#he has gotten more than one 'dad!' 'what??' in his lifetime

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Gus only ever told the fables and fairytales and classics in their uncensored/Brother’s Grimm-esque states; mostly because those are the ones he knew best (his own mother certainly wasn’t telling him any such fluffed nonsense), but also because he doesn’t believe in sugar coating stories for consumption. If his audience is old enough, and he deems it appropriate, he will tell them as he remembers hearing them. And then they talk about it - such as story telling sessions are wont to go. 

[loliwrites]

August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader  ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist  ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun. 

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums. 

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret. 

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch. 

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia. 

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both. 

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more. 

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today. 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth. 

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job. 

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children. 

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much. 

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally. 

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit. 

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads. 

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side. 

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,” 

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi.  He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Heiress of Gotham | Previous Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted! القرف = ‘shit’

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

--------

“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the other side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her on, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s standard in teenagedom as of currently,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim watches from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely, disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announced, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention returning to the monitor again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises, even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie… therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at her dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-“ Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exa-“ Bruce interrupts.

“Bruce-“ Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered, with one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background of the Manor’s security camera feeds linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” he demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally takes in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more flame to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-“ he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your files and footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-“ all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-“

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the-“ he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-“

“-business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll ha-‘

Splash!

A dissatisfied exclamation escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dam-“ looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“القرف! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You head Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

--------

As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial first time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too—“ Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond, not thinking about it too much. After all, you want this popcorn to be good, not a burned pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-“ Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-“ He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee ,@azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse , @huhhuhh , @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[themorningsunshine]

Pretense

(Requested)

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader , platonic Avengers x reader

Summary - You have been with orverprotective parents your whole life, and it never bothered you as much. You know they mean well. Until they spew lies in front of your friends and ruin everything for you, including your chance at love.

Warnings - shitty parents, angst, fluff, misunderstandings, a lot of crying, slight language. not proofread 

Word count - 7k (I need to be stopped) 

a/n - This was requested by the lovely @caritobbg​​. I thought it would be a short one shot but it instead turned out to be the longest fic I have ever written. I tried to do the idea justice, hope you lile it, girl. 

"Yeah, dad. I am at the tower."

"What do you mean why? I live AND work here."

"Yeah, I am taking care of myself, mom." "No, they don't fight each other all the time."

"No, Tony hasn't filled the tower with deadly robots." "No, Steve doesn't conduct history lessons here."

You sighed as your parents asked you for the 10th time this week if you were being kept hostage at the Avengers compound.

Your dad spoke from the other side of the phone. "You know we worry about you, princess. We just don't trust those superheroes."

You smiled a little at the nickname your dad had always called you since you were a little girl. "Yeah, dad, I understand that you worry about me but they are my friends and I trust them. I really wish you could trust them too."

Your parents had always been a little too protective of you. Being an only child, you were the object of their affection more often than not. It had never bothered you as much. You know they meant well.

But it had gotten much worse now. About a year ago, Tony Stark himself offered you a job to work with the avengers considering your skills and obviously, you said yes. It was an opportunity of a lifetime and you had found a family in the team too.

You hadn't told your parents about your new job for 6 months because you were afraid of their reaction. As you had anticipated, they didn't take their little girl working for superheroes very well.

Okay, that was an understatement. Your parents didn't trust the Avengers and they surely didn't trust them enough to be able to protect you. They took any chance they got to convince you to leave the job. All you wanted was for both of your families to get along. Maybe it was too much to ask for.

"Dad, we are friends. We look out for each other. We have each others' backs. Give them a chance, please. Why can't you try to trust them?"

"Hmm. Let me see. Your 'friends' consist of ex-assassins, a witch who used to work for Hydra, a "genius" and his scientist friend who created a robot that wanted to kill the whole of humanity. Oh, and the scientist also has huge anger issues. Like he literally turns into a monster when he is angry. Your best friend has killed more people than she can count. And this group of yours almost broke up once when the best friend of one killed the parents of another. Oh, and that soldier of yours has also reportedly killed a president. You are right. What's there to not trust?"

"Dad, he was brainwashed!!"

"Doesn't make him any less unstable."

You sighed. These arguments with your parents were a dead end. You knew you weren't going to get anywhere.

"Alright, mom, dad. I gotta go."

"Okay, sweetheart. Just take care of yourself. At least until we come to meet you next month."

You smiled at that. "Can't wait. I want to introduce you to everybody. Love you, guys. See you soon, Bye"

"We love you too, princess."

Your smile dropped as you hung up the phone and realization struck you. Your parents were going to visit and as much as you wanted them to meet everybody, you were scared. You could never be sure about how your parents would react. They were too unpredictable.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear footsteps approaching.

"You okay, doll?"

The voice startled you as you turned back to be met by the beautiful blue of Bucky's eyes. You kept a hand on your chest to calm your breathing. "God, you scared me, Buck."

Bucky just chuckled as he looked at you, eyes filled with concern. "Well, maybe you should be careful who sneaks up on you, doll. This is not really the safest place on Earth."

"The only person who sneaks up on me is you, Bucky." You replied with a smile of your own, as you felt your concerns slipping away.

"Exactly my point. I am not really the most trustworthy person either."

"Then why do I trust you with my life?" The words slipped before you could think about how they would sound. Your cheeks turn little red as you look down at your feet. "You are too good for your own good," Bucky replied with a slight blush of his own and he meant it with everything he had. You were too pure and too trusting for this world. He would never know how he got to even call you his friend.

His eyes squinted as he noticed something. "Doll, there's something in your hair."

Before you could react, he took a step towards you and with gentle hands removed a piece of confetti out of your hair.

You ran your hands through your hair before looking up to thank him when you realized how close the both of you were standing. You were pretty sure he could hear how fast your heart was beating.

The both of you stood there staring into each other's eyes until Bucky took a step back, red color creeping up to his cheeks. He rubbed his neck, flustered, before finally speaking, "Um, I should - I should go."

You nodded your head, trying desperately to get your heart to beat normally. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around."

As Bucky walked away, you couldn't wipe off the smile from your face when suddenly your conversation with your parents hit you again.

God, it was going to be a long month.

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"And if you need anything, you can also ask Jarvis." You explained to your parents with the widest grin on your face.

"God, I can't believe you guys are finally here."

Your parents smiled at you before your mom engulfed you in a hug, 7th in the past 1 hour.

"Okay, guys. You know I love you both so much, but we are going to go in now and meet everybody. Can you please, please be nice?"

Your mom put her hand on her chest with a dramatic expression, "You don't trust us?"

You chuckled at how dramatic your mother could sometimes be. "I do, You know I do. But I also know as a matter of fact that both of you aren't very fond of my friends. And all I am asking is that you give them a chance. They are great people, mom. They are really really great and I care a lot about all of them. So, I just need you to be a little open-minded about them. That's all I am asking. Can you do that for me?" "Of course, we will, princess. We hate these inept superheroes but not as much as we love you."

Your parents then looked at each other a too long, which you didn't think much of, too excited at the prospect of your parents and friends getting along.

You took them inside the compound as they looked around in what you hoped was awe.

"Good morning, J.A.R.V.I.S" You greeted the AI just like you did every day.

"Good morning, Ms l/n"

Your parents looked around in shock trying to figure out where that voice came from when you chuckled. "Mom, dad, I told you, you need anything, just ask J.A.R.V.I.S"

Your dad narrowed his eyes at you. "Where is this JARVIS of yours?"

You giggled before replying, "Everywhere and nowhere." Troubling your parents never got old.

"Stop putting forward riddles, we are not in a fantasy adventure movie." Your mom complained.

"Sorry. Sorry Mom, dad, meet J.A.R.V.I.S. He is an AI that operates the whole tower, literally. If you want to know anything, just ask him. Tony created him. That man is such a genius."

Your dad almost rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't he just hire a human to work for him, just like normal people do?"

You sighed, just hoping that the day goes smoothly.

You couldn't be more wrong.

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"And this room is the briefing room." You opened the door to let your parents in but they just looked around from the doorway.

You had just started showing your parents around the compound, readying yourself for the inevitable. The whole team was pretty excited about meeting your parents and you knew sooner than later that someone will run into you.

The inevitable happened as soon as you stepped into the dining room.

Tony was standing there, getting his morning cup of coffee and his face told you he hadn't slept very well last night. Ever since he picked up the mission to update the compound's security system last month, he had hardly been sleeping. You were worried about him.

"Tony?" You said in a soft voice so as to not startle him.

"Oh, hey, kiddo. Awake a little too early today?" He said with a tired smile on his face, taking a jab at the fact that you were definitely not a morning person.

"Are you okay, Tony?"

"Hmm, yeah. Totally." He then looked at your parents who were standing beside you with a scowl on their faces. "Won't you introduce us?"

"Oh, right." A wide grin spread on your face as you turned towards your parents. "Mom, dad. This is Tony. Kind of the co-leader of the group. Tony, these are my parents."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs l/n. You have a great daughter."

Your cheeks turned red until your parents began speaking.

"So, he is the guy who has his head so up his arse that he doesn't care about anyone besides himself?" Your dad with a scowl on his face.

You gasped as Tony's eyes widened. "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"He is Stark, right? That's what you said about him after the first day you worked here."

Your eyes widened as your mouth fell open. What was happening? You hadn't even told your parents about your job for the first 6 months. Why were they -

Your eyes frantically searched for Tony's and you felt a slight pain in your chest when you saw how hard he was trying to feign the hurt in his eyes. You needed to set this right. "Tony - "

"Oh, and could you please stop annoying our daughter with all the science and tech talk? That stuff bores the shit out of her." Your mother interrupted you before you could even say anything.

You looked at Tony, desperately trying to explain to him that it wasn't true. You had told your parents how much you loved listening to Tony rambling about his latest creation. You loved how passionate he was about his work. You couldn't imagine your parents using that against you like this.

Before you could say something, Tony spoke, "Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know me talking about what essentially pays your salary irritated you so much." He said with a snarl in his voice that he had never used with you before. Even though the both of you weren't that apart in age, he was like a dad to you and you would never hurt him.

"Tony, it's not what you think." You said, desperately asking him to give you a chance to explain yourself when some more people walked through the door.

You watched as Nat and Wanda entered the kitchen, engrossed in their talk, smiling when they see you.

"Heya, girl"

You internally panic. You didn't know what your parents were up to but this couldn't be nice. You just wanted to take them away from here.

Tony speaks up before you can do anything, "Her parents are here. And they have something very interesting to say. Turns out our goody two shoes has some very different thoughts about us."

"Tony, no. It's not like that. I don't know why - "

"Hey, let me guess who are these two." Your mother exclaimed, conveniently shutting you up.

Wanda looked between you and Tony in confusion before smiling at your parents. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Y/n talks a lot about you."

Your mom looked her up and down before saying with disdain in her voice, "Redhead. A pretty face. You must be the witch."

Wanda's smile wavered but she didn't let her discomfort show.

"You're the one who is so desperate for love that she is dating a toaster."

Wanda gasped as her smile fell. She looked at you, confused and hurt.

"Mom, what are you - "

"That's what you told us, princess. That she is dating a toaster. What's its name again? Vi - Vis.." "Vision. His name is Vision and he is NOT a toaster." Wanda then looked dead into your eyes. "But it's good to know that that's what you think, y/n."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, Wan. It's not like that. You know that's not true. I would never say that."

Wanda's eyes didn't waver and dread filled you. Your friends were not trusting you.

"What does she say about me?" Nat spoke up. She asked as if she couldn't care less but being her best friend for almost a year now, you could read it in her eyes that she was almost as afraid of the answer as you were.

"You're the black widow, right?" Your father questioned.

Your mother spoke up without waiting for a reply, "You are the useless one. No, like, really, the three of us always wonder, why are you even a part of the group? There are supersoldiers in here, witches and literal gods, what do you do? Throw some punches? Kicks?"

"Gods. That reminds me, where are the self-proclaimed gods/aliens of yours?" Your dad snickered, amused.

"Which one?" Your mom questioned in reply. "The doofus or the monster which can never be trusted?"

You had had enough. You exclaimed, "Okay, guys. Enough. Stop talking."

Your dad smirked. The audacity. "Come on, princess. Aren't you tired of pretending? Don't you want your friends to know what you actually think about them?"

You opened your mouth to tell them that whatever they were saying was as far from the truth as it could get when everybody in the kitchen heard footsteps approaching.

You heard Steve before you saw him, "Who thinks about what?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Your heart started beating frantically when you realized he wasn't alone. Sam and Bucky had entered the kitchen with him. But unlike the other times, your heart was beating with fear. This couldn't be happening. No, no.

"Y/n's parents are here. They were telling us all the great stuff she says about us to them." Wanda said with pure disgust in her voice. You had never seen her this mad.

"Guys, trust me. It's not - " "Come on, y/n. Let them speak." Sam said before turning towards your parents. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr and Mrs l/n."

Your father rolled his eyes before saying, "You're the one who got kicked out of the Air Force and then kissed Captain America's arse for a job."

Sam's jaw dropped but before he could say anything your mom replied, "No, honey. Y/n told us it was that Ant-man."

Your dad shook his head. "No, no. Antman is the one who went to jail. He is Falcon."

You were seeing red now. You knew that your parents were a little too overprotective of you and hence didn't like you taking this job. But you thought meeting your friends and realizing how caring and nice everybody was would change their minds. You never thought that they would ever do this to you.

You desperately wanted to explain yourself. To tell your friends that this was all a lie but you couldn't. You could see it in their eyes that they already hated you. And with your parents standing right there, you knew it would be impossible to give them. Maybe you could talk to them after your parents left. You just hoped they would give you a chance to explain yourself.

When your dad's eyes landed on Bucky, panic swelled inside you. Nononono.

"Oh, and you must be the winter soldier. That metal arm makes it pretty obvious though." Your dad said as he pointed towards Bucky's left side with pure disgust in his eyes as if it was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen.

Tears welled in your eyes as you saw how Bucky pulled his sleeves to cover more of his arm and blocked it from view.

"Do you have any idea how difficult you make it for people to work in this compound? Y/n complains to us how she has to walk on eggshells around you, scared that anytime you would get back to being the assassin that you have always been." Your mother uttered the words with a permanent frown on her face.

"But can you blame her though? You can not just kill hundreds of people and live freely, pretending to be a hero."

"Enough." You shouted. You couldn't take it anymore and your parents had gone too far.

You looked at Bucky, about to explain to him that none of it was true. That you were never scared of him. Not even for a second. Because you loved him. Since the day you had met him, your heart had held nothing but love for him.

But the look that you saw in his eyes made you stop in your tracks. He wasn't looking at you with hate or anger. No, it was much worse. He looked hurt. As if someone had pulled his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. You couldn't help but notice that his eyes held a little bit of understanding too as if he didn't blame you for thinking that way.

Your chest hurt and you wanted nothing more than to reach out to him.

"Wow. That - that was." Steve broke the silence, but it was the first time you had seen him out of words. "Is that really what you think about us, y/n?"

"No, no, Steve, None of it is true."

"Come on, princess. You don't have to put up a facade anymore. No more pretense."

"Stop it." You shouted at your parents. This was the first time you had ever raised your voice at them, but you couldn't care less. They were ruining everything.

"Guys, you need to trust me. Please." You looked at everybody, begging them with your eyes and words to just trust you.

"I don't understand. Why did you pretend to be our friend for so long? Why pretend to care when that's what you really think?" Wanda spoke, bewildered.

"No, no. That's not - " You spoke, tears at the brim of your eyes. This couldn't be happening.

"For the money, of course. Come on, why would someone live in the most dangerous place on earth if not for a buttload of money?" Your dad said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, no, no, please. You guys have to trust me, please." You looked around at everybody, frantically searching for even a hint that everything was not ever. That they could trust you. But all you got was hurt faces and built-up walls.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You shout at your parents. You were extremely close to sliding on the floor and crying your heart out.

"We are trying to help you, princess. We are freeing you." Your mom said with a smug expression.

"You don't have to do that anymore," Tony spoke and all the eyes in the room looked at him. Hope swelled in your chest.

