps appeared on his arms, until it felt like the temperature had gone below 50°F. 

He furtively turned on himself, trying to find the cause of the fear building up in him. But nothing. He was alone, in an empty and silent barn. 

That is until a shadow appeared under the door. Michael froze in place as he waited for the other person to open it. 

Time seemed frozen too, and the deafening silence seemed broken by the repeated thump of Michael’s heartbeat. 

The door opened, and for a brief moment, all Michael felt was relief. 

For his love has come to rescue him. 

(chapter 2)

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 24)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,700

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat

I hope it's gonna make you notice

“…I’m in the military, sir…”

“…James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone…And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why…”

Bucky lies awake in bed, fluffy pillow behind his head and one leg peeking out from the blankets, as random memories knack away at his brain in pulses. They weren’t new memories, but they were memories that he never looked at the way he was now.

He doesn’t know why now, he doesn’t know what triggered it, but they were clicking together.

After years of replaying the same moments in his head, there was a nagging feeling that was telling him that there was something not adding up.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s seeing things differently, if he’s feeling things differently.

Whatever it was, he knew there was something…off.

There was something off about Daisy’s story about her dad’s story, something was off about the way he was against Bucky fighting in the military, and her death was coinciding so much with his capture.

He doesn’t like the feeling in his stomach as he remembers.

When Bucky asked about her brother and what that whole commotion back at the club was she was blatantly honest with him.

“My father’s not a good guy. He’s been wanting some something from one of these performers that was suppose to be there last night, but turns out they weren’t even on the set list. He had lied about it, we don’t know where he is.”

Bucky raises a brow at this, “You do his dirty work for him?”

“No, I don’t like to get involved in that. It’s a dangerous lifestyle. I have to think about my future family. I was only there yesterday because my brother wanted to get me out of the house for once.”

Bucky isn’t too gleam on the fact that her family are borderline criminals and that she basically supports it, and for a fraction of a second he almost doesn’t buy it, but he decides to mention this later on, not wanting to ruin their moment.

Bucky shifts his leg as he continues to remember that conversation. Why was he not against it? Why did he never question the crimes? Was he that distracted by her?

Bucky smiles at her comment, but then his brows furrowed together in an adorable way that made Daisy giggle and bring her hand to his cheek, “What is it, James?”

What is it, James?

Bucky looks over to see you laying next to him, sat up with your back against the headboard reading some book with a beige cover.

You hadn’t taken notice of his self discomfort yet, emerged in your reading, tucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

Why was he remembering all of this now? Why was he feeling sick?

When they pulled away she slowly dragged her thumb across his plump bottom lip. He watched her like she was the most gorgeous and interesting thing on the planet.

“James?” He responded with a sound on confirmation and she continued, “do you think we are moving too fast?”

He grabbed her hand that was on his face and for a fraction of a moment she thought that that was it, they were over. This was clearly too unrealistic. But instead he brought her hand up over both his lips and he kissed her gingerly.

“Yes.” He whispered behind her hand, making sure he was making direct eye contact with her.

Her face dropped. “Yes?” Her voice was worried, cautious.  

He started trailing kisses down her hand, her wrist, her forearms. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck making her groan.

It wasn’t that Daisy didn’t like being pampered but she wanted to take this very seriously. With a reluctant sigh - because what he was doing to her flesh just felt so good - she delicately removes her arm from Bucky’s grasp. He narrowed his eyes as she moved away towards the head board, suddenly wondering if maybe he said the wrong thing.

Her eyes trickled his features and down his perfect little nose.

“I knew it since the moment I laid my eyes on you. That’s how you know it’s real. This isn’t crazy, it’s ludicrous. But it works for us. I want to be with you.”

After his little speech Daisy looked him dead in the eye, not batting one lash.

“Then come have dinner with my family.”

Was it too fast? He had barely known her and she was asking him to meet her family. Criminals.

But why would she give away such dire information if it were true?

Bucky sat up slowly, as if if he were to move too quickly, the bed would collapse underneath him.

His eyes had a far away look in him, and he was as pale as he felt.

You feel him shift and your eyes flicker up to him.

You frown.

Her blue eyes glisten with gentle tears, probably thinking the same exact thing. None of it still feels real.

Her, she, doesn’t feel real.

They spent nearly every night together just talking about what Bucky would do when he came back home after camp. Things like how they would have to go see the stars on the back of an outskirts farmhouse, how they would have to go to every club in the city and laugh their night away, how he would take her to coney island with him and Steve and show her a “good time” on the ferris wheel, and how they would definitely have to meet her family.

“They’re great, you’ll love them.” She had said as they laid in bed together just hours before, merely cuddling with clothes on.

“Oh, come on doll, even your Dad?”

Daisy hesitated for a moment and her hand that was rubbing his chest stopped suddenly.

Bucky noted this and they met eyes.

Bucky feels his heart palpitate and he opens and closes his right hand, sitting up.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, closing your book.

“Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.”

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

“Bucky.”

Your voice pulls him out of his trance for just a moment.

He looks up to you, your eyes interlacing in a silent conversation of understanding.

He was revealing something to himself and you could tell that whatever that was it was leaving him overcome by feelings.

At the end of the day, he knows that he’s just insanely protective of Steve. Which is why his arm instinctively goes around him when Rogers almost gets hit by a speeding vehicle that abruptly stops to halt in front of them on the curb. With his mind far away, he hadn’t realized they were already standing on the sidewalk in front of one bright sign labeled Cotton Club.

Had Bucky known better, he would’ve had him on his left.

After that introduction, the two boys look over to the object that almost killed them.

It was pure black, the countless lights coming from the surrounding buildings and cars bouncing off its surface. The rain must’ve made it even shinier, the lights made a reflection so bright that it had everyone staring. Men looked in awe and a young paper boy, standing on the corner working over time, wondered if that would someday be his future.

With a look of disgust, Steve was repulsed by the obscurity of the man’s driving having nearly hit him. He wondered why people had no respect and he desperately wanted to punch his face in. Either that or give him a pep talk about general safety.

“What a twit.” He snarls, dusting off his small suspenders and kicking the invisible debris off his lapels.

Bucky’s face held something different. It explained why the woman staring had looked on in pure jealousy. He stared forward completely emotionless. He was neither annoyed at the fact that he almost just got run over and killed and nor in obsession over the Duesenberg J.

It was the beautiful goddess emerging from the passenger seat that caught his full attention.

On her left hand was a pearl and diamond bracelet and she used it to skim over the top of the priceless car door for leverage to push herself gracefully up from the leather seat. Her other hand was wrapped up in a prestige white glove. It held onto the hem of her silver sparkling gown, a long white cigar between her digits. Her gorgeous dress looked heavy, you could tell it was so properly made and expensive because it must’ve weighed as much as her petite self. The reason being that it hugged her body at just the perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully.

Her perfect blonde hair was pulled slick back by a diamond hair clip to the side in huge voluminous waves. The dress showed just enough back, the material dipping down towards the floor, the dip ending just above her bottom. The entire thing was held by two tiny silver straps on her shoulders.

In a sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington seemed to have played perfectly in sync with the exact moment she shut the door behind her. She looked up to read the sign, her perfect profile looking up in awe.

Bucky stands up from the bed, back rigid and face hard with anger.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He swallows thickly, gaze going towards you again.

He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you.

Ironically, beneath his anger and betrayal, he also began to feel embarrassment.

He’s momentarily startled out of his trance when he feels a small hand grab his elbow.  He looks down and his eyes meet a small concerned Steve. Well, to be fairly honestly, he looked more pissed than concerned.

Bucky doesn’t feel the patience to deal with talking anything out, he’s too busy thinking about Daisy. But he feels like he should at least say something so he can get everyone off his back, “What is it?”

Steve looks at him likes he’s crazy and then manically gestures towards the entrance of the club, probably pointing to where Daisy just left through.

“Bucky, what the heck was that? Who was that? You know her?”

“I didn’t know her. No.” Bucky doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud.

He’s shaking his head to himself, mumbling.

“Bucky, who are you talking to?” You’re growing even more concerned by the second now.

The silence was broken by his strong voice.

“You’re real.”

She smiles in a way that makes him smile too. It was contagious and bright. He caresses her skin one more time.

He felt her own hand come over his and she whispers, “I’m real.”

“Not real.”

You are more than concerned at this point.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe it was the fact that my body had finally developed into a women’s body. My breasts were now fully perked and my legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all I knew was they figured I could be put to good use.”

He shook his head and Bucky blinked away heavy tears.“I-“

The pretty woman rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, revealing a long slit that ran up her dress. It was just enough skin for Bucky’s hand to get sweaty.

He waited until the perfect opportunity when the man had walked towards the direction of the stage, making his way into the back behind the curtain.

“It wasn’t real.”

“You do his dirty work for him?”

“It wasn’t real.”

“My father’s not a good guy.”

Bucky remembers them poking him with IV drops and then sticking his head in a blender. His owns screams fill his head. It was so painful.

“Reason unknown, ongoing investigation"

“I wasn’t going to let you keep her. She enticed you. She won you. It was always supposed to be you.”

“…blonde 21 year old was found shot…”

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. He wanted her, “Will you marry me?”

“…Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —…”

“But you jeopardized it, Soldat. It wasn’t real.”

The memories are sucked out of him like a vacuum and his dark eyes meet yours, again, across the bed.

You had never seen his pupils so blown before.

You were terrified.

Your eyes go down to his flesh hand that is twitching against his thigh.

“Bucky.” You say cautiously, one more time. It was almost like you were afraid to get closer to him.

“I—“ his voice was hoarse.

He looks away and clears his throat. He blinks away the heavy daze, allowing it all to sink in until it settles in his stomach in a surprising pool of acceptance.

He sees you again and for some reason he feels okay.

It scares him.

It scared him how you took something that had been bothering him for so long, away that quickly.

In that moment he knows.

“I remembered something.” Your eyebrows came together suddenly. Nearly moments ago he looked heartbroken but now he just looked shocked and angry.

“What did you remember? I thought you had your memories back. In Wakanda.”

“I-I did,” he squeaks out running a hand through his hair, “maybe I’m just remembering differently, or adding pieces together, I don’t know, I can’t tell. It has to be, because it makes sense. It makes so much sense now, and I can’t—and she—”

“Bucky you’re rambling,” he stops and you continue to look at each other. His face drops all traces of anger and it softens, “Talk to me, I’m right here.” You whisper.

Bucky looks down at you and nods. No hesitancy.

“Give me your hands.” You say, reaching for him. He doesn’t hold back from doing so, and once you have his hands in yours, you pull him up onto the bed so he’s kneeling on it next to you.

Bucky takes a few minutes to compose himself before he says it:

“I think Daisy and her family were Hydra.” He says it like he’s afraid of his own words.

As if every word in that phrase was a curse word.

Somehow, it relieves him.

His chest feels light, shoulders worn. He can breathe.

+ + +

“I should’ve known it was too fast. Too perfect,” you’re also stunned as he tells you everything, his hands still in yours, “but—but I don’t think she was always hydra. I think she wanted out when I was captured and they killed her for it.”

You don’t deny it, that hurts. Despite never knowing the girl and secretly holding envy for her, it pains you.

“Oh, Bucky.”

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing together.

“But it was a lie. She enticed me, she fucking—“ Bucky sucks in a deep breath, “she was trying to lure me in. There was nothing real about it.” He says the word like it’s venom on his lips.

You feel him rub his thumb over the back of your hand.

“You don’t know that -”

He shakes his head again, “She was Hydra!” He doesn’t say it angrily as much as he says it in a way to announce it to himself.

He needed to say it out loud. He needed to let it sink in.

You watch Bucky as he becomes completely numb, and somehow free, in front of you.

For some reason you expected more heartbreak from him for discovering something so horrible about a woman he claimed he loved so much, a woman he wanted to marry, but instead all you got from him was anger and acceptance.

Little did you know, Bucky was in the same boat as you.

Why wasn’t he as heat shattered as he’d expect?

“I-“ he’s speechless as he looks around, trying to find something, but he does’t know what.

You think you’re more shocked than him and you quickly grab his arm, bringing him against you for a tight hug.

He hugs you back immediately, hand running up your shoulder blade and onto the back of your hair.

Minutes pass by. Many minutes.

“It was all a lie,” he whispers still holding onto. you, “All of it. I really was alone. I thought I finally had someone, but—It wasn’t real.”

You don’t know what to say as you run your hand up the back of his head.

It’s not until you pull him in tighter that he realizes it.

It was you.

You were there reason this didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. His heart no longer wanted to be with someone who was long gone.

It wanted to stay here.

Here.

He never thought he would ever feel this way ever again, and he never thought he would trust this hard ever again.

Realizing truth relived him of buried pain, and he wanted you to keep holding him, to keep helping him go through this.

He says your name softly.

“Yes?”

“I want to talk about everything.”

You stiffen for a moment as you let his words sink in. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“All of it. Everything that I did. I need to get it out, I can’t keep doing this, holding it in, keeping it inside —”

The euphoria through your blood is addicting.

“Tell me.”

He loved slow dancing.

He loved the Yankees.

He loved math and Howard Stark.

He went to the Stark Expo every year.

He loved The Hobbit and he loved jazz.

He loved New York City.

He loved Brooklyn the most.

He misses flat hats.

He loved telling jokes.

His mother died when he was young.

His sister was taken away from him.

He cried when he couldn’t see her.

His father died not too long after.

He never enlisted despite his love for the military.

He was drafted.  

He experienced World War II but on the enemy side.

He fought with Hitler’s and Hydra’s men.

He was loved by the KGB.

He loved Prague.

He trained the girls in the red room.

He remembers every young girl.

He was told to kill four kids on a mission once in Bucharest.

He was tormented, beaten raw, and kept in a concrete cell between cryo periods.

He was only occasionally fed, most years spent asleep.

He was treated like an animal. They tied him to the wall once in the cell, with a chain around his neck.

He was brain washed.

He was sexually assaulted by Hydra.

He doesn’t remember if he was raped, which could be his brain’s way of protecting himself from more trauma.

He reminds you that loved Howard Stark.

He killed Howard Stark.

He killed Maria Stark.

He was the one that stole the super soldier serum from the Stark’s and provided it to Hydra.

He was the fist of Hydra.

He killed many other good men. Over two dozen assassinations.

He killed JFK.

He never wanted to do any of it.

He remembers all of it.

They named him a hero on the Wall of Valor before S.H.I.E.L.D fell.

He was taken into Wakanda, freed of his trigger words.

He still loved New York City.

He was pardon him, despite everything.

They named him an Avenger.

He remembers it all.

You’re laying down facing each other and you continue to watch him as he tells you everything.

It’s one of the most surreal experiences of your life and you find yourself in total awe.  

This was the Bucky Barnes you had been longing to see. This was the man you knew was hidden beneath layers of hurt and anger.

You had seen it before he even told you.

The fact that he even trusted you enough to be this transparent with you is what makes you so happy.

His eyes brightened as he played with a string on the blanket between you.

“And Friends,” his voice is small and there’s a little smile on his mouth. Your heart swells as you watch it, “I love Friends.”

You bite your tongue as you smile.

Bucky stared at you, just as amazed at himself as he was at you. He couldn’t believe he told it all to you.

It was as if Daisy’s image had begun to dissolve and he was finally seeing clearly.

