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[musherum]

i fucking hate that pig so much

[jenniferwilson1234]

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[pforestsims]

I'm a fan of traits & trait mods and I really liked Atomtanned's mod /based on Dill's Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs/. This is quite an extensive edit - I just wanted to adjust it a little for my game and once I started I couldn't stop xD

Atomtanned's Trait-Based Chemistry EDIT

& (optional mod) ONLY TO Chemistry

⚡ Download: SFS ⚡BOX

*Archive contains PDF file with detailed list of changes (added / removed stuff) and a few notes.

🟢 Trait-based Chemistry mod edit is available in 7 Languages: English, German, Finnish, Polish, Swedish, Russian, French

❕ New stuff: added Facial Hair TO (replaces Daydreamer), Business Shark TO (was: Serious), Expressive TO (was: Unique). Increased hobby and interest requirements from 5 to 8 pts, Formal wear added to Stylish TO - and more...

I also included an optional mod that switches off Zodiac / Aspiration chemistry and balances out the chemistry bolts gain - so it makes chemistry betwen Sims much less complicated. Obviously it will only be useful for those who like to control every aspect of their Sims romantic lives. Details under the cut.

You'll need Traits /and stuff required for these to work/.

Credits: @atomtanned , @lilbabydilljr , Epi for their TO replacements, @lazyduchess for Lua script

@peanuttysims for No Zodiac & Aspiration attraction (MTS2 link)

I used TS4 icons, icon mashups/ edits, and my own.

Thanks: @tvickiesims , @vegan-kaktus , @lilakartoffelbrei . Special thanks to @episims for all the support 💎🤗

*This is for The Sims 2

More under the cut:

Trait-based Chemistry mod

It will replace original TS2 turn-ons and turn-offs with entirely new ones (only hair colors and fitness/fatness are unchanged!).

It conflicts with NickM406's No More Loading the * Family mod , and Tunaisafish’s Attraction Fix, make sure you don't have tunaisafish_fix_attractiontraits package in your Downloads.

🟢 It's compatible with mods that change /or switch off Zodiac chemistry, Aspiration chemistry, or both.

⚡TURN-ONS / TURN-OFFS:

Note: I've added and removed some stuff, for example Plantsims and Bigfoot from 'Occult' TO, and Zombies from 'Undead' TO!

(This is an edit of the list posted by Atomtanned: )

Adventurous: 3 vacations, Adventurous, Daredevil, Sailor, Brave

Alien: Trait, skin, eyes

Animal Lover: 2 pet friends, Animal Lover, Cat Person, Dog Person, Equestrian

Artistic: Artistic, Avant Garde, Photographer's Eye, Savvy Sculptor, Flower Arranging/Pottery/Sewing silver badge, Arts & Crafts hobby, Creative skill

Athletic: Athletic, Equestrian, Loves to Swim, Sports/Fitness hobby, Body skill

Business shark: Born-salesperson, Ambitious, Mean Spirited, Snob, Workaholic

Charismatic (charisma): Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Charisma skill

Cultured (bookish): Avant Garde, Bookworm, Film & Literature Hobby

Expressive: Excitable, Childish, Party Animal, Dramatic, Over-Emotional, Diva

Facial hair

Fitness / Fatness - original

Foodie: Natural Cook, Cuisine hobby, Cooking skill

Hair colors - original

Indoorsy: Bookworm, Computer Whiz, Couch Potato, Hates the Outdoors, Film & Literature Hobby, Games Hobby

Infamous (bad reputation): Bad Reputation*, Evil, Mean-Spirited

Intellect (high IQ): Genius, Logic Skill

Introvert (reserved): Brooding, Loner, Unflirty, Shy, No sense of humor, Grumpy, Socially Awkward, < 2 Outgoing personality points

Laid Back (slacker): Couch Potato, Mooch, Slob, < 2 Active personality points

Musical: Natural Born Performer, Star Quality, Virtuoso, Music & Dance hobby

Occult (mystical): Werewolf, Witch, Fairy, Mermaid, Supernatural Fan

Outdoorsy: Angler, Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors, Sailor, Gardening badge, Fishing badge, Nature hobby

Outgoing (social): Irresistible, Flirty, Natural Born Performer, Party Animal, Social Butterfly, > 8 Outgoing personality points

Plant Lover: Eco-Friendly, Gatherer, Green Thumb, Vegetarian, Flower/Gardening badge, Plantsim, Fairy

Rebellious: Daredevil, Inappropriate, Hot-headed, Rebellious.

Stylish (elegance): Snob, Diva, Irresistible, Cosmetology badge, Fashion interest, Formal wear

Technology: Servo, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Robotics silver Badge, Mechanical skill

Tidy: Neat, Cleaning skill, > 8 Neat personality points

Undead: Ghost*, Vampire

Well-Liked: Good reputation*, Friendly, Good, Proper, Nurturing.

*"Ghosts" = sims turned into playable ghosts, with Ghost trait (and Mermaids are sims with mermaid trait, but ofc you don't need these to be able to use this mod).

🔸 Hobby requirements in Dill's / Atomtanned's versions (as well as interest) were set to 5 points, which is kinda an average in my game. I don't want TOs to trigger too easily so I've increased these to 8 points, just like Skill point requirements.

I also increased good reputation requirement from 30 to 60.

Above is the comparison of original vs new TOs, in the exact order.

FYI I've fixed the little mistake I've found in the mod - in my version stylish TO works as it should.

If you have any questions about how the game calculates attraction, read this.

And here's free version (SFS) of my buyable ReNuYu potion default, will be useful if you'd like to correct TOs for all your Sims.

"ONLY TO Chemistry" mod

Conflicts with No Zodiac Chemistry by Belladovah , chemistry mods by Peanutty (it incorporates their "No zodiac and no Aspiration"mod) and any other that contain Attraction Constants BCON and Attraction Tuning BCON.

In unmodded TS2 game, interests and skills do not play part in attraction. Trait-based chemistry changes that only to some extent because Zodiac and Aspiration are more important. To make TOs the crucial attraction factor in my game, I disabled Zodiac / Aspiration Chemistry, and tweaked bolt requirements.

This mod makes chemistry between Sims straightforward and TO-based however various bonuses to attraction also apply (!), like Beauty Wish, Vacation bonuses, bonus for very good rep or penalty for extremely bad reputation (even if your Sim likes bad guys, they will be put off by Dirty Dirtbag status, and enticed by extremely good rep). Anyways, if you use this mod and your Sims have no other attraction bonuses, then:

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has none, it results in no bolts

if one Sim has two turn-ons towards the other, and the other has none, Sims have one bolt chemistry

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has a turn-off, it results in negative chemistry

if a couple has single turn-ons towards each other, it gives them one-bolt chemistry

couple has three turn-ons, that gives them two bolts

couple has three turn-ons, one turn-off, that gives them one bolt

couple has double turn-ons, they have three-bolt chemistry

Special bonuses granted by mods for certain Traits like the "irresistible" still matter of course.

[keyotos]

i'm unglued, thanks to you

summary ⎯ reader is sick as a dog. unexpectedly, wriothesley comes to the rescue.

tana talks ⎯ originally this wasn't going to be very long. but SICK FIC SICK FIC SICK FIC

"on the count of three, you're gonna blow," wriothesley holds the tissue up to your nose, gently holding the back of your head upright, "one. two. three."

you use all the muscles in your face to blow into the tissue, even going so far as to lean upwards due to the force. wriothesley takes the tissue and throws it into the trash, then quickly goes to grab another one.

as you watch wriothesley rummage through the cabinets for a tissue box (you've gone through an entire one in the span of 1 hour) you mentally scold yourself. you never get sick⎯it's a personal record at this point⎯yet this week has broken that record by turning you into a sick dog.

really what happened was that you were tending to your duties in the prison: delivering supplies, shipping items, and packaging items to be sent as mail. is it a mundane job? oh absolutely⎯but it pays the bills and keeps you steady, so you don't have much to complain about.

what you expected from this job was going back and forth, packaging items, and basic delivery. what you did not expect was catching the worse cold of the century. your bones ached, your head wasn't focused, and you nearly dropped everything you held. so much so that the duke of meropide even had to check up on you.

which begs the question, how did you end up in the duke's office rather than the infirmary? well, he took you here himself. you, being in a scatter-brained state of mind, thought he would be taking you to sigewinne. and now, you are in the duke's personal care.

"good job," wriothesley with a cup and a tissue box. as he hands you the full box, you hoarse out your thanks as you sink lower into the couch.

you blow once again, trying not to get your snot onto the duke's personal couch. that would be embarrassing, and you were sure that he would never let you live the moment down. alas, you weren't sure he'd let you forget the time he personally pampered you either.

"you really didn't need to do all of this," you threw the tissues in the other empty box, "i was fine."

"you looked like you were about to pass out," he brings the warm cup towards your face. his fingers, rough and calloused, delicately tilt your head up.

"drink," he commands. though, there were no tints of dominance in his voice, only concern. just between the two of you, wriothesley's voice softened. his usual authoritative and magisterial tone dissipated, now replaced with conscientiousness and tact.

you shook your head, "i hate tea."

wriothesley sighed; not out of annoyance, but out of habit. the familiar ring of breath was commonly heard: you were very vocal about your dislike for his favorite drink.

"is now really the time to be stubborn?"

"always. especially when it's with you," you snickered. embarrassingly, your snicker quickly turned into a coughing spasm, and you had to turn your head away from wriothesley's as you coughed into your elbow. if you stopped listening to the sound of your sickness, you'd be able to hear the grand duke of meropide chuckle.

"if anything," the duke set your cup down on the coffee table, "that should've been enough to convince you to stop being stubborn. will coffee really give you the same results as tea?" wriothesley skeptically asked you.

you let out one last cough, a smaller one than the last few you had. your hand grabs the tea cup on the counter and you blow over the hot liquid. you can feel wriothesley's eyes lingering on you; you can especially feel the smirk growing on his face as he watches you take your first sip. normally, you don't give in to wriothesley's ideas: however, you are sick and you have no other choice. soldiers can't win all their battles anyway, right?

the warm liquid soothes your rough throat as you gulp it all down in one go. surprisingly, it's less hot than you thought it would be. the tea seems to be made at the exact same temperature you make your coffee. only, you don't tell anyone how to make your coffee.

you finish the drink and look up at wriothesley, about to question him on how he managed to heat your drink at the perfect temperature. but he moves first, his thumb wiping remnants of tea around the corner of your mouth.

"good job," he keeps his voice low. his expression is fond, eyebrows slightly crinkled and relaxed eyes.

you open your mouth to say something back, to ask him how he learned to make your tea, to ask him how he learned you; alas, your sickness got the better of you, and you lunged for the tissue box as a huge sneeze erupted out of you.

oh dear. how embarrassing.

wriothesley stays as you blow out all the nerves in your nose into a few sheets of tissue paper. it's an unattractive sight, to say the least. he's a better person than you: you would have walked away.

once wriothesley realizes you're almost done with your blaring, he grabs your empty cup and starts to walk towards the stairs leading to the rest of his office. but you have other plans. other questions that desperately need answers, like why you're here instead of the infirmary; why he's taking such good care of you; why he's doing this.

"wait!" you throw your tissue onto the coffee table and wrap your hand around his empty one. was it unsanitary? definitely; yet, wriothesley grabbed back immediately.

"what's wrong?" he asked urgently, his eyes traveling your body as he searched for any signs of problems.

for a moment, you didn't respond. you blamed it on the hoarseness of your voice: yeah, that was it. but it wasn't.

you were about to cough (you weren't).

you were about to sneeze (you weren't).

"uh," you swallow, your hold getting loose as you turn your body away from him, "can you stay?"

when your hand was about to slip out of his, wriothesley pulled it back in. his thumb⎯the same thumb that wiped the tea off your face⎯ran over the top of your hand, a silent pledge that he would stay. he sets your cup down and you move to make room for him. though, with the massive amount of room you gave for wriothesley, he still finds a way to be close to you, regardless of your sickness.

with how close you two are sitting, wriothesley's leg is almost intertwined with yours. he turns his body so he can fully face you; he doesn't even shy away from the fact that he may become ill as well.

"did you need anything?" he asks. his voice⎯which should echo due to the both of you being in the quiet office⎯is quiet. and you notice that he's leaning closer, only for you to be able to hear him. funny, being that the two of you are the only ones in his office at the moment. regardless, he's close.

you freeze. try to focus on anything but him. put your mind back on track. you feel foolish: pulling wriothesley towards you only to be rendered speechless when he actually comes beside you. your fingers drum from beside you, working their way to help you figure out what to say next.

"my body isn't functioning properly," you sniffle, following with a light hearted smile. you want to wince right after the words leave your mouth. "i need a caretaker." i need you.

wriothesley, who is always full of sarcastic and cheeky retorts, nods. he is aware of what you meant. he knows what it meant. that's why instead of brushing you off with a small chuckle, he shifts towards you even more and grabs a blanket from one of the couch cushions he was sitting on.

you try not to squirm when his cold hands graze your back as he puts a pillow underneath you. wriothesley slowly ushers you until you are flat on your back. he pulls your legs into his lap, and you have to hold your breath so you don't begin coughing again. it was so easy. so casual. it was as if you two were more than just consumer and supplier.

now is a good time to probably ask him questions, you thought to yourself. but once you look back up at him, you find that you've lost your tongue. because when he looks down at you, it's like all you can see are stars. and to think this was the same man who was attempting to pour tea into your mouth just a few seconds ago.

"how are you feeling?" he is the first one to break the silence. the first one to initiate anything.

you tuck yourself further into the blanket, "better, i think." you look at wriothesley, who was looking at your legs on his lap. you part your mouth to say something, but you close your lips and turn your body the other way.

you gnaw on your lip, wrapping the blanket more tightly around yourself. wriothesley's hands lie softly on your calves. you feel your breathes getting sharper and shorter at the proximity, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a way to tell your body to stop.

after a few minutes, you feel a stare crawling up your body. it trickles from your legs, to your back, to your head. you know who the culprit is, there is no need to turn back. but it still surprises you. wriothesley is still there. he's there even in the silence. he's there even when he doesn't need to be. he's here.

if you turn around right now, what will he look like? will wriothesley look dazed? annoyed? lost? will he have that gaze in his eyes⎯the one where his eyes lower just slightly that you can tell he's at ease? or will he accessorize his pinched look with crossed arms?

you take a deep breath (as deep as you can get without being blocked by congestion), trying to make your respirations as quiet as possible. then, you shuffle your body so you lie on your back instead of your side.

when you look up at him, he is shamelessly staring at you. you meet his stare with a strong gaze, and wriothesley tries to smile, but you can tell that it's faltering. he swallows as your eyes dance around his face, studying it like a textbook.