"You don't have to stay here and pretend to like us. I really really want to fire you but you know too much and your statistical skills are too good to be wasted. So, you will be transferred. Somewhere far from us where we don't ever have to see your face." Tony spoke with a sense of finality in his voice and your heart broke into a hundred pieces.

You looked at your feet and swallowed the lump in your throat before looking at him and whispering, "You don't have to do that." You then turned and looked into the blues of Bucky's eyes which you were so familiar with and all you could do was whisper, "I am sorry."

You didn't wait for anybody's response before walking out and towards your room.

There was nothing that you could do anymore.

You were not going to take that transfer.

This job was never about money to you. You had found a family here, and you loved them with everything you had. But it still wasn't enough for them to trust you.

You cried and cried and cried till you had no more tears to let go before getting up and packing your bag.

You had to leave. You couldn't face them again.

There was only one thing left to do.

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The compound was silent.

It was as if nobody even lived here anymore.

Everybody sat at the dining table staring at the food in front of them, nobody taking a bite.

It was as if a part of them was missing. As if the one thread that had bound them together was somehow suddenly torn apart.

There was an unspoken agreement between them. Nobody would talk about what had happened earlier that day. The wound was too fresh to be confronted.

Nobody knew where you were right now. But everybody just assumed that you were in your room.

Steve was very close to barging into your room and bringing you to the dining table. He couldn't count the number of times he had told you that you shouldn't talk while eating and even after choking on your food twice, you hadn't listened to him and Steve was glad. There was nothing he wouldn't give right now to bring back the lively chatter that had always surrounded the dining table. But he had to remind himself that everything he had thought was a lie, a pretense.

Tony was angry. He was seething. He had cared for you like you were his own daughter and you had thrown all of that into a drain.

Wanda just wanted to know how you were so good at acting. How you could pretend to be her best friend when you hated her all along?

But Bucky just wanted to know one thing - why. He didn't blame you for thinking that way about him. You weren't the only one who did. But he wanted to know why you would pretend to be his friend, to care about him when you thought him to be a monster. Why did you comfort him after all those panic attacks and nightmares telling him it wasn't his fault when you blamed him for every single thing? Why had you let him fall in love with you if you couldn't even stand him? You had to know that it would leave him devastated. He didn't blame you for hating him, but how was he supposed to live without your light now? Especially when he knew it was never for him?

Nat couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't just let everyone swallow themselves in silence for a person who never even cared about them in the first place. She harshly got up before walking towards the living room for a bottle of wine.

She shook her head when the memories of all of you hanging out at the same place plagued her mind.

As she walked past the bookshelf, she noticed something which had never been there before.

She frowned as she walked towards it to realize that it was a pen drive. She slowly picked it up to find a note attached to it which just read, "Sorry".

She was so engrossed that she didn't hear footsteps approaching until a hand took the pen drive from her. She looked up to realize Tony was looking at the drive intently as if scanning it with his eyes.

"What's this?" He asked, confused.

"No idea. Found it on the bookshelf."

Tony read the note and recognized the handwriting almost instantly. "It's y/n's."

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Everybody sat in the living room staring intently at the screen before them.

Tony had assembled everybody and they had all agreed to watch the pen drive once. Maybe it would answer their questions. Maybe it was just an old pen drive and had to do nothing with what had happened today but they had to know.

The system finally finished scanning the drive after what felt like a lifetime and your face flashed on the screen.

Your tears-stained cheeks and red, swollen eyes, told them that the video was indeed today's.

"Hey, guys." You sounded broken and defeated.

"I am not even sure that you are going to watch this." You let out a sad chuckle.

"But I just needed to say this 'cause it feels like if I don't, it will swallow me whole. And you guys deserve to know the truth, too."

"I just - I want you all to know that all that you heard today, none of it was true. Not even a single word of it. And I need you guys to know this." You looked directly into the camera as if begging them to trust you and nobody dared to move.

"I - I don't know why my parents did what they did. I have no idea. I can tell myself that they were trying to protect me, but who am I trying to convince? 'Cause, you don't protect someone by taking away the best thing that ever happened to them." You sniffled, rubbing your palms on your face to wipe off the tears.

"And that is what this team was for me. This job, this team, was the best thing that ever happened to me. And it was never because of the money or the luxuries of living in the tower, it was you guys. You were a family I found in a city I knew nothing about. And that was what mattered to me."

Tony wanted to shut the video off, to tell everybody that maybe you were lying here too, pretending, but he knew it wasn't true. Your eyes shone with guilt and desperation and eyes never lie.

The video continued. "And maybe you are not even watching this video. Maybe you will never know how I actually felt and will hate me forever, but if there is even a slight chance that you are watching this, and there is a small part of you that can trust me, I want you to know what I actually think about you.

Tony, you were like a dad to me. You always looked out for me and were so damn concerned about me the whole time and I can't thank you enough. Thank you for always looking out for me and I never for a second got annoyed by you talking about tech, you might not know this but your eyes shine brighter when you are talking about your creations and I would never get tired of that. The only complaint I had for you is that you need to take care of yourself more. Stop sleeping in your lab and eating shawarma all the time in the name of food, it's not healthy. Take care of yourself, Tony, 'cause there are some people who will always need you."

Tony looked away, blinking hard so as to not let the tears roll down his cheeks. All the times when you brought him food in his lab because he hadn't left his spot for hours and then you forced him to finish it all, you didn't do it as a pretense, you did it because you genuinely cared about him.

"Nat, you're the bravest and the most badass person I know. Don't tell anyone, but you are my favorite fighter. I admire you so damn much. Who cares that you can't lift things with your mind or fly? You can kick people's asses without blinking an eye. You inspire me so much."

"Wanda, you and Nat are my best friends and I am so proud of you. After everything you've lost, gathering the courage to love again is the most courageous thing I've ever seen. You and Vis make me believe in love. Hell, I even had a speech ready for your wedding as your bridesmaid." You had a small smile on your face as if remembering something, "Now that I am not going to be there anymore, Nat, I am going to ask you to give a great speech from my side too. I know you are not a very emotion-oriented person, but please try. 'Cause Wanda deserves nothing but the best."

Wanda sniffed audibly and Nat kept a hand on her shoulder.

"Thor, prince of Asgard, Son of Odin." You said in the voice that Thor had taught you to intimate a long time ago and chuckled. "I know you are the one who stole all my pop tarts." As Thor's eyes widened, the video continued, "Don't act surprised. Why do you think I never changed the place of keeping my pop tarts even after they went missing every single week? I am not upset, nope. I don't even like those that much. I just need you to know that I won't be there to keep those tarts there. Ask J.A.R.V.I.S., he knows where I brought them from. He will tell you."

"Sam." Sam looked up from his spot as he heard his name. "I am a little upset with you. You never let me use red wig." You pouted and Sam chuckled. "But you do know that you are the funniest, smartest, and one of the most deserving people to be on the team, right? Hell, bringing you to the team was the best decision Steve ever made."

You stopped for a moment looking down at your feet, when you breathed, "Bucky." Your voice was much softer now as if his name was a prayer.

Bucky looked up into the camera, his heart beating a mile per minute. If this was all a lie too, he didn't want to know what you had to say. Even if it was actually how you felt, he wasn't sure he was ready for what you were going to say.

"I - " You stopped and took a deep breath. You looked vulnerable as if you were apart to lay your soul bare in front of you. "Bucky, I just - Whatever you heard today, it is not true. None of it. Since the day I met you, I have never been scared of you. Not for a single second. You know I don't blame you for anything that Hydra did, you have to know. I don't think you were a monster. I think you are the sweetest, kindest and bravest person I know. I wasn't lying when I told you that I trusted you with my life. I trust you, I care about you, and I - "

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat as you suddenly stopped.

"Well, there is a major chance that you're not even watching this, so .. why not? It's not like I am ever going to get a chance to say it to you. So, here it is -

I love you, Bucky. I am in love with you. I have been for a very long time now. I could tell myself that it was just a small crush and it would go away sooner or later, but who am I kidding? I want to spend every single moment of my day with you. You're the first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up and my last memory before I fall asleep. When you are around, I can't stop looking at you and when you are not, all I want to do is look at you. I know that you might never feel this way about me, especially after today, but I just had to say it once."

You took a deep breath before speaking with finality in your voice, "I just hope that one day you guys will know that it wasn't a pretense. That this team was everything to me. I found a family, a place to call home, I found love. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me."

The video stopped and everybody bowed their heads down while Bucky just stared at the screen desperately, as if you would walk out of it.

You loved him.

You wanted to be with him and god if that thought alone wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to him. He didn't think you could love him. He had accepted the fact that he was destined to love you from afar, a love that you would never know about.

But you felt the same. He didn't have to watch you fall in love with someone else and get your happily ever after, because you wanted that to be him.

You could be his happily ever after.

Before he could let himself be hopeful, realization struck him and left him breathless.

You had said that you would never get the chance to say it to him personally. The things that you had said, the finality in your voice, it had all sounded like a ... goodbye.

He stood up abruptly, only to realize that all the eyes were on him.

Some were filled with tears, others were trying really hard to keep their emotions in check. No, no, this couldn't be. How was he supposed to live without you now that he knew that you loved him too?

Without muttering a word to anybody, he rushed out of the room, through the corridor, and towards your room. You couldn't have gone yet. No, no, he would beg you to stay, get on his knees and ask you to forgive him.

He stood outside your door for a moment, taking a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

He brought his hand to knock on your door, only to realize that it wasn't locked.

With bated breath, he pushed the door open.

It was vacant. Everything that you had put in to make it a home, was gone.

You were gone.

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*

The whole team stood in the living room, waiting.

Bucky walked in, his head shaking and arms trembling.

Nobody uttered a word as they waited for him to give words to the inevitable. He looked up, tears brimming his eyes as he whispered, "She is gone."

Everybody gasped as guilt filled them.

Only if they had trusted you.

"No, no. We cannot give up. We need to find her. I am going to find her. We cannot give up this easily." Bucky said, praying that he was right, that not everything was lost. There was still hope. There had to be.

"He is right. We can't just let her go." Wanda said, tears straining her cheeks. "There has to be a way." Sam agreed.

Tony suddenly lightened up as he took out his tablet. "We can track her. If she hasn't switched off her phone, we can find her exact location." He had enabled a tracking sensor in everyone's phone some time ago. He remembered the way you had pouted and teased him that it was an invasion of privacy, but had finally let him install it nonetheless.

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized he could still check the location of his phone. "She is heading towards the airport."

Dread filled everybody as Tony's words sank in. You were leaving. Forever.

"She is in a cab right now. I can figure out its number, but it might be too late."

"I have to go," Bucky exclaimed. "I am not going to let her go. No. I need to find her." He looked around, ready to fight anyone who came in his way.

But everybody just gave him a reassuring look as Steve whispered, "Go, get the girl, Buck."

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*

You looked through the window as the city lights bristled by.

Your cheeks were still stained with tears as you left behind the place you had called home.

But there was no other option. Your parents had left you with no other choice.

It hurt that they had actually been successful in their mind games, but there was nothing you could do. Your parents had taken from you, the best part of your life.

You were going to miss the city, the team, and your friends, but there was one person you were going to miss the most.

Leaving him was like leaving a part of your behind and you knew that Bucky Barnes was always going to have a piece of your heart, even if he didn't know about it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as the cab came to an abrupt, sudden stop.

The cab driver looked back at you before asking, "Ma'am, are you okay."

You nodded your head before asking, "Are you?" After he nodded, you continued, "What happened?" "A man just rushed his bike past us, way beyond the speeding limit, and then stopped it right before us, in the middle of the bridge."

You frowned as you looked in front of the cab.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you recognized the bike and the man getting down from it.

"Bucky." You breathed before opening the cab door, against the driver's protests, your legs on autopilot.

When your eyes met Bucky's, you could see him visibly relaxing with relief.

"Bucky, what are you - " You exclaimed against the sound of the wind.

He got down from his bike and started walking towards you quickly. "Doll, how could you?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname before you lowered your head. Of course, he hated you after what had happened. He didn't trust you.

You looked up to realize that he was a couple of feet distance from you now. You opened your mouth, apologies about to come tumbling from your lips when you were cut off by him.

You gasped in shock as Bucky closed the little distance between the both of you, pressing his lips to yours, in a gentle, yet desperate kiss, as if he was drowning and only the feeling of your lips could bring him back to the shore.

When the surprise finally washed off, you brought your hands to his chest as his led down to your waist, and you kissed him back. You didn't understand what was happening. But if it was goodbye, you wanted it to last forever.

When the necessity to breathe arose, Bucky pulled back but stood close.

He leaned in and touched your forehead with his before closing his eyes.

You breathed him in. He smelled of fresh coffee and pine. He smelled like home.

"How could you leave me, doll? Without even saying anything. Not even a goodbye?" He tried to be upset with you. But who was he kidding? You could stab him through his chest and he would still thank you.  

Tears brimmed your eyes as you took in a deep breath, you wanted to savor this moment. "Buck, I - I am sorry. Whatever my parents said today, it was a lie. A huge lie. I wanted to tell you, but - "

"It's okay, doll. I trust you. But, I - I need to ask you something." He took a deep breath, already dreading your answer to the question he was about to ask. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course, I didn't. None of it. I don't blame you for anything, Bucky. I am not scared of you. I have never been."

"That's not." Bucky closed his eyes shut, praying that he could word his feelings correctly. "We - we saw the video."

Your eyes widened as realization struck you. He knew.

You had stupidly confessed all your feelings on a video. What were you thinking? He would be so embarrassed right now but you couldn't back out now.

"Buck, I - I do love you. That is the truth. But you don't have to say anything. I understand if you don't - "

Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky brought his fingers under your chin to make you look up at him before leaning in to press his lips against yours once again.

Hope swelled in your chest as you brought your arms to encircle his neck and kissed him back.

He pulled away a little too quickly to look up at you with a small smile on his face. The look in his eyes made butterflies erupt in your tummy with a ferocity you had never felt before.

"I love you too, doll. I do. With everything that I have. I love you and I am so so sorry that I didn't give you a chance to explain. I am so sorry that I didn't trust you.

I never told you this because I - I am not good enough for you, doll. I don't deserve you."

You shook your head, about to correct him, when he continued, "And I think I still don't. Being with you puts you in so much danger too, maybe I shouldn't even be with you. But I am tired of pretending that I don't want to. I am tired of pretending like I don't want to spend every single moment for the rest of my life with you. So, if you'll allow me, doll, I'll spend the rest of my life, trying to be the man you can proudly call yours 'cause I love you so damn much."

Tears were now flowing down your cheeks for a completely different reason. You leaned in to kiss him again when the both of you were interrupted by the cab driver shouting from the cab, growing impatient, "Madam, do you want to go or not?"

Bucky looked at you with hopeful eyes and you turned back to yell to the driver, "Never"

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Take Care

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Everyone tries to warn Wanda what a bad idea it is to fall in love with the big, bad, scary spy.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

READ ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

When Wanda joined the Avengers she was sure she had just walked herself into some type of military team so strict and uptight that she was half expecting their fancy airplane to land in the middle of the desert surrounded by barbed wire and heavily armed men. They were, after all, the main ones responsible for keeping Earth safe from every type of villain that might come to them. Aliens, humans, and anything in between. Their team, formed by a literal God, a super soldier, a man who could turn himself into a green monster, a man whose big ego could barely fit inside his iron suit, and two humans - who, really, were probably better than all the other four combined - should live and breath for training, follow routines and focus on getting better and better every time.

Wanda realized pretty quickly that she had been wrong - very wrong - about her assumption.

Tony Stark was a kid stuck in a man’s body. He could barely keep a serious conversation with anyone and spent most of his time making jokes and provoking his colleagues. Bruce was one of the gentlest souls Wanda ever met - though, admittedly, she hadn’t met many of those during her lifetime - but he was a bit like an erudite and lived inside a lab. Thor assembled Wanda as that overly excited kid who got dropped at the amusement park with too much money. Steve was probably the only one among all of them who took this “hero” job as seriously as they should, though it was a bit wasted on him since he didn’t need to train to keep his shape and he was almost unmatchable. And Clint, well, Clint had so many dad jokes in his pockets that Wanda was as impressed by it as she was by his archery skills.