He didn’t hate you. He never hated you.

His fingers peak out slowly to take a hold of your pinky.

It was the opposite. He wanted you.

He feels himself breaking when you pull away from his touch. His smile falls.

“I’m proud of you,” you say quietly, sitting up again, “For finally talking about it.” You mean it, “Thank you.”

It takes him a few seconds to eventually look away and he turns onto his back. Bucky drapes an arm over his stomach, letting out a long breath of contentment.

He felt free.

To do what?

He looks over at you again as you pull your book back out.

This. This is what freedom got him. You.

But it you weren’t his. He clears his throat.

“How are things with your boyfriend?”

You don’t like talking about Pietro with Bucky.

“It’s fine,” you answer anyway, “We only had one date. And I got sick, so hopefully the next one will be better.”

Bucky swallows thickly. Why was he feeling like this? He should be happy for you. You wanted this. You deserved this.

“What do you plan to do when it’s time for us both to leave and go back?” He asks.

You don’t miss the way he mentions both of you to leave and your eyes quickly flicker to him.

“I don’t know yet,” you say hoarsely, filled with unexpected relief.

+ + +

Bucky doesn’t remember experiencing this kind of happiness since he was nineteen and him and Steve went to go see a baseball game after scoring a date with two pretty girls on the F train.

He’s happy.

Ashen peaks up at him from behind dark lashes, smiling so hard his eyes peak up at the side, turning them into thin slits. Bucky’s aren’t too far off as he mimics the boy’s laughter.

“Connect four?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta try it. It’s so fun.” The Ashens says happily, pulling out the little game from underneath his bed. Bucky wants to ask him why he has it hidden, but he doesn’t. He just reminds him that they need to stay quiet, “plus, it’s the only game I have anyway. But it’s fun Mr. Bucky.”

“Haha, alright lets try it.” Bucky says.

They sit across from each other on the floor, setting up the little game and dividing their colored chips. Ashen’s goes first, dropping in a yellow one.

Bucky picks up a red one with his flesh hand and drops it right next to the yellow. They continue for a bit until Ashens notices Bucky isn’t connecting his colors.

“No, you have to try to get a straight line and connect it!” He laughs, “you suck at this."

“Oh, no! What did I do?” Bucky exclaims, laughing.

“You’re not very smart for an Avenger.” Ashens remarks.

“Okay,” Bucky points at him playfully, smiling, “That’s mean.”

“I’m sorry but it is true.”

“Cut me some slack.” Bucky says, smiling.

They play for a little longer until Ashens ends up beating him.

Bucky sticks his tongue out at the boy, but smiles. He eventually caught on to the game and let him win. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Mr. Bucky,” Ashen says after he slides the game back under his head. He brings his legs up to his chest and hugs them, "Will you tell me now why you are here to save me?”

Bucky licks his lip and sighs. He looks out Ashens' high rise window and then back to him again. “Not yet.”

“Should I be afraid.”

“No. I won’t let anything happen you. I promise.”

Ashens doesn’t say anything as he lets his Mike Wazowski slippers hit each other.

“Do you have any kids? Like my age?”

The question surprises Bucky, and for a moment a feeling of longing hits him. “No. I don’t.”

“Aww okay.”

Bucky stares at Ashens little sad face and his heart breaks.

“I always wanted to, though,” Bucky whispers, “But that was years ago.”

“When you were in world war one?”

Bucky smiles.

“Two, not one, but yeah,” it’s not a lie, Bucky knows that if his loved would’ve went a different way, he would have definitely had kids. To know he could never go back to such simplicity broke his heart, “Something like that.”

There was something, that even so many months later, still bothered Bucky. It was something so small, and it probably didn’t really affect you as much as it affected him, but it was something you said to him.

It was one of your many fights and the way you had spatted at him about buying you plan B after you had sex.

He didn’t want to burden you. What you two had done had been irresponsible. An atmosphere like this was no place and time for an unwanted baby.

You weren’t ready for one, let alone his.

At the time, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t want the baby, if you were to have gotten pregnant, he would have loved that child with everything. He was thinking about you.

He hated to think that he gave you that pill as a gesture to say that he wanted nothing to do with you.

If so, you were wrong.

He wanted you to be happy, just smart.

He cared about you.

And now, possibly more.

As he continues to watch Ashens giggling over his slippers, that feeling of longing washes over Bucky again.

He knows he needs to tell you.

+ + +

You still weren’t feeling well. Maybe it was your nerves. The end of the mission was getting closer by each day and you never expected you’d have to leave with a little kid. You still hadn’t met Ashens, but Bucky says he’s a delight.

Ashens has changed him. You took notice immediately and it made you happy. This whole experience would be good for him.

After Bucky had poured out his heart to you, you knew you needed to get away again. That was the dance now. You get pulled, you take a step back. You couldn’t let yourself go there anymore, no matter how hard it was.

Pietro would be the driving force to help you.

You just wish Bucky would stop doing things that he probably realized he wasn’t even doing. The way he touches your face and your hand, or some times the way he looks at you, was not appropriate for two fuck buddies who stopped…fucking.

You were still convinced that he wanted you two to go your separate ways at the end of this mission. Him indirectly saying he was going to walk out with you made you happy, it could’ve been Ashens that helped him have a change of heart, whatever it was, this thing between you had to dissolve anyway.

You couldn’t keep doing that to himself, even when he would blur your lines.

You really wished he would stop doing that.

That night you after the ball, you were almost sure that he was developing feelings for you - finally - it’s why you tried to get him to finally tell you why the kiss bothered him.

Bucky never told you the truth, and you were too tired to keep digging.

You were glad that was the last time.

It was over. All of it was over.

Your stomach churns again and you decide to make yourself some tea and head to bed.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe ,  @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 ,  @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander@nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics@kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing​ @everythingiloveandcherish @shinykoalacat​ @dragongirl31 @kaitlynisinfinite​ @alwaysclassyeagle

[randomshyperson]

hey I love your writings so so much. May I request an AU where Wanda and reader are undercover on a mission and have to pretend they are dating for some reason? 👉👈 I just love those cheesy cliches so much hahaha but only if you like the idea really. Have a beautifull day! ❤️

Hello Sweetie, how are you? I hope well. So you said “AU” and i kind interpreted it as secret agents then, other then Avengers super hero. I hope you like this, is heavily inspired by Hitman videogames.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader -  Undercover Feelings.

Words:  2.907k (short one) // Read on AO3 too.

Warnings: None ;)

You are in Italy. Right now in a very compromising position.

You can see the sea many meters below you as you are sneaking along the edge of a mountain. And then your communicator is ringing, and you let out a sigh, trying not to fall over as you press the device to your ear.

- Yes? - You sneer, dragging yourself along the wall.

- Where the hell are you? - asked Wanda sounding annoyed. - Our target is here.

- I'm a little busy here, honey. - You grumble, stopping your pacing only to wipe the wetness from your hands, not wanting to slip. 

- Hurry up. - She asks, and from her low tone you imagine that she is trying to hide that she is talking to you. - I'm in the main square.

And then she hangs up and lets out an impatient sigh. Your job sucks sometimes. 

You and Wanda were assigned to recover important information from a mafia figurehead, who was to spend his vacation on an island in Italy. The problem was being able to infiltrate the place. You had the bright idea to install a hacking device in the security system of the house, the problem was that it was fusing the rock of the mountain where the house was located. Wanda would not approve of you hanging twenty feet out to sea, but it was your job after all. 

Fortunately, you were able to install the device into the Mansion's system. And now you would be able to find the place where the information was stored. After checking if your watch was receiving the correct signals from the device, you made your way back up the mountain as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave Wanda alone.

The island of Sapienza was small, so it didn't take long for you to locate Wanda sitting in the square, a summer dress leaving her legs exposed. You tried not to stare too hard. It was not an opportune moment to deal with your buried feelings.

Assuming a friendly pose, and straightening the summer shirt you were wearing, you walked over to her with a smile, also noticing the man sitting next to her, who was apparently your target, Johann Schmidt.

- Hello. - You greeted cheerfully. Wanda smiled and stood up.

- Honey, there you are! - she said excitedly, hurrying to stand beside you as she held your hand. When she kissed your cheek, she whispered "Play along". And you ignored the beating of your heart to force a smile as you looked at Johann. - I have just met Dr. Schmidt.

The man looks at you curiously, rising to his feet. You offer your hand to him.

- It is a pleasure to have you in Sapienza. - He says with a smile as he shakes your hand.

You nod in agreement.

- I must return to my duties now, Mrs. Maximoff, but I appreciate the conversation we had. - He then says, you think you are imagining that Wanda's grip on your hand has increased. - It was very enlightening.

As he leaves, Wanda lets out a loud sigh of relief. She lets go of your hand and turns to you.

- Where have you been?" she asks through gritted teeth, and you look at her quizzically.

- "Honey"? - You quip ironically, wanting to know more about the disguise. Wanda rolls her eyes, but you notice the redness in her cheeks. - I had to find a way to find out where the data was. - You tell her, sitting down at the table she was at. Wanda sits down next to you. And then you hold out your arm to her, looking around. You notice the guards watching at various points in the square, and you look at her tenderly. - Pretend that you are stroking my hand.

Wanda frowns, but obeys. You enjoy the feeling of your fingers together, but say nothing. Then you hold out your other hand, activating the clock to let her see the information you have acquired.

She reads it for a moment, then looks at you.

- The data is in the downstairs room, so we will need to infiltrate the mansion.

You nod slightly, careful to appear entertained on a romantic date, as you notice the security guards in the square. And then you really are looking at Wanda, her bright green eyes, and you feel a chill in your stomach.

- What exactly is our cover? - You ask with a smile, and Wanda blushes, averting her eyes and stopping stroking your hand momentarily, surprised by the question.

- I told Schmidt that we were engaged - she says, and you smirk. - Stop that face, that's the first thing I thought of!

- Why not sisters? Or friends? - You playfully tease, and Wanda lets out a grumble.

- Damn it, shut up. - She says but she is also smiling. - This is a romantic city, okay? It makes sense.

- Yes, yes. - You joke, and Wanda pinches your skin lightly making you laugh. 

You straighten your posture slightly, your free hand that was on the table moving across the iron, until it reaches Wanda's arm, gently moving up her skin with a caress. You brought your hand up to her face, taking a strand of hair from her eyes to put behind her ear.

- How do we get into the house? - You whisper to her, looking at her intensely as you play with strands of her hair. To anyone watching from afar, you would seem very much in love.

- That's why our disguise is good. - She comments with a smile. - There is a ball at the Mansion tomorrow night. Limited access to the upper floors of course, but I'm sure we can work around that.

You smile at her, thinking about the strategy. And then the restaurant waiter approaches the table, and you move away.

You eat lunch in comfortable silence after that, and as you get up and walk toward the small apartment you have been given for the mission, Wanda entwines her hand in yours, and you want to ignore that it is just for cover.

//-//

Wanda leaves the apartment in the evening, shortly after you have finished going over the plan. And she comes back only two hours later, with a mischievous smile and bags in her hands, and you look at her curiously while sitting on your bed.

- What's that? - you ask, and she just hums, putting the bags on the bed.

- Something you're going to hate. - She comments with a smile. And then she is pulling a long dress out of one of the bags. - This is your outfit.

- No. 

- Yes.

You let out an unhappy sigh.  And you stand up when Wanda waves for you to come closer. She holds the dress in front of your body, biting a smile across her lip in excitement.

- Why can't I wear pants? - You grumble as Wanda lowers the dress onto the bed.

- It's a gala party, darling. - she says. - You'd draw too much attention being a girl in a suit.

- That's not fair. - You retort.

- You know how these Nazis are, and their gender rules. - She says, and you shrug. And then Wanda smiles, turning to the other bag, and you throw yourself back on your bed.

 - Don't be so grumpy, at least you'll be able to carry a gun.

You look at her with confusion, and she giggles. She walks over to the dresser, and pulls out two holsters. She tosses one into your lap. - Wear it on your leg, below the thigh. They don't search this area. 

You nod in agreement, leaving the holster on the bedside table. And then you lie back on the bed, while Wanda puts your clothes away. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep after that.

//-//

You were staring. And honestly, it wasn't your fault. Wanda looked absolutely stunning in her party dress. And you felt your brain short-circuit when she left the room wearing it. You cleared your throat, and tried not to embarrass yourself so much when you said she looked beautiful. And Wanda just smiled and entwined your arms together.

Now you stand at the entrance of the mansion, mentally calculating and analyzing the number of security guards and all the exits, trying not to let yourself be too affected by the girl next to you.

You pass smoothly through the search, the security guards looking very uncomfortable from the stern look you gave them when they touched Wanda, and in less than two minutes you are released.

And then Wanda kept her hand in yours all night, casually whispering the position of the guards in your ear. 

Two or three songs later, and some polite conversation, you were sneaking downstairs, Wanda's hand in yours.

You sneaked through the kitchen, ducking and hiding through the furniture to avoid being seen. The clock on your wrist guided you along the way. 

When you finally reached the small security room, you beckoned with your finger for Wanda to be quiet. You looked around in the hallways, and bent down to hack at the door. You barely opened the handle and Wanda hurriedly pushed you inside. 

You were about to ask her what was wrong, but she covered your mouth with her hand. And then you heard footsteps outside.

When the hall was silent again, you tried not to be so affected by the proximity and stepped back when Wanda took her hand away from your mouth, a smug smile on her face. 

You hurried to retrieve the necessary data, and hurried out of the room when you were finished.

And then there was a guard coming around the corner, and you were quick to draw your gun and knock him out with a blow to the forehead as soon as he saw you.

- No shooting, only if it is indispensable. - You tell Wanda. 

You turn down another hallway, and bump into someone. The man blinks in confusion, but when he notices the gun in your hand, he quickly takes an aggressive stance, and blocks your blow. And then you are fighting, and he disarms you. But you are able to overcome him with a strike to his waist, and then you punch him in the face. As he staggers, you slam his head against the wall, and he passes out. And then you grab Wanda's hand to hurry before these men are found.

You are almost to the salon when you are pushed again, but this time it is soft hands against your waist.

- Don't freak out. - Wanda whispers before closing the distance between your lips. You melt in her arms, sighing with surprise and excitement. And you kiss her back, moving your hands up to her neck.

And then someone is clearing their throat, and Wanda breaks the kiss. You're not reasoning correctly.

- Sorry ladies, this area is restricted. - Informs one of the guards. Wanda lets out a giggle, apologizing, as she pulls you in the direction the guard is pointing to. 

Before you can say anything, Schmidt is approaching you at the party.

- Maximoff and her fiancée. - He greets you two with a smile. - How nice that you girls were able to join the party.

- It's our pleasure, Johann. - Wanda says politely.

- There is a collection of private wines in my living room. - Said Johann with something you thought was an attempt at a charming smile. - Why don't you join me for something more selective?

You wanted to punch him in the mouth, but Wanda smiled, squeezed your hand, and nodded positively.

And then you two were walking upstairs, at least five security guards behind you. You exchanged a look with Wanda, worried about where this was going. And then you arrived.

Johann motioned for you two to sit on the sofa, while he sat in the armchair in the middle of the room. Fortunately only two security guards entered the room, and you eyed them, each on an opposite side, while the others waited outside.