"you should probably get some rest," wriothesley pulls a pillow from his side of the couch and lends it to you. your hand reaches out to grab the pillow and your fingertips brush. and for a moment, you find that wriothesley nearly takes your hand into his. however, he pulls away promptly, like you burned him.

with a few groans and coughs, you prop yourself up on the pillows he gave you. now, you two are on the same level. it should be the perfect time to ask him the questions from earlier, right? you've mauled over your feelings, had a few moments of silence to yourself, and you felt fine interacting with him.

so why is it that you can't bear to ask the question: why are you doing this for me?

you must be delirious. the cold is making you delirious. maybe the doctor mixed up your sickness and diagnosed you with a cold rather than a high fever, because there is no reason why you should be avoiding such a simple question.

you reach for the back of your neck, and you're burning up. strange, because you were feeling cold just a few moments ago. you look back to wriothesley, who was currently tapping the couch arm across from you.

"can i ask you something?" you say, breaking the long silence between the both of you.

his head instantly turns back around, "sure," he says a little too quickly.

"why..." you pause, picking at the couch fabric, "why did you choose to personally take care of me?"

wriothesley's hand drops from the couch arm. he looks off over to his desk and you can see him adjust his tie. your eyes follow wherever his are, attempting to decipher whatever he was doing.

finally, he turns back to you, "what if i just liked to take care of my favorite supplier?"

damn him; he answered your question with a question. you know that you probably shouldn't press on, especially if he is avoiding the question. but you have to know. why not bring you to sigewinne? why not send you back to the overworld? why sit here with you, doing nothing?

"first of all," you were cut off with a cough, "i'm your only supplier. second, would you do this for monsieur neuvillette?"

wriothesley's eyes bulged at the mention of neuvillette, "um, what?"

"i bet he's your favorite chief justice."

"he's the only chief justice."

"and would you take care of him the same way you took care of me?" you raise an eyebrow.

you imagine wriothesley will say something on the lines of, "that correlation made no sense," but he is quiet. the tips of his ears are slightly red, and he shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

"i'm guessing the answer is no?" you remove your legs off of wriothesley's lap and curl them into you. wriothesley's eyebrows slightly raise up due to the lost of contact. you pretend not to notice.

"i care about you," he looks down at the floor, and then turns back up, "i care a lot. so when i saw you on the verge of fainting⎯i just... i didn't want to leave you alone. it's not about tea either. i care for you.

plus, this is a way to reimburse you after you gave me all those free samples."

you understand. it clicks. wriothesley, who has never had a stable life. wriothesley, who did not have a good support system. wriothesley, who grew up in a careless household.

i care about you, i care for you. the back of your neck gets hotter, and this time you're unsure if it's a fever or something else.

"you don't have to pay me back for the samples. that's why they're free," you look down, your teeth biting the bottom of your lip to keep you from smiling.

"for the record, i give you those because i care about you too," you smile. it's not faltering. it's not fake. it's real, and it shows that you care.

your hand slides over to the side of wriothesley's thigh, urging his hand to intertwine with yours. you look at him again, lightly poking his thigh to send him the message.

wriothesley grabbed your hand like it was the last thing he ever needed before death. his thumb brushed over your hand again, and you feel yourself gulping.

"do you want to share the couch?" you lean back down on your back, removing one of the pillows and still holding onto wriothesley's hand.

"there's not gonna be enough room," wriothesley chuckles and scoots closer to you.

"i'll make enough room," you begin shuffling onto your side, creating a huge gap between the back of the couch and you.

"what if i get sick?" wriothesley jokes.

you playfully scoff back at him, "please. you've made it this far anyway," you turn onto your other side to see wriothesley, "come on. it'll be fine. we won't fall. you'd probably catch me in your sleep or something before i fall."

wriothesley pulls at his tie again, "fine. just this once," he says, even though he knows that this will be one of many.

your smile is enough to bring a year's worth of sunlight into the fortress of meropide. wriothesley doesn't see the sun often, but when he does, he is surprised it doesn't look like you.

wriothesley takes his spot behind you on the couch. you move to lay on the edge of the couch, but he pulls you closer just in case. you're a few centimeters away from his shirt; it seems like wriothesley is eager, yet still wants to maintain some distance.

his arms flop over your body as he buries his face into one of your (his) pillows. his head is right next to yours. for someone so cold (physically), his body temperature became warmer. you turn your head to the side so you can get a good look at him, but he's out like a light.

throughout the night, wriothesley's head shifts closer and closer to you. to others, like sigewinne, it seems like his body has a mind on his own: she found the two of you sleeping together in his office; she saw wriothesley's head buried in the crook of your neck; she saw his arms wrapped around your waist; and most of all, she saw that his face lit up, just like yours.

[lovelytsunoda]

sunday in heaven // jake "hangman" seresin

warm afternoons spent under blankets with hot drinks and paperbacks

jake’s favourite afternoons were spent with his fiancée and his dog, with hot drinks and a good book. nice and calm, different from his every day. but tell anybody that and he’d have to kill you.

pairing: jake seresin x fiancee reader

author's note: i bet this man is the biggest jack reacher fan on the goddamn planet. he will lie to your face about his book collection and then go home and stay up until 5am because 'babe, reacher's about to beat up like eight dudes and then fling one of them out a helicopter.'

"babe, the package is here!"

jake's shout echoes around the small house as he parades into the living room, shaking the amazon box in his hands. their dachshund, roxy, follows behind him, entranced by the cardboard box.

y/n stopped what she was doing, drying her hands off on the dish towel before turning to her fiancee with a giddy look on her face.

"what are you waiting for? let's open it!"

“hold your horses, sweet thing.” jake crooned, placing the box on the kitchen island before sitting down on the barstool, hefting roxy into his arms.

that was the first major misconception about lieutenant jake seresin. everyone who met him assumed he was a german shepherd kind of man, a golden retriever at the least. a large, energetic guard dog. but roxy was the most spoilt little dog in all of fightertown. he loved that dog more than he loved his truck, which was saying something.

roxy sat in his lap, standing up on her hind legs as she licked at his face, his fingers scratching behind her ears. y/n reached over the counter to run her hand over the dog's back a few times, before she pressed a kiss to jake’s cheek, and slipped a knife out of the block to slice the box open.

the small 'j' shaped pendant around her neck glittered as she leaned over to pull the paperbacks out of their box, a wide, giddy smile crossing her face as she flipped through the pages of the wife stalker by liv constantine, inhaling the smell of a brand new, unread book.

across the island, jake smiled at her, a lovesick expression in his eyes. they say that when you know, you know, and the first time she took him to a book store, he knew. he knew when she fangirled over emily henry and her written rom coms, and he knew when she admitted her love for the domestic thriller.

"look at this bad boy." he grinned, reaching for the smaller stack of books that he had picked out for himself, the silhouette of alan ritchson's iteration of jack reacher looking up at him from the cover of bad luck and trouble.

"this is great timing, actually. i finished fool me once while you were working late last night, and i've been waiting for something new to read." y/n giggled, dishes forgotten in the sink as she thumbed through the stack that she had ordered.

the worst thing she could have done for her bank acocunt was date someone who supported her book buying addiction, but some days, when there was a new military or action thriller on the shelves, jake was even worse than she was.

in fact, she seemed to remember waiting in line at barnes and noble for three hours just so that jake could get his hands on a copy of heat 2, based on the film starring, you guessed it, al pacino.

oh, yeah. that was the second misconception about jake seresin: he really liked to read. and he didn't just say that to placate his fiancée. he really did love a good book. he even went as far as to listen to audiobooks when he was at the gym, and had been known to stay up late when he was in the thick of a lee child novel, even if he did have to go to work in the morning.

jake had proposed with a collection of miss marple books and a pink string that had the ring on it. and for his birthday, she had bought him the latest jason bourne novel.

it seemed that the written word had quickly become their love language, a hobby she never thought she would ever share with her significant other. he was also known to read the occasional romance novel, and wasn't shy about making that known when they shared time together in the bedroom.

but if you told anybody on the dagger squad that he had even read one single novel, jake would skin you alive. he was almost mortified when mickey found jake's well-worn copy of the godfather in his locker, but this was before mickey had admitted that he had also read the cult classic.

and when rooster caught jake listening to the audiobook version of one of the original james bond books? they swore never to speak of it again.

when he first confessed this to y/n, she had laughed. not at him, per say, but because he shared the same book taste as her grandfather.

"i've got like, a hundred pages left in the night agent, but i might have to postpone that to a later date now that reacher has arrived." jake hummed, scratching roxy behind the ears, the small dog trying to sniff the three paperbacks that he held.

"you know what that means?"

"fuck yeah i do."

and that's how they found themselves curling up next to each other on the sectional sofa, two warm mugs on the coffee table (black coffee for jake, and a caramel/whipped cream hot chocolate for y/n.) and a plush blanket from coscto.

she snuggled into jake's side, absorbing his body heat as she fluffed the blanket around them. he kissed her on the forehead as she rested her head against his shoulder, glasses perched on the edge of her nose.

true to his word, jake abandoned the night agent on the side table, cracking open his new jack reacher.

this was something that irked y/n.

jake could read three or four books at a time, his attention span and mood reading tendencies sometimes meaning that it took him six months to get through a book that should have taken four days. there was no end to the dog eared paperbacks that jake would leave lying around.

"jake?" she hummed, halfway down the first page of her book as roxy jumped onto the couch, nestling in between their bodies.

"yeah, pretty girl?" he chuckled, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. the most treasured, comforting scent had had ever encountered.

"i love you."

"more than your book boyfriends?" he teased, poking her in the side.

she laughed heartily, kepping a tight grip on her paperback as she pressed a delicate kiss to his lips, trying to keep things chaste. if she even hinted at all that she wanted jake in her bed, neither of them would be starting a book that afternoon. "of course, jackass."

"i love you too, pretty girl. i can't wait to waste the rest of my sundays reading in bed with you."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @twinkodium @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

[cookie-crumblr]

The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 2~

his info: 🖕✨

part: 1 2 3

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, reader in a skirt, NSFW, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, ), BULLYING, stealing, use of toys, non con drugging exhibitionism

You make sure to check your peephole before leaving today. You make sure to make it to class early for a seat closer to the front. And by the gods you make sure to bring pepper spray.

You aren’t allowed weapons on campus… but maybe you can talk your way out of it.

“Move it,” You jump upon hearing Ezra’s voice way too close to you and begin to shiver and breathe heavier.

No

The person sat next to you scrambles to get away almost forgetting their wallet and phone.

He flops down in the now vacant seat.

You remain sternly faced forward. Trying and failing to just pretend he’s not there.

*Slap!* His open palm lands square over the width of your thigh. “So, bitch, what’s it gon’ be”

“Wh-what’s what gonna be?”

“Do you wan’ do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

His friends surround you both…

“E-easy way…” you don’t even know what he’s talking about, but you’re catching onto his game.

He snaps and they lift you to your feet by your bicep.

You comply, though they’re all taller than you and your shoulder bends uncomfortably.

They walk you shamefully in front of the group, pushing you when you start to slow down or stumble.

You’re taken off campus, and to a store in a strip, that felt like a thirty minute walk away.

The name on the front reads, “Tease” in big black and hot pink letters.

Ezra now personally pushes you towards the door.

“What a-are w-we do—” you start.

“Steal five things, go bitch! Go!” he claps and bends over you speaking in a higher pitch as if he’s telling a dog to go fetch.

He shoves you through the door.

Whiplashed you simply stand for a second, before taking a deep breath.

You grab a few of the first boxes you see, and head towards the back. there’s curtain covered changing areas… There won’t be cameras back there.

Glancing toward the counter where a woman reading a magazine, stands, you sigh. At least she doesn’t look like she’d care if you were stealing.

You slowly open the packages you nabbed and shove the toys in your pockets. You wore a big hoodie so as long as a hand is in the pouch you can cover up the lump and the other two are snug in the band of your skirt.

You still need two more things… but anywhere else you could put them would be too obvious.

You spot something labeled “anal plug” and have an idea… It’s a pretty terrible one, but it’ll definitely work.

You grab that, and one more box, then open up the curtain for hopefully the last time.

Your face is hot as you peel down your wet panties…

You open the first box and put the plug in your bum, trying to avoid thinking about what you are doing. A warmth spreads fast between your legs because of the pressure.

The next box you open is bigger than the other stuff you grabbed…

You contemplate for a second swapping it with one of the smaller things in your pockets, but it would be way too obvious there.

You try and push it in.

Struggling to even get the tip in you quietly grunt.

After a solid minute of trying again and failing, you put it in your mouth before attempting it again.

Thankfully it goes in this time, albeit rather painfully. You allow yourself time to adjust, and breathe.

You try and compose yourself before you walk out as normally as you can.

The bell jingles as you exit.

At first you don’t see Ezra and his gang, and you feel stupid. Maybe you could’ve just waited them out instead of stupidly stealing everything and shoving toys inside yourself.

A window on one of the cars blasting music out front, rolls down, revealing him with a cigarette between his fingers.

“Took ya long enough. Show us what cha copped,” he takes a drag, and inspects you from head to toe as you walk nervously over. You stumble a little, still not used to the toy intrusions.

“Hurry up, slut! we’ve all been bored as shit, I wanna get the fuck out,”

You drop the three things into his palms.

“Yur missin a couple a things,” His smirk becomes frigid and sinister.

You lean into his ear slowly, at first he scowls, before realizing what you’re doing. Then he lifts a hand to block your mouth from the rest of the guys so you can whisper freely into his ear.

“Th-there—d-down—there…” Your face is burning hot.

He busts out laughing, “Oi that’s fuckin rich! Hey guys! The bitch couldn’t wait!” He looks into your eyes, some emotion you can’t catch flashing across his face. “What’re ya waitin for? Bend over and show us already.” His voice is ravenous.