Less than a month of living with them and Wanda already realized that the men who were the most powerful and skilled people on Earth were just like every other man - but with powers and skills no one else had.

It did wonderful things for her because, for once, she didn’t walk into a military base camp like she thought she was going to when Steve and Clint convinced her to tag along after Sokovia, but also because the grief after losing Pietro was very consuming and it was good to have people around her who made her laugh or roll her eyes. It was good to feel things other than sorrow. She got closer to Steve more than anyone else since he was the calmest of them - centered and sweet - but, after a rough start when Wanda could barely get out of bed, she managed to form a bond with the entire team.

The point is that Wanda was aware that those people sometimes acted like the teenagers she often saw on the sitcoms she used to watch with her family. That, of course, did not prepare her to find out that, above all of that, their team also seemed to be keen on keeping updates to their comrades' private lives. In other words, they were gossipmongers.

“So…” The first one to bring it up had been Thor, surprisingly so because the God of Thunder was spending less and less time around nowadays. “I noticed you have a thing for the widow.”

Wanda was not at all surprised that the team picked up on the little signs that she might have taken a different liking to Natasha - of all people, really, and her heart had decided to beat a bit faster to the woman who could kill on two hundred and God knows how many different ways. There were spies on the team and most of them could, somehow, hear better than everyone else too. Also, they would never have gotten that far in battling the bad guys if they had been oblivious to things around them.

What did surprise her, however, was that someone decided to point it out. To her face. While they were trying to choose the movie for that night - Tony’s idea because he was insisting they should pretend to be some type of dysfunctional family who had movie nights or something like that.

With her eyes wide and heart beating fast inside her chest, Wanda glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone in the communal area where the largest TV known by man was. She could hear Tony and Clint bickering in the kitchen because they both had different ideas of what the night snack should be, and she knew Steve, Natasha and Sam must still be in the training room, so obviously Bruce was in his lab yet probably talking with Vision. Even so, Wanda didn’t look even a bit relaxed when she looked back at Thor.

“What?” She breathed out and then, because the nerves were eating her inside, she let out an awkward chuckle while shaking her head.

Wanda really thought the tall muscular man would let it go. He didn’t, of course. “No need to lie to me, shorty,” he said with a large smile that would’ve been charming if he wasn’t so damn daunting. Wanda also wanted to point out that everyone next to Thor would be short and that she was taller than most, but he didn’t give her a chance. “I can see the way you stare at her.”

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Wanda opened her mouth to try and come up with something to say but there was nothing her brain could use to get out of that situation. She wasn’t surprised people noticed but she was surprised Thor noticed. Because, if he did, so did everyone else. And, God, it was terrifying to have people knowing the things she felt.

She had a very complicated life until that point - and it still was, honestly - and Wanda learned when she was still a kid inside an orphanage that anything people knew about you could be used to hurt you. When Hydra started to make experiments on her, it became even more evident. Wanda proved it herself when she invaded the minds of the same people she now shared a roof with and used their worst memories and fears against them. And, after going through training with Natasha, Clint and Steve, Wanda could immediately panic thinking someone knew her deepest secrets.

Thor must have seen the panic on her face because his teasing smile turned more soft and he actually lowered his voice a bit - not that it would make such a difference since his timbre was so deep. “Hey, I’m not going to judge. Humans have so many rules and what they think is moral or not is based on things I can’t understand.”

It took Wanda a few seconds to understand what he was talking about. Thor thought she was afraid he would have a problem with Wanda having feelings for a woman when, in reality, she was scared that he knew she had feelings at all. If she wasn’t so tense, Wanda would’ve laughed.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though,” Thor kept talking and Wanda was amazed he had a plan on what he wanted to talk with her about. Thor was not the type of guy who planned those things. Still holding the remote in her hand, Wanda waited for him to continue. “Look, Natasha is… very brave.” He made it sound like that was the most important quality someone could have. “And scary.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, she’s a good woman. Very beautiful too.”

Okay, he didn’t have a plan.

Wanda slowly nodded. “Sure,” she mumbled, unsure what else she could say.

“She’s also not the woman who do dating,” Thor finally declared, suddenly looking proud of himself. “If you want, I’m pretty sure she would be down to sex, but take care, okay?” Wanda felt her face heating up in a way it had never done before and her eyes glued to the TV in front of her with renewed interest. There was no way that conversation was real. “If you do the sex, don’t get attached,” he warned her gently. “You might end up getting hurt. So, maybe, the best idea is to not have sex. Unless you want to.”

Wanda thought she wanted to disappear, maybe be swallowed whole by a portal or something that would take her away. She had magic and she certainly could make it happen if she tried hard enough but Wanda felt so shell-shocked that she couldn’t move. “Thor…”

The God interrupted her, though, which was good because Wanda wasn’t sure what she could even say. “I just mean that having feelings for someone like Natasha can be very tricky. But, if you ever get your heart broken and need someone to talk to, just come to find me. Unless I’m in Asgard, of course.”

Thor then used one of his ridiculously big hands to pat her on the back, a friendly gesture, but Wanda almost got thrown out of the couch because of how strong the man was. Wanda grimaced and moved away a few inches so he couldn’t reach her again if he tried, and she was about to finally snap and tell him to mind his own business when Tony and Clint entered the space with several popcorn bowls.

“Where is everyone else?” Tony asked and, just like that, the conversation was over.

Wanda couldn’t say she had forgotten all about it after it happened because it was hard to forget that Thor, the God of Thunder, decided to give her love advice, but she was sure it would never happen again. Sadly, Wanda didn’t have superspeed like Pietro to run away if it ever did but she could think about a few other things to escape if she had to.

That said, she didn’t expect that conversation to happen with someone else instead on the very next day. And with Tony of all people.

He had called her inside his lab to help him make some tests on his suit - he was trying to make it strong enough to support Wanda’s magic - and then allowed Wanda to use one of the robotic arms to blow one of the training dummies. Wanda had laughed after that, feeling like a kid playing with things she wasn’t supposed to, before telling him she still preferred the red flow that came from her own hand and giving him the suit piece back.

“Yes, not all of us can shoot explosive balls from our palms,” Tony replied with a scoff while pulling away his things.

“No need to be so jealous,” Wanda taunted him. They walked a long way until Wanda felt comfortable enough around the man and it took a little more time to be able to joke around him, but Tony had a place inside her heart as well.

“Jealous, honey?” Tony teased her back, taking a look at her from over his glasses. “I invented a thing that is pretty much the same you can do.”

“Well, yes,” she conceded before turning one of her palms up and letting a small red ball form just above it. “But you have to carry that suit everywhere.”

Tony sighed and didn’t argue back, which made Wanda smile and put her hands back inside her back pockets. She was about to ask him if he needed help with anything else since she had planned on going out with Vision to show him the ducks by the lake when Tony started talking before her.

“So, you wanna do funny business at workspace, huh?” Wanda had no idea what he just said and just kept staring at him with a blank expression on her face. Upon hearing nothing from her, Tony looked up from where he was typing on the computer and rolled his eyes impatiently. “You know, knock boots.” Tony kept looking, Wanda kept staring, and it became clear she was still lost. He sighed and started waving a hand while he came up with other things to say. “Have some horizontal refreshment, get down and dirty, shake the sheets, practice the act of darkness, have some adult naptime, make an assault with a friendly weapon, do the Devil’s dance, feed the kitty, hit a home run, join amorous congress - Steve would like that one - go cave diving.” Wanda felt like the man had just thrown a bunch of words that had no meaning at her and expected the girl to form a sentence. Tony groaned and his head dropped for a moment before he looked up at her again and declared: “Sex, Maximoff. I’m talking about sex.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, her cheeks became as red as the magic that winded around her fingers, and she took a step back out of shock. Yes, that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Tony Stark of all people. In fact, Wanda would rather stay still as he blasted her with his Iron Man suit instead of having that particular conversation.

Though, as usual, it could get much worse.

“Let me tell you this, you could have chosen someone better to want to do the fun thing,” Tony huffed and shook his head, although he looked quite impressed. “That’s some dangerous place you want to hide your hot dog at.” Wanda wondered if anyone had ever passed out for blushing too hard because she felt a second away from doing it. “Well, guess that’s not the best euphemism for you. Let me think for a second.”

“You don’t need to,” Wanda murmured mostly to herself since, obviously, Tony didn’t pay her any mind.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony called out and Wanda watched with her eyes still wide as the artificial intelligence came to life to wait for what its creator wanted. “Can you tell me some euphemisms for lesbian sex?”

“Of course, Mister Stark,” the robot replied and Wanda reacted before it could get completely out of hand.

“Okay, I’m out of here.” Wanda turned around to walk to the door, eager to escape and be anywhere other than there.

She still heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. declaring: “Play rock, paper, scissors with only the scissors.”

“Come down, kiddo,” Tony called out after her. “I’m just trying to help!” Wanda opened the door and took a step out, ready to flee - run if she had to. “Romanoff is a very dangerous place to try to get funny, especially if you are totally smitten by her.”

Wanda glared at him in surprise. She wondered if Thor said something or if Tony also couldn’t keep his own business - and she knew the answer to that. “Tony, please, don’t ever talk to me again,” she pleaded because, honestly, she would never recover from the conversation they just had.

Tony laughed, though, and gave her a playful wink. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re head over heels for our most dangerous, and hot, spy.”

“Bye, Tony.”

“Just saying that, if you want to love her with all your heart and soul, you should know Natasha is all about afternoon delights and nothing else.”

Wanda could only pray no one heard the man’s raised voice while she walked away. Thankfully, Tony didn’t follow her but Wanda didn’t go find Vision right away. She needed a few minutes to get over the fact that another person from their team decided to step out of their way to give Wanda a warning about Natasha Romanoff. Gosh, that was a bit humiliating.

However, Tony hadn’t been the first and wouldn’t be the last either, something that made Wanda want to go back to the rubbles of Sokovia. It felt like a better alternative than having her feelings rubbed into her face like they were public domain.

It was definitely better than having that conversation with Bruce Banner for sure.

“I guess I should give you my condolences,” Bruce said out of nowhere about a week after her weird conversation with Tony.

Half of the team was away on some type of mission, to which Wanda and Bruce hadn’t been needed, and both of them had ended up inside the man’s lab while he worked on something while Wanda read a book. She could’ve gone to the back of the Avengers’ compound where she could sit under a tree and enjoy the breeze, but Bruce was interested in some of the Hydra’s experiments and she decided to tag along with him in case he had any questions she could answer. Bruce and her weren’t that close, though they didn’t have problems with each other.

Wanda looked up from her book with a frown. “For what?” She asked. Pietro had died a while ago and Bruce had said he was sorry about it as soon as they landed after it happened, even going as far as giving her a gentle hug and a sad smile.

Bruce’s dark eyes glanced at her in sympathy, though he didn’t stop mixing whatever he was mixing inside a vial. “For falling in love with Natasha Romanoff,” he explained and, above all, he actually sounded sorry for her. “We should start a club for unrequited love or something.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose comically as her jaw dropped in surprise. She had seen inside both Natasha’s and Bruce’s heads and she knew that it had happened, however, they never spoke about it and, as far as Wanda knew, they both preferred to pretend it never happened. So, to have the man address the fact that he had feelings for Natasha at some point in time was a bit disturbing. Especially because, yes, Wanda knew about it too and, all people considered, she was the one who tried the hardest to pretend she didn’t.

It was none of her business, to start with, but to think about it made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

And now Bruce Banner wanted to talk with Wanda as if they had both been cursed by some terrible catastrophe.

Which, Wanda supposed, was understandable yet extremely unfair.

“Surprised I know?” Bruce asked with a hint of humor.

“I’m starting to think the entire world has been watching me,” Wanda groaned as she closed her book but her voice was too low for Bruce to hear it.

“I too once looked at Natasha as if we could have a future together, just like you do now,” Bruce kept talking and, despite the harsh words, he didn’t sound like a jerk while saying it. It was probably his gentle nature saving him. “And that’s the problem, you know? Natasha doesn’t think she deserves to have a future, so she won’t even try to build one,” Bruce sighed and looked back at the vial. “We have that in common. Neither of us thinks we can have what Tony found with Pepper, or build something like Clint has.”

Bruce was fine talking about Natasha but he wasn’t comfortable looking at Wanda while he spoke about himself. The girl felt some rush of anger inside her and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying all the things that ran inside her mind at that moment. She knew Bruce meant well in the end.

“Maybe you’re both too harsh on yourselves,” Wanda pointed out softly.

When Bruce looked at her, it was pretty clear he couldn’t disagree more with what she just said but, maybe to take the spotlight away from him, he nodded. “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted to warn you. You’re still young and I’m sure one-sided love won’t take you down. Just take care of yourself, okay? Don’t dream too much, keep your feet on the ground.”

It was the most direct way of saying “don’t be in love with Natasha Romanoff” without actually saying it.

Wanda didn’t reply - mostly because that’s not how feelings work, after all - and Bruce dropped the subject right after that. Wanda waited a few more minutes out of respect before excusing herself from his lab, taking her book with her, and that had been it. She would do a lot of things to prevent herself from having that conversation with Bruce again because the last thing she wanted was to hear the man talk about a time when he and Natasha talked about running away together - even if it never happened or if neither of them actually meant it.

The rest of the team returned by the end of the night and Wanda found a seat as far away from Bruce as she could manage when Tony declared they should watch a movie together. Turns out that Wanda realized she would rather hear Tony Stark come up with a thousand different ways to address sex than talk about feelings with Bruce Banner. Who would’ve guessed?

After that, Wanda got a break from the entire “let’s talk about your feelings” thing. Wanda left to join a mission with Steve and Vision, then it was time for Steve to leave with Clint and Natasha for something else. It was some nice good two weeks of not having to talk about how bad she was at hiding her crushes but it didn’t last forever, obviously.

“Hey, Red,” Clint said as soon as he was done eating after returning from his mission. It all went well enough that no one had a bruise or a more serious wound but Clint still had enough adrenaline rushing through his veins that he assured everyone he didn’t want to take a rest like Natasha and Steve wanted to. “You and me, training room. You game?”

It was hard to understand Clint at first when she first met him. Wanda’s first language wasn’t English and it could be hard to keep up when he wasn’t saying all the words. She always thought he would get along with Pietro just fine because of that. As time went by, and the more Wanda had English and accent classes with Natasha, it became easier to follow along, though.

So, she simply nodded and followed him to the training room after changing into something more comfortable. Natasha and Steve had been the ones to give her hand-to-hand combat training when she first joined the team but Wanda now sparred with everyone else since she proved she wouldn’t get herself killed accidentally. Clint was already inside waiting for her and they soon got on the training mattress. Clint wasn’t as good as Natasha but he was still better than Wanda, even more so since she wasn’t allowed to use her powers inside the room, and she quickly started to get her ass kicked.

“You’re still not that good at the whole kicking butt thing,” Clint teased her as he reached out with a hand for her to take it.

She grabbed it and got up with a groan when her muscles protested. “I could throw you across the street with a flick of my finger,” Wanda argued.

Clint simply laughed. “Yeah, right. Come on, try again.”

By the seventh time Wanda landed on the matt, Clint was starting to get tired finally and didn’t try to get her to get up. Wanda lay there, sweaty and out of breath, arms open and staring at the ceiling while cursing herself for never being able to keep up with him. Clint was drinking some water, staring down at her with a smug grin, and Wanda was waiting for him to tease her about it too.

He went to another approach, though. “You know, I thought you would’ve learned more things about it since Natasha was the one teaching you. Thought you would want to impress her or something.”

Wanda groaned because, by now, she knew what was about to happen and she wasn’t thrilled by it. “Not you too,” she complained.

Clint’s smirk told her he had heard her but he didn’t ask any questions about it. “Lemme tell ya,” he paused and pointed at the girl laying on her back, “Natasha would not be impressed.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and grunted as she set down so she wouldn’t feel so damn vulnerable. “You shouldn’t gloat. It’s bad luck.”

The man laughed even harder at that. “Right. Keep that in mind if you ever manage to fulfill your wildest dream to get Natasha to pin you down in a more fun way.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Wanda replied and used one hand to prop herself up. She got to her feet and glared at him. “Do you still want to fight or can I go take a shower?”