- Tell me, do I look like a foolish man? - He started as soon as you sat down. You felt your heart race but didn't show it. 

- Johann...

Wanda's words were interrupted by a big punch from Johann on the table next to the armchair. 

- You come to my house to rob me. - he says angrily. - And you lie to me.

You swallow dryly, trying to think of exactly how you were going to get out of this one. Wanda seems to have decided to continue her cover to the last, and you choose to follow her lead.

- We don't know what you are talking about. - She denies it in a whiny voice. 

Jonhann laughs, and then he pulls a gun from inside his jacket. Your body tenses immediately, but he doesn't point it at you, but places it on the table next to him.

- The CIA must think I am an idiot. - He comments, shaking his head slightly. - That I wouldn't notice any strangers on my island.

- We don't...

Wanda falls silent when Johann raises his finger with a deadly expression on his face. But then he smiles mischievously.

- You told me you two are engaged, right? - He mocks and Wanda nods slightly. Then he looks directly at you. - Touch her then.

You choke in surprise, frowning. 

At your lack of response, he straightens his posture, reaching for the gun.

You lock your jaw, but Wanda touches your hand, looking at you with an intense gaze. And it takes a second for you to remember the gun she carries on her thigh. 

You nod slightly at Johann, who lets out a high-pitched laugh, putting the gun back on the table.

- Is it okay if I sit on her lap? - Wanda asks him, pretending to be afraid. 

- Whatever gets you there honey! - he comments with a mischievous laugh. 

You clench your jaw, ignoring the growing anger in your stomach. Then Wanda touches your shoulder, looking at you tenderly. She sits on your lap, her legs stretched out on the sofa. In another situation this would be amazing, but now, you feel your body tense up and you are trying to control your anger at the disgusting look you are getting from Schmidt.

He lets out a grunt of excitement as your hands begin to move up Wanda's ankles, and you make sure not to expose her skin by keeping your hands under her dress. When you reach for the pistol strapped to her thigh, Wanda sinks her face into your neck. And Schmidt is quite impressed and doesn't react fast enough when you pull the gun out of the dress, and shoot at him.

And then you shoot the security guards, and you barely have time to figure out if you really hit them, when Wanda is already getting up and pulling you out of the room onto the balcony. You should have about five minutes head start before the security guards outside realize that it wasn't you two who were executed, so you look around for a way out.

- I don't think you can climb in this dress, can you? - Wanda comments, making you laugh. Then you notice the speedboat parked below the balcony. You run back into the living room, rummaging through drawers. You let out a happy exclamation when you find the key.

- After you, darling. - You tell her as you look down at the balcony. It wasn't a high drop.

Wanda jumps first, and you throw the key to her. And as you are getting ready to jump next, the security guards enter the room. You give them a mischievous wave before you jump, and then Wanda takes off, and you leave Italy behind.

//-//

It has been a good few minutes since you left the mansion, and you have already warned Natasha of your location. The jet should arrive any moment now, and then you and Wanda will go on different missions.

- You wanna tell me something. - She remarks playfully as she steers the speedboat. You stretch your legs out on the bench in front of you, still seated.

- I don't know what you are talking about. - You deny it in the same tone.

- It's about the kiss, isn't it? 

- You're the one who's bringing it up. - You retort with amusement. Wanda laughs too.

- It doesn't have to be weird, you know. - She comments, and you look at the ocean around you.

And with your lack of response, Wanda puts the speedboat on autopilot, and turns to you.

- Don't stare at me, Wanda. - You ask with a smile as you feel her gaze on you, probably deciding what to say. She laughs, and ducks her head. Then you straighten your posture, and Wanda sits down on the bench in front of you. You look at her tenderly for a few seconds, and she looks back. - You know I'm in love with you, don't you?

Wanda bites back a smile, looking away with a reddened face. You ignore the uneven beating of her heart.

- And you know I'm in love with you. - She replies after a moment with a playful smile.

- And what are we going to do about it, darling? - You reply with a slight challenge in your voice, watching the sparkle in Wanda's eyes change.

The next time you kiss her, you are only interrupted by the arrival of the CIA plane. But you don't care, because you are sure that the next time you disguise yourself as a couple, it won't be just a disguise.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk. 

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.  

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves. 

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger. 

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them. 

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.  

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool. 

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds. 

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.  

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern. 

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.” 

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug. 

But Dick still took it that way. 

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family. 

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”  

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome. 

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point. 

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence. 

[holykillercake]

FRIED EGGS

KOBY x Pirate!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Being infiltrated as a Marine and keeping your feelings under control was easy until you were assigned to work with Marine Captain Koby. How you wished he was a jerk.

highlight: ¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨

warnings: read under the risk of developing diabetes.

notes: Hey, guys! This was a lovely request from @pure-kirarin! <3 I had to stop other projects to make this one because Koby threw me out of my comfort zone hahaha I really hope you like!! ALSO 1) Happy Birthday Sabo-kun! ALSO 2) In order to add more dept to the story, the main character is part of a Yonkos´crew, but I wrote in a way that all fit, so choose your favorite! ALSO 3) ART ALERT!

Leave comments, hearts and love!

¨You have been doing a remarkable job in such little time, Commander L/N. We all have great expectations regarding your transference to our Marine Headquarters.¨ 

The words of the Rear Admiral barely scratched your mind as you discreetly observed the pink-haired boy´s reflection on the crystal clear window. 

He maintained a similar posture to yours: chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and stomach in. However, while your fingers remained paralleled to your trousers, you took a glimpse of his clenched fist, thumb fidgeting the side of his index finger. 

¨Vice Admiral Tsuru was reluctant to sign your transfer. She said you remind her of herself in the past, which is always an excellent compliment to hear.¨ you nodded, acknowledging his words  ¨We´re glad we convinced her.¨

Your heart warmed with his words, and you almost felt bad because you knew the disappointing outcome O-Tsuru-san would have at the end of this. She trained you with the iron face of a merciless soldier, and the elegance that resembled the animal of her name.

It has been three years since you received the green card from your captain to part ways in a long-term solo mission. A journey to excavate the putrid secrets of the so-called defenders of the law. You learned after a short time that justice is not so black and white.

Not that you planned to reveal the dirt, no. That intel your captain could sell to the Revolutionary Army and keep the capital running. You were interested in the arms race, the corrupt diplomacy, and more importantly, the dark pipes where traitors flowed.

Someone from inside the Yonkos was feeding the Marines with crucial information about the Emperors´ activities. And in such a close fight, you could not take those risks.

All other Emperors must have their own undercover agents within the Marines, but even that was a dispute. You could point some names to your boss, who confirmed what was suspected. Those would usually be the best of the best, extravagant and loud.

But not you. You didn't have to make that much noise. You slid between the floors of New Marineford like a snake swimming with the current. Earning the respect of your superiors and being promoted without ringing any bells. You accepted each medal with a firm salutation and relentless performance. 

¨The trip must have been displeasing. Submerging ten thousand meters underwater and rising to these fiendish waters require a good rest. Our Marine Captain Koby will escort you to your quarters, Commander Y/N. The remaining instructions shall be presented tomorrow.¨

You saluted the Rear Admiral in front of you and turned to the exit, passing by Koby, who waited for you to leave first.  When your paths crossed, the pace of your heartbeats quickened, pumping more blood through your body and leaving a burning sensation on your cheeks. 

The involuntary response was instantly interpreted as alertness to danger, which needed to be handled with caution. 

Can´t let my guard down around this one, you thought.

In fact, you planned to keep as much distance as you could from him. An officer let slip that he has been gaining incredible control over his Observation Haki since the Paramount War. 

But the wind seemed to change direction, and you began to swim against the current. When the morning came, you were assigned to be his partner for an undetermined time, and he would act as your superior. The idea of being bossed around by a younger marine got your temper sparked. 

Only he was not like the others, treating you in a patronizing and condescending way. He spoke to you with the same cordiality and politeness he addressed everybody else. 

Slowly, your concrete cold expression began to soothe. You would still remind yourself how annoying his good manners were, though. So annoying, seriously!

¨Good morning, Y/N-san!¨ he greeted as you joined him for breakfast. 

¨Good morning, Koby.¨ 

¨Our Border Force correspondent sent his report early in the morning with information about possible Yonkos´ alliances in the Wano Country. We are arranging a meeting as soon as possible.¨ 

You didn´t like to handle work so early, but this subject, in particular, raised your spirits. ¨Good. It was about time.¨

You noticed that he wore a different headband. ¨What happened?¨ 

¨Hm?¨ he brought the soup bowl close to his mouth. 

¨The bandana. Green, with the fried eggs.¨ he choked on the miso soup, coughing like he had swallowed poison. 

You reached for a paper tissue and handed it to him. ¨K-Koby, are you ok?¨

¨Y-Y/N... Y/N-san...¨ he coughed some more ¨They´re not... fried eggs...¨

¨Oh...¨ your brows raised slightly ¨What are they?¨

A depressive aura grew around him ¨They are flowers, YN-san...¨

The edge of your lips contorted as you tried to hide a smile. You haven´t felt like smiling genuinely for years. Annoying boy!

From that moment on, ignoring him became more difficult. He started to ask you to train with him or invite you to spend some time with him and Helmeppo whenever you had free time. Eventually, he began to ask you how he looked before an important meeting. 

Most of the time, you would reply something like ¨ok¨. But sometimes, the mouth was quicker than the brain, and you would let an ¨impeccable¨ slip out, followed by an awkward throat clearing and blushed cheeks. 

From both sides.

•

¨Oh my-¨ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence. 

You were chosen to complete this mission due to your excellent skills in hiding emotions and acting calm under stressful situations. No one could break you. 

Within the Marines, no joke could make you crack a smile, and no torture could make you spill secrets. 

Why did you want to ask if he was ok?

Koby had entered his office with bumps and bloody bruises over his face. His always neat uniform was blotchy, and he carried a first aid kit. 

¨Garp-san paid a visit.¨ He sat on the couch and opened the white box, throwing everything on the coffee table. ¨I bet it wasn't like this with Tsuru-san.¨ he chuckled. 

¨No. She would beat me up, wash me and hang me up to dry.¨ 

You shot from the chair, moving towards the clumsy pinkette, who struggled to attend to his injuries. He tried to hold the mirror with one hand and suture his gash with the other. 

¨Thank yo-¨

¨Shh. Don´t move.¨

You leaned closer to have a better look, giving Koby the same chance. Your delicate perfume smelled like it was tailor-made for you. Your breathing was slightly irregular, and your lip twitched with every given stitch. Your fingers felt like feathers on his skin, so much that he didn´t even feel a sting. 

The job was fast and efficient, making Koby wish Garp had put more effort into his Love Fist. Grabbing a piece of wet cotton, you cleaned the dried blood.  

¨Alright...¨ you whispered.

¨Alright...¨ he whispered back.

You were inches apart from his face, your eyes traveling across the scar on his forehead, the pink locks, and kind features. Your mind traced back all the way to the Paramount War. You had very little knowledge about him, but the words he spoke that day have always made your heart pound like cannonballs. 

You will make an excellent Admiral one day, Koby. 

I hope you don´t hate me. 

¨Y-Y/N-san...¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Your smile is beautiful.¨

¨What?¨ The stupid scene of yours was interrupted like a DJ stopping the record player. 

With cheeks getting pinker than his hair, you shot up and marched back to the chair and your newspaper. ¨You clean this up.¨ 

He left a low chuckle out and began gathering the mess. 

Oh, no, Y/N. You have got to be kidding me. 

He is a freaking marine. Breathe. 

There were a vast number of reasons why you couldn´t like him: from him being a Marine Captain and you being a pirate to the fact that your mission was coming to a conclusion.

Meaning that your journey as his partner would be very soon reaching its end. The meeting with this mysterious correspondent regarding the Yonkos´ operations in the New World would be the last move in this chess game. You would be going home. Mission completed. Everything perfect, right? 

Right, perfect. Impeccable! Ugh!

•

¨... confirm secure line.¨

¨This is Border Officer code 404890. Secure line confirmed.¨ you spoke with a low but clear voice through the nail transponder. 

¨What´s the status on our birdie?¨

¨Positive. The birdie is located at 03:24:01.¨ you gave your boss a coordinate to the name of the Marine informant. The answer you took three years to find out remained on file number one, third page, suspect number twenty-four. 

An amused laugh echoed on your end, and you buried the speaker on your jacket to muffled the sound. 

¨At least he is not one of ours.¨ a chuckle ¨Great job, Y/N.¨

¨Thank you, boss.¨

¨I know this mustn't have been easy, but you were impeccable as always.¨

Yeah, impeccable. 

¨You know the protocol now. We´ll see each other in a few days. You´ll have a party waiting for you, kid.¨

¨Aye, aye, boss. But I want the good booze.¨  Both of you laughed. 

You finished the call, and the smile on your lips died as the image of a pink-haired boy invaded your mind. You wished he was a jerk like everybody else. 

It would have been so easy. 

¨Who were you talking to?¨ your chest contracted, pushing the air out of your lungs and sending extra blood supply to your muscles. 

You hid the transponder into your jacket and turned, facing your Marine Captain. 

¨Eavesdropping, Koby?¨

What should I do?

¨Y/N-san, who were you talking to?¨ he repeated himself, offering the benefit of the doubt. You sighed.

¨My captain.¨ 

Why the need to be honest with him?

¨Y/N-san, please don´t tell me-¨

¨I´m sorry, Koby. I wish I didn´t have to do this.¨ you couldn´t bring yourself to face him.

¨A-Are you a pirate? Why?¨

You chuckled ¨Why am I a pirate?¨

¨Why did you do this?¨ his face was pale, making your guts twitch in guilt.

¨I´m on a mission. But I´ll leave soon.¨

¨You are like... Vergo-san.¨ he sounded disappointed.

¨I am nothing like Vergo. You know this.¨ or at least you hoped he did. 

He closed the door slowly, eyes fixed on your figure. The bright light from the window made him look like an ethereal painting.

While you tried to predict his next move, whether he was going to interrogate you or kick your ass, Koby acted calm and collected, not hesitating. He trusted his Observation Haki to guide his next move. Or maybe his heart.

You saw a pink blur closing distance like a missile, and before you could dodge, his hands pulled you by the waist, connecting your bodies and lips. 

He forced your back to meet the thick window with a gasp that was muffled by the kiss. His touch was rough upon the fabric of your uniform, but his mouth felt soft against yours.

Your hands moved to his hair, removing the round pair of glasses and the green bandana so you could get lost in his locks. His grip was harsh under the fabric of your uniform, but his hair felt soft on your fingertips. 

A moan escaped your lips when he parted the kiss with a loud snap and struck the glass with both hands, keeping you trapped in the middle. You let go of his hair and grabbed him by the collar, not letting him go away.

¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨ his breath was heavy and carried with a myriad of emotions. 

¨I know... I am sorry.¨

¨Why?¨

¨Because I like you, Koby. A lot.¨ he paused for a second, fighting the urge to admit the same.

¨What was your mission?¨

This is the last lie, I promise, Koby. ¨The Marines possessed vital information about something my boss wants. I needed to get it.¨

¨Now that I know that you´re a pirate and that you stole Marine´s assets, I´m gonna have to hunt you down.¨

¨I´ll be waiting for you.¨ 

You stared him in the eyes, and he kissed you to stop himself from saying what he really wanted. 