Swallowing, you do as instructed. Your legs shake as you pull your panties down again, and pick up your skirt then lean forward, keeping your eyes screwed shut tight.

They all woop and cheer and laugh at you, and Ezra smiles with what looks almost like pride.

He slaps your ass hard, and you bite your lip to stifle a cry. Then he stands to block you from them as you fix yourself.

Smiling at you devilishly, he now leans down to whisper in your ear, “You know… There were packs of gum and shit up front…”

He gets back into the driver’s seat and pulls off the lot, the other cars follow.

You’re left in the dust, with toys stuffing your holes, alone and embarrassed.

At least they threw your stuff on the ground before they left, so you can call your roommate for a ride.

She doesn’t question why you’re stranded, why you’re sitting weird, or even about yesterday.

Class the next day is quiet.

So are the hallways, you don’t even see any of Ezra’s gang.

You’re mid sigh of relief the next morning when he struts into class late, sporting some new bandages.

“Ezra! We saved ya a seat~” A girl toward the back waves as she greets him.

“Hey, Ezra~ last night was fun!” The girl sat next to the first, calls after.

You try and block him out, until a paper ball hits you in the head.

You ignore the first, and second… But at the third you turn to see him making a gesture for you to open them.

The first one just says “Bitch” and you hold it up to him with a question written on your face.

He mouths “The other one” while rolling his eyes.

The next one says “slut” and you almost laugh imagining showing him that one and feigning ignorance. But you think better than to irritate him.

The last one you unfurl reads

“I got ya a present”

You turn to mouth “thanks?” while shrugging, before you look back toward the front of the class, you notice each one of those girls have a hand on his chest.

You feel a small pang of jealousy. Why is he nice to them? What did you do to deserve the treatment he’s giving you?

On your way out of the room you hear him call after you, “Forgetting something bitch?”

You let out a long sigh through your nose, “coming…”

The two girls are the last to leave they wave on their way out.

While remaining seated he lazily extends a paper bag to you. His smirk is annoying and would make you angry if you weren’t still so scared.

“Wh-What’s wrong with it…?” You snatch the bag and sniff it first.

It smells like a brownie.

You open it, and it looks like a brownie.

He laughs out his nose, while watching you, “If you don’ wan’ it—”

“N-no… It’s fine, i’ll eat it!” You interrupt before he thinks you’re even more ungrateful.

You’re overcome with hope that this is him extending an olive branch!

You bound out of the room, making it on time, you decide to eat it before class officially starts.

It doesn’t really taste all that good… But you can’t be rude. He probably just… Didn’t know a good place! yeah.

you don’t know how far into the lesson you get to before you feel something in your guts shift.

You need to leave right now.

Luckily this isn’t high school and the professors don’t care if you don’t ask.

You make it to the bathroom in time to throw up.

The entire way there you stumbled, and ran into the walls. It feels as though you’re on a ship, that’s swaying in the ocean.

What the fuck kinda sea sickness feeling food poisoning was in that sweet? He must’ve got it from somewhere really terrible on accident.

When you leave you can’t stop giggling.

The giggling turns into crying, where the fuck are you? A hallway? it’s definitely the college corridor but… It’s reminding you of a hallway you’ve seen as a kid.

You were so small…

Now you’re…

What are you?

“Hahaaa” you’re laughing again.

You don’t even notice right away when you trip over your own feet, now you’re falling down the stairs.

Someone grabs you before you can truly fall, and now you really can’t stop laughing.

“H-hey thanks” You turn in what feels like slow motion and see a strange guy holding you.

“You can let go nooowww thanks~ hahhh haha” You try and shimmy yourself free, his hands remain firm.

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 21

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, i think that's about it.

The following week you honestly felt like the heaviest weight had finally been lifted off your shoulders. You started to realize just how down you’d been and were now eternally grateful that it hadn’t been any longer. The next morning you were sat at your desk wrapping up paperwork when a coffee was discreetly placed onto your desk, you glanced up to barely catch Emily striding through the bull pen on the way to her office. From across the room Garcia managed to catch your eye, a wicked grin on her face as she glanced between the two of you.

*

That evening when you got home you were cursing yourself for having not bought groceries, having nothing edible but eggs in the fridge when there was a knock on the door. Your faved penne primavera with extra garlic bread on the side and a mini lava cake all fresh and hot and fully paid for. You scooped up your phone while digging into the bread,

‘You don’t have to buy your way out of this ya know. I already accepted your apology.’

‘Think of it as a double hitter. I… wanted to make sure you were eating.’

‘Turns out my appetite is back in full force this week.’

‘I’m glad. Enjoy your dinner.’

‘Thank you.’

You spent the rest of the evening texting, making each other laugh, watching the same shows from different houses before finally saying goodnight and crawling into bed.

*

You were almost running late the next morning, racing out the door and practically directly into a delivery man, the most gorgeous bouquet of roses and lilies you’d ever seen in the package. You had just enough time to leave them on the entry way table before running to the car, your phone buzzing in the cup holder the moment you sat it down.

‘Don’t worry, those ones are from me.’

You managed to slip into the elevator at the BAU right before the doors slid shut, letting out a breath when you noticed it had managed to trap you and Emily alone together.

“Thought I said you weren’t in the dog house.”

“Still allowed to spoil you, aren’t I?” She replied with a shrug and you laughed, “I’ll stop if you want, it’s just… making me feel a little better about the whole thing. I want to make sure you know how much I actually do care about you.”

“I do.” Smiling, you leant in, kissing her cheek softly, “thank you. They’re gorgeous.”

Emily had just enough time to squeeze at your wrist before the doors slid open and you went your separate ways.

*

Halfway through the morning Derek rolled his chair over to your desk, a bakery box finding home on top of it.

“Brought your favourite.” He greeted and you looked over at him with a small smile.

“You don’t need to feed me Derek, I ate breakfast. But thank you.” You lifted the lid to find that he did indeed get your favourite and began picking bites off the muffin.

“Just checkin’ in.” He replied with a shrug, “you know you have been in a helluva better mood this week.”

“That’ll happen when you manage to escape a toxic ex and get to sleep in your own bed again.”

“You really hate Seattle that much hey?”

“I’d rather move back to Florida.”

“Ouch.” He surveyed you for a moment, practically studying you to see if this was some kind of cover up or if you were actually doing better.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “just, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. A smile looks good on you.” He squeezed your shoulder affectionately before wandering back to his desk and it took all of your willpower to not look over to Emily’s office. You could feel her eyes on you and a few minutes later when you risked a glance up in her direction you found them still on you, doing your best not to laugh as she blushed. You shot her a quick wink and returned to the paperwork at hand.

*

Penelope managed to coerce you into drinks on Wednesday after work and you were thankful it was just the two of you, you knew she was likely going to grill you and that would be almost impossible in front of anyone else from the team. You’d settled in with your third drink when she finally couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Okay, so I take it from the very improved mood this week that you’ve talked things out?” She asked, a wicked grin on her lips.

“We have…” you took a sip of your drink, “she explained everything, a very big apology was given that I accepted.”

“Oh please tell me you’re back together, you have to be back together, you’re just so friggin cute!”

“I dunno if I’d call it ‘back together’.” You laughed, “but yeah, we’re like, officially together now.”

“Oh thank god!” She squeezed at your arm, “so when are you gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“I… uh.. once we figure out the politics of it I guess? At this point we’re just like, not sneaking around.”

“But the sneaking around kinda makes it hotter, doesn’t it?” She smirked and you laughed.

“Yeah I’ve gotta admit, sometimes it does, knowing someone on the team’s in the next hotel room so you’ve gotta stay quiet…. Adds some spice.”

“And spice is something the two of you most definitely have.” She smirked and your eyes widened.

“I told you to fast forward that shit!”

“Didn’t need to listen to any more than I’d already heard sunshine. I knew daddy issues were a thing, but I’ve always kind of wondered how that would translate to lesbianism.”

“Well you’re welcome for educating you.” You replied dryly, rolling you eyes before taking another sip of your drink.

“All teasing aside, I am really happy for you.” Her hand slid across the table to squeeze at yours, “you deserve happiness and love and you’ve found that, even if it kinda went to hell and back on the way.”

“Thanks Penelope.”

*

You let out a soft sigh, scrawling your signature across the bottom of a sheet of paper before flipping the case file shut and pushing your chair back. Crossing through the bull pen you knocked on the door jam of Emily’s office, pausing a moment before entering, flashing her a small smile.

“Papers fully filled out and everything documented.” You stated, placing the file down into her inbox.

“Thanks.” She smiled back at you before you turned to leave, “hey… good work today. No one else could get through to that girl.”

“Thanks.” You shrugged, turning back to her, “I’ve always been good with kids despite not having the desire to want my own.”

“No?”

“My track record with family isn’t exactly great.” You laughed, leaning against one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“Me neither.” She chuckled in response, “but just because you had shitty parents doesn’t mean you’d be one.”

“I know.” You smiled softly, “but with this job? The hours alone are enough to make me feel bad much less the risks and baggage we bring home.” Your brow furrowed as you realized something, “oh… we’ve never talked about this… it’s not a deal breaker or anything, I just don’t see it being a great idea.” Emily smiled softly, looking up at you.

“There was a time I entertained the idea, but like you said, it wouldn’t be easy with this job. Besides, you know how whiney Sergio gets when I’ve been gone a while, I can’t imagine an actual child.”

You barked out a laugh at that, the smile remaining on your cheeks as Emily’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

You were acutely aware that outside the office you were being watched, you could feel the eyes on you but weren’t sure who they belonged to. It was Derek, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two of you through the office windows.

“What’re we staring at?” Penelope asked, settling in beside him.

“Wilson’s been in there too long for just dropping off paperwork.” He replied without looking away.

“Well, she took the interview with that last vic, maybe they’re talking about the case?”

“No.” He frowned, “they’re way too casual for that. Look at the way she just laughed.”

“Aww.” Penelope smiled.

“A week and a half ago Wilson was going through hell.”

“And now Emily’s making her smile, that’s a good thing.” She nudged at his side with her elbow, “I mean, just look at them, Wilson should spend the rest of the afternoon in her office.”

“Why are you so happy about this?” He finally managed to drag his eyes away from the office to look at the blonde.

“Because they’re so freaking cute! Just look at them,” she gestured toward the office, “you can’t tell me they’re not crazy about each other!”

“Baby… Prentiss fucked her up royally, you can’t be okay with this. Wilson was a wreck while we were in Seattle…”

“Oh my love,” she squeezed at his arm, “you have it all wrong.”

Back inside the office you were finally turning to leave, knowing there was only one tiny pile of paperwork sitting between you and the ability to punch out when Emily spoke again.

“Hey… uh.. you have plans tomorrow?”

“Just this little thing called work.” You turned back to her with a grin and she laughed.

“No, I meant tomorrow night.”

“Not a thing.”

“I meant it a couple of weeks ago when I said I wanted to actually take you out…” She began hesitantly, sucking her lip into her teeth.

“Are you asking me on a date Agent Prentiss?” You grinned, moving back closer to her desk so your voice wouldn’t carry through the door.

“Yeah. I am.” She let out a breath, unsure why she was suddenly so nervous, “and I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”

“If we weren’t getting stared down by Garcia and Morgan… I’d be kissing you right now.” You chuckled, “of course it’s a yes.” She smiled warmly at you, a light shade of pink tinging her cheeks, “you sure this isn’t just about that dress?” You asked and she scoffed.

“Oh c’mon.”

“Your brain short circuited when I opened the door that night and you cannot deny that.”

“Fine.” She grumbled with a smile, “but this is about me wanting to take you somewhere nice, you deserve it.”

“As long as it’s not too fancy.” You teased.

“Pinky promise I won’t order for you.” She smirked back and you laughed, playfully rolling your eyes, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Sounds perfect.”

*

At the end of the day Emily was stuck a little later than she’d planned, a phone call with the director taking loner than expected and a little bit of extra paperwork because of it. She was finally emptying her inbox, tossing the folder into her outbox when there was a knock on the open office door and she looked up to find Derek stepping into the room.

“Hey.” She greeted, “thought you’d taken off already.”

“I was about to, but I didn’t want to leave without talking to you first otherwise this’d be eating away at me all night.”

“What’s up?” She asked, sitting back in her chair and Derek let out a heavy huff, dropping into one in front of her desk.

“Don’t be mad at Penelope… it’s thanks to her that I’ve been fully looped in now.”

“Okay?” She raised a brow.

“You and Wilson.” He sighed, “I was confused, and honestly a little upset to see how civil she was being to you, I didn’t think you deserved it from her, but now I know what really went down. Emily… I really hope you’re doing the right thing here, and for the right reasons. I know that your personal life and what you do outside of this office is literally none of my business, but I was also witnessing first hand when Wilson hit her absolute rock bottom breaking point. And I don’t ever want to see her that low again, so if you hurt her, again, and for real, you’ll never be hearing the end of it from me.”

“I don’t have a single plan in the world to ever pull something like that again, especially to her. And I’d expect you to, I’m glad she’s got you in her corner.”

“She doesn’t have many other options. This team is her family, like it is for a lot of us. I wanna make sure she knows that and that she doesn’t leave because something went south between the two of you.”

“I just…” Emily sighed, chewing on her lip, “I didn’t know what to do so I went with the first instinct I had. I didn’t know how much time I had, how close Dewald was. I didn’t want her to get hurt or killed just because of her association with me.”

“And you suck at communicating your feelings sometimes.” Derek stated, and while he was right, there was a teasing grin on his lips that she couldn’t help but huff a small laugh out at as she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve made a promise of open communication for what it’s worth.” She defended and he laughed quietly, “I just needed her safe…”

“Emily, I get it, I really do. That kind of a case? An unsub who had history with someone on the team, who made it very clear they were coming for you, and that meant her. You were flashing back to Doyle. It makes perfect sense that you wanted to protect her as much as possible, even doing it the way you did. You even made sure that Dewald would know, and then shipped her out of state just in case he didn’t believe it. You didn’t tell her about it because you were afraid she’d pull a you and take it on herself and end up getting herself killed. Hell even if you didn’t realize it, your subconscious did and this time we caught the guy and no one got hurt.”