“You wish you could share a shower with-”

“Bye, Clint,” Wanda interrupted him so abruptly that he just laughed while she walked away.

Wanda was out of the door before he could say anything else but she had just stepped into the hallway when she walked right against a wall. Well, not a wall, she noticed when she looked up after letting out a small squeak. Steve Rogers.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” she greeted him. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” Steve assured her with his sweet smile. “I also wasn’t looking. Are you done training?”

“Yes. Clint is trying to be funny.” Wanda rolled her eyes and heard his deep chuckle. “I thought you were resting.”

“I was but I’m kind of hungry now. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?”

“Yes. You and cap should have a tea party,” Clint said as he walked out of the room as well, not even trying to not hit her with his shoulder.

Wanda frowned and glared at him but the man simply laughed and walked away. Seriously, it was like sharing a house with a bunch of kids.

“I do make some pretty good tea,” Steve commented while giving her a little smile.

And Wanda was hooked.

She went down to the kitchen area with him, happily listening to him tell her about the mission and how it went. Wanda sat on one of the high stools, putting both of her elbows on the kitchen island and her hands clasped together while she watched Steve move around at ease to put some water on the kettle. He then walked to the fridge to find some leftovers he could warm up and Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the scene. A super soldier making some tea and eating old spaghetti.

“How were things while we were gone?” Steve asked after leaning back against the counter so he could eat and look at her at the same time.

“Normal,” Wanda replied, even though nothing had been very normal since the entire team decided to watch her every move because they thought it was so fun to see her little crush on Natasha. “Tony tried to make another movie night and was mad when Bruce fell asleep in the middle of what he called the best movie ever made.”

“Yes, sounds normal.” Steve rolled his eyes although the smile on his lips was fond. “Did you train with someone?”

Wanda shook her head. Ever since her training got less rigid - it happened after Natasha declared she was better in her combat skills enough to hold her own against their usual share of villains and after Steve was confident she could run without having a heart attack - Wanda didn’t go to the training room every day anymore. She liked to run in the mornings because it felt nice to clear her mind for the usual two miles she took and she enjoyed sparring sometimes just to learn some new move she might have missed before, but that was it. She relied a lot on her magic and Wanda was truly fine with it even if she knew Natasha would rather otherwise.

Steve too, though luckily he didn’t give her another long speech about the importance of training. “Well, I’m back now. We could train tomorrow morning.”

Wanda grimaced despite her best tries not to. “Sure,” she replied however because, well, she was a part of the team and people had to trust her. The man seemed amused by that, at least. “Maybe we could do that pair thing again,” Wanda suggested mainly because it was more fun to be paired up with someone while both of you tried to take down the other duo.

“I doubt Clint will be up before noon,” Steve said and finally put the now empty container down on the counter. The water was warm enough by now and he moved to grab two cups from the top cabinet - where Wanda could reach but where Natasha couldn’t, much to her disdain. “You want some too, yes?”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “We could ask Nat and Tony to join us, maybe.” Tony hated those sparring things but Wanda still wanted to make him suffer after making her painfully listen to him talk about sex.

Steve put one of the mugs in front of her, placed his palm on the marble and took a sip of his drink while looking at Wanda with amusement in his eyes. He waited until she drank some of it, watched her small grimace, and then chuckled when he pushed the sugar toward her. Wanda grabbed a cube and dropped it on the hot liquid before taking a spoon to swirl it.

“I once knew someone who put four sugar cubes in her tea,” Steve told her, grabbing her attention again.

Wanda’s eyes moved up when she noticed how much his voice had changed when he said that. Steve’s tone was something between longing and heartache, and his face showed something similar by the way his smile lost all strength. Wanda knew who he was thinking about. She had been inside his head once, she saw the woman’s face, and she felt his sorrow for the life that could have been.

It still took her breath away sometimes because Steve had loved that woman so dearly and then someone decided to transform him into a deadly weapon for the military and he lost it.

Since she didn’t know what to say - and because there was nothing she could come up with that would be truly helpful - Wanda reached out and placed her hand on top of his on the counter, squeezing his fingers tightly. Steve seemed surprised by it but he quickly offered her a small smile and squeezed her hand back.

“Love is a funny thing,” he whispered after a few seconds where he was probably debating with himself if he should keep talking or not. “It can give you the drive to be better, to do better, to fight more, to keep going. But it can also take away all of that,” Steve sighed, looked into her eyes, and tilted his head a little. “It can be a blessing and it can be a curse.”

“I know that,” Wanda replied carefully. “I thought I would never be able to smile again when I lost Pietro.” And there were still days where it was hard, where it was impossible to smile or eat or get out of bed or be reminded that she was still alive and her twin brother wasn’t. But there were days when she would be hit by the sudden wish to live for both of them, to try every milkshake and go to every beach and watch every movie. “I know they’re different situations, but I understand.”

“I know you do,” Steve smiled sadly. “You went through a lot already. More than most people would even be able to take.”

Wanda said nothing because she learned very soon that life wasn’t a competition of who had a more traumatic past, especially when she was part of a team where no one had an easy path to where they currently were. No one there had an easy life.

“Like I said,” Steve kept talking after he realized Wanda wasn’t going to say anything, “love can heal and it can hurt.”

“Steve,” Wanda smiled at him, “if you have something to say, just say it.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed and he averted his eyes for a moment, cheeks flushed and lips curled at the corners. “That was it,” Steve said eventually with a shrug. “That was all I had to say. Love can heal and it can hurt,” he repeated while taking the mug to his mouth again. “We need to be careful about it.”

After saying that, he took a sip of his tea and Wanda copied his movement just to keep herself busy for a while longer. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“It’s not my business, I know,” Steve admitted. “I just worry.”

“That I will break down and screw the team over if Natasha wants nothing to do with me and tells me to shove my feelings somewhere else?” Wanda asked without beating around the bush like Steve was. It was better when people were more direct about it, she decided.

The old man, though, grimaced and pursed his lips. “You’re spending too much time with Tony.”

“You should hear some of the things he said,” Wanda huffed but didn’t explain what she meant.

“I just worry, that’s all,” Steve said. “You went through a lot and… and some people might not be able to know how to deal with it.”

Wanda put her cup down. “That’s what every girl wants to hear, I suppose.”

His eyes went wide open after that. “No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like-”

“That’s okay, Steve,” she stopped him and slid out of her seat to go wash the mug on the sink.

“Let me.” Steve approached her to stop Wanda from reaching for the soap. He offered her a smile when she glanced up at him.

She could’ve argued if he hadn’t decided to join the large list of people trying to get their noses on her business. Instead, she let him take the sponge and the mug, thanked him for the tea, and left the kitchen. As she walked to the elevator, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder just how easily people could read her. It appeared like everyone living under the same roof as her could read her like an open book. It was very unsettling, to say the least. She wasn’t a spy like Clint or Natasha but Wanda was sure she should be better at keeping things inside if she wanted to join their hero thing club.

Wanda asked the artificial intelligence to take her to her floor and, seconds before, she was walking down the hallway on the floor she shared with Natasha. It was an entire floor just for them since they were the only women on the team but they barely ever used the small kitchen or the living room area. Wanda remembered being new to the team and seeing Natasha walking that corridor all sweaty after a training session, how her mouth felt dry and how her heart beat fast. She wondered if any of the people who had spoken with her before knew about that.

Tony and Clint would never let her live it down, Bruce might try to form some type of connection with her, Thor would probably give her a high five or something, and Steve would blush for days. How any of those men managed to be superheroes was beyond her.

Wanda sighed as she pushed the door open and then closed it behind her after she walked inside the room. She kicked off her shoes out of habit while debating with herself if she should jump into the shower already or rest for a couple of minutes, though that became an easy decision when her eyes landed on the bed. Wanda fluffed her pillow before her hand found a shoulder to gently push against.

She heard an unhappy groan that made her smile before the body on the bed turned around so Wanda was staring at the muscular back. There was a bruise and a small cut there, probably a memoir from the last mission, and she made a mental note to rub some healing ointment later. With another sigh, Wanda slipped under the covers, wrapping her arms around a slim waist and pressing her body against another one in a big spoon position she knew so well. Her nose immediately found the back of a neck between red locks and she took a deep breath in even if she knew there wouldn’t be any perfume to smell - people remember smells, she had been told once, and the goal is to go unnoticed.

“Where were you?”

Wanda smiled at the husky tone caused by drowsiness. “Your friends were either trying to kick my ass or to give me a shovel talk in reverse.” Tony had taught her what ‘shovel talk’ meant when he was telling a story once and Wanda was proud to finally be able to use it in a conversation. There were many American slang she was still learning about.

“Do I want to know?”

“Maybe later, after you had enough rest. You just came back,” Wanda said and then pressed her lips between shoulder blades.

That made Natasha sigh and grab Wanda’s hand that was resting on her stomach. The redhead pulled her closer, impossibly closer. “I’m awake now. Tell me about it.”

Wanda hesitated for a moment because she really wanted the other woman to be able to rest after returning from a mission but she also knew Natasha wouldn’t drop the subject. “Well, it appears that the entire team seems to think I have a crush on you.”

Natasha’s body shook with a chuckle against her. “Where on Earth did they take that idea from?” She joked while pushing herself back against Wanda’s body.

“I guess I’m an open book or something. Everyone has accused me of being in love with you or wanting to sleep with you.”

“They must be insane,” Natasha replied with a smile clear in her voice.

“They think I’m the insane one,” Wanda huffed a laugh and was about to tell the woman to go to sleep again when Natasha started to move. She removed her arm from around the redhead and patiently waited until Natasha turned around to face her, putting a space between them to be able to talk.

“How come?” Natasha wondered. “Please, don’t tell me these people think I’m literally a black widow or something.” She rolled her eyes at that because she could see it happening way too easily.

Wanda laughed. “No, but they do think you’re going to let me down gently. Or not so gently, I suppose. Bruce is pretty sure you’re going to break my heart in a million pieces, Steve thinks I’m too fragile to handle you, and Tony thinks it’s very likely that you would use me for sex and throw me in the gutter.”

Green eyes closed, which made Wanda pout a little because she loved staring at them. “Are any of them wrong?”

There it was. The self-doubting thing returning full force. They had talked about it many times before and Wanda never liked hearing Natasha put herself short. Bruce had made her a bit nauseous but he hadn’t lied about what Natasha thought of herself and her future. Wanda had only a few months to try to make Natasha see that she was allowed to be happy, that she deserved to be happy, that she shouldn’t punish herself for her past, but it was months against a lifetime of beliefs. Wanda knew she still had a long way before her words started making sense to the other woman.

“All of them, actually,” Wanda pointed out. “They didn’t even think you would ever spare me a look.”

“They’re stupid then. You’re a very nice thing to look at,” Natasha teased with a smile and cracked one eye open, which made Wanda chuckle and lean closer to kiss her nose, before she closed it again.

“We agree your friends lack some sense.”

“They’re your friends. For me, they’re coworkers.”

Wanda scoffed loudly at that. “No one believes that. You have a soft spot for them.”

Natasha sighed. “Just because they can’t figure out how to keep themselves alive without me having to save their asses all the fucking time.”

“Well, whatever is the reason,” Wanda said even if she knew Nat wasn’t serious, “they certainly aren’t my friends. They keep telling me to stop looking at you like you hung the stars or something like that. It didn’t make sense when Tony said it.”

“Maybe they tell you that because they’re your friends and because they care,” the redhead commented and opened her eyes again. “They don’t want to see you hurt. They care about you.”

Wanda didn’t have anything to say about that. She was a part of the team for a while now but it felt different to know those people cared for her, that they liked her, that they wanted her around. It was a strange feeling the whole ‘being wanted’ thing. Pietro used to be the only one to make her feel like that and it was hard to feel anything remotely like that ever since he was gone.

“They act like a gossip magazine,” Wanda said instead.

“They do, don’t they?” Natasha chuckled and silence fell around them for a few moments. Wanda was starting to feel sleep wanting to creep in and she knew she had to get up to take a shower before allowing herself to sleep but she felt so comfortable that it was impossible to move. She was about to ask Natasha to roll over again so they could sleep when the woman started talking. “And they think I don’t deserve you. That’s why they keep warning you to stay away.”

“No one warned me to stay away,” Wanda corrected her gently.

“They did and you should.” Natasha bit her bottom lip, looking too much like she was trying not to get emotional at that moment. “I’m broken. All sharp ends and hard edges. You’re soft, you can bruise and bleed.”

“Natasha, with all due respect, I spent the last few weeks hearing our friends try to say how I should or should not feel, sticking their noses in my business and basically saying I was too naive to make my own decisions.” Wanda paused to look deep into Natasha’s eyes. “I won’t hear it from you too. Not after I set there in silence and listened to them talk because they have no idea that you would be laying here in bed waiting for me to join you after you returned from a trip. We agreed not to tell them a thing, I get it, but you can’t agree with them in something like this. Not when you’re living this with me.”

Natasha’s green eyes filled with tears that never fell before she tilted her chin up to kiss Wanda’s forehead. Her lips lingered against her skin for a few seconds until they formed words. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda whispered back.

“And I’m sorry we hadn’t told them yet,” the redhead added.

They talked about it before - about safety, about how it was better if no one else knew, about how keeping them under wraps was better so no bad guy could use it against them - and Wanda now had more arguments to validate that decision. It would be great to see their reactions to find out how wrong they had been but it was also good to know they could keep living their lives without having them trying to get a say about everything. They all meant well, she knew that, though it was hard to remember that sometimes.

“It’s for the best,” Wanda declared with a shrug.

“Suppose it is. I mean, they all think I’m one step away from breaking your heart.”

“They only think that because I’m too soft,” Wanda told her when she noticed the slight pain in the woman’s voice again. “It’s me, not you.”

“You need to stop talking with Tony,” Natasha scoffed before she started to turn around again, apparently tired of the conversation.

“You just wait until I tell them that you bring me flowers sometimes,” Wanda teased her as she wrapped her arm around Natasha’s waist one more time.

“Don’t you dare,” the spy argued fervently. “I have a reputation to keep.”

“And you’re doing a great job at that because everyone thinks you would use a flower to poke my eye or something.” Wanda chuckled at the thought. “Oh, they will never believe it when I tell them about you taking care of me after a nightmare.”

“I’m warning you, Maximoff.”

“And that you rub my feet every time you kick my ass at training.”

“I’m starting to feel like kicking your ass right now,” Natasha groaned.

Wanda just smiled. “How violent. Maybe they’re right and I should take care.”

“Yes, I’m dangerous.”

As she said that, Natasha hugged Wanda’s arm between her breasts to kiss the back of her hand and Wanda thought how lucky she was to be sharing a bed with the big, bad, scary spy.

[pedrito-friskito]

If you’re still taking requests, could I please have "You look adorable when you smile" with the resident grump, Mr Javier Peña 💖

nonnie how did you know that javier peña is the way to my heart?

my head is stuck on the ranch these days, and this was a fun little prequel to what’s already been published 💕 hope you enjoy! (no angst or smut, just fluffy goodness!)

sleepover saturday

meet-cute

(word count 3k)

He’s had a long fucking day.

Scratch that, Javier is having a long fucking week. Month. Year. Lifetime, whatever. There aren’t enough cartons of cigarettes or enough litres of whiskey that could take the edge off how he’s feeling. And today? Oh, today the hours had just ticked by, five minutes feeling like thirty, his watch moving so slowly that he was convinced far too early on in the day that the battery was dead and needed replacing. But no, the hands kept ticking away at a glacial pace, taunting him.

So yes, as soon as he’d finished his day on the ranch, he’d gotten into his truck, still dressed in his work clothes, and took off for the nearest bar. Not like they’re few and far between in Laredo; he could have walked if he was feeling athletic, or even ridden a horse — most bars within reasonable distance of the ranch have a stable out back.

But he didn’t have the patience to fight one of the mares into a saddle, so into his truck he went, dust kicking up in the rearview as the ranch disappeared behind him.