I love you, Y/N-san.

Diary of Koby-Meppo: The Fried Egg Life Crisis.

💕 @vemuabhi

[ladyelissarose]

Warnings: mentions of beating someone, a gun threat was mentioned, some angst and some fluff too... enjoy🕶

“The Secrets of Gotham-Unmasked”

Chp. 23pt.2

Bruce’s POV 

  Y/n and Bruce stayed together in her bed as they cuddled and comforted one another, he was at peace to know that she was healing and getting better, more than anything he was happy to see her alive and breathing on her own. Y/n was thinking about how she would manage to go undercover and be able to hide it from everyone she knew without compromising herself or blowing it all up, but soon her exhaustion took over and she fell asleep in Bruce’s warm arms. Soon it was time for Bruce to go and he left Y/n in bed asleep.  

  He made sure to let Saunders know to keep her in the house and to not let her out at all, even if she needed something to let him know first so he could get it for her. When Saunders questioned his departure Bruce said he wanted to stay at his Manor in case any cops showed up for any reason. Alfred sided Bruce as he explained to Saunders in better words how Bruce was very protective of his privacy and home. Promising his protecting and watchful eyes over Y/n Saunders led Bruce and Alfred out the door and made sure to secure his new locks that they had gotten for him. Bruce was grateful for Saunders cooperation, it helped that he was best friends with her father and saw Y/n as his niece, she was family to him.  

  Bruce understood the dangers of having her out in public when at the moment the city considered her dead. And he planned to keep it that way, he thought it would stop her from coming out and getting into trouble, (Which at this point unfortunately he was totally wrong.) but he didn’t know that yet.  

  Bruce went back to the Batcave with Alfred and got ready to go out on patrol as he always did. This night in particular the signal was up which meant Gordon needed him specifically. Putting on his cowl Bruce lastly took a scrunchie that was his favorite of Y/n’s and putting it on he tucked it into his sleeve, he felt more at ease when he carried something of her on him. Soon he got on his batcycle and off he went as soon as he was ready. 

  Gordon’s POV

  Gordon waited at the top with lots of news in his hands, and he was desperate for Batman’s arrival, the past few days had been hard for him now that he didn’t have Y/n over, she was the only other person he whole heartedly trusted and was a determined and strong person to be around. These days were somewhat lonelier and quiet for him, but he kept himself more preoccupied then other times to keep himself focused and sane.   

  This winter night in particular was bringing out a howling wind which held a freezing breeze that burned the bones, Gordon had brought an extra coat in his car thinking about Y/n, he always remembered how she always underdressed for the weather.. but when he called her and she didn’t answer, reality hit him like a truck of bricks at the realization that she wasn’t there anymore, making him very upset and sad at the moment. So, at the sudden low voice of Batman bringing him back to reality he almost quite literally jumped out of his skin with a gasp,

  “CHRIST!”

  Turning around he saw Batman standing there in his armor with his cape flying behind him, scolding him with a disappointing look Gordon added,

  “You definitely got to start letting me know when exactly you’ll be coming up or something.. shit you scared the crap out of me-“

  “You weren’t answering.”

  Batman interrupted Gordon mid sentence with that simple comment, making Gordon question with a raised brow,

  “What do you mean?”

  Batman stepped closer as he said,

  “I called you several times.. you never picked up, and right now, I called out to you two times.. and barely you recognized my presence.”

  Gordon realized he was yet again lost in his thoughts thinking about he night Y/n went missing.. he couldn’t help but blame himself for not doing something or just anything. When in reality no matter the outcome or if something had changed, things still would’ve gone down terribly.. Mackenzie was the chaos to all of this no matter what. Gordon let out a huffed breath as he confessed,

  “I can’t stop thinking about her man... you heard about everything that happened right?”

  Batman nodded his head as he replied,

  “Yeah.. everything.. I’m sorry.”

 “There’s no need to be.. Bock caused all of this to stop her, I think he realized she was upping her game to get him, so he had to take desperate measures to take her down.. which caused her death.”

  Batman didn’t say another word about that topic because he saw how much damaged it had cost Gordon, so he changed the subject subtly,

  “What happened tonight?”

  Gordon handed him files of several different people as he explained simply,

  “Tonight we found our 7th overdosed kid, he was 17 and had drops in his system, I personally took the evidence to the examiners room and asked them to run it, turns out that this kid’s fathers’ fingerprints were on the package first.”

  Bruce looked at the other pictures of young kids that were victims to the drops with grief in his heart, he looked up at Gordon and asked with a tone that let him know that he already knew the answer,

  “Who’s his father?” 

  “He’s a Sergeant, and works for the PD.. they don’t know I have that evidence.. but he already made a claim that supposedly he didn’t know where the source came from and that probably his son was involved in something, he literally washed the responsibility of his actions off his shoulders, but he’s only protecting himself and Mackenzie.”

  “So you’re saying that more of the justice system is getting in cahoots with this Mackenzie guy? And their kids are falling in between?”

  “Yup... I’m seeing it more out on the streets.”

  Batman huffed slightly in annoyance at how fast this operation was growing. He saw Gordon holding other files so he questioned about those as he pointed at them,

  “And what are those?”

  Scoffing Gordon traded the files he had with the ones Batman had and put forth,

  “Yeah about that... we got a trafficker serial killer-“

  Causing Batman to stifle a confused sounded laughter he interrupted with a smirk, 

   “A what now?”

 Gordon showed Batman he was serious as soon as Batman flipped through the pages, 

   “A serial killer that’s killing the traffickers in Gotham.. well, some are almost dead and others are already dead when we find them.”

  Looking at the gory figures of these dead people made Bruce’s stomach turn only because he knew deep down who it was,

  ‘It’s the RedHood.... it’s Y/b/n. He’s eliminating all of them one by one.. gee kid well what did they do to you?’

  “Do you have an idea of who it could be Chief? Cause this one isn’t leaving prints, not even a single hair or eyelash, it’s like if a ghost was killing all of them, and not leaving a trace.”

  Batman held his end of the line by not spilling RedHood’s identity,

  “No, but.. I’ll find out soon.”

  “Please do, all though I appreciate his work to a certain extent by taking all theses monsters down, but he’s still committing a crime, and the city wants him for that. And as far as Mackenzie, he’s gone for, there’s nothing we can do.”

  Batman have Gordon back the files and said,

  “You sure there’s nothing else? Isn’t there enough evidence-“

  “Before anyone sees him he’s in and out, he’ll always be two steps ahead of us Chief.. Y/n was my only way to get him, she was supposed to go undercover.. catch him in the act when he was going to make his biggest sell.. now with her gone-“

  “You think she’s dead?”

 Gordon immediately recognized that question in the same voice,

  ‘What the heck?’

  Batman’s POV 

Gordon didn’t answered quickly enough, he only mentioned,

  “Someone asked me the same question, someone you know.. is she alive Batman?”

  “I can’t tell you-“

  “Oh so you know?-“

 “No I don’t! I can’t tell you because I don’t know ok?”

  Batman saw how Gordon’s shoulders slumped in disappointment as he heard him reply,

  “I’m sorry man, I really am.. ughh but this is so stupid.. someone could’ve kidnapped her Chief! I know she was in that vehicle, but when we went to see it after it exploded it was empty, only her jacket and a belt were left in there.. I don’t know what happened.”

  Batman patted Gordon’s shoulder before saying,

  “Neither do I.. but something she always told me.. everything will fall into place.”

  And Batman left him with that, to go look for RedHood, he had a huge bone to pick with him. And he couldn’t stand lying to Gordon about his knowledge of Y/n being alive, he wasn’t ready to give in that easily to the truth, only because he knew Gordon might have suggested she go on with the case, so he left after biding him goodbye.

  RedHoods POV 

  Y/b/n had yet again got into his works when he was in the darkest alley of Gotham beating one of Stewart’s weakest men. Anger boiled his blood as he went on and on, this night was particularly hard for him, he couldn’t get his sister out of his mind, and only saw Mackenzie’s face through his victims bloody one as his punches got harder with every new landing. If he wasn’t the person he was today he thought, he might of been able to save her, but now there was no hope, just his guilt eating him alive. And even when he saw that the guy stopped resisting the fight he went on, until someone larger than him landed in front of him from the sky, making Y/b/n shout in shock

  “FUCK!!”

  “language Y/b/n.”

  Rolling his eyes at whom he saw was Batman in front of him he bit back, as he punched the guy again,

  “It’s Jason-“

  “I can call you whatever I want.. why are you killing the traffickers? It’s been so many, what do you have to say for yourself huh?”

  Shrugging his shoulders he sarcastically replied,

  “Oops?”

  “Oops? You sound so pathetic, why are you doing this?”

  Y/b/n let out a huff,

  “Why didn’t you protect my sister?-“

  A chuckles escaped Batman’s lips as he commented,

  “Changing the subject huh? But now she’s your sister? Now you’re for her!-“

  “Shut up!!”

  “Let him go Y/b/n he’s not moving anymore.”

  The minute Y/b/n saw Batman take a step closer he stop punching and pulled out his gun from his belt and pointed it at Batman with a warning,

  “Don’t think about it man.. let me be.”

  “I can’t let you continue, although you think it’s vengeance or right it’s a crime-“

  “Is it B? Is it? This guy under me and at my mercy once tied me up as I was gagged, I couldn’t speak, cry, or shout as they beat me to the pulp... then I was put inside a coffin, and was left there for hours that felt like days or months.-“

 Now pointing the gun slowly down but towards the mans head Y/b/n added,

  “This guy along with others killed the old me.. and he knows it.. and he didn’t only kill me.. there were others, other boys.. some dead and others waiting for there turn of elimination, all hopeless and gone.. why can’t they get a taste of their own medicine huh?”

  Batman’s POV 

  Batman shook his head no and put forth,

  “If you loved your sister, you’d remember that she didn’t raise you this way.. I know you don’t want to apologize for being the person you’ve become because of these men, and they’ve continued.. they still do what they do. But this isn’t the way-“

  “It is B! It is.”

  Holding the gun up at the guys head he cocked it, making Batman growl,

 “Y/b/n don’t-“

  “If You keep talking you’re next, and believe me I won’t hesitate.. I really won’t-“

 “You’re only throwing your life away!”

  “I don’t care about my life!! I’ve lost everything!! This is the only justice I have to fight for!”

  “This isn’t justice it’s madness! It’s your vengeance eating you alive because you know your guilty!-“

  “No-“

  “You’re angry because you never had the chance to apologize to the one person you blamed for your death.. when it wasn’t even her fault. You’re angry because you wish life treated you and your sister better-“

  “B-“

  “Y/b/n!! Drop.the.gun.”

  Y/b/n ripped off his helmet to reveal the fallen tears at Batman’s words as he shouted, he smacked the gun against his chest in between his words of frustration, 

  “NO! Let me do this! I have to do this!! It only makes me feel better for what I couldn’t stop or fix or change. I’ll never tell a soul that you were here-“

  “Y/b/n-“

  “I’ll still do it-“

  Batman knew he was going to punch himself later for his confession, but he had to believe it was his only way of saving Y/b/n,

  “Y/b/n!-“

  “What B!!!”

  “Y/n’s alive!”

 Batman took and deep breath and said it again in an aspirated breath,

  “You’re sister’s alive..”

 Batman huffed a deep breath out at his confession, and that’s when he saw Y/b/n’s expression drop with a pained shock as his gun lowered to his side,

  “She’s what?”

  “Y/n’s alive, I pulled her out of the river she jumped into from the bridge, she’s in a safe place that I’m not telling you about yet.. but just know she’s alive, and I’m not lying.”

  Y/b/n stood up from sitting on the man and walked towards Batman slowly, making Batman feeling somewhat uneasy for a second, but he never moved. Y/b/n looked up at him as he said in a whisper,

   “I know you’re not lying.. because you’ve never lied to me.. is she going to be ok?”

  Batman nodded his head,

  “yes.. she’s going to be ok.. she’s recovering well..”

  Y/b/n slipped on his mask saying,

  “That’s one hell of a secret to keep from an entire city.. never thought I’d thank you.. but thanks.”

  “Hm hmm.. and what are you going to do about him?”

  Seeing Batman’s eyes look behind him 

 Y/b/n turned around to see guy laying their completely unconscious, he simply stated,

  “He’ll be fine.. the cops will find him soon..“

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.. I buzz them at the payphone calling in as anonymous.”

  Batman rolled his eyes as he pulled Y/b/n beside him as he walked the two of them out of the alley, 

  “You’re crazy.”

 Y/b/n huffed through his nose as he commented,

  “You think I’m crazy? You’re the one dressed in a bat suit looking like a guy that’s in need of desperate therapy and a shower.”

  Batman looked at him with a confused look as he put forth,

  “Why a shower? You’re sounding like Alfred now.”

  Shrugging his shoulders Y/b/n confessed,

 “I don’t even know why I added that.. or why your more worried about me saying you need a shower than saying you need therapy?”

  Stoping at the Batmobile Batman commented,

  “I know I need therapy.. I shower fine-“

 Changing his tone to a snarky one he added, 

  “especially when I have nice company-“

  Y/b/n punched his shoulder roughly as he practically gagged,

 “UGHH!! That’s so disgusting!”

  Bruce missed teasing Y/b/n, he always seemed to have a blast bullying him, especially when it was about his sister.

  “Yeah tell me it’s disgusting once you’ve found your partner... then we’ll talk about it.”

  “Ughh ok.. hell no, anyways I have to get home.”

  Bruce remembered Alfreds words and how worried sick he had been for Y/b/n, so Bruce offered,

  “You can come with.. you’ll be safer.”

  Pulling off his mask again to show Bruce how shocked he was he gasped,

  “Seriously?! Dude I almost killed you!”

  “First off, I know you don’t have a place of your own, second... We’re you really going to shoot me?”

  Honestly replying Y/b/n said,

  “Yeah I don’t have a place, and no.. of course not.. I was just trying to scare you-“

  Bruce scoffed as he confessed,

  “Oh believe me.. you don’t scare me.”

  “Oh yeah? Then what does?”

  Getting inside the Batmobile Bruce said once the doors were closed with vulnerability in his voice,

  “Losing those I love scares me most Y/b/n.”

  Y/b/n looked down at his bloody knuckles as he asked,

 “Am I on that list?”

Bruce took off his mask and looked at Y/b/n saying,

  “You’ll always be.. regardless.”

  He saw Y/b/n let out a small appreciative smile as he was still looking at his hands,

  “thanks Bruce.. I’m sorry for everything.”

  “There’s no need to be... and you’re welcome.. now let’s stop this I don’t want to get all sappy-“

  “Ugh I know right? That’s so not cool.”

  “It isn’t.”

  After picking up dinner at a small burger place because Y/b/n had begged him by showing him his hungry stomach Bruce bent and bought him everything he wanted. Bruce was reminding himself that Y/b/n, although he looked much bigger and stronger, and how he was sadly enough a criminal.. deep down and in reality, he was still a boy, a young man desperate to be found and loved. He was a victim and responded to his hurt by hurting others, but all he needed was to be kept safe from himself and others. Soon Bruce drove Y/b/n back to the Manor and sent him up to his old room, 

  “You can stay up here.. you still have your room, you can stay as long as you like... but you have to promise me something.”

   “What’s that Bruce?”

  “No killing.”