“Yeah…” she murmured.

“As mad as I was before, I understand it.” He let out a breath, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you happy? Like truly, really happy?”

“More than I ever have been in my entire life.” She replied, a soft smile on her lips.

“Make sure she knows that. Because that girl cares about you more than anyone in the world.”

“I know.” She nodded, “and I will. She means the world to me.”

“Good.” Smiling, he pushed to standing, “I’m happy for you Prentiss, really.”

“Thanks.” She watched him start to leave the office.

“Oh, and promise me one more thing?”

“What?” She asked with a small laugh as Derek turned back in the doorway to face her.

“For the love of god could you two maybe keep the jet sex free in the future?! I’ll never be able to sit on that couch again.”

Emily felt the colour drain out of her face but the mortification was immediately usurped by wanting to get one in over Derek, a smirk breaking out on her lips.

“Alright, no mile high club. But I can’t make promises about what you might overhear otherwise.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remember back when she first joined the team and we were out in Atlanta? You complained on the way home about not getting any sleep thanks to someone else in the hotel being too noisy…” She grinned and Derek made a face of disgust with a grimace.

“That’s it, I’m bunking with Wilson for the foreseeable future, keep you two apart while we’re on the road.” He quickly backed out of the office, not wanting to hear anymore, leaving Emily laughing.  

__________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @daddy-heather-dunbar @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots  @overtrred28 @happenstnces  @sapphicprentiss @heidss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ | ᴄ. ᴇᴠᴀɴꜱ

Chris Evans x Korean-American!Reader

summary: It’s tricky to introduce the boyfriend to one’s parents in the middle of a worldwide pandemic—so FaceTime has to be sufficient for now.

word count: 4k

warnings: a smidge of anxiety and insecurity, mentions of pandemic and the virus, talk about said virus, pandemic and overall social situation (but really short), but overall fluff, my inability of keeping things short, my attempts of Korean (I’m still a beginner’s learner, so I had to use some dictionary magic, sorry folks 👉🏻👈🏻), not perfectly proofread, a short social media post kinda thing at the end with Arden Cho as the faceclaim—but you can ignore that if you want <3

author’s note: I’m not Korean myself, but I kinda had this idea stuck in my head, and I really hope you won’t rip my head off because I’m writing something like this 👉🏻👈🏻 Edit: the wonderful @a-cup-of-earl-grey-please helped me with the Korean bits in this piece!! <3

;

Humming, YN pushed the door close with her hip, arms crowded by bags full of groceries so they didn’t have to go out for another few weeks without scratching the point of starvation and kicked off her flats. Commotion was heard somewhere in the house before Dodger rounded the corner and greeted her with an excitedly lolled-out tongue and big eyes, looking up at her and one of the bags in particular, tail wiggling heavily.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted her best (fur) friend before walking down the hallway to get her new possessions into the kitchen—Dodger hot on her heels. “Calm down, bub. I know that you know that I got you those treats, but you have to cut me some slack, yeah? I’m not your daddy who can easily carry everything on one arm and fish your stuff out with the other. It’s not so easy peasy lemon squeezy without muscles like Mount Everest, y’know?” Grinning, she talked with the dog while arriving in the kitchen and letting everything plop down onto the kitchen island.

She quickly went to the sink, squirted some disinfecting soap on her hands—she still wondered where Chris had found that invention—and started to wash her hands while singing Happy Birthday under her breath. A tad more than twenty seconds later, she rinsed the soap, dried her hands, and returned to the pile of stuff waiting for her to get unpacked.

Rummaging through the tote bags and the rare paper bags—only bought when her already brought bags weren’t enough—YN tried to find the treats Dodger was obsessed with and ripped open the new package before turning around and letting him sit. “Such a good boy,” she smiled while crouching down and letting him devour the small treats in the palm of her hand as if there was no tomorrow. “Don’t tell your dad, but I got him some treats as well. Remember the time when he emptied my bag of injeolmi raiseubol on his own? Well, he can’t eat mine anymore because he has his own stack now.”

Giggling at the tickling feeling of Dodger’s tongue lapping at her fingertips, she didn’t hear when Chris entered the lower floor. “What shouldn’t he tell me?” Looking up, a grin formed again on her delicate features. “Nothing?” The bear of a man raised a dark blonde eyebrow, and YN let him pull her upwards and straight into his arms.

Her Asian roots and heritage let her appear like a tiny fairy next to him. They could totally pull off a Tinker Bell and Peter Pan costume for Halloween now that she thought of… Depending on the outcome of everything and if the world could get its shit together before burning everything to ashes and the ground. But she would keep that idea in the back of her head because she really wanted to dress up at some point again.

“Got you some of those snacks you seemed to really like when you worked through every box and bag,” she whispered, lips ghosting over his after Chris had bent his head down to hers, nose tips softly rubbing against each other. “So that’s where you disappeared to?” YN nodded and let him push some of the dark, silky strands behind her ear. “Sorry for forgetting my phone. I was already halfway there when I thought of it and wanted to get everything before the flood of people came. Jus’wanted to get outta there as fast as possible.”

The current situation, even after weeks of their new reality, still haunted and scared her to an extent she never would’ve imagined possible. Wearing masks was nothing she dreaded—she was used to it from her time overseas during her studies—but the fact that everything got worse and worse without any sight of a turning point was anxiety-inducing.

Chris wrapped her tighter in his strong arms and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Don’t have to apologize, sweets. Just glad you made it back in time. The FaceTime call with your parents is still on for today, right?” Nodding, YN soothingly rubbed his back as soon as she heard the slight hesitation in his voice, saw and heard his thick gulping, trying to swallow the rising nerves. “Hey,” she mumbled, cupping his bearded face with both hands and giving him a serious look-over. “We don’t have to do this if you think it’s not a good time. We still can cancel if you wanna do it in person because it’s easier, less stressful, less nerve-racking. It’s not like they know what I’m up to—my mom may suspect something because she keeps track of me through tabloids and social media, but she knows that those are almost always lies and that I would tell her in time if something is up.”

She had never been nervous herself when it came to introducing her boyfriends to her parents because she almost always never really thought of what they would think about them. But with Chris? She really needed them to like him because even after only a year and a half, she knew with shocking clarity that he was the one for her. And her parents had to like him.

They simply just must.

But she also feared the possibility of overwhelming this poor man in front of her—especially now in times like these when they constantly brinked to the state of losing their heads through anxiety and plain fear of getting sick, and nobody knew what would happen then. She wanted to make it as perfect and comfortable as possible for him because she always wanted for him to like her parents back.

Chris’ hands atop her hips tightened their hold before gently loosening it again; his thumbs rubbed slow circles into the fabric of her shirt. “No… No. I still wanna do it. You already met my family, and I guess it’s time, don’t you think?” Softly shrugging, YN looked up at him, his face still enveloped by her hands. She started to comb her fingers through his soft hair, knowing very well that it soothed him more than anything else she could do. “It doesn’t matter what I think, love. I want it to be as comfortable as possible for you, y’know. You made me feel so welcomed when I met Lisa for the first time, so perfectly content with the moment. I just… just wanna do the same for you.” She let her eyes fall shut as Chris kissed the crown of her head before tilting her head upwards to him, his finger under her chin to move it, and proceeded to kiss her lips numerous times.

The tender pecks and the tickling feeling of his beard on her soft skin made her giggle.

“You already do, baby. Alone that you think about it so thoroughly… Fuck, I love you so much,” the man whispered against her lips. “The most perfect woman there is,” he continued, pressing another set of kisses to her lips. “Stop over-exaggerating,” YN scolded him with a soft laugh and swatted his broad chest. “Instead, help me get this stuff unpacked and carry this freaking heavy sack of rice in the pantry, Mister America’s Ass.”

With a boyish grin on his features, Chris shamelessly dug through the Korean snacks he had learned to love since YN had entered his life and had shown him the culinary variety she grew up with. “Ooooh, you got the honey butter chips!” Which was followed by: “And the chocolate-cracker stuff! Yes.” Chris had nothing but a sweet tooth.

Meanwhile, YN started to sort the unpacked stuff in piles for the fridge, the cupboards, and the pantry, while Dodger patiently followed her during every step, hoping for another handful of treats with big round eyes—and of course, he got one.

She never could deny her two boys anything.

—

Sitting on one of the dining chairs in the kitchen, YN smiled brightly at her iPad’s screen as her mom's face appeared with a similar smile. “Hey, eomma!” The familiar Korean word for Mom strangely always soothed her. Cho-Hee observed her daughter on the other side of the world closely before her dark brows furrowed over her worried eyes. “Bab meokeutni?” The daughter rolled her eyes with a soft smile. “Of course, I’ve eaten, Mom. Probably more than enough to sustain an entire town for a month. Netflix and snacks are my newest best friends,” she grinned before propping up her chin in the palm of her hand, eyes still trained on the screen. Her mother sighed softly. “I only worry about you, aegiya (baby), especially now with you so far away. Are you staying inside? Keep your distance? Order everything you can instead of going out to get it yourself?” She continued to nod at every given point. “Yes, yes, and yes. Though I feel bad for the people delivering me my stuff, y’know? It’s just unfair. But I at least can provide them with proper face masks. Last week I saw our postman with a mask almost already falling to pieces.” Through the upsetting feeling rising inside her, YN didn’t even realize she used our instead of mine. “Like… why can’t the government just provide them? Last time I saw a package at the store, I almost dropped to the floor. They’re so expensive, Mom. And then you have to be lucky to get some anyway. It’s like playing the lottery.”

Groaning, YN stopped her frustrated rambling spree before taking a deep breath. “Sorry, Mom. It’s just… I don’t know. It shouldn’t be like this.” It certainly hit differently when spending a lot of one’s lifetime in a country with a far better social security system, actually providing for its people. But her mother gladly didn’t object to her words. “I understand, love. I really do. The situation only emphasizes societal inequality—but maybe this is also a good thing. Try to be a bit hopeful, yes? Maybe this will lead to changes in the future.” YN couldn’t help it—as always—but admired her mother. She always tried to find something positive in every aspect of life or put hope in the future. “I try, I promise,” YN mumbled before cocking an eyebrow. “Where is Dad?” Her mother turned in her chair and called loving obscenities into the small house in the countryside around Seoul, demanding that her husband move his butt over so he could greet his only child—and utmost pride.

In-Sung appeared in the camera range of the propped-up iPad, and YN waved with a wide grin. Before meeting Chris, her father had been her most favorite male person on this planet—now they both shared that spot.

“Hey, appa (Dad),” she continued to grin but had to look down at the sudden feeling of a warm furry body pressing against her shins, desperate for attention. Dodger pushed his head between her knees and waited for her to grant him the attention he wanted. YN could see Chris out of the corner of her eye, trying to whistle the dog back without getting noticed for now. “Hey, princess. How you’re holding up?” Turning her head to the right, the woman looked over at Chris, lifting both brows softly in question. “Everything‘s great, Dad,” she said while communicating silently. Her father, on the other hand, observed the scene and her surroundings more closely as her mother would ever do. “Where are you, YN? This is not your living room. I would know if you had a window front.”

Turning back, she started to scratch Dodger behind his ear and picked up her nervous habit of biting on her bottom lip. “I… uhm…,” YN began before taking a deep breath. “I have to tell you something,” she continued and waved Chris over, who now hesitantly walked closer. He wasn’t in the picture yet, but her parents probably knew that something was definitely up. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tenderly and reassuringly, before softly pulling at it to get him to sit down on the chair right next to her. “Actually, I want you to meet someone,” YN corrected herself before softly pushing the iPad a bit to the right, so Chris was on screen right next to her. She still could see the surprised—but pleased—expressions settling on her parents’ faces. “Appa, eomma—this is Chris and… well, he is my boyfriend.” Shortly, she paused before opening her mouth again, suddenly overcome by the urge to explain herself. “This isn’t new at all, and I’m really sorry for not telling you sooner or introducing him sooner, but I kinda wanted to figure this out first before dragging another guy in front of you who would disappear in a month or two, so it’s not his fault, and again, I’m seriously sorry, and—”

Chris’ hand settled on her thigh, squeezing it gently to pull her out of that anxious state of self-explanatory she fell into. She looked up at him, swallowing the next flood of words at his loving, reassuring smile, and let him pull her chair closer to his before he moved the iPad as well. Dodger followed close while still sitting on his butt—lazy boy—and rested his head back on her mid-thigh; dark eyes kept looking up at her, demanding scratches and overall love from his other favorite human.

“You don’t have to apologize, aegiya, and you know it as well as we do,” her mom told her before smiling as brightly as the sun at Chris. He, on the other hand, started to shift in his chair before throwing her one last look—an apologetic one she didn’t quite understand—and moving his gaze back to her parents on the screen. “Annyeong haseyo, abeonim, eomeonim. Manna boepge doeeo yeong-gwang-ipnida (Hello, mother, father (in a formal setting, also used as mother/father-in-law). I’m honored to meet you),” the man right next to her suddenly spoke in almost flawless Korean, which almost led to YN’s fall from her chair. Her parents squealed in excitement—well, at least it sounded like squealing noises—and her mother clapped her hands with a wide smile on her face while her father nodded in utter approval. “This was excellent, Chris!” In-Sung followed close in his wife’s assuring words but directed to his daughter. “You will keep this one, young lady,” he warned her jokingly before chuckling quietly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris. Even though I have to say I already saw it coming,” Cho-Hee still smiled while YN only rolled her eyes. “Mom, please.” Her father softly shoved the woman next to him. “Don’t start bragging about your social media addiction, love. It’s nothing to brag about.” Both her parents laughed, and YN still couldn’t comprehend how happy they were even after so many years of being married and living together.

This was exactly what she wanted for herself—preferably with the man sitting to her right.

Chris chuckled next to her and let his arm rest on the back of her chair, fingers tenderly caressing her shoulder and upper arm. “Thank the universe for translators. Korean is such an interesting but difficult language if I’m being honest. I’m always listening and watching in awe when YN starts to speak so fluently, I barely can keep up with her.” YN grinned at him before turning to her parents again. “He is being modest. He asked me to teach him a few things, and his pronunciation is really good, even if he doesn’t like to admit it,” she teased him and nudged his side lovingly, bringing him to show his beautiful and radiant smile. “But I didn’t teach him that. You did so well, love.” The praise followed naturally, just like the kiss on his bearded cheek, not seeing the looks her parents exchanged.