Javier has been home a few weeks now. The ranch has been officially his for exactly seven days, and he is bone tired. There is dirt in places there shouldn’t be, he’s half-convinced he pulled a muscle in his back, and his head throbs something fierce with every step. The state of him doesn’t stop him from plunking himself on a barstool, ordering three fingers of whiskey and shoving his head in his hands.

He’s not sure he’s cut out for this.

Sure, he was raised for it. Chucho was always adamant that Javi pull his weight, and he did. Or, tried. There were certain things his father knew never to trust him with, turning him towards easier tasks, things Chucho could do with his eyes closed. Javi can remember being offended, at first, his teenage brain filled with hormones that whispered rage quickly — why wouldn’t his dad just trust him? — but then as time wore on, as his attentions were diverted, pulled in the direction of pretty girls and far-off countries, the idea of a badge in his hand and a gun on his hip, he cared less and less. 

Eventually, Chucho stopped asking him to do anything, and then Javier was off to college, to becoming an agent, running headlong into Colombia before he really realized what he was getting himself into.

And then somehow, here he was, back in Laredo, right where he started.

Not enough whiskey in the world. His whole body aches for a cigarette, but he swore to his folks he’d quit.

He’s halfway through his second drink when the door opens, the tinkling of bells above it signalling a new customer. Out of habit, he’d perched himself within sight of the exit, and his gaze lifts as you step through the door. High boots, short dress, hair piled high on your head. You’re beautiful, a grin on your lips that has him inhaling deeply, inflating his chest as you bee-line for the bar, a gaggle of other girls staggering into the bar behind you. Judging from the Bride-To-Be sash on one of your companions, Javi assumes it to be a bachelorette party, and he chuckles into his glass as you approach the bar, much more sure-footed than the rest of your friends.

Javier stays quiet as you rattle off an order to the bartender, an odd mix of cocktails and beers, finished with a tonic water with lemon. When the bartender turns away, you lean heavily onto the bar top, and Javier doesn’t miss the way you seem to deflate a little as you wait for your drinks. You start to glance around the bar, eyes flicking this way and that, until they land on Javi, who realizes he’s just been caught staring at you.

“Hi,” you say, a grin lifting the corner of your mouth.

“Hi,” he mumbles back, lifting his glass for a sip. “Bachelorette?”

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh, tossing your head back. “Would you believe this is our fourth bar of the night?”

“Looking at you,” Javi drawls, letting his eyes drop quickly before they flick back to your face. Your own narrow at him, “no. Looking at your friends over there,” he juts his chin towards the women in question, “definitely.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re upright, for starters.”

You scoff out another little laugh, mouthing your thanks to the bartender when he delivers the tonic and lemon first. You take a big gulp, breathing out a sigh as you wait for the rest of the drinks. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure they all get home to their husbands and boyfriends and fiancés.” Something in your tone makes him curious, and he can’t help his question.

“And who are you going home to?”

“My cat,” you say, laughing again, “and the attic bedroom of my aunt’s house.”

“Sounds cozy.”

You eye him sidelong, hand curled around your glass. “Are you from around here?”

“Born and bred,” he replies, noting the lift to your lips. “You?”

“Not exactly,” you return, taking another sip. Your face has fallen, brows pinched together as you stare down into the glass. “It’s a long story.”

“One requiring a much stronger drink than that?” Javier asks, and instantly regrets it at the way your lips turn down into a frown, the line in your forehead growing deeper. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, expression going artificially bright, “it’s all right. It’s just…been a long day.” You glance over your shoulder as your giggling group of friends. “A really long day.”

Javi lifts his glass towards yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

Your smile has returned as you tap your glass to his, and Javi sips slow, savouring the burn down his throat. “I’m Javier, by the way,” he says, and sticks his hand out. “Javier Peña.”

You give your own name in return, taking his hand. Soft, is his first thought, the warmth of your palm against his making him jolt. You’re still shaking when the bartender turns back with a tray full of your ordered drinks. Behind you, Javier can hear your cohorts screeching your name.

“I better take these over there,” you say, your voice turning sheepish, reluctantly letting go of his hand. He doesn’t miss the hesitation, and it makes his chest puff out a little. He just nods as you slide your own drink onto the tray, thanking the bartender and sliding another few bills across the bar as you try and lift the tray as carefully as possible. “Maybe I’ll see you later?” you say, and Javi just nods some more.

He watches you walk away, and wonders if the swing in your hips is deliberate. His mouth goes dry, and he sucks back more of his whiskey.

Another few hours pass, and Javier is decidedly sober, too worn out to order another drink and suddenly desperate for his bed. He thanks the bartender and closes his tab, waves goodnight, and heads for the door. He has to pass your table as he goes — he’s surprised you’re all still here; the bar is relatively dead — and with a stutter in his chest he realizes you are nowhere to be found. There are a few harmless catcalls thrown his way by your friends as he pushes open the door and heads for his truck.

“You leaving without saying goodbye?” your voice calls, and he spins on his heel to see you leaned against the bricks, cigarette dangling between your fingers. “I think this is the only bar in Laredo that doesn’t let you smoke inside.”

He walks towards you, heart thumping with every step. “Possibly the only bar in the whole state.”

You give him one of those smiles again as he leans against the wall beside you. “Possibly.” You fish your pack from your purse, extend it towards him. “You want one?”

Javi eyes the pack, one filtered end poking out of the wrapper. “I shouldn’t,” he says after a beat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tryna quit.”

You laugh, taking a drag, tapping the ash and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of you two. “Aren’t we all.”

“Promised my folks,” he tells you, staring down at his boots. “I’m taking over the family ranch for my dad and well…it’s a…”

“Long story?” you finish, dropping the cigarette to the pavement, stubbing it out with your heel. “One requiring a strong drink?”

Despite himself, Javier smiles, broadly, the kind that tugs at his cheeks until they almost hurt. “Exactly.”

“Wow,” you murmur, and there’s something in your tone that makes his head lift, cheeks heating when he sees the way you’re almost scrutinizing him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say with a shake of your head, pinching your lower lip between you fingers. “You just…you look adorable when you smile. You should do it more often.”

Before you can get another word out, your group bursts front the bar, your name slurred by multiple women, all of them beckoning you to follow. You sigh, pushing off the wall, and go to take a step before you pause, fishing a pen from your purse and grabbing his wrist.

“Use this,” you say, scribbling on his palm, a string of numbers that make Javi’s heart crawl up his throat, “if the spirit moves you. Or if you feel like telling long stories over strong drinks.” You smile, and for a moment, Javi wonders if the ground is about to open up and swallow him whole. Or if he’s about to wake up in a cold sweat in his bed, that this is all just a dream. That you are just a dream. “Goodnight, Javier.”

“Goodnight.”

Nope, not a dream.

+

He doesn’t call.

As soon as he gets home from the bar, he’s scribbling your phone number onto a scrap of paper, taping it to the cabinet beside the phone with your name, underlining the word CALL three times, so hard the ink bleeds through the paper. His head is spinning, admittedly tipsy from the whiskey, but more on you. He’s intrigued, he’s curious, he’s pulled in like a magnet facing north.

He wants to see you again.

It sparks something in his chest akin to forest fire, and damn it all, if that doesn’t scare him to death. Yes, there have been women since he came back from Colombia; he’s lonely, not celibate. But you…he can’t put his finger on it. Something about the way you laughed, the smile on your face, the way he wanted to spill his guts to you right there at the bar before you got pulled away, how he wanted to do it again outside when you were whisked away once more.

Monday morning, he taps the piece of paper bearing your number on his way out to start his day, making a mental note to call you once he’s done. He’d managed to talk himself in and out of it at least ten times over the weekend, but Monday felt right. A new week, fresh start.

Except, he’d been lazy Saturday and lazier Sunday, skipping more than half the daily chores, which leaves him playing catchup most of the morning, well into the afternoon, only starting Monday’s tasks as the sun starts to dip in the sky. By the time he hauls his ass through the door, it is late, the sky black and the clock on the stove reading quarter to twelve. 

He talks himself out of calling you then easily; it’s late, you are probably asleep. He doesn’t want to wake you.

By Wednesday, he’s caught up on his daily chores, and is through the door by six. A reasonable time to call. But a tiny voice in his head says NO, and he takes a long shower instead.

Thursday seems promising, but when he picks up the receiver, the damn thing starts ringing before he’s even had a chance to dial, and suddenly Steve Murphy’s voice is on the other end, barking at him. “Javi! We still on for dinner tomorrow?”

He fucking forgot.

“Uh, yeah!” Javi chirps, trying not to sound as caught off guard as he feels. “Yeah, yeah, what time you think you guys’ll be here?”

“Six okay?”

“Yeah,” he says again, the word already feeling stiff on his tongue. “Yeah, six is great.”

“Good,” Steve replies. “Livvy’s excited to see her Uncle Javi.”

He forces a chuckle. “I’m sure she is.”

Steve pauses, and then, “You fuckin’ forgot, didn’t you?”

“Oh, shut up, Murphy,” he throws back. “See you tomorrow.”

Steve starts cackling. “Goodnight, Peña.”

The next day, he cuts his day short, in honour of his guests. He’s gotta cook a damn meal, for chrissakes, which means a trip into town for groceries other than whiskey and that instant mac and cheese garbage he’s been living off of. It’s easy, and tastes surprisingly good with a glass of Jack Daniels.

He’s not quite sure what leads him to wander into the bakery. It’s on the main drag, a few blocks down from the grocery store, and he managed to park his truck a few shops down. Something about the bright red awning draws him closer, his curiosity getting the better of him, and when he sees the array of sugary goodness in the window, his stomach rumbles something fierce, and before he can think twice, he’s pulling the door open, bells tickling above.

Javier goes absolutely stock-still when he sees you behind the counter.

The inside is just as bright as the out, candy stripes on the walls, illuminated display cases filled with all sorts of treats. One of those old-fashioned cash registers, brassy and imposing. You’re busy with another customer, handing the older woman a box tied with a bright red bow. You’re laughing as she says something, thanking her as she hands you money, grinning when you hand her back the change.

“Have a good night, Mary,” you say as the woman takes her box and turns. “Tell Paul I said he has to share that cake!”

The bell above the door rings again as the woman leaves, and then you and Javi are the only two standing there. There’s no way you haven’t realized that he—

“You never called.” Your voice is clear, unwavering, and you spread your hands wide on the countertop before leaning down and pushing your chin into your hand, nailing him to the spot with your stare. Javi stares at his boots.

“I know,” he starts, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I was gonna, I just…” He pauses, inhales deeply and lifts his head. “I don’t have an excuse, I’m sorry.”

You balk slightly, brows raising as you straighten, stepping a little closer until there’s only the counter separating the two of you. “Wow, how honest of you.” The corner of your mouth quirks, but it’s not remotely close to the smiles you’d offered at the bar that night. Your shoulder lifts. “It’s okay, you know, if you didn’t want to call. I won’t get upset or something.”

“No,” he says far too quickly. “No, cariño, believe me, I wanted to. I really wanted to, and I have been meaning to. This is just…” He pulls at his collar, shoving his hand through his hair. Fuck, it’s hot in here. Or is it just him? “Would you have dinner with me?” he breathes out the question, the words a rush. “Saturday?”

You almost flinch, your eyes widening. Javi tenses, waits for the rejection he believes is coming. Why would you agree? He never called, even after meeting you in that bar had felt like the first good thing in a long time, and then he just shows up here, clearly where you work, out of the blue, bewildered as all hell, and asks—

“Yes.”

Javi can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face, and you give him one to match. His heart is racing. He steps closer to the counter. “I should have called.”

You nod, agreeing. “You really should have.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s my aunt’s place,” you explain, toying with the string of your apron. “My cousin moved to Florida for school, and she really needed the help, so here I am.” You lift a finger, pointing it in the air. “And no, that’s not the long story requiring alcohol.”

Javier chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then I look forward to hearing the actual story.”

“As you should,” you say, your expression turning almost triumphant. “You should bring a notebook; I might just quiz you after.”

He laughs again. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

You lean forward on the counter, the space between you growing even smaller. “Play your cards right on Saturday, and I might just forgive you.” You glance around, eyes darting towards the door before your voice drops. “Though, there’s one thing I think we need to do before then.”

“What’s that?”

Without another word, you reach out, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt and dragging him down to your level. You kiss him soft, lips meeting so gently Javi can feel himself melting into you already. Your mouth tastes like powdered sugar.

His cheeks are on fire when he pulls back, immediately licking the taste of you off his lips, half a mind to kiss you again. You’re beaming, thumb tucked between your teeth, and Javi almost stumbles back a step. “I should…” He rubs the back of his neck, gesturing towards the door. “I’m gonna—”

“Okay,” you say, the word tinged with laugher. “So, Saturday?”

“Saturday,” he agrees. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Seven is good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, another little grin on your face. “Goodbye, Javier.”

“Bye.”

He’s halfway to his truck when he realizes he didn’t get a fucking dessert, or your address. He abandons the idea of the former as he clambers back into his truck and starts the engine; he’s sure Connie will bring something, perfect guest she is.

As for the latter, well, it’s a perfect excuse to call you.

[loaksky]

angst!!!! prompt 10 with neteyam please:)))) congrats you deserve a billion more followers

first installment for the party; thank you for participating! <3

neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader, angst no happy ending, wc: 788

He’s destined for greatness.

It’s a common statement, ripples through the clan and murmured among young warriors and elders alike. Neteyam’s got a huge title on his shoulders, quite the responsibility when it comes to the course of his future, but there are little doubts. Not when he’s incredible due to his own merit.

His life’s always been cut out for him and he’s so used to getting things right, to having everything he could ever get his hands on, but one thing lies so grossly out of reach—the woman who has a stronghold on his weak heart.

She’d always been unattainable, blended well into the background that few souls knew who had staked such a claim on him.

But you did.

How could you not when Neteyam’s been the only boy you’d ever loved in your twenty orbits on the moon? And try as you might to capture his attention, to take his mind off his elusive love, nothing seems to get him to budge.

That is until your parents and his, great friends and war partners since before your birth, call the two of you to gather around the tent’s roiling fire.

Neteyam is destined for greatness, but the news that clings heavy in the air is anything but.

“My heart is already spoken for,” Neteyam says vehemently.

His father and mother look conflicted as they paint their picture.

“Maitan...” Neytiri sighs. “We understand that this isn’t ideal, that—”

Neteyam’s outburst isn't expected, always been obedient and willing to sacrifice his own happiness if it means well for the greater good. But this isn’t something he’s willing to negotiate, not when his heart hasn’t soared for another like this in his entire lifetime.

“No,” he says with finality. “You and Dad were able to choose your path, why shouldn’t I?”

“Look where that's gotten us, Neteyam,” Jake says, voice eerily calm over the crackle of the fire. “This union will be beneficial for the people. Don’t be selfish.”

You watch in silence, body partially hidden behind the looming shadows of your parents.

For the first time, his eyes meet yours from across the fire, and they burn.

You stretch the extra mile in hopes that he’ll come around, in hopes that maybe he'll learn to love you. But there’s a side to Neteyam that’s cruel, that will never forgive you for unintentionally shattering his chances.

It’s a side you see more often than not, one that is cold and biting. And you don’t know what you should’ve expected. Nothing would get in the way of them, not even you.

You learn this much when the foreign smell of flowery herbs linger on his skin, when the most minuscule blooms of bruises mar this throat and chest, masked as mishaps in the forest.

And you try hard. Mash and mold his favorite foods around the fire with the elders, twist and fashion pieces of your heart into tangible items until your fingers bleed.

But none of it sways his stony heart.

You try another route, try to plant seeds of her in yourself, but it this sets him off, makes him seethe with a bubbling anger when he happens upon you with waves of freshly washed hair, momentarily unconfined by the neat braids you usually weave.

You’re adorned in the most beautiful pieces of jewelry, sparkling with a renowned sense of youth. And Neteyam could look past that, could write it off, but then a scent lingers, one that wraps him up and chokes him.

“What are you doing?” he asks bluntly, fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep as his lip curls.

Your smile falters, golden eyes fluttering as you look up at him.

“Wanted to try something new,” you whisper.

When you shift and the sweet smell of herbs circles around him, the familiarity sinks in and he's reminded of what he's being deprived of.

“You look stupid,” he gruffs.