  Sighing with disappointment Y/b/n looked at Bruce,

  “You know that’s hard to take from me.. but I’ll try.”

 Bruce understanding him replied,

  “Fine.. I’ll help you through.. trust me.”

  “ I trust you. But our deal is still on right? Y/n can’t know about this... at least not yet.”

  “I won’t say a word... now get rest.”

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Long Way From Home Part 2

Summary: You and Natasha are left with the realization of what your future holds. 

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 2,408

* * * * * *

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect after Katya’s return home. Hope led you to believe that the situation would draw yourself and Natasha closer. But realism made you understand that if/when that ever happens, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Natasha was even more shocked than you were to find out that Katya was her daughter from the future. That shock went even deeper when she realized that Katya’s other parent was you.

Maybe it was that realization that pushed her to stay away from you. And you didn’t want to further push her away by being overbearing.

So for the first few days, you’d given her all the space she needed. You resolved to not speak to her unless she spoke first, you made sure she knew you were there whenever she was ready but didn’t become annoying about it.

But days turned to weeks and she hadn’t said or done anything. With the knowledge of what the future held in your head, coupled with the feelings you already had towards Natasha, you decided to take a different approach.

Switching some things around on your personal and work schedule, you made it so that the two of you spent more time together: working out and training, going on missions, having breakfast together whenever she was actually hungry. Hell you even volunteered to do public appearances with her and everyone knows how much you hate those. 

It was all in an attempt to get the woman you cared so deeply for to at least speak to you.

Luckily, it worked. Whatever the case may have been, her noticing the effort you were putting into being there for her or her getting annoyed with how persistent you are, she started to strike up little conversations when you were together. 

None of the topics ever held much weight but they seemed to make you both happier, helped lift that tension between you two. 

In a few weeks you two grew closer, as you’d hoped, occasionally throwing the term friend around which definitely grabbed the attention of your teammates, especially those who knew exactly how you felt about the redhead. 

While neither of you brought up Katya or what her presence meant, both of you thought about it a lot. With good reason. 

Having learned what you did from Banner during the “Time Heist”, you know that it’s possible that in this particular timeline you and Natasha don’t get together, or maybe you do but you break up, or you just never get married, or don’t have kids, or you adopt so you never have Katya. You’d have to talk to Doctor Strange to know the true number of possibilities but your head was ready to explode whenever you thought about it so you were fine not knowing. 

The one thing you hoped with all hope, was that you kept Natasha in your life. No matter what the future became you just wanted- you needed Natasha there. 

Only problem is, after all that progress you’d made in your relationship with her, everything stopped. Conversations, hanging out, seeing each other around, going on missions together. All of it went away. And it wasn’t because of you.

With how much your new schedule allowed you to see Natasha, you wouldn’t have dared to change it. Which let you know that it was her schedule that changed. Better put, she changed her schedule.

You aren’t sure what you’d done. The last time you spent together, the two of you had watched some movie that she really wanted to see. Conversation flowed freely, laughs and smiles exchanged in between. You’d ended up falling asleep during the sequel of the movie and woke up to her in your arms, her head tucked under your chin.

The moment had left you feeling completely content so, with her soft breaths against your neck and your arms wrapped around each other, you fell back to sleep with ease. Only to wake up to her gone. And you hadn’t seen her around since. 

After everything, after all of that, you refused to take steps back. You’d fight for her until she told you to stop. 

“Um, anyone see Natasha?” You ask, stepping into the kitchen.

Today marks a week of not seeing the redhead around as she continues to dodge you. You had been looking all over her, your search interrupted by Steve calling you and Bucky into a meeting regarding your last mission with him. But now that it’s over you’re back to looking for her. 

Sam, Bucky, and Wanda look up at you as you walk in. Your brunette friend raises her eyebrows at your question, tilting her head in silent curiosity. 

Chuckling quietly, Sam asks,“ she still avoiding you?” His eyebrows wiggle slightly as he asks, amusement in his eyes. 

You raise your eyebrow,“ I’m sorry Wilson I don’t understand what’s funny.” You tilt your head challengingly at him.“ Last I checked she’s still not giving you the time of day at all.”

Bucky and Wanda snort, struggling to hold in their laughs. Wanda bites her lip and turns away from Sam, having to sit her mug of tea down as she finally lets her laugh out. Which breaks Bucky’s resolve. Splutters of laughter leaving both of them as they face away from you and Sam.

He smacks his lips and waves you off,“ it ain’t even that funny.” He grumbles and looks down at his lunch. 

“What’s not funny?” 

Your eyebrows raise at the voice behind you, eyes slightly widening in hope as you spin around. Green eyes look into yours and Natasha’s pink lips press into a thin line before she turns on her heel and walks away.  

Looking back at the trio, you point at the spot Natasha had been in with a disbelieving chuckle. Only to have Wanda shoo you away, gesturing for you to go after Natasha. Understanding what she means, you immediately take off after the ex-assassin.

Luckily for you she hadn’t gone far.

You turn the corner and see her marching down the hallway. She’s moving much faster than you’d like, not giving you time to truly appreciate the tight yoga pants and tank top that adorn her body.  

Instead you focus on catching up with her, which doesn’t take much due to your enhanced genetics. Catching up to her just before she can get to her bedroom door, you reach out to grab her arm, gently pulling her back.

Only for her to twist her hand, grabbing your wrist and nearly slamming you into the wall, your arm twisted behind your back. You know if she wanted to she could make this hurt but she doesn’t. Most likely using it to intimidate you as she speaks.

“Stop following me Y/Ln.” She practically hisses through clenched teeth.

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder.“ Usually I’d agree to that but not this time. I think I deserve some answers Tash.”

Using the little nickname causes her hold on you to loosen, her jaw unclenching.“ Don’t call me that.”

“Fine,” you huff, shoulders dropping as you turn your head slightly to hide your smirk.“ Just talk to me Natty.”

Her eyes roll and she drops your arm, stepping to the side and pushing her bedroom door open. Your eyes widen and you slip inside before the fingerprinted door closes and locks behind her. 

She quickly spins around as you step in and the door closes. Irritation writes across her features even deeper than before. 

“You can turn your ass right back around Y/Ln. I told you to stop following me.” Her arms cross over her chest.

Shaking your head you say,“ and I told you no.” A frown forms on your face as you look at her. Staring into those green eyes causes your feelings to swell.“ Don’t you see how this is hurting me? Being ignored by someone I care about without a single explanation as to why? And you can pretend that you don’t but it’s obviously affecting you too or you wouldn’t be so upset with me trying to talk to you.”

“Y/n just leave it alone. If I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk.” She tries to brush it off.“ We’ve gone without talking to each other before so just, go back to that.”

For a second you’re ready to walk away, catch her at a better time but you were done chasing her.“ No. I don’t want that and I don’t think you do either. Stop avoiding me and your feelings and just talk to me!” Your frustration pulls the words from your brain out of your mouth in an exasperated exclamation.

Natasha wastes no time returning the frustration.“ No okay!” She shouts, running her fingers through her hair.“ I don’t like feeling like this so I don’t want to talk about it!”

Eyebrows pinching together, you tilt your head in confusion.“ Feeling like what, Natasha?” A heavy sigh falls from your lips.“ You aren’t telling me something and it’s killing me.” 

Silence falls between you, once again stirring up that frustration.

“What feeling?” You beg her to tell you, more thankful than ever for soundproof walls, otherwise the whole team would hear your yelling.

She glares at you as if you’d personally offended her, then shouts,“ like I’m falling in love with you!” Her hands rise and fall with her words. Resting at her sides in clenched fists as she keeps shouting.

You drop your hands, shoulders sagging as you feel your heart swell. It seems to start beating a mile a minute and your face softens.“ You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yes. No! I don’t know.” Her voice strains as if she’s choking up.“ I don’t know if this is real or not. Just because Katya exists in some future doesn’t mean that she exists in ours. It doesn’t mean that we’re supposed to be together.”

Those words, that simple expression of her feelings makes you realize that she’s been thinking about the exact same things you had been. 

It’s not like what you’ve been feeling towards Natasha was forced. But you did worry if it was all just you subconsciously trying to make that future with Katya happen. Except you knew it wasn’t.

She: Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, ex-assassin/superhero, she’d had your heart long before Katya ever arrived. You fought it tooth and nail because the two of you weren’t on good terms but truth is, you’ve loved her since your first undercover mission almost 15 years ago. 

The first time your best friend had pressed her lips against yours in a sweet kiss meant to distract and deter your targets, you knew you loved her. Maybe she didn’t feel what you did then but she’s feeling it now.

“I love you.” You tell her, watching as she stops ranting and looks at you with scared eyes. Giving her a soft smile, you take a cautious step closer, reaching forward to take her hand. You squeeze it, as if to let her know that this is real, that what you’re about to say is real. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time now Natasha,” you take her other hand,“ Katya being here, the realization of who her parents are, that hasn’t forced my feelings for you. If anything it made me realize that I didn’t fight hard enough. I just let you go and I was so stupid for that. I should’ve tried harder to keep what we had, I should’ve said something about how I felt before.”

Green eyes bore into yours as you speak, a flood of emotions in them.“ Why say something now then? Why wait until you meet the little girl who we apparently parent? Just because it’s supposed to happen doesn’t mean it has to.” Her tone goes from genuinely curious to irritated in a matter of seconds. 

But you don’t let that hinder you. Instead you smile softly at her, letting your honest feelings show in your eyes.“ Because I don’t think we’re supposed to be together. I think we’re meant to be together. Everything we’ve been through together, every laugh and argument, every insult and compliment, it’s all led us to this very moment.”

Fear overtakes her other emotions and it settles in her eyes. 

“And yes it’s scary, terrifying even, but that makes it all the more beautiful. We can run from this. We can act like we don’t love each other, act like this isn’t what we want. But we both know that we,” you pull her hands up to press against your chest, knowing she can feel your heart pounding,“ this is home. It’s everything we need and more than we ever could’ve asked for.”

You see the battle in her eyes, you get a little scared that she’ll choose to run from it, so in a last attempt to fight for this you ask,“ don’t you think we’ve been away from home long enough?”

Like the clouds parting when a storm ends, you see Natasha’s eyes light up. They get bright as she stares at you and you finally finally see that gorgeous smile. 

She pulls her hand from yours and before you can get dejected about it, she wraps it around the back of your neck and pulls you down.

When she speaks you feel the breath of her words against your lips,“ I’ve been looking for a true home for a long time.”

You understand exactly what she’s trying to convey, you hear the unspoken admission of feelings and you feel her opening the door for you to come in. So you do the same in return.

“I promise I’m not gonna hurt you Romanoff.”

In a split second her lips press against yours and it’s like you’re taken back in time. Those same feelings you’d had when she kissed you for the first time come back tenfold. Soft pink lips mold against yours as you place your free hand on her hip to pull her closer.

For a moment you wish you didn’t have to breathe as you wanted nothing more than to continue to kiss her. But your lungs start to protest at the lack of air so you both reluctantly pull away. 

Natasha rests her head on your chest and you wrap your arms around her.

With her in your arms you can’t help but to think: It feels good to be home.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers

[brittanyslibrary]

Liar ✦ Shota Aizawa

part two

Summary: she had a choice to make; allow hundreds of innocent people to die by the hands of an elite gang of powerful villains, or partake in a mission that involved faking her death and infiltrating said gang to save the lives of those innocent people.

she chose the latter; hoping that Shota Aizawa would understand.

He’d noticed her attempting to put distance between them, he should have known then what was about to transpire. Aizawa always prided himself on being a very observant man, always able to predict the actions of others.

He never could have predicted seeing her face plastered on every news outlet, newscasters calling it a “sad but honorable death”.

He didn’t care that she died with honor, he didn’t care that she would go down as one of the most selfless heroes in history.

The love of his life was gone, her soul that had once been a lingering flame in the darkness of his own now snuffed out, turning him into ash. Into nothing.

There was no sound when he fell to his knees in the faculty room during the lunch break. He couldn’t feel Hizashi’s hands gripping his shirt as his tired eyes were pried wide open and taking in the scene of steaming rubble before him.

His stomach had twisted uncomfortably as he desperately tried to regain his breath, but the way his chest burned and filled his entire being with utter agony was too much to ignore.

He’d broken bones before, gotten his skull crushed and had enemies nearly gouge out his eyes. None of that pain came close to this, it didn’t even touch this.

He fell into a hole. Hizashi might have been the only one to understand exactly what he was going through. It was a repeat of when they’d lost their close friend, years ago when they had been U.A alumni themselves.

“Why wasn’t I there to protect her?” Shota had asked him one night, after Hizashi had picked him up from the sidewalk outside of a crowded bar, wasted and tired and utterly broken.

She had meant so much to him, even though he wasn’t one to voice his emotions, his concerns. Hizashi could see how he doted on her, the little classroom aide who climbed the pro charts and stole the hearts of everyone she met.

She was kind, that’s what he remembered about her the most. Always offering a hand, and that’s how her and Shota had began to see each other more often.

She hated seeing him so exhausted, so she took on the grading while he took on his parols at night.

It was only two weeks after they’d begun that routine that Hizashi had weaseled out of him the crush he harbored on his assistant.

After a few bumps and misunderstandings due to her obliviousness and Shota’s failure to properly communicate, they had finally decided to give a relationship a try.

Hizashi had never seen Shota as happy as he was in that long year and a half that they were together.

“How could you have known? She was on her way to school and someone cried for help. She was doing her job, and she would have hated it if you were even able to step in” he attempted to reason with his friend, now sitting on the plush couch in his living room.

The water Hizashi had poured him shook in Shota’s trembling grasp. God, he just missed her.

He missed the way she would laugh at his deadpan expressions, or hug him from behind whenever he made them coffee in the morning, or how she kissed him so softly, as if she didn’t want to break him.

But in the end, she did break him.

Hizashi knew this, as he cradled his drunk friend in his arms while he openly sobbed. Never did he think he would see the ever stoic Eraserhead this way.

But grief had a funny way of twisting people until they snapped.

The funeral was almost as devastating as the incident itself. She had no family left, and whatever friends she had before she moved to Japan couldn’t make the trip.

But her fans, and all the staff and students at U.A, felt the profound impact her death had on their beloved home room teacher when he was forced to cut his speech short and escort himself to the bathroom, where he dry heaved into one of the toilets since there was nothing in his stomach for him to throw up.

The school was quiet, especially classroom 1-A. Where you would normally hear Bakugou’s screaming, Midoriya’s rambling and Iida’s attempts to calm the excited chatter of the students, now only the quiet drone of the pre-recorded training videos could be heard.

Mr. Aizawa didn’t return to class for two straight weeks. When he did, he seemed to be the same hard ass, stony expressioned teacher they’d always had.

Those close to him could see it, though. The facade crumbling slowly, slowly until whatever was left of him would crumble with it.

For three months he had been trapped in a sort of haze. He moved through the motions of life, but he was not living. He felt like he was just another corpse that he was too slow to save.

Until one afternoon, a Saturday where he’d normally spend it holed up with her until their paroles would take them out into the fresh air, that the newscaster’s uttered her name again.

But it was no memorial, no way of paying respects. They were astonished.

So was Shota, dropping his can of beer at the scene unfolding in front of the camera.