“She is right. It sounded almost perfect. And the pronunciation is really the trickiest part, followed by the writing,” her father chuckled before an interested expression settled onto his face. “So, you two quarantine together?” Her mother had propped her chin in both hands and stared at the screen with something almost resembling heart eyes. Chris nodded. “We do. YN was still in New York when it hit, and everything started to shut down, so I drove down the coast and practically threw her in the car to have her here.” He needed to lie if he had to tell people he wasn’t relieved to have gotten her out of there—the news of the harsh impact in the city still haunted his dreams. His anxiety tried to spiral every night until he reached over to the other bedside to feel YN sleeping safely and soundly right next to him.

“Why didn’t you just leave, aegiya? Poor Chris,” her mother almost chastised her with a raised finger, and YN gently shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother him. I wanted to ask, but you know how I get. Y’all know.” Chris pulled her closer to his side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Your nosy mother probably already knows it—…” Cho-Hee hit her husband’s shoulder at that, and he chuckled under his breath, “—…but how did you two get to know each other?” YN had already opened her mouth, but her mother was faster. “You know they made a movie together! We were at the premiere!” In-Sung patted her hand gently. “I know, my impatient love, but I want to hear it from them. Main source acquiring.”

YN grinned at that and shrugged softly before looking up at Chris. “I mean, we knew each other before that already. Remember We Bought a Zoo?” Both her parents nodded. “Of course, we remember! It was your directing debut.” Again, her mother seemed to have heart eyes, and YN’s grin widened. “Well, Scarlett and I became really good friends, and suddenly she introduced me to this man here but we never had the right timing, didn’t we?” Chris shook his head with a soft smile. “Not really, no. Either it was me who was in a relationship or you, but I’ve always fancied you, sweets. It may’ve started as a crush, but then my agent told me you would be in Knives Out, and I just had to text you after disappearing for… weeks?” The woman chuckled gently. “More like months to almost a year, but we’re staying with weeks to make you feel better about it, love.”

He grinned at that before turning to face her parents again. “And then one came to the other, we grabbed a couple of coffees, I realized she finally wasn’t taken anymore, and I practically jumped the gun at her on our last day of shooting.” She accepted the kiss to her temple again. “That’s why you two seemed too familiar and… cozy on that carpet. Young lady…” Her father grinned a cheeky grin, and YN returned the exact same one on her face. “I’ve learned from the best,” she winked at him, meaning the innocent but nonetheless loving moments she always witnessed when they were out in public, and her father and mother behaved like lovesick teenagers—but the adorable kind, with long gazes and lingering hugs without pulling too much attention from passerby’s.

“We are really happy for you two,” Cho-Hee said with a loving smile. “Is your dog somewhere? He is part of the family as well, after all,” she smiled, and Chris nodded with a grin. “He is. Jus’ a sec’.” He took the iPad from the stand and switched the camera while filming the space underneath the table where Dodger still sat between YN’s slightly parted legs, head resting on her mid-thigh. His eyes looked up at him and the iPad, but he didn’t move an inch, reveling in the scratches and petting continuously provided by YN. “He is enamored by her,” the man chuckled, listening to the cooing echoing from the speakers before moving the iPad back up and switching the camera again. “So, the Evans boys have something in common,” In-Sung laughed, and Chris just had to laugh alongside him. “That’s probably true,” he continued to grin and looked over at YN with a lovestruck expression as she checked the clock.

“We won’t hold you from your sleep any longer.” Her parents smiled at their only child, visible pride on their faces. “But Mom?” Cho-Hee hummed in question. “Could you find me the recipes for Gamjatang, Kongguksu, and Doenjang jjigae? I think you still have the recipe book of halmeoni (grandma), and I forgot to write it down when I last visited you.” Her mother nodded with a soft smile. “Of course, my love. I will look for it tomorrow morning.”

YN mumbled a gentle “Thanks, eomma” and leaned closer to Chris. “It was a real pleasure to meet you officially, Chris. As soon as domestic travel is allowed again, you two must visit so the rest of the family can meet him.” Both nodded at the words of In-Sung, and both couples waved their goodbyes and ended the FaceTime call.

;

Chris laid outstretched on the sofa after he had changed into a Red Sox shirt and watched the baseball game on the tv screen until YN ventured into the living room—clad in a pair of sports tights and one of his shirts. He moved a bit so his back was resting against the armrest, and welcomed her with open arms as YN climbed atop of him.

“Do you think they like me?” He just had to ask that question because it had ghosted through his mind since they ended the call an hour ago. The woman smiled down at him and continued to play with his long fingers. “After you showed off your Korean skills?” Chris smiled bashfully up at her and wrapped his arms around her back as she leaned down. Their lips almost touched as she spoke again. “They adored you from the beginning,” she whispered and kissed him tenderly. “Yeah?” YN nodded at his question. “Totally,” she stressed and giggled as something came to her mind. “Mom wrote me a few minutes ago. Told me again to really try to make you tag along when I visit the family again. Called you sawikkam.”

He looked confused, and YN giggled again, pressing another kiss to his lips. “It means future son-in-law or prospective son-in-law. A person who’s worthy of being their daughter’s husband.” A glowing smile stretched across his face, anxiety instantly gone. “Oh, is that so?” She hummed, lips still partially connected. “It’s a great honor.” Another kiss was pressed to his softly parted lips. “My mom never said that to any of my boyfriends before you, so… You have their blessing if you ever think about going that path. You don’t have to, of course, and you don’t need to feel pressured into anything if you don’t think it’s what you wa—…”

Chris couldn’t let her end that ludicrous sentence and just pulled her incredibly close to kiss her like a man possessed. “Stop that thought right there,” he huskily whispered and let his hands wander over her back to her butt, closing his fingers around the cheeky globes and pulling her body closer to him after he had sat up on the couch. “We’re in this for the long run, sweetheart. As if I could let you go again.” A soft laugh escaped YN as she wrapped her legs around his slender waist and let him kiss her again like he loved her more than anything.

And in Chris’ opinion, precisely that was the case.

;

chrisevans I met her parents, so it’s time to make this social media-official, I guess ❤️

[yourinstagram]

Liked by lisa_capuano, scottevansgram, evansstan, yourfan1, and 1,230,879 others | 271,005 comments

scottevansgram I can finally show off with all the pictures and videos I have of her scaring the living daylight out of you! A victory for humankind!

liked by yourinstagram, yourfan1, chrisstan2, and 111 others

↳ anthonymackie I’m interested in said footage 👀

yourinstagram You used a very pretty picture, handsome. A wonder it doesn’t have the quality of a photo from one of those conspiracy websites allegedly showing Area 51 💀

liked by yourfan7, yourfan5, scottevansgram, and 548 others

↳ liz_olsen rip Chris Evans 5/11/2020

↳ chrisevans Do you try to insult my perfectly working phone?

↳ yourinstagram I not only tried—I did 😘

liked by simu_liu, imsebastianstan, yourstan1, and 88 others

evansstan My life finally has meaning again 😱

lisa_capuano I’m so happy for you two ❤️

↳ yourinstagram Thank you, Mama Evans 👉🏻👈🏻

↳ lisa_capuano I’ll swing by later to leave some treats out at your door, sweets ❤️

↳ yourfan1 Mama Evans loves YN SO MUCH 🥹

liked by lisa_capuano, carly_evans, and 15 others

chrisstan1 I saw you once at the café I worked, and I saw how happy you two already were. I’m really, really happy for you, Chris <3

imsebastianstan So happy for you two. Though I need to demand some alone time with my best friend post-lockdown!

↳ chrisevans Which of us do you mean? Choose your words wisely, Seb 👀

↳ yourinstagram He obviously meant me, love 👸🏻

↳ imsebastianstan I actually did, yeah. Sorry, C, but I knew her longer

↳ chrisevans That’s how betrayal feels like. Wow. 💀

↳ yourinstagram Don’t act all drama queen on social media, Chris. I can see your grin from the other side of the kitchen 👀

liked by imsebastianstan, chrisevans, carly_evans, and 327 others

↳ yn_and_chris I love them, your honor 🥺

yourfan2 Thank you for making her so happy, Chris! ❤️

↳ yourfan3 +1

;

Sorry for adding that social media bit, but my brain screamed at me to just go with the flow and do it 👉🏻👈🏻 Hope y’all enjoyed this one and don’t come for my head because I wrote this as a non-Korean. If I did something wrong Korean-wise, please let me know! I appreciate your help a lot, especially as a beginner learner. Gotta learn from those mistakes 👌🏻 I’m super unhappy with the ending and how this one turned out bc I’ve never introduced my partners to my parents bc they never cared enough lol. As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

[trivialbob]

Oh what a relief. My washing machine is fixed. The repairman came back today with the part.

Initially he said the part would be shipped directly to my house. When I got up this morning I had still not received any package. It concerned me greatly that he'd have to leave without fixing the machine today.

When he walked up to the house I saw he had a box in his hands with that part. He said it's 50/50 on where the part is shipped, to the home or to his office. Dude! Don't make me worry like that.

The repair was completed in just a few minutes. Now, on this beautiful autumn morning, I'm drinking hot coffee, petting one of the dogs, and listening to the wonderful sound of water filling the washing machine.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Hawkeye (Part IV)

Summary: Christmas Day arrives and while (Y/N) and Steve enjoy a quiet day with their daughter, a familiar face pays them an unexpected but ultimately welcomed visit.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! We've finally made it to the last chapter of this little mini-series and trust me, there's no content warnings but you'll for sure wanna read this with a box of tissues nearby lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Hawkeye (Part IV) December 25th, 2024 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Steve Rogers, Brooklyn (Previous Chapter)

Christmas Day had finally arrived, and the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family spent their morning amidst a flurry of shredded wrapping paper, discarded ribbons and cast-off decorative bows, their home overflowing with holiday cheer. The television was turned on to a broadcast of the Yule Log and while Christmas music played faintly in the background, the scent of (Y/N)’s famous hot coca and Steve’s homemade cinnamon rolls combined with the smell of fresh pine emanating from their sizable tree to create a warm, heavenly aroma. Outside, snow leisurely came down from the cloudy sky, dusting their lawn and the near-deserted street and creating a tranquil landscape that (Y/N) couldn’t help but admire each time she glanced out their windows.

Carina, after tearing through all the presents she’d gotten from her parents and her many aunts and uncles, was sitting content on the floor of the living room and playing with her brand-new Mega Bloks while Indy, whose fur had been lovingly decorated with bows by the enthusiastic fifteen-month-old, was curled up in his dog bed by the heat vent and munching on his new bone. (Y/N) and Steve took advantage of the peace and quiet to exchange gifts with one another; they initially agreed on giving something small and possibly handmade, but it quickly became apparent that they both went behind each other’s back and splurged on one another. (Y/N) beamed with joy when she opened her expertly wrapped package to reveal a handmade cassette mixtape, featuring various songs that had special meaning to the two of them and their relationship, and her jaw subsequently dropped when she withdrew a gorgeous antique pearl necklace. Steve laughed in delight when he pulled a custom Viewmaster out of his box, marveling at all the pictures of their life together she’d added to its many reels, and his azure eyes went wide when he saw the autographed 1941 Pee Wee Reese – one of his all-time favorite Brooklyn Dodgers players – baseball card tucked into a hard protective sleeve.

It was then that (Y/N) and Steve finally unsealed the envelope that Dr. Prince had prepared for them together, scanning their most recent sonogram and gasping in unison when they read ‘It’s A Girl!’ printed along the bottom. “We’re having another girl!” Steve exclaimed and (Y/N) laughed in delight as his hands came up to cradle her face and he captured her lips in an enthusiastic kiss; when they came up for air, he pulled her into a tight hug and murmured into her ear, “I told you so…”

(Y/N) playfully dug her fingers into his sides, smirking at his surprised yelp and leaning back to meet his mirthful gaze. “Come July, you and Indy are going to be outnumbered around here.”

Grinning, Steve trailed kisses along her jaw and towards her smiling, kiss-swollen lips. “We wouldn’t want it any other way, sunshine.”

Some time later, they FaceTimed their friends one by one to share their happy news with them. The Barton’s and Kate Bishop were thrilled, and (Y/N) was pleased to see how much the young archer was enjoying spending Christmas Day with her new partner and his family; the Wilson family was equally ecstatic, with AJ and Cass letting out a cheer at the news and Sarah immediately listing off various foods that would help with her lingering nausea, and they all burst into laughter when a disgruntled Sam reached into his wallet and handed a folded bill over to a smug-looking Bucky. Everyone else they contacted – Bruce, Scott, Rhodey, Pepper, Brunnhilde, Carol, Wong and the Guardians of the Galaxy – seemed to be enjoying a wonderful holiday season with their own families and they all eagerly congratulated them on their second pregnancy; none of them said anything, but (Y/N) could tell that they were relieved to see another signal that life was slowly but surely returning back to normal after Thanos and the Snap.

“Shouldn’t you put the ham in the oven soon?” (Y/N) asked, her arm outstretched to grab a wayward scrap of wrapping paper that somehow ended up underneath the armchair. When she finally succeeded in grabbing it, she sat up with a tired huff but frowned once she realized that her husband hadn’t answered her; glancing over her shoulder, she smiled to herself as she watched Steve and Carina stacking her new blocks together, both wearing near identical looks of concentration as they completed their task. Like father like daughter, she thought with an inward chuckle before pointedly clearing her throat. “Sweetheart? The ham?”

Steve’s head shot up and his brows rose in surprise as he craned his neck to look at the clock hanging over the entryway. “Time sure flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it? I’ll be back in a minute, angel.” He kissed the top of the infant’s head and let her continue playing before standing up and walking over to where (Y/N) was kneeling, offering her a hand and helping her clamber to her feet. “What’s that look for, sunshine?”

“Do I need a specific reason to admire my handsome husband and his newfound appreciation for toddler architecture?” She countered with a teasing smile.

Chuckling, one of Steve’s hand rested on her waist while the other moved to cradle her cheek. “I suppose not, but I’m afraid it’ll cost you a kiss.” He leaned in and planted a swift kiss onto her forehead. “One more.” His lips brushed against the bridge of her nose and she giggled at the ticklish sensation. “Wait a sec, one more.”