You swallow, eyes misting as you stare at the beaded cord around his throat. It’s a new addition, one that you haven’t seen him wear before. Your mind flutters to the discarded pile of trinkets you’d made for him early on in whatever this precarious relationship was.

“Please,” you murmur, lips twitching into a frown as you reach for his fingers. "What am I doing wrong?”

A look of disdain shutters across his handsome features as he pulls away from you.

He scoffs.

“What aren’t you doing wrong?” he bites back.

You feel small, tiny under such a hateful glare. You don’t know what to say, what words will convince him to give you a shot, but he’s speaking again before you can muster the courage.

It's his final blow.

“You'll never be her.”

neng © 2023

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - February 11th - Week

I’m traveling this weekend for my niece’s quinceanera so I’m sharing a list of my favorite fics that I posted on twitter last year. It’s still some of my favorite fics of all time, so this week go show them some love or send me some of YOUR favs, and I’ll be back next Sunday with our regularly scheduled weekly reading. 

~*~ 

Open Field in Front of Him by orphan_account

Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

In Trouble Deep by FestiveFerret, SirSapling

"Whoever did this has a reason, and Stark needs to be with someone who can protect him. He won’t exactly be able to protect himself like this.” Fury looked at the baby consideringly. “No, it’s you, Steve. Besides, he likes you. Suck it up, soldier, you’re stuck with him.”

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Bulletproof by foxxcub

At age fifteen, Steve Rogers had been in love with Tony Stark.

By age twenty, he’d (mostly) gotten over it. And then he promptly became Tony Stark's fuck buddy.

dick drunk by mistymountainking

“I’m going to fuck you stupid,” Steve says, pulling away only a fraction of an inch to say it, a promise as deep and certain as the look in his eyes, “and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Tony.”

Tony wants a drink. Steve gives him something else.

Sixpence In His Shoe by scifigrl47

Steve and Tony should really read the fine print on what they're signing. Then again, some mistakes are not really mistakes.

Straight on till Morning by Sineala

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

For the Love of a Dragon by Captain_Panda

If it was between you and your dragon, who would you save?

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but love requires real courage. Steve struggles with letting someone into his life. Tony tries to keep his heart intact while Steve works on his issues.

Craving a realistic depiction of a romantic relationship featuring PTSD, mental health issues, and characters who discuss their problems? This might be for you. No magic fixes here but a happy ending is guaranteed!

Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

Toy Soldiers by copperbadge

When Steve Rogers, five foot four and a hundred and ten pounds, met Tony Stark in a bar, he didn't expect it to lead to a relationship. Or that Tony would find out he's not an art student during a SHIELD rescue mission in Afghanistan.

there are still beautiful things by meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

I've got you under my skin by sirona

Five times Beijing 2008 Olympics Gold Medalist Tony Stark thinks it's going to be no more difficult a job to get ready for London 2012, than what he has just achieved. That is, of course, before Coach Fury comes to visit, and offers him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a part of something much bigger than himself. Swimming AU.

The Foodieverse by copperbadge, scifigrl47

It's an AU where everyone works in the food industry. That makes total sense and is definitely not wildly irrational on any axis.

do you fondue? by calciseptine

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

Homefront by copperbadge

Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

stress relief by romanoff

They don't love each other. They barely even like each other.

The Jar by Sineala

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

Celestial Navigation by sabrecmc 

Celestial Navigation: 18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

By request, here is CN in one place without other stories and artwork.

ad astra by Areiton 

The first time he kissed Tony Stark, the stars danced overhead.

[mpregspn]

cleaned it up a little here

It had been a good day - as good as it gets nowadays, anyway. The ghost terrorizing the small populace of bumfuck, nowhere had been put to rest with little fight (Dean did get slammed into a headstone but after all they've been through, it really seems like nothing) and Sam was alert and clear eyed and present and he had saved Dean's ass and laughed afterwards, flushed pink in the cold and high on adrenaline of a job done right. He hasn't looked this carefree in years (ages, Dean doesn't want to do the math but Sam said three minutes felt like a week and ages, he must've spent ages down there) and having him back should be enough already but Dean missed this, the sound of his little brother's laughter and the smell of gasoline and graveyard dirt. It was a moment so perfect Dean was sure it's gonna be over in a flash but somehow it continued on, Sam easy and relaxed in the car on their way back, bickering about who get the first shower and how he was right that the murders were the doing of the ghost of a local preacher, decades dead, and not a werewolf.

It was early enough still that usually Dean would go out to the local bar, partly to hustle some pool, mostly to get drunk, trying to forget, just for a moment, that his brother is insane (because he didn't protect him, because he let him go to hell and didn't get him out, not soon enough) and that the world is ending for the uptenth time (one of these things is more important than the other and it's not the one that ought to be) but with Sam looking so young, looking his age for once, smiling so widely, not pressing on the wound of his palm and not flinching at something Dean can't see, he could bear to make himself leave. He'd still cracked open a bottle of jack, because it's just a good way to round off a good day, poured himself and Sam one, then another. Sam's tolerance had increased in the years since Dean had gotten him back but since getting his soul back he seems lighter, the burden of Dean's deal and the apocalypse lifted off his shoulders, at least whenever he isn't toremented by the memories of what the devil did to him, and even in these moments he looks heartbreaking young. It didn't take much to get him giggling, flushed pink again but this time with alcohol, which reminded Dean of the first time Sam had gotten drunk, the time they'd broken into John's stash because it had been Dean's sweet sixteen and he'd gotten back home after celebrating with the friends he'd made at the local high school, and Sam had been waiting for him at home with a lecture on underage drinking, and Dean's solution to the problem was to spend the rest of the evening introducing Sammy to the wonders of beer.

Now he's found himself in the same position he'd been in that night a lifetime ago, pulling off Sam's shoes and manhandling him into the bed, tucking him in, brushing his hand through Sam's too long (perfect) hair and letting it linger, taking advantage of the fact that while Sam will probably still remember it in the morning he won't ever bring it up. Then he starts pulling off his own boots and he lets himself hope that this could last, that tomorrow morning they could just go get coffee and find a next not too complicated case that doesn't lead to yet another end of the world, but then, Sam asks -

- Dean, has dad ever, y'know, hurt us? hurt me? - he's loose limbed, burrowing his face into the pillow, and Dean has just reminisced about how they were scared shitless dad's gonna tan their hides when discovers their little bender, but that was just that, just joking, if John had noticed that his stash had gotten lighter he had put it on the account of Dean celebrating with his friends, he probably wouldn't have clasped Dean on the back and given him the keys to the Impala if he'd suspected Dean had gotten his twelve years old brother smashed.

- What do you mean, Sammy?

- You know, back there - he doesn't have to specify. Dean knows what back there means, even though Sam never talks about back there.

- back there, Lucifer, he would, - he still looks loose and open, and Dean would never think a few shots would be enough to get him talking about Lucifer, and if he did, he still wouldn't try to get him talking, because god, he doesn't want to hear this. Despite Sam easy tone, he doesn't think he's gonna like what comes out of his mouth next - He could. Make up scenarios, you know? Sets. Like Gabriel did. It was all empty and he could just, do whatever - His eyes are closed, he's frowning, but the corners of his mouth are still lifted up slightly. They just had such a good day.

- He would go through my memories. Sometimes it would be you - He snorts. Dean doesn't know what's so funny about this. He remembers Sam driving away with his imaginary doppelganger, pointing a gun at his head. He doesn't want to imagine what else his face did to Sam

- And, you know. I can tell the difference, but dad was his favorite, and we went over it so many times, sometimes - it gets mixed up. So I thought, I decidee, I just have to assume it's all bull.

He stops, for the first time seeming to catch on to Dean's silence. But what is he supposed to say to that? Sam had been down there long enough for Lucifer to create fake memories of abuse, god knows just how terrible, and even if he knows they're fake, he still remembers them. What difference does it make that a memory is fake?

He opens the eyes he didn't realize he was screwing shut, tries unsuccessfully to unclench his jaw. Kneels next to Sam's bed. Strokes Sam's long, perfect hair. So soft. Just like when he was still a kid.

- No, Sammy - he swallows - dad loved us. Never did anything like that. You two fought like hell but he wouldn't, he would rather die than hurt you, okay? You get that?

- Thought so. Thought he wouldn't. See, I still got it.

Dean thinks he's not sure what it is that Sam's got but it's most likely not it but he realizes he should be more grateful. He got Sam back and in one piece, even though everybody and their dog said Sam would be a drooling mess. And Sam is drooling, just a little bit, face is smushed into a pillow and mouth slightly open and he's gonna complain in the morning because he hates going to bed, especially drunk, without brushing his teeth.

If it's a good day. Because miraculously, they still get good days. It's just that even on the best of them, Dean can't help but think there's something irrevocably broken about his brother.

He keeps stroking Sam's hair until he drifts off into sleep. Then he finishes off the bottle of jack.

[pluralthey]

does shiloh… like jessie? it seems like jessie is head over heels for her, and they have a lot of good times, but does shiloh actually like jessie? or are they exclusively interested in seeing what a relationship with god is like? jessie is a jerk but it makes me sad to think their relationship could be so one-sided. but besides that, can you please tell us more about jessie's parents? i really like them :)

Good question. I do think she likes jessie — for her energy and ensuing chaos, but also for her angry, antisocial nature. I don't think Shiloh likes most people, and having someone else express it is cathartic. She likes seeing someone who's an asshole in general melt or become flustered in a more intimate setting, she thinks it's cute.

That's kinda why I think they'd still work in a more normal world where Jessie has no powers, buuutttt in the context of idletry I think it's impossible to untangle how much of the things she likes in Jessie aren't related to her being God, in her eyes.

Shiloh definitely doesn't feel attraction or fondness for Jessie as intensely as vice versa, but I don't think Shiloh feels ANY emotion as intensely as Jessie... For a variety of reasons, like the fact that she is better able to predict likely outcomes while Jessie is dense enough to feel blindsided by anything outside of her normal.

Jessie's dad, Adam, is a very chill guy similar in personality to Shiloh with a lot more love in his heart. He's agreeable to a fault, has more patience than a busy doctor, loves to teach and garden, retired several years prior to the start of the story, and spends a lot of time napping. His back was fucked a decade or two ago and it's gotten worse with age, but it was at its worst after surgery a long time ago. For his career I'm thinking high school math teacher, but it's up in the air rn.

Jessie and Emily both like him more than their mother because he isn't as strict, and this isn't subtle — for jessie in particular, as she isn't a subtle person in general, and a father figure validates her more masculine identity more than a mother figure does. she seems to just like more laid back personalities in general because she butts heads with them less.

Jessie's mom, Evelyn, is more high-strung, anxious, and very opinionated. She is still a relatively calm person, but compared to Adam, she's incurably neurotic. She used to be sportier to expend some of her energy, but she was eventually too busy, and struggled to jump back into it when she had more time. She is an introvert and needs a lot of alone time; she likes to pass time solving puzzles, reading, reorganizing things that don't need to be organized, and so on. She's most comfortable when she feels like she's fixing something, and she can sometimes look for something wrong where everything is fine to achieve that state. I feel like she changed jobs several times over her lifetime without a consistent career. Her side of the family was probably the one to help with financial struggles.

She is similarly no longer working, but doesn't have as many physical impediments as Adam. Initially, she stopped working to help Adam more when he was less mobile. Emily wasn't so available, and Jessie was on some intense medications, so there were just not enough hands on deck.

Evelyn is the one who reeled in Jessie and Emily as kids and set hard boundaries. This dynamic makes her relationship with them more strained in some ways (especially Jessie, who clashes more as another high-strung person), but dealing with the harder issues and emotions also gave her a more nuanced connection to them than Adam has. Emily understands the nuance more than Jessie, but both of them feel the intense sense of comfort people typically feel from their mothers.

Hope that was interesting enough. It's hard explaining her parents honestly.

[hells-plaid-angel]

I love the concept of Cas and Jack stopping by a corner store on their way back to The Bunker from their own little side-mission in one of the later seasons.  When Jack texts to say they are almost home Dean asks if he can pick up a few things while they’re out, because the brothers have been busy with the world ending for the two-millionths time. 

The stars align in more ways than one. They happen to stop by the place Dean frequents whenever he finds the time to go into town. The person behind the counter knows the usuals and does a little double-take because typically there’s only one person who comes in and orders a piece of every kind of pie they’ve got. They don’t even sell good pies. 

When Cas provides one of the Winchester’s trademark fake credit cards and I.D. that just so happens to use the same last name as Dean’s current alias it all starts to make sense. Dean picked the name because it was a classic rock reference while Cas picked it because he thought it sounded nice, something like Plant or Bloom. They ask if Cas knows Dean and his inexpressive face does its best impression of a smile while Jack starts to enthuse about how they do and they’re going home to see him now. 

The cashier has made small talk with Dean on the days when it’s quiet but he’s pretty tight-lipped about his family life. They do remember him mentioning a brother so they ask if that’s who Cas is. He baulks because he’s been brother zoned enough for one lifetime but blanks on how he and Dean are supposed to have the same last name without being related. Luckily Jack sweeps in to save the day simply stating that Dean is his ‘other dad’. 

The next time Dean’s in the store the cashier says something about seeing his kid a few days ago and Dean smiles. He’s gotten out of the uncomfortable stage with the kid calling him his dad. Last week he told the waitress at the diner Dean was his dad, the week before that it’d been a civilian they’d been interviewing on a case. He just had to remind himself that despite his looks, Jack was essentially a toddler. But when the cashier starts talking about Dean’s husband Dean drops his armful of groceries. The conversation would boil down to something along the lines of Dean rambling,

“Was he ‘bout yay tall, ugly trench coat,  kind of ruggedly handsome? Yep, that’s the guy? Okay’.

When Dean returns to the bunker he storms in and drops his things on the map table in front of an unsuspecting Sam. When Sam asks him what’s going on as Dean makes a dash for Cas’ room to work out what the hell Cas has been telling people he shouts over his shoulder ‘Need to talk to my husband,’ leaving Sam with so many more questions than answers. 