“Six of Japan’s most lethal thugs almost got away with the bombs they had set up under Mustafu’s sewer system today, which would have brought the entirety of the city down on the citizens and killed hundreds. But, but somehow...somehow our beloved hero has risen from the dead and stopped them. If you can’t recognize her under the rugged disguise she’s wearing, that’s pro hero Electra Heart!”

There were paramedics on either side of her, helping her through the crowd. She looked so different, hair cropped short and an eyepatch slung over her right eye. Her skin was ashen thanks to the debris that must have fallen on her during whatever fight broke out when she apprehended those responsible for this, and she was a lot bulkier under the layers of clothing and armor she wore.

“Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi is taking questions at this time. Let’s pan over to the press and see what they’ve got for us”

The stiff man seemed so proud of himself as he recalled the events that led to the capture of these villains. How, pro hero Electra Heart, faked her own death to go deep undercover and infiltrate this gang, how her sacrifice had saved so many lives and effectively taken down an entire gang of villains that had operated underground until now.

They screamed questions at her as she was loaded up into the ambulance, but she refused every single one, opting to stare vacantly forward.

Then, his phone rang, and he had to tear his eyes away from the screen.

“She’s at S City Hospital, let’s go see your girl. She looks pretty beat up” Hizashi’s voice sounded grave despite the giddiness he attempted to lace it with.

There were so many emotions that he had felt in those moments. Relief, sadness, joy, anger.

That anger was the easiest to handle, as it was like an anchor of safety he could latch onto.

So, he hung up the phone, and continued to stare blankly at the television screen....

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 2 (6-14): Undercover | Sibling rivalry | Damian having a nice day

Warnings: Mentions of trafficking, threats, violence, attempted kidnapping, injuries, healthy doses of angst

Note: hahahahaha once again I'm begging you all to pretend I posted this when it's still the 14th somewhere in the world. Please enjoy.

---

Damian didn't mean to get caught. Honest. As annoying as it is, he understands that there are certain parts of their nightlife that have to be handled by an adult. Going undercover, for one, is usually something that's left to Grayson. It's easier for adults to blend into some things than it is for... well... Teenagers.

Children, as Grayson would say. Even though Damian is not a child.

Not that it matters, however. Grayson, for the past week, has been putting off their normal patrols to get insider information on a recent underground trafficking scheme. Grayson has been working hard to find the people responsible for this and get on the inside to find where the victims are being kept and Damian had respected that. He's kept to the sidelines and worked on other cases that don't require so much adult delicacy.

The only issue was that tonight he ended up getting bored. There wasn't anything for him to do, and that butler wasn't giving him any useful suggestions to fill his time. He wasn't allowed to patrol alone while Grayson was undercover, but escaping through his bedroom window in a dark hoodie was simple enough.

One thing leads to another. He ended up walking into an alleyway where a man was getting rather forceful with a drunk woman. Damian was jogging forward and calling him out on the disgusting behavior before he even realized he recognized the profile of the man.

Grayson turned from the woman with wide, horrified eyes, not moving a muscle even as the woman slipped from beside him and rushed back into the bar's side door.

"Shit," is all Grayson said before more people came out from the shadows, and Damian realizes he's just stumbled upon Grayson's undercover work.

Damian, for all of his training, has no idea what to do as he's suddenly grabbed by one of the newcomers. He's just witnessed Grayson in his undercover work... attempting to kidnap a woman... and he shouldn't be here.

"The fuck did this brat come from," the man grabbing Damian sneers.

Damian reacts instinctively now, slamming his elbow back into their gut. The man wheezes and weakens his hold. Damian then ducks under a new pair of arms making a mad grab for him and is sure to trip them over onto the cement ground as they stumble past.

A beefier man charges at Damian like a bull, and he prepares to retaliate... only for Grayson to grab him by his arm and shove Damian behind his back.

"Wait," Grayson gasps, bringing his free hand up in front of him. The man stops in his tracks, as do all the others. "It's my... brother."

"Your brother?" A woman scoffs, and Grayson gives her a hard look.

A mean looking man steps forward, glaring daggers at Grayson. "What's he doin' here Malone? Thought'chu said you weren't followed."

"I'm sorry," Grayson says, sounding panicked. Damian wants to jump out from behind Grayson and give these kidnappers a piece of his mind. There can't be more than seven of them. Damian can take them with his hands tied behind his back. Grayson must sense this, because he tightens his hold on his arm. "I thought he was at home."

"Well, he wasn't," the man snarls. "And now that bitch is probably in there telling the barkeep some guy got handsy with her."

Grayson shakes his head. "She isn't. I paid off the barkeep. If we calm down, I can go back in there and finish the job. Danny here won't say anything, he knows what we have to do to survive these streets. Right, Danny?"

Damian's lips thin, but he nods. Damian doesn't know why Richard is acting all frightful right now. Has he forgotten the legacy of Damian's father that he holds? He carries the name of Batman, yet here he is looking like a frightened animal in front of these low-lives. He wants to argue and take down these imbeciles... but if there's one thing he's learned while in his ever lengthening stay in Gotham, Grayson usually has a reason for everything he does. If he thinks they need to act like they're frightened, then Damian will humor him. For now.

The man looks down from Grayson and gives Damian a narrowed look. It lasts only a moment before he looks at the bar side-door and... smirks?

He looks back at Grayson, keeping that smirk. "Alright, Malone. I'll take you up on that offer. You get the bitch, and we'll take care of Danny."

A bad feeling settles in Damian's gut. The hand on his arm tightens even more, proof that Grayson has the same bad feeling. They don't have a chance to say anything about it, however, before the man strides forward and grabs Damian by his other arm; yanking him away from Grayson and towards the big man.

Grayson shoots them a murderous glare, but doesn't come to Damian's aid as the big man tightens both of his hands on Damian's biceps. His pointer fingers press just under his shoulders, and he swears his pinkies wrap close to Damian's elbows.

"Go on," the talkative man says, jerking his head to the door, showing his rotting teeth in a grin. "Get the bitch."

Grayson shoots a look Damian's way, then nods. "Okay," he says placidly. "Okay." He turns his back and starts towards the door.

Then, the man looks at another in their group and nods his head. The man's cheeks rise like a Cheshire cat before he starts towards Grayson, raising a fist.

"Grayson! Look out!" Damian shouts. Grayson, for his part, reacts immediately. He ducks under the blow and side steps his attacker.

However, that's all Damian sees before the man that has him in his grasp changes position quite suddenly so that Damian is practically hanging in his grasp—an arm the size of a log wrapped around his neck. Damian's hands fly to the arm and he attempts to kick his feet for purchase. His air is already cut off, and he curses himself for getting in a situation like this.

He stills, however, when something cold and metal is pressed against his head by the man's free hand. Through blurry eyes and choking gasps, he notices Grayson has gone still too.

"I knew you were fishy," the man from before cackled. "Grayson? That your real name?"

Grayson glares, but doesn't move.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you're gon let us do whatever we want wit'cha, and maybe we'll let the kid live after."

And just like that, Grayson is at the receiving end of a savage blow to his jaw from another member of the group. Grayson stumbles and clutches his jaw, but he doesn't fight back even as another jumps in and throws their own punch. Damian can already see blood dripping down his cheek from a cut in the skin.

He's hit again, and he continues to not fight back. Damian knows he'll take the beating, even though he can easily take them down. He won't risk the gun pressed against Damian's head. He won't risk the arm wrapped so right around Damian's neck it feels like he's breathing through a coffee straw.

A particularly savage punch has Grayson falling to the floor, scraping his hands, elbows, and knees on the rough and suspiciously wet asphalt. Damian growls and digs his nails into the arms of his captor, but they tighten the grip threateningly and his struggles are forced to come to a stop.

Pathetic. Idiotic. Childish. This is Damian's fault. Every blow that hits Grayson's body as punches are replaced by kicks might as well be dealt by Damian himself.

He argues with Grayson. Calls him out on not acting how his father would. He calls him incompetent, insignificant, idiotic... but some time these past few weeks the bite he means to carry with those words have turned fond.

He... He likes Grayson. He's the first person to show Damian unconditional kindness... other than his own mother. While being stuck here with him rather than his own father had, at first, been miserable and annoying... it's turned out to be... fun. For the first time in his life, he almost feels like a normal kid with Grayson here to lead him along the way.

Damian wonders at night if that's what his mother intended. Why she hasn't taken him back yet.

He doesn't mind it. He likes the time that he spends with Grayson now, even if he would never admit it. And here he is, helpless and unarmed as Grayson is being beaten to a bloody pulp all because Damian couldn't listen to instructions and snuck out when he shouldn't have.

For a moment, pure terror fills Damian's veins that he's most likely going to witness the death of Grayson tonight. If he tries to fight his captor, he'll get a bullet in his brain. If Grayson decides to fight back, then Damian would die anyways. Grayson wouldn't do that. He would rather die himself.

Another blow hits Grayson's body, and he lays on the ground and groans, unmoving for a worrying few seconds.

Then, the bar door slams open and the woman from before runs out with fire in her dark eyes. No one has a chance to do anything before she kicks the main guy in the jaw, sending him down to the floor with more force than any woman... or man... should have.

Damian doesn't question it. The rest of them are distracted by her sudden entrance, and Damian uses that to his advantage. He throws his hands up and grabs at his captor's distracted face and claws at his eyes. The man yowls and drops Damian, leaving Damian completely free to make his own attack. He easily disarms him and jumps onto his back, wrapping his own arms around the man's neck and squeezing as tightly as he can.

It's all over in a matter of seconds. The man falls unconscious in Damian's grasp, and the woman finishes taking out the others.

She was in on this whole thing too, Damian realizes as she rushes towards Grayson's still form and grabs his arm.

Grayson blinking slowly at her through already bruising eyes and whispering "Donna..." is all the proof Damian needs to confirm his suspicion.

"I got you, boy wonder," Donna says fondly. She helps him to his feet and wraps his arm firmly around her shoulders, helping him stand. She looks at Damian. "You got a way to get us out of here, squirt? The cops are gonna be on their way any minute."

"What-" Damian starts, then pauses. Shame fills his gut. "What about the mission?"

"It's fine," Grayson says with a pained strain in his voice. "They're low in the chain. Won't be missed in prison. Can't give much away. I'll-" he cuts off to gasp as Donna shifts her hold on him. "I'll just try again later."

Damian nods, but the guilt doesn't leave. He looks away from Grayson and Donna to pull out his phone and request Pennyworth send the Batmobile to their position.

The entire way back to the manor is filled with tense silence, broken only by Grayson's hissed curses and groans as Donna helps give immediate first aid to the worst of the bruises and cuts.

Damian... he messed up. He disobeyed Richard and ruined the mission. This woman, Donna, is a better companion to Grayson than Damian ever was. Or will be. They get along. She's kind. She was trusted enough by Grayson to bring her in on his solo mission, and she clearly trusted him enough to go along with it and let herself be captured.

Grayson will never trust him as much as her. He's... He's fucked it all up. He won't want Damian around anymore. He'll want to send him back to the League, and if his mother and grandfather don't take him then his suit and the name of Robin must surely now be forfeit.

Drake will take back the suit, and Damian will forever be left behind by the man he thought... He hoped...

Sitting by his bedside after assisting Pennyworth in dressing Grayson's wounds... he mulls these thoughts over in his head. Grayson is fast asleep, and Donna has retreated upstairs for a shower and dinner by Pennyworth's insistence.

Then, as he's considering leaving so he's not the first thing Grayson sees when he wakes up, a hand grabs hold onto his.

"Don't blame yourself," Grayson whispers, blinking through his puffed up and exhausted eyes. Damian wonders how long he's been sitting here with his thoughts and when Grayson started to awaken without him noticing. "You have the same look in your eyes... That B always did..."

Heat flairs behind Damian's eyelids. He bursts. "But this is my fault. If I hadn't gone out- if I had listened-"

Suddenly, his hand is jerked, and Damian is dragged onto the cot and into Grayson's arms. He attempts to fight the hold, but Grayson holds tight despite his injuries.

"Mistakes happen," Grayson says, "they always do. I will never give up on you, Dames. No matter how many you make. Trust me on that."

He sounds so very much in pain, but he's relentless in his hold. All Damian can do is stop his struggling and lay in Grayson's grasp. His brain studies the words said to him, and his heart wants to believe him. Guilt pools to his throat and he opens his mouth to let it out before he can stop himself.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. He doesn't know when he started to return the hold Grayson had him in. His hands are bunched in the material of Grayson's shirt.

Grayson shushes him. "It's okay," he says. "What's done is done, and we've learned. We're okay. I got you."

And perhaps it's the moment of weakness, but Damian can't help but believe him.

[evilzoldyck]

Fiancée

part II

Suppressing down a burdensome sigh, you  looked back at the establishment who regretfully informed you that you were not able to match the prerequisites that the job description required. You knew all too well the insinuation of that statement, coming from a zero educational background and a rather low income class, the echelon of the societal hierarchy was brutal in your pursuit of a second occupation. Instead of quality, values and work ethic, they chose to look at the brands of your shoes and your status in this highly polarised civil structure.

Perusing through the town for any opportunity you could sought out until your heels formed blisters was a normal part of your everyday life, this day though, you figured you could take a short break by resting underneath a shady spot at the bustling market. While you were rubbing on your sore calves you can't help but overhear the excited prattle of a group of girls nearby. They all adorned leathered purses and scintillating jewelleries; young, beautiful and free of any burdens and responsibilities. 

“Have you heard? The Zoldyck family are hosting a formal competition for the chance to win the noble position of becoming a wife to one of their son!” The blonde haired woman reported with wide eyes. 

“Really? That family of assassins are holding a public trial?” Another one with carefully manicured acrylic nails spoke up. “You’d think as an assassin they’d be less privy about this.” 

“That’s not all, I heard that the winner also gets ten billion jennys,” the last one stated. “The Zoldycks are always ostentatious as ever, probably a marketing strategy to lure more girls in to participate.”

“Who cares about some jennys. I’d want to see the groom in question and if he’s really as tall, dark and handsome rumours made him out to be. If I hadn't been engaged, I'd try it out in a heartbeat.”

The blonde woman scoffed and retorted back, “good luck with that, I heard there’s over a hundred girls coming in from all over the world intending on participating already, and that’s just the numbers on the first day. Who knows how many will actually end up in three days time when the trial officially begins.” The group of girls wandered away until you couldn't hear their idle chats anymore, but their conversation still replayed over your mind like a broken record player. 

Ten billion jennys? In three days time? Those numbers alone made you heart skip a beat. There was a strong urge for you to look further into this for a mere moment before you scolded yourself mentally afterwards. There was no reason for you to get involved with someone as infamous as the Zoldycks. ‘The costs far outweigh the benefits,’ you told yourself. Propping yourself back up to your feet, you began to head home once the sun sets beyond the horizon. 

“Mother?” you called out once you stepped inside the shabby hole in a wall restaurant you ran with her. The candle lights all but one had been melted down, making it hard for you to see through the small, dark space. Once you turned around the corner and into the small kitchen room you spotted her cleaning up after a rather large spill which looked like porridge from the stone pot. “Mother what are you doing? You know you’re not allowed to look after heavy tasks,” you reprimanded, guiding her up back to her feet and wiped off the spoiled food from her hands with a nearby towel.

“It’s fine, just a little accident is all.” she waved you off as you continued to clean her hands where you spotted a rather large bruise on her along her inner arms.