“Steve!”

“Nope, that last one didn’t count.” Steve gave her cheek an over-exaggerated kiss, a devious smirk playing on his lips as she laughed. “One more, baby.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m carrying your child and if I don’t eat something soon, I promise that you’re going to live to regret it.” Her half-hearted threat went unnoticed by her husband, who was preoccupied with peppering kisses along her jawline, so she was forced to place her hands on his chest and firmly push him away with a laugh. “Go!”

With a playful wink, Steve turned and sauntered into the kitchen to prepare their Christmas Day dinner, and (Y/N) looked over at Carina with an exasperated sigh. “Your Dada’s silly, isn’t he, lemon drop?” She chuckled when the infant giggled and clapped her chubby hands together, leaning down to ruffle her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair and letting her continue stacking her blocks while she gathered up the rest of the wrapping paper; after she crammed the last of it into her brown recycling bag, she carried it into the kitchen and set it down by the back door to dispose of later. Steve was setting the oven’s timer when she sidled up beside him and leaned in to kiss his cheek, but the sound of their doorbell ringing throughout their otherwise quiet home interrupted her.

“We didn’t invite anyone over, did we?” Steve asked and when (Y/N) shook her head, the muscle in his jaw clenched as his brows furrowed in worry. “Guess we should’ve left Brienne activated after all…”

“I sincerely doubt that any of Kingpin’s lackeys would be dumb enough to announce their presence by ringing the doorbell,” She reasoned, but her own logic didn’t stop her from bringing a hand up to her lips and whistling Indy’s command to guard; they exchanged a look before leaving the kitchen and heading down the hallway to their front door, and she spared a brief glance into the living room to see their senior German Shepard standing alert beside an unaware Carina as she continued to play. They passed by their entryway table – stopping for a moment to retrieve several stun discs they’d stashed away in its hidden compartment for emergencies – and Steve wrapped a protective arm around her waist as she unlocked the door and cautiously pulled it open.

Standing on their porch was a young woman, with long blonde hair intricately braided over her shoulder, numerous silver ear piercings decorating her ears and dressed in a stylish emerald-green winter coat. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and while her pale green eyes were outlined with dark blue liner, the makeup couldn’t mask the uncertainty and the hint of fear in her gaze; her lips were pursed and her hands were shoved into her coat’s pockets as she looked between them both, and after a tense moment she finally spoke. “I’m so sorry for imposing on your Christmas, but I was in the city on a work trip and I couldn’t leave without stopping by. My name is-”

“Yelena,” (Y/N) interjected, her eyes widening in surprise; Natasha’s description of her little sister was spot-on, but it wasn’t until she heard her thick Russian accent that she fully realized who she was.

Steve, who was doing a far better job of hiding his shock, opened the door wider and gave the young woman a tight-lipped smile. “Please, come in.” Yelena hesitated for a moment but stepped through the doorway, her eyes carefully scanning their festively-decorated entryway as she slipped off her coat and black leather gloves. She allowed Steve to hang her coat on their coat-rack and followed them into the living room, and (Y/N) caught the blink-and-you-miss-it smile that formed when she spotted Carina and Indy. “Would you like something to drink, Yelena? Water, hot coca, hot coca with a splash of whiskey…?”

“I won’t lie, the third option sounds very good right about now,” The former Black Widow replied with a wry smirk, although it was still easy to see the apprehension that she was trying so hard to hide. “Thank you.”

Steve’s azure eyes briefly met (Y/N)’s before he turned and headed into the kitchen, whistling the command for Indy to join him, and (Y/N) scooped Carina up before sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Yelena; the infant squirmed on her lap, seemingly displeased to have been taken away from her Mega Bloks, but she was quickly distracted by the stuffed Hulk – a Christmas gift from her Uncle Bruce – that (Y/N) wriggled in front of her. “If it wasn’t for this little gumball,” She patted the side of her baby bump with her free hand. “I’d have a spiked hot coca the same as you.”

Yelena smiled politely. “Congratulations. Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“We actually just found out this morning; it’s a girl, and we’ve already decided on her name.” (Y/N) took a steadying breath before continuing. “Natalia Austen Rogers-(Y/L/N).” When they were initially brainstorming various baby names, she and Steve came to the agreement that they would find a way to name their little boy or girl after Natasha and Tony; Natalia, being the spy’s birth name, and Austen, being the long-lasting nickname that the billionaire bestowed upon her the very first time they met.

The younger woman’s green eyes misted over, but she was quick to duck her head to hide her emotional reaction. “That’s…um, that’s a wonderful name. Natasha would like that.” She anxiously began to twirl one of her many rings around her finger. “I’ve been working up the courage to speak with you for quite some time. I came close earlier this week, at the pizza parlor in Greenwich Village, but I…” Trailing off, Yelena’s eyes flicked up to meet (Y/N)’s, carefully reading her before continuing on. “Judging by the overwhelming tension that is emanating from you and your husband, it would be safe to assume that you’ve been in recent contact with Clint Barton.” When (Y/N) mutely nodded, Yelena sighed to herself and threaded her fingers together in her lap. “Firstly, I would like to assure you that you and your family are not in any danger. I was hired to remove an obstacle and while it was an assignment that I was admittedly eager to complete, I ultimately decided against completing it; Barton was not responsible for my sister’s death, and I couldn’t see that until it was almost too late.”

“But you did see it, and that’s what really matters,” (Y/N) reassured her as she gently smoothed out her daughter’s hair, smiling when the infant waved at the former Black Widow and babbled away in excitement when she waved back. “And if it makes you feel any better, Clint’s not really the type to hold a grudge…well, except for that one time when Nat bit him during a fight. He still likes to bring that up from time to time.”

The corner of Yelena’s lips briefly twitched upwards before she sobered. “Secondly, I would like to thank you for helping my parents arrange for Natasha’s memorial. Ohio was…it was the first place where she was truly happy, and I’m glad that there is something there to honor her memory and her sacrifice.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, (Y/N) adjusted her hold on Carina and cast her eyes downward. “It was the least I could do. Nat told me a little about her past after she went on the run and helped take down the Red Room, but she opened up more in the years after you Vanished.” She glanced up and met Yelena’s gaze with a sad smile. “She was so proud of you, Yelena, for traveling around the world and making it your mission to give all those Widows their freedom. Everything she did to help us reverse the Snap she did because she loved you, and she never once gave up trying to get you back.”

Yelena, overcome with emotion, nodded in thanks as she wiped a wayward tear from her cheek. A moment later, Steve walked back into the living room with a full mug of hot coca cradled in his hands and Natasha’s old knapsack slung over his shoulder; the former Black Widow murmured her thanks when she accepted the mug and while she took a cautious sip, Steve shrugged the knapsack off and leaned on the arm of the couch beside (Y/N). “I’m so sorry for your loss, Yelena. Your sister wasn’t just one of a kind, but she was a hero.” One of his hands moved to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder and she briefly brushed her lips against his knuckles in comfort as he continued. “As I’m sure your parents already told you, Nat left you a message before she died; we’ve kept it safe since then, along with a few of her things that survived the Battle of Earth.”

After another sip of hot coca, Yelena set her mug down onto the coffee table and gingerly accepted the knapsack, her expression unreadable as she examined the faded name patch sewn onto the sturdy canvas. “Can I…?” She cleared her throat and looked up at them, her green eyes tinged with red. “Would you mind if I listen to it now?”

“Of course not,” (Y/N) assured her with a tight smile, allowing her husband to help her stand and positioning Carina to sit against her hip. “We’ll, um…we’ll just be in the kitchen, if you need anything.”

Yelena nodded and while she tentatively reached into her sister’s knapsack, the (Y/L/N)-Rogers family made their way to the kitchen to give the younger woman some much-needed privacy to finally face her grief head-on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what’s Yelena like?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into her satchel for another apple and offering it to the massive rhino behind the wooden fence; the Border Tribe had been gracious enough to allow both the visiting members of Wakanda’s new outreach program and the fugitive Avengers to visit their impressive herd of rhinoceros and since (Y/N) hadn’t seen the spy since she’d gone on the run after Siberia, she invited Nat to join her at the enclosures.

“She’s strong, much stronger than she realizes. She’s funny, smart as hell and although she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass, she’s the kind of person who’ll have your back no matter what.” Natasha’s sincere smile turned playful as she arched an appraising brow at her. “Come to think of it, she sort of reminds me of another person I know…”

(Y/N) sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “You better not let Sam hear you saying that, ‘cause his ego’s inflated enough as it is.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha lightly shoved her shoulder as she burst into giggles. “You know damn well that I was talking about you, hot-shot, and I meant every word of it.” Both women shared a look of understanding and while her heart burst with affection for the spy, (Y/N) patted the rhino’s neck and fed her another apple. “She likes music almost as much as you do, you know, and lately, she’s turned into a bit of a fashionista. Hopefully, you’ll get a chance to meet her someday; you guys would totally get along.”

“I think so, too. We can talk about music, clothes and all the best ways to annoy the hell out of you,” (Y/N) chuckled as Natasha shook her head in disbelief, giving the rhino one last pat before looping her around hers and smiling brightly, “C’mon, we should head back to Bucky’s farm and make sure he hasn’t fed Birdbrain to his goats.”

(Y/N) smiled to herself as she recalled her conversation with Natasha so long ago and leaned down to kiss the top of Carina’s head. It had been nearly a quarter of an hour since they’d left Yelena alone in their living room with Natasha’s final message for her, and they were trying to distract themselves from the emotionally-fraught situation with their daughter and their dog; Steve was crouched on the kitchen floor and scratching a pleased Indy behind the ears while (Y/N) entertained Carina by singing various Christmas songs, beaming with pride as their daughter sat on the kitchen island in front of her and happily babbled along with her.

“At this rate, she’s gonna be singing her ABC’s before she even turns two,” Steve remarked with a proud grin, standing up and watching Indy stroll over to his water bowl for a moment before leaning against the kitchen island and jiggling her stuffed Hulk in front of her. “Aren’t you, angel? You’re so smart, just like Mama.”

“Mama smart!” Carina exclaimed and clapped her chubby hands together in glee.

“Yep, but so’s Dada! He’s very, very smart, lemon drop, just like you.” The infant giggled when (Y/N) gently booped her nose with her index finger, and she glanced over at her husband and smirked when she saw the bemused expression on his face. “Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart; your intelligence is one of the many, many things that I love about you.”

Steve’s brow playfully arched and he hummed in interest as his arm not-so-subtly moved to wrap around her waist. “Is that so? Mind tellin’ me what the rest of ‘em are, or is that classified intel?”

“Not necessarily, but it is the sort of intel that comes with a hefty price-tag.”

“I’ve got a pint of A Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge and two Three Musketeer bars stashed in the downstairs freezer-”

“Sold!”

Just as a chuckling Steve leaned in for a kiss, Yelena hesitantly entered the kitchen and cleared her throat, giving them an awkward sort of smile when they both looked over at her; her pale green eyes were puffy from crying, but (Y/N) could see that for the first time since entering their home, the younger woman’s features were free of any anxiety and trepidation. I hope that Nat’s final message helped her find some closure, she thought to herself as she watched Yelena gently place the empty mug onto the counter before finally speaking. “I want to thank you both, for the delicious hot coca and for inviting me into your home so that I could accept my sister’s personal items.” She hugged the knapsack close to her chest and gave them a tiny smile, and (Y/N) could’ve sworn she spotted a hint of longing in her steely gaze as she continued. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I should leave you to enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

Steve and (Y/N) exchanged a look as the former Black Widow turned to leave, an unspoken agreement passing between them before Steve spoke up. “Yelena?” She turned back around to face them and Steve gathered Carina up into his arms, his trademark smile of sincerity spreading across his face as they walked around the kitchen island to stand before her. “I know that you’ve only just met us and that there’s probably other ways you’d rather be spending your Christmas Day, but we’d be honored if you joined us for dinner.”

Yelena froze, seemingly unsure of how to respond to their invitation. “I…that’s very cool of you to ask, but I-I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“You wouldn’t be intruding at all,” (Y/N) promised as a smile of her own began to form. “It’ll be great, so long as you don’t mind listening to a fifteen-month old incoherently sing along to Christmas songs and fending off an adorable German Shepard as he begs for some of your dinner.”

As she looked between them both, Yelena’s pale green eyes softened and a softer, more genuine smile slowly illuminated her features. “Well, I do like your American Christmas songs and adorable dogs…”

At the start of the holiday season, (Y/N) planned on spending her picture-perfect Christmas with her beloved Steve and Carina, and she assumed that the biggest surprise in store for them would be finally learning the sex of their new baby. But after over ten years of living the life of a superhero, it should’ve come to no surprise that even the best-laid plans could change in the blink of an eye; in a week where she’d watched a Broadway musical loosely and hilariously adapt her husband’s entire life, helped her favorite archer and his biggest fan take on one of New York City’s most notorious criminal organizations and finally met her deceased best friend’s mysterious little sister after she nearly killed their friend, it just made sense that they’d add another place setting to their dining room table and enjoy their Christmas Day dinner alongside a talkative and overall happy Yelena Belova.

Neither (Y/N) nor Steve dared ask Yelena about Natasha’s final message to her, both unwilling to dampen the younger woman’s cheerful mood, but if her sparkling eyes and joyful laughter was anything to go off of, then (Y/N) knew that the message succeeded in helping Yelena finally find some closure. Yelena, being the sort of person that was quick to open up once she felt at home, was a delightful guest; while they enjoyed their dinner, she regaled them with stories of hers and Natasha’s childhood in Ohio and her journey of self-discovery since being freed of the Red Room’s chemical subjugation and in turn, (Y/N) and Steve shared their happiest memories of Natasha with her. If this is any indication of what the future Rogers-(Y/L/N)’s Family Christmases will be like then I’m all in, (Y/N) thought to herself with a smile as Steve and Yelena laughed at her story and Carina nodded off in her highchair, stroking a hand over her growing bump and basking in the cozy holiday cheer that occupied their home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And there you have it, a little Christmas fluff for ya'll in April! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ @groovyqueer​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​  

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 134. brb x oc

a/n: nothing to say except the future chapters will be interesting and I hope yall stay for the ride! reblogs and comments are super welcome!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none. the bradshaws being absolutely adorable??