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME!!! thursday we watched tng's "emergence" and ds9's "crossover" (honorific)

emergence (tng):

I HATE HOLODECK EPISODES. i wanted season 7 to go out on a high note. nostalgia and time would have made me forget so many of tng's sins if it had gone out on a high note

girl, the enterprise CAME TO LIFE, had a baby, and then died, and nobody had anything to say about that except "ok let the baby fly into space hope it has a good life!"

the enterprise and moya from farscape could have raised their children together communally. like feral cats.

if kirk had been captain when the enterprise came to life he would NOT have let that baby fly into space. he would have gotten one of those little toddler leashes. he would have paid child support. he's not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up

i honestly don't remember what else happened here because the following episode blew my tits clean off

oh yeah wait i think it was racist to make worf shovel the coal. shame on them. data's way stronger than worf he should have been doing it he would have been like yay i love a novel experience :) i can add this to my file on coal shoveling :)

crossover (ds9):

WORLD'S LONGEST YEAH BOY

no, i'm just going to abandon my bullet points. where do i even begin...you know, actually, let's begin at the beginning, which is the tos mirrorverse episode. i have a wider meta on this in me somewhre i bet but it wasn't always this way! i like, initially watched this, went, "huh! that was neat," and thought no more about it until i read a fanfic (don't ask for it i'm not telling, it was more like 2-3 fanfics honestly) and then i was like WAIT HOLD ON A SECOND. see, my fascination with mirrorverse comes primarily from the following hypothesis:

everyone always says that bones in mirrorverse and bones in the prime universe are the same guy and that makes him god's specialest princess, which i don't disagree with! but i think, deep down, EVERYONE is the same. i think mirrorverse (quite accidentally) provides a pretty compelling commentary on both nature vs nurture and the cycle of violence. kirk, who undoubtedly went to a much worse version of tarsus iv in the mirrorverse, becomes a guy slaughtering colonists by the thousands, because in his mind that's what power looks like and being powerful means being safe. spock, who is brought up to believe violence is logical instead of pacifism, follows that doctrine just as strictly as he sticks to his morals in the prime universe, and indulges in his emotions just as rarely, because in either case he is punished just as much, if not more, for going against vulcan and human social norms.

put the same guys in the opposite situation (ie a mirror) and they will turn out as their own twisted reflections every time. mirror kirk is just as driven to succeed, just at a different game. he has just as much of a temper, but without the apologies that come afterward. he's just and dangerous and as handy in a fight as prime kirk, but without the moral compass that has him pulling punches instead of a knife. he has that same desire for power, though it's to protect himself rather than to protect other people. mirror spock is just as sharp and calculating, he's just running different numbers, after different results. he's just as good at sussing out emotional motives because of his forced distance from them, but he has spent a lifetime being rewarded for exploiting the emotions of others instead of trying to understand them. he even shares the same preference for being the first officer instead of in command, though the two spocks have differing reasons for this. you could even argue that he has the same capacity for loyalty, inasmuch as it's safe or possible to be loyal in the mirrorverse; he avoids trying to kill kirk as much as he possibly can, and when he finds out "his" kirk is gone, immediately does everything in his power to see to getting him back where he belongs. the mirror characters aren't opposites; they're reflections, inversions. they started out as the same base thing. they were made ugly and evil by their circumstances.

we didn't get to see much of mirror kirk and none of mirror bones (to my eternal woe), but knowing mirror spock DID ultimately take action towards pacifism and reform is extremely damning evidence for this hypothesis, at least in my mind palace. our own spock is defined by his compassion and selflessness; he gave his life in the warp core because the needs of the many outweighed his own needs. mirror spock is running the calculation in the other direction; he is thinking of his own needs. yet he comes to the SAME CONCLUSION - it is important for people to be safe, because logically nothing else can hold.

i notice that they carefully avoided saying whether or not spock ACTUALLY killed kirk, and i love that, because i loved the open-ended nature of the original mirrorverse episode - i loved that we could imagine anything happening. kirk dying or becoming a better person or becoming a worse person. i'm a little sad to have finally lost that, but i love that we can still just as gleefully imagine spock shoving a pole through kirk's ribs (in the horny way) or them being little rebels with bones and fighting the system together. ooooh and you better BELIEVE i had to pause the episode and cover my face and take a moment to have my hysterics when they implied mirror spock may have killed mirror kirk bc our kirk asking mirror spock to kill his other self was one of the horniest things tos ever did, up there with amok time and that stupid bondage harness.

speaking of horny, let's get into the actual episode. this episode was so abjectly fucking horny it's ASTOUNDING. it's mind-blowing. i think lesbian kira-on-kira was ABSOLUTELY the way to go as far as introductions. and kira-on-kira PROVES MY HYPOTHESIS!!! mirror kira has the same sympathy for her human laborers (the downtrodden), just not extended further than she extends sympathy for herself. she is also, like our kira, into girls. AND she is seduced by the idea of giving power to a weak bajor. kira's love affair with herself was probably the best part of this episode, number one because women and number two because they understood each other SO well except mirror kira was just unstable enough to be scary. and kira being like a little scared of her and them still being gay was really problematic and horny of them. fun. god. like, BATH SCENE?? HELLO??? i hope nana visitor had the time of her fucking life

mirror garak is also basically the same guy. this is just pre-exile garak. he's so conniving and gay. he didn't even do any of that seductive shit to our kira. why? he's not into girls!

i'm so sorry odo and quark didn't get a better lot in this verse. they don't come back either i checked :( odo was kind of boring, unfortunately, except for3 points: firstly, him slapping julian like 3 times was also problematic but horny. secondly, the goop he exploded into. rip king. (and kira moruning him!! otp.) thirdly, this is odo's disdain and lack of understanding for humanity (humanoidanity?) multiplied by 1000x. this is not an odo who was forced to get to know us and saw that some of us needed the protection he had to live without and now had the power to give, this is an odo who was experimented on and probably killed dr mora on his way out of the facility, and is looking to dish some out instead of take it. FUN. our odo makes hands to touch people with. this odo makes hands to slap people with. rip to that guy and i was absolutely shocked that a do-no-harm DOCTOR killed him but honestly there's probably a net good in that for our julian.

quark running the metaphorical underground railroad out here also seems to echo him selling food to bajorans...also, his, outfit? it made him look like a good person. it's a wonder it took them so long to catch him. our quark is selfish because he sees it as a path to a good life. their quark is selfLESS for the same reason, see? also SCREAM that our kira was like yes we're BESTIES on the other side when she often tells him how much she despises him lmao

o'brien!!! god i wish we had seen more of him but i LOVED him and julian being besties here too. he was like youre NOT my friend and then 20 minutes later helping him escape. it's like he was a sleeper agent, he got one whiff or someone who could afford to have a moral compass and instantly he was like actually yeah humans deserve better than this! i love that julian was just gonna take him back and have two obrien besties and fuck starfleet if they didn't like it lol. obrien secretly also the same, and i'm really glad he got to at least escape w sisko to become a pirate or whatever.

HEY. BY THE WAY. PIRATE SISKO. SO FUN AND EDGY. he was really unhinged and kind of like a lunatic. cw for discussion of rape the rest of this paragraph. so i think there was a light implication via his body language and also "you charmed your way out of the mines" that he was NOT enjoying/consenting to the sex he was having with mirror kira, but very much enjoyed the opportunity to menace her counterpart, and other people, like obrien. again, like odo, he is tired of taking it and itching to dish soem out. UNLIKE odo, we see that he has people he loves! he says "i made the best of a bad life for my crew" and even shakes his head at one of his crew members who is about to do something that will get them hurt - he's also happy enough to take obrien, former target, under his wing on the way out, when he sees something worthy there. JUST LIKE OUR SISKO, he IS protective and he DOES value his people! i loved seeing that core of him, even though his outside was deranged in a fun evil way.

ok, to finally wrap this up, bashir giving away his plate of mush at mealtime because he's gonna get to go back to a nice cozy universe soon (or die) and these people won't is soooo. god. he's SO COMPASSIONATE......like i knew that objectively but we haven't really seen it in action much up until now. it fucking kills me. his compassion, inherent Good Universe vibes, has such a profound impact on mirror obrien in such a short time, but ultimately you CAN'T change this universe. you can affect single people in it, the way kirk got mirror spock, but the point of the mirrorverse is to be evil and edgy (and horny), so no matter WHAT the characters in it do, it is a LAW OF THAT UNIVERSE that powers beyond their comprehension will always reset the status quo to STAY evil and edgy (and horny). like at first i was like oh shit kirk really stepped in it nice job breaking it hero but like it simply CAN'T be fixed. if you try, you will fail. determinism in star trek. wild.

also, wait, sorry, julian coming back filthy head to toe and kira coming back in a ballgown when our sisko has been having kittens trying to locate his people.....iconic. mister privileged having to process ore like kira used to do and kira former ore processor wearing a fancy luxurious evening gown. talk about swapping places.

TONIGHT: tng's "preemptive strike" and ds9's "the collaborator." last non-finale episode of tng!!!

[stitchlingbelle]

Watching Halo, Episode 5

Flashback time! Halsey and Keyes both on Eridanus II. Were they colonists? Stationed there? Why are they at the school? They just saw John, so clearly it’s too early to be school-shopping for Miranda’s sake. God, are they shopping for kids? Was Keyes in on it from the beginning? This school is supposed to be some idyllic Waldorf-style nature school, and I love that, but it is not OSHA-compliant.

Here in the present, they’ve set up a whole temporary base around the second artifact, which seems like an utterly terrible idea to me. Do you need this much crap to dig out one monumental rock and load it up? (I realize real scientists would want to study it in situ for 6000 years before moving on to step 2 and archeologists wouldn’t want to move it at all, but you have unstoppable aliens to deal with in this universe!) Also, was bringing Miranda out here a good idea? It seems contrary to giving her free rein while her mom is gone? I’m glad her dad’s on her side at least. John, you need to snap out of it, buddy.

Kwan and Soren stuck in the desert, bickering, when he handcuffs her and leaves her alone in the middle of the desert? Wtf, Soren?

Poor Miranda making good points and still getting sidelined by her mom and Adun the Creep. Kai is still the smartest person here. What DOES the Covenant want? I appreciate the shot of the little drone. It’s funny to think that those have gone from scifi to a toy people fly in their backyards in my lifetime. John the Master Chief spots Kai’s hair and knows what’s up instantly and is immediately an asshole about it. I adore Kai—she took one look at John removing his and instantly trusted it was a good idea, and more, it’s clear from her less-flat affect in ep1 that she’s always been closest to breaking free (even without a mystical connection to ancient alien tech). And she’s 100% dead on here, too- why the hell is she unfit, but he’s not? And good on Cortana for speaking up for her, too. John: “I can’t hear myself think.” Cortana: “I can and you’re not missing much.” HA.

I haven’t gotten into Makee’s alien politicking much, but it’s definitely interesting how they both seem to need her and yet distrust her at the same time. You raised her! But “corrupted/ going native” is a trope for a reason, I suppose. Or are there two camps of aliens here? Is she really the only being who can activate these things? Were there aliens who could do it but they’ve passed away, or is it a unique human ability? (Well, humans and whatever race created this stuff.) Where did the Covenant get its info about the tech to begin with? How accurate is what they think they know?

Kwan, meanwhile, is demonstrating her best feature—sheer determination. I cheered when she finally got free. But when is she going to go, stranded in the middle of the desert, presumably without supplies? (I mean, I assume she’s about to find the mystics, but that’s the meta-brain talking.)

Craaaaap, John’s confiding in Keyes, who immediately gives him a brush off with his “I’ll look into it personally” bs. Of course he goes straight to Parangosky and Halsey and backstabbing and manipulation ensue. They at least try to protect Miranda from all their dirty laundry, of course in a way calculated to piss her off. “Finally a parenting issue we can agree on”—what did that little jibe mean? It’s getting increasingly hard to picture Halsey as any kind of mother. Exactly what did she want to do with Miranda?

Using a laser on the artifact makes ALL HELL BREAK LOOSE, and then John just stops with a look? Is that what happened? Wtf. And of course the Covenant hear that. Great.

Just as I wonder what Miranda saw in the data, her dad walks in and takes her off the project. She immediately pegs that it’s his own dirty past that’s at stake, though how dirty I doubt she knows. Master Chief, who is at least somewhat less credulous than I gave him credit for, is getting suspicious as well. Aaaand apparently he believes in direct action, because he immediately heads over and touches the artifact. And finds out HALSEY KIDNAPPED HIM? WTF. (Is the plague story a coverup? Did she murder a whole colony to hide this???) Master Chief tries to kill her ass and I was hoping he’d manage it, but no, Cortana steps in. Rats.

A brief break back on Madrigal where Soren finds Kwan gone… and then she EMERGES FROM THE SAND AND TAKES HIM OUT. Go Kwan, that was so much smarter than just wandering the desert, well done!

The rest of the episode is the biggest battle yet. My notes just say “Oh crap OH CRAP” at the top. Seeing the ship crash was fantastic and a definite “You Are Ultra Screwed” moment. I of course laughed at Cortana giving Master Chief advice and him snapping “I know how the game is played, Cortana!” Yes, writers, you’re very cute. I once again question how many Spartans there are and why we only have four here? In this super important not-hardened base that the Covenant is actively looking for? Like, worth 100 marines each, that’s great, but getting separated and pinned down is still a problem! Especially in this area which is wide open with lousy cover!

Which of course is exactly what happens to Kai, which I choose to believe is why she went down, instead of her being overwhelmed by trauma like the Master Chief predicted while he’s just fine, just Heroically Angry. (That bit of writing annoyed me.) (Yes I know he blew it too, he just got to blow it in a way that’s very differently coded than she did.) Halsey gets her one good moment saving Miranda when I 100% expected her to leave her daughter to die. (I did think Miranda would live to be extremely screwed up about it, mind you.)

So the Covenant got away with the new artifact, crap. And they pull the exact same gambit with Makee as last time, and I have the exact same complaint. Human makeup and nice clothes and not a scratch? She does NOT look like she just escaped that ship during the chaos of battle after surviving durance vile! Like, I want a poster of her on my wall but I do NOT trust her.

[argentumcor]

A flare-up of Arkham Trilogy fandom has been triggered, and so I spent entirely too much money on the Arkham Knight Genesis comic. Art is nice, writing is pretty good. I'm not a comic person, and find most comics to have ugly art these days, but this one (and Soulfinder from Iconic Comics) impressed me.

I always liked this version of Jason coming back best since I heard of the character. A plot device like a Lazarus Pit needs to be kept to a minimum because otherwise it just breaks everything and the Arkham version where the Pits are nearly exhausted and restricted to the Ra's plots is the best way to approach them. Jason being crazy because of torture and not mystical woo-woo side effects offers more interesting directions to go in to me, problems that can't be easily solved because they are choices he made while at least somewhat in possession of his faculties.

Man, I thought the backstory I cooked up for Arkham's Jason was dark but the canon one is darker. I had it where he never knew his dad and his mom was an addict who OD'd when he was young, but in the comic both parents are meth addicts who tried to sell him to the mob to pay their debts, which didn't work because that's nuts even in Gotham, and so abused him until he was thirteen, when Jason sold them out to the mob and watched them get killed in exchange for getting a small bit of turf where he was left alone to do small time crime.

I always liked the version of him meeting Batman by trying and semi-succeeding at stealing the wheels off the Batmobile, but the Arkham version where he saves Batman's life during a tussle with the Joker is a better fit for this universe.

There's conflict between the game City Stories version of how he got caught and the comic one. The game one is much darker, from what drove Jason after Joker (horrible murder and mutilation of children at a school in the game vs. pride I think in the comic) to the actual getting caught (Jason's hubris and sense of righteousness making him very stupid in the game vs. purely a trap the Joker laid in the comic). The game lore version of events is better, though harder to depict I think in the pages the comic had for various reasons.

One thing stands out about Arkham Jason: everyone in his life had given up on him from the moment he was born...except Bruce and the family. Bruce met him for only a few minutes at most and saw that Jason could be more than just another doomed rat in the dirty alleys of the city, wanted in some way to be more (Arkham Knight Jason disputes this in narration but it's clear from what happened that's the case). But a lifetime of being given up on doesn't just vanish in a year-ish of being really valued- and Joker brilliantly weaponized it against Jason and in doing so against Batman.

The comic is from Jason's bitter angry broken pre-Arkham Knight POV but there are hints that the darkness hasn't consumed him. I think Dick naming Tim as his brother in a fight hurt him- because I think they would have had that bond before Jason was taken and 'Tim as my replacement' is a big thing for Jason. He's ruthless, yes, and apathetic to the world around him but he sees that Bruce has a memorial to him in the Batcave and it triggers really intense emotions- anger because that's almost all he has anymore and then something else he can't and refuses to even try to process.

That's why, I think, Bruce extending a hand to Jason at the end of the boss fight destroyed the Arkham Knight. I also think that getting Gotham to evacuate civilians was Jason's idea. There's no logic to it from Scarecrow's POV; more people in the city would mean more fear to, uh, imbibe. It's not that Jason is worried about collateral damage, exactly, it's that he isn't totally gone. You can see that in the game audio logs. I wish we would have gotten an encounter with him and Dick, either as the Knight or as Red Hood. I think the rivalry there with Tim is built in as a matter of history and personality but with Dick there's a brotherhood that got broken through no fault of their own.

The Red Hood smart-assery is also present in the narration in the comic. I think it was there with the Arkham Knight, too, here and there, but he's on the furious hunt in most of what you hear from him so there isn't a lot of room for it.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I Should Have Guessed Psycho-Boomer Would Be A Fanboy of His Own Manual. And Where Is His Glorified Secretary Getting Her Attitude From? (or my reaction to Wolf359 mini episodes 6-13).

Welcome back dear readers. Thanks again for your patience. Everyone has been excited for the mini episodes, so I'm eager to see what they've been so excited for.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Mini Episode 6: Once in a Lifetime

Okay, just from these episode descriptions, I'm starting to think that these episodes are gonna be Cutter BSing them into this mission.

Get ready for some ✨Cutter hate✨

2013? I think that's one of the first times we've gotten a year.

"He doesn't bite. Much" YES HE DOES RACHEL AND APPARENTLY SO DO YOU.