“What happened?” you demanded in bewilderment. “Did that bastard come here today? Did he do this to you?” your series of questions did nothing more than to drive her away from you, but the thought of that filthy loan shark landing a hand on your mother made your blood boil and hands shake until you couldn't see anything else. “I’m going to kill him the next time I see him.”

“Oh hush, there’s no need for that,” your mother dismissed as if it was a trivial matter. “I’ll just clean this up and head on to bed-” you stopped her from bending back down to clean up after the mess and insisted that you do it yourself as you directed her back into her bedroom upstairs. Supporting her weight all the way up the stairs you assisted in preparing her bed and tucking her in. 

“You’re such a good kid,” she suddenly cooed, bringing up her frail and roughened hands from labour comfortingly up to your cheek. You held onto it and smiled down at her softly in response. 

“How did the interview go? Did you get accepted?” Once your smile disappeared into a disappointed frown she immediately soothed you. “Opportunities will come and go, don’t fret about it, darling. You’ll get it next time.” Though you nodded along with her words with a small beam, you knew you couldn't survive on optimism for much longer. 

“Good night,” you kissed down on her temple and blew away the fire flickering beside her bedside table before closing the door. Though it may sound impossibly crazy and foolishly dangerous, you knew where you had to go in a few days. Though the chance of you winning may be less than one percent, you would take any chance you had in order for you both to escape the life you currently had. 

The next two days went by in a blur, monotonous and grey as ever, and when you finally arrived onto the grounds of the Kukuroo mountain on the third day have the reality finally knocked you into your senses. Around five hundred girls filling your very peripheral visions stood and crowded in front of the ill-famed gate. Their mere chatter mass assembled together sounded like a roar, intimidating you by the sheer size of the sound of your competitors. Nevertheless, with a determined spirit, you filled in with the massive crowd around you. 

Suddenly, the noise all but halted once an old, feeble looking man made an appearance before the participants, smiling joyfully as if he knew something you didn’t. “Welcome ladies to the first day of the public trial on behalf of the Zoldyck family,” he greeted mirthfully. “We have expected a big turnout and for that we are more than grateful for. Therefore, this morning and the next marks the first preliminary task.” 

“Without further ado, each of you will have one chance to open the Testing Gate, which all of you must know that the first panel weighs around two tonnes and the ones after weighs twice as more as before, you are free to choose which panel to open. If you fail in opening the gate within the first five minutes I am afraid you are immediately disqualified from the competition. There is no need to label numbers as we expect them to go down drastically, I will monitor the first task for the time being and to all of you, I wish you the best of luck.”

There was an unnerving glances shared with each other by the girls, anxious on how to overcome the first issue with their high end shoes and neatly done hair and makeup. Of course, the Zoldycks won’t be looking at appearance to fit the mold, rather it was strength that they were seeking for. You cursed at yourself for not realising it soon enough too, wearing the nicest clothes you had in your closet and even going as far as spraying a bit of your mother’s perfume.

As the time goes by, the numbers slowly decreased with each failure. Some even left without trying, those who went undercover as a news reporter, a media freelancer hoping to snap a quick picture and those who thought they didn’t bear a chance. So far there were only five who managed to open the gate with one or two choosing the heavier panels. Once it was decided that it was your turn, the sky had already turned dark with the moon and the stars hung high above the skies.

Narrowing your eyes in front of two tonne door, you began to lean all your weight and force into pushing it open. There were sweats beading up to your forehead already as you continued to push on forward. “One minute,” the man stated. The minutes turned into seconds and so far no progress has been made. Gritting your teeth you kept your force constant hoping that you could manage to get a crack soon. 

“Four minutes.” Those very words alarmed you, making you lose focus for a mere moment. Though as quick as it came, you fortunately caught yourself, instead you drowned out the crowd behind you, along with time, sound and your senses and the elements of the world. Carrying that energy you had, you honed in on pushing your momentum forward. Suddenly a gap shifted, making you focus on not losing that velocity.

The older gentleman was counting down the last twenty seconds but you couldn't hear him, the ladies in the back watched in awe as you were the first one in a while to make such progress in the last few hours. When the crack widened to a space that you deemed was enough to slip your body through momentarily before the door swung back and crushed your bones, you managed to squeeze inside within the very last second.

Gasping tremendously for air from the overexertion of your strength, you looked around to find yourself on the other side in a quiet, shrouded forests along with the other girls who made it through before you. Once they've acknowledged your presence, they were quick to assess you head to toe with their sharp eyes. 

Of course, you couldn't forget that this was a competition.There was thick tension in the air between you all knowing that these people did not view you as anything but a rival. Taking your spot wordlessly on a tree stump, you waited for the first task to finish with the others and that meant waiting all night and day until each girl has had her turn on the gates.

This waiting game continued on until the next late afternoon when the sun was about to set again. There was now a total of fifty three of you waiting on the other side, each anxious and tired as every second passes. Suddenly, a pair of finely dressed men arrived bearing a stone faced expressions while carrying finely ornate candlestick to light the way. 

“Congratulations on passing the preliminary round. We now continue on with the trial by heading to the estate. You'll do your best job to keep up with us.” Without any further questions, they swiftly turned around and headed into the direction to the top of the mountain. It took you all a second to process what they said before you all followed and began your long trek uphill.

You were no stranger to walking vast distances but as you were currently running without sleep or food it made it quite strenuous for your journey up ahead. Once you've arrived, you’re greeted with the sight of a gargantuan house and in front, somebody waiting for you. 

“These are the ones who passed?” a woman dressed in a Victorian attire with a mechanical visor implored with a testy tone. 

“Yes Madame, should we escort them to their quarters?” One of the worker asked. The lady raised her hand in objection whilst keeping a steady view on all fifty three of you. 

“No need, I shall take them from here, you may be excused.” Without another word they bowed respectfully and left. “You all are here because you wish to make space for yourself in this family. Before you can idly daydream of such foolish fantasies, I will be here to test you all. You will be subjected to many trials, as many as I deem necessary, it will take days, months or even years but the trial will not end until I am satisfied that one of you is worthy enough. Should you break, cry, slip, scream, fall- should you show any sign of weakness during these times you are immediately disqualified.”

“Those of you who are not prepared for such endeavours, I advise you to head back now,” she stated, waiting for anyone to back out of the competition and when no one did, she narrowed her eyes further. “Very well then, follow me.”

There was an insinuation in her voice that tells you no matter what any of you will achieve you may never be deemed worth enough to earn a place in the family. Following the lady of the house dutifully she showed you all to a large room where fifty three futons are laid out in perfect symmetry on the floor along with a concave wood with a stick attached on the middle of the back and a pair of small bowls, one filled with rice and the other with cherry blossom petals for each bed. 

“You shall all sleep here during your time in the competition, those items you see are crucial to your rest. Place the rice to your left and the petals to your right head. The sticks are to prop your head up while you sleep where you will not make a single movement or sound. We will monitor you all night while you do and if I such as find a grain of rice or a petal out of place from their bowls or even failing to keep your head upright by these sticks, you are finished from here on out.” She instructed and before she could add more, she sniffed and grimaced for a second. 

“Be ready by six in the morning, the showers are down the hall to the left.”

Once she left, everybody claimed their spots on the bed and you took yours near the end of the back where it was the quietest. The one next to you was searching for her bowl of petals and you spotted it beneath her futon, out of her line of sight. When you offered it to her with a small smile she snatched the wooden bowl from you and averted her gaze instantly. 

“You shouldn't be here,” she muttered, sinking in her blanket. 

“What?” You couldn't help but ask. 

She rolled her eyes and huffed out an air of annoyance, “you’re going to get yourself killed.” Propping her elbows up to level with you, she eyed you seriously, “you’re not a nen user. We could all sense that back on the gates. Everyone here is a user except for you and that testing gate was nothing compared to what’s going to come. You shouldn't be here, you won’t come out the same if you do.” 

You watched her carefully rest her head on the stick and shut her eyes. Silently you did the same and through the pain and stress of your neck from balancing your head perfectly upright should’ve bothered you, it didn't do as much as her words. Still, you're willing to put yourself through hell, there was no other choice and to back out now would defeat your purpose.

It was close to dawn, and though you were restless all throughout the night you fought the urge to move and stayed perfectly still. Once you woke up however, you saw ten less empty beds. Frowning a bit, you got up to put your bed away and wash yourself before the clock strikes six.

Forty three people now remain and once you have all assembled in the main room before the entrance, the lady from before along with two other butlers arrived. This time she formally introduced herself as Kikyo Zoldyck, the Madame of the house and family. They directed you all towards a large room where a bowl of rice and soup was already prepared for each one.

“You must all complete your breakfast with proper, courtly manners, anything less revolts me. That means you must at all times during the meal to not slouch or make a sound, sit on your heels and eat a grain of rice one at a time.” She ordered acerbically. 

You took a seat to the one nearest to you and waited for their signal for you to eat. Once it was given, you apprehensively picked up your chopsticks and ate a single grain and more or less swallowed as it was so small you could barely taste or chew it. Five minutes have not yet passed when suddenly a girl doubled over, spilling her food everywhere whilst retching into the floor. Everyone turned their heads over to her in horror as they realised what you have all been eating.

Poison.

The smell of bile filled the room as Kikyo fanned her face to waft the air away from her vicinity and gestured to the guards to take her away. The rest of the meal was unfortunate as you struggled to ignore the groans and nausea of the others who fell victim along with the putrid smell around you. Ignoring your innate instinct to reject the food you chose to focus on your mind over matter, no matter what they were going to do to you, it was not nearly as painful as seeing your mother suffer when you could do something about it. 

It was then that your body went on almost pilot mode as you could not recall having any more thoughts or memories of yourself subjected to various torture trials. The days increased into weeks and the number of girls that were here soon dropped like flies. The woman that you spoke to on your first day, she was gone too by the fourth night as you watched the now empty spot beside you as you went to sleep.

Every day was a routine of testing the limits of your strength. Every meal given was always laced with some poison, it has come to a point where you suppressed your urge to vomit so hard each day that now it had sit still in your stomach. 

The same could be made every time you are sent to the electrocution chamber down in the depths of the cold basement where you could spend the whole day being shocked in miscellaneous voltages by the workers who looked like they were enjoying it too much. Or when snow came in, they would strip you bare of your clothes and drench you all in cold water outside. The lashings were always held arbitrarily though, they would only stop until the markings started to show as Kikyo deemed the sight of a scarred back to be ghastly to gaze upon.

Then there were only three, this time however, the task you were assigned was definitely an odd one. Kikyo was known for her admiration of finer things in life such as traditional japanese and eurocentric arts, this task she requires you was to perform an intricate dance. Beauty and gracefulness came later in the part of the competition you guessed. 

Though the level of difficulty was just the same as the previous ones.There was an emphasis on how every movement from the slightest tip of your fingers could immediately expel you if you strayed from the original choreography. For days at night you practiced until your feet would give out or until you heard birds chirping at the sight of the first light of the day. 

When the day finally came to determine your performance you are finally escorted onto the Zoldyck estate, though only one participant must attend at a time and you settled with being the last. So when it was finally your turn, you arrived at a private room where there was a screen that divided you from your spectators. The room itself was beautiful, lit with red candles and carefully carved up wooden walls that tells infinite stories.

You could see before you that Kikyo was not alone this time, there was another sitting patiently beside her. Before you could pry more to try and make out the mysterious figure, Kikyo’s voice reverberated through behind the screen to instruct you to begin. You inhaled a small breath and blinked in shock momentarily. You hadn't noticed before but the floor was absolutely covered in small broken glasses. You knew better than to expect the least by this point.

Clearing your mind as you do with every single trial that you participated in, you stepped forward. You could faintly hear the sounds of small shards of glasses every time you moved as well as feeling the red liquid slowly pooling beneath your feet. Nevertheless, you began without a moment to waste. Twisting at every turn, sliding your feet across the floor while masking your emotions with a stone, cold exterior. Hanging to every last words of her instructions to follow the exact routine. 

You were halfway done with your performance when the other figure suddenly stood up and came closer to the divider. Though you presumed it was quite unusual, you continued on with your dance until the person swiftly cut the screen seemingly with his bare hands to reveal an expressionless, grim man with long midnight hair and as far as you can tell, endless deep eyes.

The strange man that emanated pure darkness stood before you uttered your name in a low breath. “That is your name?” you halted your routine once he had addressed you as you nodded politely in response, looking down out of respect. 

“A daughter of a mere commoner, you run a restaurant with your poor, ailing mother down on an unnamed street. You don’t come from an impressive background or lineage, nor martial training of any skills and your nen has yet to be awakened.” He stated matter of factly. You held your tongue for you feared that you would be the cause of your demise.

He stepped forward towards you, his bare feet coming on contact with the sharp glass and yet no blood came gushing out like yours did. “You know the ones before you, they were the exact opposite. They came in and used their nen skills to protect and form a barrier against their skin and yet you endured even without having basic nen training which I would find quite impossible until this very day.”

“I could sense you are determined, but your heart is set somewhere else,” he came in closer and Kikyo now stood up, her lips pursed disapprovingly. “It is not me that you desire, is it?” The man was impossibly close to you that you found it hard to catch your breath and answer promptly. Judging by the implication of his words, he must be the son of the Zoldyck family.

“No.” You answered truthfully, not knowing whether or not that was the smartest move. He let out a small hum before asking once again, “then why do you do it? Why do you subject yourself to such extreme affliction without any power? Why do you fight so hard just to live another day?” 

“There are those worth fighting for, for every horrible persecution you put me through I will continue to fight.” His demeaning words spark a gust of defiance within you. “And you're wrong, I am equipped with power, something far more greater that no other kind of nen could reach.”

Furrowing his eyes, he looked at you in disbelief, “you're misunderstood, emotions cannot give you strength, they are mere obstacles in life’s objectives. It makes you weak.”

“Emotions aren't weak, they make me stronger, love made me stronger.” Looking into his eyes you saw no trace of empathy within him, you’re not shocked to learn if this man knows no concept of it. “It’s what kept me standing here after all this time.”

He stood still for a quiet minute, silently staring you down with those cold, dead eyes. He raised his arms and for a moment you thought he would strike you down with it and immediately dispose of you for speaking out of turn towards him. Instead, you're startled to find yourself swept off of your feet and held firmly by him, relieving you of your pain while your droplets of blood fell languidly, making a subtle drop against the wooden floor and glass.

“Illumi! What are you doing?” Shrieked Kikyo, holding up her dress to run towards the both of you. 

“The trial ends here,” he responded absentmindedly. “I have found my fiancée.” 

“No! It's only been a month!” She refuted erratically “She is the weakest of the bunch, her luck will run out soon just give it more time! There are far others more deserving with noble titles and background. You are upsetting the order, she cannot take your place beside you, she is far lesser than-” A look from Illumi caused her to clamp her lips shut.

“The sole objective was to find the strongest one to take the place as my wife and strengthen the Zoldyck family, was it not mother?” he asked bluntly. When she didn't respond he continued, this time facing you as he spoke, “I have seen proficient nen-users crumble under the pressures of these tortures, imagine the strength that she possesses once her nen is awakened.” 

“There is no need to look any further then, send the others home.” Illumi finished and began to carry you away from the room and Kikyo who appeared as if she was about to have a meltdown. 