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/100/101/102/103/104/105/106/107/108/109/110/111/112/113/114/115/116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva

-

“Buh buh!”

“No, this is daddy’s.”

“Dada!”

“Yep, that’s me, can I have the gift? Thank you,Nikki.”

Beatrice watched from the threshold with her smile only turning fonder, watching her husband and daughter sitting in front of their Christmas tree - Nicole was partially on his lap, partially trying to crawl on the floor but Rooster held her up by cupping her small torso in his huge hand - opening gifts together. The dogs were there too, enjoying their own gifts - thank God none of them got squeaky toys, because it’d drive them all insane - with Eleanor tossing her soft dinosaur in the air and grabbing it before it reached the floor.

She approaches the group, holding mugs in each of her hands, “Roos,” she begins, making her husband stop opening his own gift to look back at her. She slowly kneeled next to him, placing both mugs on the coffee table, “I made us hot cocoa.”

“Ohhh,Mr.Scoops?” she nods “Yesss.” he sets the gift aside to grab his mug and bring it to his lips. It was adorable how a chocolate mustache appeared on top of his actual mustache, he quickly licked it clean but he was so happy to have that.

And so was Nikki, because she looked up at him and tried to grab the colorful mug as her father drank the delicious warm mixture, “Hm.” he licks his lips, “Can we take some of the packets when we go to Virginia? There’s no Mr.Scoops there.”

“Well,I did buy a whole box for that reason.” she giggles when he leans closer to kiss her lips repeatedly, the taste of rich chocolate on her mouth only making her smile even more.

“God,I love you so much.” a few more kisses, “You just know how to win me over.”

“With chocolate? Yes.” she smiles, kissing him one last time before she drinks herself, chewing a soft marshmallow as Rooster sets his mug aside - it was now half full because he is a chocolate lover through and through - and turns his attention back to the half opened gift, “Do you want me to hold Nikki?”

Their daughter was so enthused on the colorful wrapping papers that she had nothing else in mind. Rooster adjusted Nicole on his hold before he shook his head, “Nah,I can open it one handed.” he proceeds to rip the beautiful package, smiling when Nicole wriggled when the paper moved as her father did so, “Plus,look at her, she’s having a lot of fun just by the wrapping…maybe that can be one of her future gifts.”

“Wrapping paper?”

“Yeah, but those fancy ones with gold and are scented like a plastic notebook from the 90s.” he chuckles, shaking the package free of what was left of the wrapping to reveal his first gift that morning, “I think your mother is trying to tell me I need more clothes.” he laughs, turning the box back and forth in his hold, showing the folded jacket inside, “But hey, this is so nice. And I love the colors.”

Beatrice smiles, grabbing it from him to look at it herself, “It’s not thick enough for you to use it in Virginia,though.”

“Ah, it’s okay,I can use it here. It’s not as cold around but it’s useful.”

She watches him rip every single one of his gifts: a new watch, cologne, he even got some new games for the PS4 - with the inclusion of Resident Evil 4, which immediately makes him beam up and tell Beatrice how he used to play that until late when he was younger, it was one of his favorite games of all time.

With him focused on his gifts, Beatrice took the time to let the thoughts wander. She had to admit that her aunt’s gift was still in her mind, the little talismans floated in her brain before she fell asleep…she could call her and ask about it, but she had a feeling her aunt would just give her another cryptic message instead of an actual answer.

Maybe she was overthinking things, because it was just a talisman for good luck, nothing more, and good luck was never turned away no matter what. Beatrice rubbed her forehead with her fingers before turning to face Rooster and Nicole again, her smile widening when she saw the two sharing this adorable moment.

She was so happy he could be home to spend time with Nicole. She was happy he was home and he was safe and she knew this wouldn’t last…because he was going to be deployed again, soon, and no matter how used she was to it, her heart still lurched with the absolute desire to have him close.

But she knew he’d be okay.

“This one is yours.” he smirks, offering a red package towards her. “From a ‘Bradley’,I think you know who that is.”

“I think I do.” she giggles, grabbing it and setting it on her lap. Both of them decided to buy each other’s gifts but they did that while apart, they both wanted that element of surprise, “Hmmm…” she shakes it a bit, furrowing her brows when it sounded heavy, “Interesting.”

“I think,” he begins, bringing his mug to his lips, “You’ll like it.”

“I know I will, rarely were the times when you couldn’t figure out what I liked,Roos.” he smiles proudly, muttering to himself that he ‘did his best.’

Beatrice pulled the golden ribbon before gently prying the paper apart - which he found absolutely adorable because she treated the paper as something just as precious as the contents it covered. Bradley watches, with his eyes locked on her face as she finally parts the paper open.

She blinks, then pulls it out of the paper before laughing softly, “Oh my God, Roos.”

“You like it?”

She holds up the tiny stuffed Predator with both hands, smiling back at him with her eyes soft, “...it looks like the ones from the theater,from our first date.” her husband bites the inside of his cheek, but it doesn’t stop the smirk that spread over his face because he’s just that proud.

She just looks down at it, then presses the back of it’s head, and the cute mandibles open to reveal a tinier mouth. It was just as adorable as her xenomorph one, “They don’t usually keep these, I mean, after it’s sold,it’s sold.”

“Yeah,well, took me a few calls,” he explains, “Then more calls, then a video call and I managed to get one. I mean,I remember you commenting you wanted to get the two of them but we never did because…of reasons.”

“Because we ended up making out in the park close by Mr.Scoops.”

“Yeah…I love that place.” 

His eyes glassed over and she laughed, placing the stuffed predator aside to turn her body towards him, leaning closer to kiss his cheek, “You are so sweet. Thank you,Roos. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Gorgeous,I don’t think I ever forget that night.” he says without missing a beat, “I still remember how you looked and the way you acted and how much I wanted to kiss you from the second I picked you up…but I’m a gentleman.” her amused ‘mhm’ went over his head, “And I was okay just holding you and looking at you…because holy shit, you are just so beautiful.”

“Roos.”

“And whenever you blush I just feel the same way as back then and…yeah.” he shrugs as if he just told her something casual, “You make me lose my mind in so many ways gorgeous.”

Beatrice’s cheeks once again turn red and she laughs, dropping her head to the side, thankful that his words were still as sincere as the very first time they spoke. They opened a few more gifts and then all of Nicole’s.

Their daughter was amazed more by the packaging than the toys, she loved squeezing and crumpling the paper because of the noise, shaking bundles of it in her hand as her parents placed everything aside, deciding to put it away later. Beatrice sighs, crossing her arms as she leans against the couch, lips pursed, “...you know I’m still thinking about my aunt’s gift.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” she tsks, “I don’t know,Roos. Should I call her?”

Rooster adjusts Nicole in his hold, she was now playing with his fingers, “If you think it’ll help? Is that necessary though, gorgeous?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…my aunt knows things. As we both know, so…maybe I’m overreacting.”

“You can always call her with the excuse you are just wishing her a Merry Christmas.” he suggests and Beatrice has to bite her lower lip because she could see the glint of curiosity in her husband’s eyes, he too wanted to know more, “And go with that.”

She taps her finger on her arm, then looks down at her phone to check the time, “...it’s nine am. So…she’s awake.” she murmurs, already unlocking the screen and looking for her aunt’s contact, “It’s just to settle the curiosity down.”

“Yep.” he agrees with a nod, “Just because of that.”

Beatrice waits for her aunt to pick up, it takes a few seconds but once she does, she could hear birds chirping and Edith Piaf playing in the background, “Presioza! Buon Natale!”

“Buon Natale zia.” she smiles, “How’s your day going?”

“Very well, in fact I was just waiting for your call.”

Beatrice closes her eyes and her brow arches a millimeter, because of course she was. “Really?”

“I know you are curious about the gifts. I knew that while preparing it for you!”

“Yeah,well,I…I guess I am.”

Martha pauses on the other end and Beatrice was sure she was smiling, “Well,I couldn’t give it to you in front of your family. Your father would think it’s ludicrous and toss it aside no matter how he grew up with it…I just wanted to give you two my blessing, and Nonna’s blessing. You two will have a lot to deal with in the coming months.” she did not like how her aunt voiced that “I know you two will manage.”

“...what do you mean?”

“You know I cannot say what I don’t know.” Beatrice sighed, just like she thought, cryptic replies. “All I can say is what I feel. Your twins are safe with me, no one will know, just like no one knew about the little principessa…but to tell Bradley to keep the cornicello with him as often as he can. It’s important your talismans are together.”

“What-”

“Your gallo. Keep with yourself, not on a bracelet or anything if you don’t want to, but just keep it close,especially when you are apart.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have called. Because now she had more questions than answers, “I know you two will visit his parents this coming week, it’ll be good. They’ll be happy to meet Nicole.” she made a little sound that neared uncomfortable “...but it’s just for protection, darling. I just want you two to manage it.”

“...well, thank you zia.” she smiles, albeit confused, “I appreciate it nonetheless…for your….blessing.”

“You are welcome, dear. Have a wonderful day. All five of you.”

And she hangs up.

Leaving Beatrice just as confused as before, dropping her phone to her lap. Rooster furrowed his brows, flicking his gaze from the device towards her, “So?”

“I’m just as confused, if not more.”

“Really?”

“I mean, she just said we should keep those talismans close by whenever we…move? Or be apart from each other, it’ll protect us…that’s pretty much it.”

Rooster bounces Nicole on his arms, pursing his lips with a confused frown, “Alright,I can do that.” He knew she always felt self conscious, never ashamed, of her family’s weird ways but he found it amazing and incredibly amusing. He just chuckled while scooting closer to her, “Baby, it’s alright, at least we know it’s for good, nothing more,huh?”

“Yeah,I guess so.” she hums, propping her head on his shoulder and smiling down at Nicole who just stared up at them with those big light eyes,”...she said you parents will like to meet Nicole.” he immediately tensed up and his breathing hitched, she dared a quick look at him just in time to see him looking to the side. His parents were still a hard topic to talk about, even if he trusted her more than anything in this whole wide universe, he just…had a hard time saying it.

Beatrice knew this would be the second time they went to Virginia to visit his parents together and the first time they’d take Nicole…so she wondered if there was something in his mind that had to do with their baby daughter, “...Roos?”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About your parents.” she adds, “I know,I can see it in your face.”

“I guess it’s just the usual nerves I get before going to the cemetery. You know how I can get.” she did, she remembers he’d go quiet and just…not himself, but she understood, “And the fact we’ll take Nikki…” she waits for him to continue, “I want to take her but at the same time, isn’t she too young?”

“I think it’s important,Roos. Especially when she’s older.”

“...you are right, of course…you know I’m stalling,right?”

“I do.”

He laughs almost out of breath, furrowing his eyebrows, “...your aunt gave us those talismans for what reason,exactly? Protection?” 

“And apparently to give us a boost because, well,” she looks down at her stomach, “There are two of them in here.”

Rooster laughs softly, his eyes focusing on her stomach then back to her face, he leans closer to kiss her temple, keeping his lips there before he touches their foreheads together, “You know, I think that’s the best Christmas gift anyone could give me.” she smiles back, cheeks reddening again, “It’s crazy to think they’ll be born in a few months.And they’ll be here and we’ll hold something just as small like this one.”

“Aa!”

“Yes, you were small but not so much. You were the biggest kid in that hospital.”

Nicole gurgled happily, obviously knowing nothing of what her father was talking about but clearly happy because of the attention. Bradley kisses her head, that amount of hair was getting longer and longer every day and it was still the same shade as his, “...I just changed the subject,huh?”

“You did, but I didn’t want to bring it back if it made you upset.”

“Nah…I’m just…you know, it’s gotten better. It has, I’m just thinking too much about it, which I shouldn’t. Having you with me, having Nikki with us, will help a lot. It’s just a few days, hell, a week but it’s what we need. We are going to celebrate the New Years there…it’ll be fun.”

“I know. It will…and it’ll be far from everyone and from any noises. No fireworks which will help the dogs.”

“Yeah…” he trails off, eyes looking ahead, towards their Christmas tree. “...You know what I should do?” she hums in question “Show you a few of my favorite places from when I was a kid. We’ll have more time now after all,I think you’ll like it.”

“That sounds fun…I might show you more of mine too.”

“Deal.” he holds up his pinky, smirking when she hooks her smaller one around his, bringing her hand close to kiss her knuckles then the tip of her nose, “Now,I’m feeling like another mug of cocoa, how about you?”

“Good thinking,” she stands to her feet, “I’ll prepare…unless you want to join me?’

“I’d love to. Come on Nikki,” he stands up without supporting himself, too busy keeping Nicole against his chest, “We’ll teach you the wonders of hot cocoa, even though you can’t have it yet.”

[dccomicsimagines]

Loving Night - Tim Drake x Reader

Requested by Anon - I am an ER nurse and I work a lot of twelve hour shifts. Sometimes I take on double shifts too due to short staffing. Can I have a nice Valentine’s Day story with Tim? Maybe both of us come home from long shifts and have a quiet Valentine’s Day together? I just need some comfort right now. Thanks a bunch!

***

You pushed open the door of your apartment and sighed. It was blissfully quiet and dark. After spending all day in the chaos and fluorescent lights of the ER, you wanted to bathe in the peace.

Hanging your keys on the hook along with your jacket, you locked the door before kicking off your shoes. You groaned, your feet aching. Your socked feet slid on the polished floor. You frowned. Alfred must have stopped in to clean the apartment again. You appreciated it, but you hoped he didn’t feel like he had too.

Slowly, you went into the kitchen and unpacked your lunchbox. Tim’s lunchbox was on the counter. He must already be out on patrol for the night. Your heart sank. You missed him. Your schedules had been running opposite recently. Two ships passing in the night.

You shuffled your way to the bedroom, turning on the light. A bright red package laid on the bed. You blinked before carefully approaching it.

The first thing you saw was bright red Happy Valentine’s Day written on the card. “Is it today?” You quickly checked your phone. The days had been a blur. You wanted to surprise Tim, but you lost track of time. Clearly, Tim hadn’t forgotten as you opened the card to find Tim’s messy handwriting.