"Director of Communications?" Wrong. That's DOUG's job and he's better at it than you Cutter. Even if he is a pizza delivery boy.

Cutter shut up.

Cutter and Rachel shut up! THANK YOU MINKOWSKI.

"All they want is poster children and sob stories. We like people that can fly ships." Sounds like Renee wasn't the ONLY one rejected from NASA, huh Cutter? 👀 Aw, did they not like the fact that you murder people? Did they think your space ideas were crazy and unethical?

I think I'll call Rachel Cutter's glorified secretary. As for Cutter, I think that's simply enough for him. There aren't enough words in the English language or any language to give him

Wait what does her dad have to do with this? Andre? Astrophysics? Early retirement?

Why do I think Cutter had something to do with that "early retirement"? How old is he? He sounds about as old as Minkowski, but the actors all seem around the same age and Doug's Hilbert voice sounds older, so it's hard to tell their ages. Based on where Cutter is in his career, I'm guess he's older.

I hate this because YOU KNOW THEY ALL SAY YES. And you just want to shake them and scream not. PLEASE TELL ME YOUR HUSBAND SAYS NO.

Journalist? I hope he blows this wide open Cutter.

Oh my gosh he can adjust his salary? That means he controls the press.

Why is Cutter talking about Renee's parents like he knew them personally? "They would have done so much more if they hadn't gotten married and had kids." Why are you talking like a bitter male tenured professor who never found love to his female graduate students?

SHE MATTERS A LOT MORE THAN YOU CUTTER.

"Don't make your parents mistakes Renee" hm. sounds like someone is projecting his own issues.

"no one will dare reject you again" BECAUSE SHE'LL BE DEAD.

"My husband is going to kill me" No, but Cutter will.

But I hope you kill him first. And I hope your husband destroys him in his newspaper.

I am loving and hating these episodes.

Mini Episode 7: Rebranding

Look like it's Hilbert's turn for the chopping block, oh sorry! I mean uh...✨exclusive job opportunity✨

St. Petersburg 1989?

But this is number 2? So...these aren't in order? Is this Cutter organizing his files because he's numbering system makes no sense.

Yet another way he has proven incompetent.

Ugh. It even sounds cold. I had it.

CUTTER BROKE INTO HIS HOUSE.

Okay granted, that's far from the worst thing he's ever done, but still man, kinda creepy.

"Tricks don't scare him?" Tell WHO he should know better? Who else is threatening Hilbert.

"I prefer to think of myself as a citizen of the world" "That's very nice for you" 😂 It's nice to actually see Hilbert not going for Cutter's bs.

And he's right. There are other geneticists closer to home. Ah...the retroviruses.

The most realistic thing about this entire show is "oh I want to research something very important! Let's see who's doing it so that I can contact them and get a job" and it's one guy in the middle of nowhere.

Who is Victor Stewkoff? Why does he knew about Hilbert I mean uh Dimitri's research?

"Dr. Stewoff died last year" "Of course he did"

So either Cutter's lying about the conversation, when it took place, or he for sure killed that man.

"Are you referring to the human trials?"

That silence is an overwhelming yes.

"Matter of time" mmm... Cutter does not seem like that patient type.

And I'm sorry. If you're doing creepy illegal experiments, you should know better than to trust a man who comes to you and says he's cool with it. Takes a monster to know one.

So he promised him a chance to perform his illegal research? But...what does that have to do with space?

"The last member of your family died when you were 9" wait...what about his sister? I thought he said she survived, or maybe she died a little later?

"Any discoveries you make will belong to us" don't like that. I mean, that's how it is, but in this case, I don't like this.

Cutter's like "I'm paying off the IRB man, geez do I have to spell it out for you man?"

Again, sad because we know what choice they are going to make.

Does the retrovirus have a name? Decima. Wait. The what? Oh rebranding.

WAIT. WAIT.

WILLIAM CARTER.

AS IN PRYCE AND CARTER?

AS IN THE TEXTBOOK THAT CUTTER FANBOY'S OVER.

Let me listen again. I think I heard that right.

Oh my gosh. I'm so stupid. Rule of writing: don't give your characters similar names that can easily be confused by the readers UNLESS you're trying to make some sort of point with it. Don't know how I let that one get past me.

He really is like that professor who makes all his students buy his book.

Who the heck is Pryce? Is that another one of his fake names? Or is that a colleague he axed off years ago?

And why did he change his name?

Also if he's already a powerful adult with his own company in the 80's then he and Hilbert are for sure older than Eiffel and Minkowski.

Actually, I take it back. Maybe I do have a nickname for Cutter after all. "Psycho-Boomer". Probably did some surgery on himself to make himself sound like he's in his twenties (though by the way he laughs, you'd swear he was a nine year old tee hee hee 🙄).

Hopeful we'll get to see the boomer go "boom!" very very soon...

Mini Episode 8: Language Mapping

This one is Maxwell's. How is Cutter ordering these? Oh back to 2013.

Is Cutter organizing these in terms of threat level? Because if so, it's honestly accurate to put Minkowski first and the scientists next, though I KNOW his errand boys would be devasted. Doug probably wouldn't care.

Oh no wait this isn't Cutter. Huh. Hello Whiskey boy.

Why doesn't Maxwell want to be here?

HOW MANY SECRETARYS DOES CUTTER NEED?

Yeah, this IS harassment. How on earth could they have not broken any laws?

"You could have come to work for us." That's...that's not a solution.

Redneck teachers? Did not expect that background.

Sounds like she's very different from her family. Maybe that's why she doesn't talk to them. Is she embarrassed by them?

Hm. Don't like Maxwell yelling at the AI ethics committee. Well actually I suppose it depends. Was she advocating for their rights or against them? And was she doing so for the wellbeing of humanity and the AI or her own interests?

"Someone has to bully them into being brave. Somebody needs to push".

Maxwell. I agree that sometimes progress needs to happen. But if you don't do it carefully and with ethics in mind, bad things tend to happen. Very very bad things.

Especially when someone else controls the rights to your technology. Of course there's the whole "if they didn't hire me they'd find someone else" but still...Maxwell this is bad.

Do not be fooled by the flashy lights and buttons and sound effects!

"Whoever built this is brilliant and they already work for you. Why me?"

Good point.

"I need someone who can talk to things that aren't human."

^Great idea Whiskey boy. I'll call Doug. Dr. Robot needs to earn my trust first. Not sure how I feel about her nickname. It doesn't have the same punch as the others, but it does fit.

Oh great the Whiskey speech again. At least he earns his nickname.

Mini Episode 9: Greensboro

Number 4, 2010. Ah Lovelace.

Once again, if this is the order in which crew members present a danger to Cutter, I'm agreeing so far.

I wonder how similar hers will be the Minkowski's.

"We don't do interviews, well yes we do some. But that's only when we don't want to hire someone and need a reason." Why do I feel like that's a straight up lie?

"Infiltrate the company and bring it down from the inside" I love the foreshadowing and double meaning. It also makes me sad to remind me that Lovelace used to have Doug's sense of humor before she lost all her friends.

It's not standard protocol. No one else had a polygraph, and Hilbert was doing human experiments.

"Convicted of a crime? Are you an alien?" OH MY GOSH PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS FORESHADOWING.

(Actually don't tell me, but...I hope it is).

Do you love your father? Have you always wanted to serve in the armed forces? What are these questions?

Ma'am this medical stuff is private.

They interviewed the people working for her? Cutter is literally everywhere. Well, I suppose Psycho-boomer has been blackmailing people since the 50s so such. I wish he'd hurry and die.

"You do this for everyone?" No they don't.

"We're screening you for a different job" Nope. Nope. Don't like that. Usually means you're about to get underpaid for your talents. "Sorry the job you wanted didn't work, but oh look! We did find something." In this case, something worse.

I hate the lie detector.

I want to hook it up to Cutter, but psycho-boomer probably knows how to trick the test.

Mini Episode 10: Things That Break Other Things

Duck boy! Are we gonna get to see him get attack by a duck? Boy do I hope so.

San Francisco 2011?

Duck Boy is a heavy drinker. Fantastic. Just the man you want holding your explosives.

"Buy you a drink." Uh. What. Oh it's a fancy one too.

Yeah Jacobi this is weird. He's coming on too strong. Time to bail.

My gosh what happened to Jacobi in the military? He sounds traumatized. Did it involve the Duck?

"Did you serve?" "No." Hm. Wonder why.

Oh Duck Boy has daddy issues. Why is no one surprised.

Jacobi's dad: "You think you're man enough for the Airforce? Can even fight one lousy duck?"

Oh he has bad depth perception too? Wow, yeah, sounds like it's a great idea to give him explosives.

"I'm good at making things that break other things. Including people".

Don't like that. Sounds like Duck Boy might not either. Haunted by ghosts perhaps? Perhaps Discount Cutter can take that conscience off your hands.

Went off early during a test. Two guys died. Well ain't that a shame for you Duck Boy. But hey, what better way to get over the guys you killed than by killing more people for a boss that doesn't care?

"You'll never work in this planet again" well funny you should mention that...

I see. So this happened in 2009.

"most of the world is profoundly stupid" why would I not be surprised that discount cutter is into eugenics?

Oh he left his business card.

Would have been funny if Duck Boy had just knocked if off the table or forgot to call the number.

Mini Episode 11: Decommissioned

EVERYONE SHUT UP THEY'RE DOING ONE FOR HERA!

No longer do I agree that this is in the order of "threat to Cutter", but I suppose from his perspective...

Ah 2012.

Unit 214? Her name is Hera. And how many of her are there? Do they all have the same voice and personality?

"Do you remember me? Do you know who I am?" Ugh. Don't like that.

"Where am I?" poor Hera.

Yeah they need to stop talking like she's not here.

"Your science board rejected me." Interesting. Most of Cutter's approach has been "X won't let you do something. But I will :)." But with Hera, his own people rejected her, but he seems to like the reason. "Poor social skills". Huh. Odd thing to prioritize.

"Don't think of it as dead. Decommissioned." Yeah. It's basically dead. Or asleep. Depends on whether someone wakes you up again.

"Helpful for everyone". No helpful for you Cutter.

What did Hera do? Misguided bid for independence? Record for rogue AI attempting jailbreak?

Psycho-boomer is so unstable. I swear, he likes the risk of using Hera just to prove to himself that she actually can't destroy him.

"We're not about to start forcing anyone to do something against their will. But if you don't do what we ask, we'll kill you :)" Cutter you suck.

And it's sad because Hera probably just thought this was how he spoke to AI. So she didn't warn the other humans because she figured they'd be fine.

"Maybe I should see if Dr..." What doctor?

Oh he called her Hera. Feeling a little disgusted by that fact that he's the one who gave her her name.

Though it beats "Unit 214"

Mini Episode 12: Pagliacci

Doug's turn!

Oh dear. Are we gonna find out about his charges.

Texas. 2013.

Ugh I HATE the sound of those heels and fancy dress shoes.

Oh he's in jail. Yep, called that one pretty quickly.

"Are you my lawyer?" oh Doug you really are lost. And yeah, that's not how it works.

Wow. Glorified Secretary is very classist. Girl your salary comes from a man who'd kill you without a second thought. Maybe cool on the comments and take a breath while you still can.

"Scary Ally McBeal" nice nickname.

"You are extremely and infuriatingly lucky" Yep and he's gonna be lucky enough to kill you by the end. If Doug's going back to prison anyway, he has nothing to lose by ending your life.

"What do you want from me?" Your soul. What else?

Doug. He's not kidding. He's crazy. Now PLEASE go back to prison.

"Maybe I don't want your way out." Oh Doug feels like he deserves to be there. 🥺

Who is Ann? Yikes, yeah, Cutter you crossed a line there. Is that his wife? Daughter? Mom? Girlfriend?

DAUGHTER?

Oh. And he's promising everything Doug can't give her.

For my TMBS mutuals: something something something...MBS space AU...something something something...Curtain, Milligan, and Kate...you get what I'm saying right?

Mini Episode 13: Kansas

2009. Oh the same year Duck Boy had his little accident.

And...Discount Cutter is last. Where he belongs. How sweet.

Looks like somebody's not as "in" the "inner-circle" as he thought.

How do you like being on the expendables list Whiskey Boy?

"I am accountable to two men in this company"

Cutter and...who? Pryce? It doesn't sound like he's talking about Rachel.

"Step into the elevator" Nope. Miss me with that tower of terror bs.

Who the heck is Richard? Did I miss something? Another errand boy?

Oh Cutter's voice is infuriating. I now imagine him as a 70 year old man who has given himself throat surgery to sound younger. Like an smug elementary school know-it-all-kid voice. Yes, I understand it's just the voice actor's voice and age, but it's still funny to imagine. "William Carter" it even sounds like an old man boomer name.

"You're never going to stop are you? You're like me." Exactly. Discount Cutter earned his nickname. But Whiskey boy is nice too.

Richard Littlewood. What a name.

"It's a shame that you weren't there." Ohhhh... he's using Kepler to edge out Richard Littlewood.

"You're going to crucify him." "No silly, I'm going to hang him."

Cutter really said I want him gone without the mess. Psycho-boomer really is the worst.

"Am I going up or down?" You're going to the very top...metaphorically. But we're going very very far down."

I would have to agree. Hell is very far down indeed.

"Don't tell me you believed that." I didn't. Why would anyone?

Oh. The Black Archives. FINALLY.

The files on a 1978 early deep space mission. First contact.

Wait. So they've known about the aliens this entire time? Not surprised but...what happened to the first crew? And why do they keep sending teams up that don't come back? What are they testing? Or rather, what deal did they make with the aliens? Are they studying the aliens, or are the aliens studying them? Is Cutter an alien too?

Well I guess that's all dear readers. Find out next time.

Once again, very much disliking Cutter, but now I'm also wondering how long Rachel has been around. And who Richard and Pryce are. And when Cutter changed his name and why. Interesting that Richard, Pryce, and Rachel didn't have mini episodes. At least, not yet...

[cuntstable]

I know you're currently obsessed with Dunmeshi, but there's an aspect about Stocean I really can't get over...

Jotaro is such a shitty father. I don't give a damn if he cares about his daughter so much, I literally can't imagine him as a good father if he wasn't absent. If Jolyne had gotten to deck him at least once in the story, maybe I would've forgiven him. The fact that there are SOOOO many JoJo fans who defend Jotaro being an absent father makes me go nuts. Maybe it's because I have trauma relating to my own father but still. Jotaro, (a.k.a Mr. Misogyny himself), truly doesn't deserve an amazing daughter like Jolyne.

I still love Stocean mind you, but Christ I don't care how tragic the Kujo family is, Jolyne deserves a better dad.

yeah i feel like a lot of jojo fans DO struggle to accept that even if jotaro did do it out of what he believed were Good reasons he still deeply hurt and scarred jolyne by abandoning her. like ultimately his intentions are secondary to the very real trauma and pain he caused his daughter. thats the real tragedy, and jolyne ultimately forgiving him doesnt absolve him of that mistake

im a bit conflicted on the story aspect of it because on the other hand jolyne gaining peace with her childhood and her relationship with her father after learning his reasons for leaving is i think a really beautiful and touching character development moment for her. it also fits the theme of Memory in stocean, since its effectively her recontextualizing her memories of her father and of her abandonment and thus gaining strenght from them. but i DO also really wish we had gotten more of her being angry and conflicted about it before finding peace with that fact. i can personally definitely relate to how hurt and angry she was when jotaro first visited her in jail (mr. misogony father 2…..) but the switch between her hating him and forgiving him feels very fast considering the lifetime of pain between them. like i wish araki had let her express that anger and sadness more

also i AGREE that its a bit dumb how a lot of jojo fans swear that if it wasnt for jotaro leaving because of the stand stuff and his trauma with losing his loved ones to it he would have been a good dad. like be serious……. hes still an incredibly emotionally distant and emotionally constipated man who clearly has a Not Great way of showing affection for his loved ones (with holly for example, he loves his mom more than anything in p3 but still cant openly accept affection from her or show it in return), not to mention his misogony….. like theres no world where jotaros and jolynes relationship would have been perfect or uncomplicated, and i think thats a part of their tragedy and what makes jolyne such a sad yet strong character