Once the heavy doors were closed behind you, you flinched once you heard her piercing screams that shook the manor as he gave you a small imitation of a smile all throughout the time. 

You did not know whether to let your heart soar as you won the indisputable prize that could set a proper life for you and your mother or shrivel for the future. You could not have imagined in your wildest dreams for the man you’re sent to be wed off to be one that personified death. Just being held by him shook your very core. His aura radiated nothing but darkness, you felt no light in it that you could almost choke from the tension. 

There was no telling that this man would ever show compassion, there was something that tells you days with him would be worse than what you've endured these past few weeks. Setting your gaze forwards you tensed as you looked upon a macabre painting ahead of you, ironically painting your future ahead. 

In sparing your life, you ultimately gave him yours in return, but he and all his family would be a fool if they think they could take your love away.

[mustyrosewater]

te amo.

javier peña x reader

request by @hxdxs​ :  hello! i was wondering if you could write smth where javier peña has a nightmare after him and the reader have a fight which results to them sleeping in separate rooms, she wakes up and comforts him no pressure (: 

warnings : fighting, mentions of violence, possibly unhealthy relationship

word count : 3k+ 

you knew what you were walking into when you finally decided to commit to a relationship with javier peña, you knew to expect the disappearing for days at a time without being able to contact with him because he was undercover, you knew that he was walking into a brand new dangerous situation every single day. 

but it didn't hurt any fucking less each time.  at first, you'd tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't be upset, once again telling yourself that it was you who chose this life, getting angry and possibly overreacting would just be hypocritical of you, it would have made you weak.  but as it began to happen again, and again  the last straw had been him coming home at three in the morning, after having been away for a week longer than he'd told you the undercover operation was going to last for. you'd spent hours in your shared apartment, anxiously waiting for a the phone call from the dea or an agent knocking on your door only to tell you that he'd been killed.  you'd spent the night sitting on the couch, clutching his shirt tightly just to smell whatever remnants of his cheap cologne that you hated with a passion was left over on them, suddenly missing it now more than ever.  when he'd finally come back, you'd fallen asleep on the couch, still holding the shirt tight to your chest with dried tears still lingering on your cheeks.  to say the least, waking up at three in the morning to the sound of somebody rustling around in the bathroom was enough to prompt you to slowly grab a knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly make your way to the bathroom. as if being on a streak of being an emotional wreck after what you believed to be the death of your boyfriend, now the universe was truly testing you by having somebody decide to rob you.  seeing the streak of white light poking through the crack in the bathroom door, you approached slowly, feeling your heart beating so loudly that it was thundering in your own ears.  finally swinging the door open, it hit the opposite wall with a harsh crash, only to be followed by you bursting in, knife in hand, cursing angrily in spanish.  only to be greeted by a wide eyed javi looking at you as if you'd gone crazy.  as your heart dropped and your eyes widened, you couldn't help letting out a cry of shock as you dropped the knife onto the tile floor with a sharp clang, unable to process the blade narrowly missing your foot.  reaching to grip onto the door frame in order to balance yourself as you felt your legs begin to go numb, javi sprung forward, reaching out and placing his hands under your shoulders for support.  as you finally got a closer look at him, you could see that his hair was messy as all hell, he definitely hadn't shaved for the past day or two and he absolutely stunk, and you once again found yourself wishing he'd actually been using that horrid cologne.   in that moment however, as grateful as you were that he was alive and wasn't in fact lying dead in a ditch in escobars backyard, the relief had faded away as quickly as it had flooded in, only to no sooner be replaced with a fiery surge of anger.  with no hesitation, you shoved him away from you, now able to stand up straight once more; looking up just in time to see his questioning look he posed your way.  "what the fuck javi!"  you hadn't meant for your voice to come out so hoarse, but the hours you'd spent audibly crying into his shirt had done a number on your throat, as well as the fact that you'd only woken up minutes ago.  he opened his mouth to speak, but you only answered by holding up your finger and continuing to speak. "a week. i don't hear from you for a week! i manage to convince myself you've been shot, and then you just waltz in at three am in the fucking morning and make me think you're a robber!" you can't help but laugh in between sentences, but the laugh is still traced with venom, all too reflective of the angry streak of words flooding out of your mouth. "i mean- what if i'd stabbed you?!" you spoke, gesturing to the knife now by your feet. you didn't even want to picture yourself stabbing javi, especially not after he nearly gave you a stroke due to finding out that he was still very much alive.  as you went to continue, it was now javi's turn to interrupt you, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips and stared back at you. you hadn't even stopped to think about how much of a crazy person you must have looked like in that moment, face puffy and red from crying, messy hair and pajama pants you'd been wearing for two days straight, all nicely topped off with a singlet shirt and robe he'd gotten you a few months back for your birthday.  "what the fuck was i supposed to do? i told you i was undercover!" his voice sounded so tired, it was painfully obvious to you how drained he was; but in that moment, the high emotional intensity was blurring all reason within you.  as you listened to him yell, you felt the lump in your throat forming; crossing your arms, you tried to keep yourself together.  "you could have sent me some kind of message, somebody to tell me you'd be gone for another week!" the two of you were no longer yelling at one another, this was screaming at one another. in a brief passing moment you thought about what the neighbours must have thought of you two, but you also just couldn't find yourself to care.  "you know i couldn't do that! i've told you several fucking times why i can't do that!" he turned away from you, taking a step back towards the basin. you could see his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths, watching as he reached up to run a hand through his messy hair. "fuck!" you jumped as the tense silence between you two was broken by javi cursing loudly and kicking the small plastic garbage can beside the basin, sending it crashing against the wall loudly. that was when your bottom lip began to wobble and your vision became foggy. you could only reach up a shaky hand to cover your mouth as javi panted, hunched over the basin he was now resting his hands on.  "i thought you were dead javi.." in your effort to conceal that you were beginning to cry, you'd kept your voice quiet, yet i hadn't helped in the slightest; the wobble in your tone was too noticeable for anybody to be able to ignore, especially not javi; who turned to look at you, a few expression laced with regret having taken over his face.  you didn't want to look at him for a moment longer, you couldn't even if you did. so you turned around and walked out from the doorway of the bathroom, only now beginning to audibly weep into your hand.  you could head javi walking after you, only prompting you to walk to the spare room quicker. you just needed to be away from javi for awhile, even if you'd spent the past four weeks desperately wishing he was back.  "wait, just please hang on a minu-"  you can't hear the rest of javi's words before you've slammed the door in his face, turning the small lock over as quickly as your shaky hands allow you to. you turn around and put your back to the door, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel javi standing outside the door, you can hear his faint heavy breaths and the way he's softly cursing in spanish under his breath.  its a few more moment before you can hear his footsteps slowly getting softer and you know he's walked in your bedroom when you can hear the door slam shut, making you jump softly again.  thats the moment that you let yourself break down. your face scrunches up as you slide down the door until your sitting on the ground of the spare room, your knees up to your chest as you rest your palms on your forehead, trying your hardest not to make too much sound as you cry, feeling your shoulders shake as you do.  memories of all the friends who'd advised you not to commit to a relationship with javi over wine came flooding in, remembering the uneasy looks on all their faces the first time you'd shown up to a friends wedding together. the times you'd stayed at their houses because you just couldn't handle the way he acted when a case had set him off; the amount of times you'd told them that you stayed because he needed you as much as you needed him; ignoring the way they shook their heads.  it hurts so much when things get like this between you two, you don't often find yourself fighting, but this had so far been the worst of all; never had the two of you screamed at each other so loudly before.  it takes about thirty minutes of you sitting on the ground to realize that you should probably move to the small single bed in the corner of the room. you had moved the small bed into what was essentially javi's office about a year ago, mainly done for the purpose of giving steve a place to sleep when him and javi were working non stop, it was your idea, knowing that it would probably be easier seeing as him and steve always had to start so early.  remembering when they moved the bed in, you'd brought the two of them beers as they spent hours upon hours trying to put the stupid thing together.  a memory that used to make you laugh, only serving to making you cry harder as you sat down on the bed.  you could hear javi angrily pacing in the next room over, as well as the occasional bang of what you could assume was him knocking something over or throwing something.  as you laid down on the bed, you shut your eyes slowly, trying to pretend you couldn't hear him even if there was nothing but a paper thin wall separating the two rooms.  -- you couldn't tell what time it was when you finally woke up. you couldn't even remember when you'd fallen asleep. you looked towards the window to see a dim blue light poking out of the curtains, signalling to you that it must have been early in the morning, meaning you couldn't have been asleep for more than four hours.  at first, you reached out for javi, only for the events that occurred only a few hours ago to come flooding back in. the fighting, the screaming. it only replaced the lump in your throat as you sat up and rubbed your eyes.  as you began to wake up more, you wondered what had prompted you to wake up at such a random hour, especially when you'd been so worn out and tired when you actually went to sleep in the first place.  you were about to ponder the question for awhile longer, until you heart the soft grunts coming from you and javi's room. though muffled, you could clearly hear javi in quiet distress. its a sound that you wish wasn't as familiar to you as it was; the amount of times you'd been woken up by javi making those sounds fresh in your head, just as fresh as needing to calm him down from them. he was clearly having a nightmare.  and suddenly, it was as if all of those arguements, all of those snarky comments from your girlfriends and all the time you'd spent crying over javi had been flung out of the window and banished to the back of your mind; only leaving room for a sudden concern for javi. with no hesitation to be observed, you walked to the door and unlocked it, heading to the bedroom as the sounds of javi in sleepy distress became louder and louder.  carefully placing your hand flat on the wooden door, you hesitated, briefly taking a moment to prepare for javi still being upset, knowing that it could still very much be the case. pushing said concerns to the back of your mind once more, you push the door open slowly, still aware of the way in which its hinges tend to creak purely due to age and the fact that it was admittedly purely made; remembering the amount of times javi mentioned he was going to fix it himself but still never getting around to it. you spot his sleeping figure on the bed, though sleeping would certainly be a loose term for it. he's shaking and twitching every few moments, his eyes shut tightly. you aren't sure what it is he's dreaming about, much less if you even want to know; it was likely it wasn't something you'd be able to handle. you'd never asked for any details past what he told you about his job; occasionally he would mention things once or twice in passing, and you were simply content to leave it at that. the things that you'd seen on the television were enough to scare you into not asking for anything else past the information he was willing to give. yet in the same breath, the fact that only seeing things on tv was enough to make your skin crawl, you couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see it all up and close and personal, much less risk his life every day just by walking into the embassy. you knew what to expect when you committed to this relationship, yet you had found it so hard to think about what he was going through. after what felt like ten minutes of staring at the poor man, you walked forward and kneeled beside the bed, not wanting to put weight on the mattress so as to frighten him out of his sleep rather than calmly wake him. reaching up, you placed a hand on his cheek, ignoring the prickly feeling of his stubble due to having not shaved for nearly a week and ran your thumb back and fourth across his prickly skin. "javi... javi, baby.."  as you try to speak softly to snap him out of it, it seems to only make it worse as he jumps away from your touch; only resulting in a slight cringe forming on your face. the idea that you're only making it worse for him feels horrible, not even wanting to think about what he must be experiencing in whatever dream it is he's having. "please baby, wake up, its just a dream... i'm here."  continuing to stroke his cheek, you watch as he lets out a loud gasp and his eyes go flying open and he sits up, looking around frantically as if he was trying to find out where he was.  this is only one of many times you've had to do this, needing to wake him up softly and remind him that he was safe with you. it pained you to see him so shaken by a dream. you had to wonder how much more of this line of work he was going to be able to take. the more time you spent watching columbia slowly chip away at the man you loved, you tried to pretend that every time you watched him walk out of the door for work that you weren't worried it may have been his last. you tried to pretend that you weren't always noticing his dark circles and the way he'd grunt out in pain from the smallest movements.  being in the dea was slowly killing him and neither of you even wanted to admit it.  you know better than to ever try and convince him to quit, you've known him long enough to know how stubborn of a man he is; and that if you tried to tell him about the danger and how worried you were, it was only going to push him away in the end.  the times you'd had to help him into bed when he came home drunk, the times you'd needed to help him dress his stitches or watch him take of his shirt only to be met with a bullet scratch on his shoulder. while being in the dea was slowly killing javi, watching it happen was just as slowly killing you. reaching forward, you cup his cheeks and force him to look you in the eyes; ignoring the way that his hands grip tightly onto your wrists.  you've learnt to ignore things like this, it hurts when he grips your wrists so tightly, but you continue to tell yourself that he doesn't mean it; you know he doesn't mean it.  you chose to love a broken man, and with all broken things, you needed to be prepared for occasionally gaining a few cracks yourself.  the fear in his eyes is crystal clear, the way he looks at you as if he doesn't recognize you; its painful, but as his face shifts to one of a subtle recognition, you watch as he slowly sinks down from his fear and feel his grip on your wrists begin to relax bit by bit. stroking his cheeks, you smile softly and sit across from him on the bed, feeling his pulse thundering rapidly. "i'm right here javi, it's ok, your ok."  your whispers finally seem to be working as he shuts his eyes, making an obvious attempt to slow down his breathing. he leans forward, resting his forehead on your collar as you stroke his back slowly, letting him try to calm down from whatever violent nightmare he was being forced to endure.  you can feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you closer, practically leaning against you as he breathes in your scent, just another way of being able to ground himself back into reality.  in that one moment, every fight the two of you had ever had, the amount of time you'd spent crying over your worries, everything you've had to endure becomes worth it as you sit there in each others arms.  he finally leans back to look at you, letting one of his hands rest on the back of your head as he brings you in to lay a kiss on your forehead, shutting his eyes and taking another deep breath.  without saying anything, he leans back down to lay on the bed, pulling you with him so that you were laying your head on his chest; his arms remaining tightly wound around you with little to no intention of letting you go. just as you had no intention of leaving.  "im sorry.." you whispered out softly, beginning to draw invisible patterns on his bare chest with your finger tips. "i was just so fucking scared that i lost you.." you confessed, letting you voice crack as your vision became foggy. he didn't reply at first, but you felt his breathing tense. you didn't want to ask what it was that he was dreaming about, but based upon his reaction, you wondered whether or not that was the subject matter of his dream, losing you or losing himself. when he finally spoke, it was deep and croaky, just as his voice always was after it had been sleeping; a voice you'd heard whispering sweet nothings and pillow talk in the mornings; the voice that would softly tell you goodbye followed by a kiss on your forehead whenever javi would leave early in the mornings and you'd stay in bed.  "please don't cry, hermosa. please don't be sorry." by the sound of his voice you could tell that he felt bad, it wasn't hard to tell that the both of you were hurt over the argument; your high emotional intensity mixed with javi being worn out was a deadly mix that was bound to end badly. turning to look up at him, you rested your chin on his chest and sighed.  javi stared back at you, reaching up to fix the hair that had fallen in front of your face; allowing his hand to linger purely so he could cup your cheek. shutting your eyes, you leaned into his touch; now unable to stop a few tears from escaping and rolling down your cheeks only to be quickly wiped up by javi's thumb as if he couldn't bear to watch them fall. "te amo." he whispered, reaching for your hand and bringing the back of it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the skin.  laying your head back down on his chest and shutting your eyes, you allowed yourself to begin drifting back to sleep, now finding such a task monumentally easier now that you were back in javi's arms. "i love you too."