(Y/N), I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry we haven’t seen much of each other. Tonight is a big night for the case, but I’ll be home earlier, I swear. Open your present before you change. You’ll like what’s inside. Love, Tim.

“Oh, Timmy.” You ripped open the present, grinning at the sight of cozy warm pajamas and a fuzzy blanket. “I knew I loved you.”

You took the box with you into the bathroom, planning on changing into them once you showered.

***

“You got the rest of this? I need to head home.” Tim nodded down from the rooftop to the cops arriving at the scene of Clock King’s master plan. It took Tim days to track him down and lay out a plan with Jason’s help. Now Clock King was tied up below, waiting for the police.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure Clock King gets into custody.” Jason huffed, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair out like a dog. “Let me guess, you want to get back to (Y/N) because it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Tim shrugged. “Yeah, plus I haven’t seen them for more than ten minutes in the last few weeks.” He took the grapple gun from his belt. “Besides, you don’t have plans. Roy’s in Star City last I heard.”

“Shut up,” Jason hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “I don’t need that getting out.”

Tim hummed, unable to stop the smirk growing on his lips. “Thanks Hood.”

“Use protection, nerd,” Jason said. Tim just waved, firing off his grapple gun toward home. His heart sang, thinking of spending an evening with you. You were probably still in the shower. He glanced at his wrist. His computer alerted him when you arrived home. 

“Probably have enough time to pick up dinner too,” Tim said to himself. He knew your showers tended to be long. Maybe he could even join you if he was fast enough? He landed on a rooftop and ran to jump off, firing his grapple gun to soar even faster toward your favorite food place.

***

You leaned against the shower wall, letting the hot water soak into your tired body. It felt good. Like a warm hug.

The bathroom door opened. You froze in horror. “(Y/N), can I join you?” Tim asked. You peeked out of the curtain, smiling when you saw Tim stripping out of his suit before you could even give permission. 

“I know you said you’d be home early, but this is very early for you,” you laughed as Tim jumped out of his boxers. You held the curtain open and he slipped inside. 

“I promised.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you sweetly. Your heart skipped a beat. A new warmth filled your insides, leaving you buzzing. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You hummed, pulling him into the spray. Tim chuckled, sputtering. “I like my pajamas. Thank you,” you said. You ran your fingers through his now wet hair. “Did you catch King Clock or whatever his name is?”

Tim grinned. He shook his head. You laughed, covering your face as he splashed you. “Yeah, the city is safe from his time-freezing machine. Honestly, it’s the dumbest thing, but it could have worked...if he built it right.”

“And you figured out how to build it so it works?” You touched your nose to his. The smirk on his face told you everything. “Hopefully, you locked away the plans...I’d hate to be in the ER if that gets out.” You shivered. A few of the bad moments from the day crept up to the front of your mind. You shook your head, pushing them away and locking them up. It took you a while, but eventually you learned how to not bring the ER home with you.

“I didn’t write anything down. It’s all up here.” Tim tapped his temple, rubbing your back. “Your day okay?”

You bit your lip. “It was...harder than normal, but I’m okay.” You kissed him again, melting into his arms. “Just hold me for a while.”

Tim tucked your head under his chin. “I love you.” He rocked you back and forth. “You’re braver than me, saving lives in a way I can’t. I’m so proud.”

“I’m proud of you too. You with your brilliant mind.” You kissed his jaw. He had a little bit of stubble, but you didn’t mind. The two of you stayed in the shower until the water turned cold.

***

An hour later, you and Tim cuddled on the couch, stomach full of good food and a bit of wine. The tv played softly in the background. Your new blanket was wrapped around the two of you. 

You rested your head on Tim’s chest and closed your eyes. “This was nice.”

Tim played with your hair. His arm warm around you. “It is. I missed this.”

“Me too.” You sighed, looking up at Tim. He looked back at you, love sparkling in his eyes. “I’m sorry I forgot about Valentine’s Day.”

Tim blinked, eyes widening. “You forgot? I thought you were giving me cuddles, which honestly is good enough. Shower cuddles and couch cuddles...we haven’t had both in a long time,” he chuckled, a wide grin pulling at his lips. 

“I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not.” You laughed, leaning up to kiss his lips gently. 

“I’m not, but it’s okay. You’ve been busy, besides I’ve forgotten enough things at this point of our relationship.” Tim winked at you. “And we always make up for it.”

“We do.” You sat up and ran your fingers down his jawline. “I have tomorrow off.”

Tim leaned into your touch. “Really? I’ll have to take tomorrow off too then. Bruce can survive the stockholders meeting alone.”

“Goodbye Wayne Enterprises.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hello Unemployment.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Bruce did run the company before I came along. He’s not that bad.”

You smirked, narrowing your eyes. “Right. You forget I was at the Wayne Enterprises Medical Fundraiser last year.”

“How could I forget? You looked like an angel that fell from heaven.” Tim glanced toward the picture from that night hanging on the wall. It was the two of you, dancing in the middle of the ballroom floor. Neither one of you looked at the camera. Dick had taken the picture without you knowing. 

“You were pretty handsome yourself.” You kissed him. He returned it sleepy. “We should go to bed.”

“We should.” Tim pulled away as a yawn escaped him. “Or we’ll end up on the couch again.” Tim tightened his arms around you. 

“I don’t think I can move.” You closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest again. Tim shifted, laying down on the couch. You laid half on him. Contentment filled you. 

“I love you.” Tim kissed the top of your head with his eyes closed. 

“I love you too, Timmy.” You turned to press your lips against his chest as you felt yourself drift off. Tim’s warmth soaked into you as you let yourself visit dreamland.

***

Tim woke up alone with the sun shining through the windows. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up on the couch. The tv was off. The apartment strangely silent.

“(Y/N)?” Tim stood up, groaning when his bones cracked at the movement. He frowned when he was met with silence. Tim walked through the apartment, checking every room for you. It was only when he got to the kitchen that he saw the note on the coffee machine.

Be back in a few. Don’t start the coffee. ;)

Tim scratched his head. “At least they didn’t get called into work,” he mumbled, sitting down at the kitchen table. He shook his head, trying to shake off the slight panic from finding you gone.

The sound of the key turning in the lock had Tim on his feet. He turned the corner to find you opening the front door, dressed in sweats with bedhair. He grinned as his eyes dropped to the McLeary’s Coffee and Bake shop bag and drink holder in your hands. 

“You didn’t,” Tim said, stepping forward to take the bag and drink holder from you. McLeary’s was across the town, hidden in a little back alleyway in one of the seedier areas. It was a local secret. “You went there alone?”

“Happy Belated Valentine’s Day.” You kissed his cheek, kicking off your shoes and walking into the kitchen. Tim followed, taking a deep breath of McLeary’s special caramel cream coffee. 

Tim shook himself out of the caramel cream daze. “You shouldn’t have went alone. It’s dangerous,” he said, setting everything on the table. You took out a plate, giving him smile.

“I wanted to surprise you, plus there was like twenty cops in the shop doing their morning coffee run.” You set the plate down and started to pull pastries out of the bag. Tim almost drooled at the sight. “I was fine.” You nodded to his coffee. “Drink it before it gets too cold.”

Tim took a sip. He moaned at the sugary perfection. “I love you.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. “Thank you.” You kissed his lips, laughing slightly. The two of you knew today was going to be a good day. 

[ghostwise]

four little crows, off to meet the Maker 5.5k words tags: childhood trauma, child death, past child abuse, ableism, religion, original characters, canon-typical violence, zevran arainai/male warden

It was early when Zevran went to the Chantry on Nueva de la Paz, and already the street was teeming with bodies.

More punctual than the birds’ dawn chorus, florists were preparing fresh flowers to sell, bakers were pulling hot bread from big adobe ovens, and pious Antivans were counting prayer beads and mumbling petitions on their way to the cathedral for morning worship. In this sleepy haze of productivity Zevran knelt before a figure of Andraste, and despite his reasons for being there, his prayer was sincere.

It was a humble plea, made more so because the things he was praying for were things he already had: Good health and comfort, a steady heart, a clear mind, and as always, the Warden.

His Warden! Privately, Zevran wondered if the Maker had willed their meeting and made their ensuing happiness possible, but the idea died quickly. He was deep in prayer; lying would not befit him now, and the All-Knowing would certainly recognize any attempts at dishonesty.

The fact was, the Maker could receive no credit for the glory that was Hamal Mahariel.

Zevran had once told him that he would storm the Dark City itself to be at his side. Was that blasphemous? Perhaps. Better yet, it was true.

The thought was interrupted as a figure kneeled beside him.

Here at last was the true reason he had come. The Chantry sister bowed her head. She held out a satin-lined box, and he carefully placed a diezmo of a silver and two copper coins within.

“Four innocents,” she whispered. “To be sent into the Maker’s arms after midnight.”

Then, with a soft rustle of fabric, she stood and walked away.

.

The city was coming awake now, sun pouring over the rooftops. A pigeon shit on the stone path outside the Chantry, and Zevran glanced at the spot where he’d stood only a moment ago.

The entire courtyard was littered with birdseed and droppings. Iridescent feathers tossed about in the warm breeze, and it was easy to believe that Andraste was watching over him, shooing away pigeons and assassins alike.

Surrounded by all this, a laugh escaped him.

Antiva City was more beautiful than he remembered. Never had he felt so free wandering its streets. When last here, he had been a man chained by sorrow and the Crows. Now he walked leisurely, an equal to the markets and the plazas and all the people there.

It felt so lovely to simply be awake before the heat of the day set in. On his way back, he purchased a whole bag of pan dulce and a package of dark and fragrant coffee beans—expensive ones, simply because he could—then he perused the stores until he found a handheld coffee grinder to replace the one they’d lost in the Blight (a word all but meaningless to him now, relevant at present if only for the loss of that trusty coffee grinder).

Treasures in hand, he walked to the old sawdust inn, dodging shoppers and messengers and street dogs. And because he was a bit of a fool, he ignored the front door, climbing instead onto a bin in the alley, hoisting himself over a wall, pulling himself onto the roof, and rapping insistently at the wooden shutters of the second story third window until it opened.

Quickly, before gravity won its fight over him, he tipped into the room, where Hamal was waiting with his arms open, to gather him into a cohesive whole, and tie down his straying thoughts with a kiss. It was a perfectly indulgent moment, a reminder of how sweet life could be. Zevran prayed it would last a little bit longer.

“Quite a dramatic entrance,” Hamal chuckled once Zevran had righted himself. “Dare I ask what you were doing?”

“I was procuring breakfast for us, of course,” Zevran said, setting the packages on the table. “Here. Smell this.”

New love was silly. Here he was bustling with excitement over something so commonplace, so simple. As Hamal breathed in the aroma through the brown paper package, Zevran grinned from ear to ear.

“You bought coffee!” Hamal exclaimed.

“Ha! I thought you might like that! Roasted right here in the city. You will never taste better.”

“And here I’d just gotten used to going without it, after so much time on the ship. Ma serannas, vhenan.”

That was how he knew he’d done very well indeed, for Hamal’s words slipped out in the language of his home only when he truly meant them, and this always seemed to summon a little echo within Zevran of that same feeling. He smiled, watching as Hamal hugged the package close, singularly focused on the scent.

And Zevran found that he had no time at all to think of what awaited him tonight at the Chantry. Not when he had the Warden to kiss, and coffee to make, and the entire morning to live through.

.

It was so strange to be back.

Returning to the city felt like a curious beginning, the sort that looped around to the tail end of Zevran’s adolescence and picked up where he’d left off. As a young Crow in training, he’d never had the privilege of wandering the streets. The gardens and shops were then unfamiliar to him, as were the cobblestone bridges and canals. He only got to know the city as an adult, and even then, he never experienced it the way he did now with Hamal.

“That is City Hall,” he said, nodding towards one of the many historic buildings on their walk. “And that over there is the mayor’s manor… two or three mayors ago. I understand it is a sanatorium now. He was killed by the Crows quite some time ago.”

Hamal listened to all of this, rapt and attentive. That sort of attention still made Zevran a bit shy, though he’d never dare show it. Instead, he translated signs. Repeated words slowly, so Hamal could hear them clearly. Smiled when he tried them in that accent of his, twisting Antivan into something Zevran found strangely lovely, where alameda became almendra became all may dream.

“Close enough,” Zevran said, and despite Hamal’s frown, he kissed him.

Antivan into Common, into Elvhen, and back again, like steps to a dance. In this manner, the day passed them by quickly.

 “Do you consider this your home town?” Hamal asked later.

They were back in their rented room, sharing a plate of empanadas for dinner while the sinking sun cast lines of light upon the table. Zevran looked at him, mulling over the question. As with all things, there was a short answer, and a long answer. The latter called for a rather personal tale.

Perhaps it was overdue. If not now, when?

“Yes, in fact, though I was not born here,” he said. “It feels bittersweet to be back.”

“Oh, you missed it,” Hamal said, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand. “I could always tell, you know. I was homesick too, so I could see it clear as day.”

“You were very perceptive,” Zevran said. “And I was very homesick. I longed for the sea, for the people and the music and the food of my youth… though it was not home in the traditional sense, I was created here. The boy, melted down, and the man, built from scratch.”

Recognizing the weight after his words, Hamal allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“There is a training villa, somewhere in the city,” Zevran continued. “I do not know exactly where. It is where the vetted recruits are brought to, you see, to begin their… education. It is where Taliesen and I were brought to, where we met as boys. I’ve been searching for it for years, but…”

“They kept the location from you?” Hamal asked.

“It is easier to deal with runaways who do not know where they are,” Zevran said with a shrug. “We were blindfolded during the journey, and during every outing we made after. We wore caps with a cover in front.” He paused and pointed to his eyes, forming a v-shape. “A mask, like the blinkers they put on horses. We seldom left the villa, but I do remember one thing very clearly: the funerals.”

Hamal listened intently. He already knew what Zevran was referring to.

The children who did not survive their training.

“We are raised to be so devout…” Zevran said. “Did you know the Antivan Crows began as an arm of the Chantry? It is not talked about, but it’s true. It’s easy to kill with impunity if you believe the Maker is acting through you. As part of the charade, the buying and selling and abusing of children is seen as a tragic and necessary sacrifice. Lambs at the altar. The Crows do love their departed children.”

Zevran took a deep breath before continuing.

“They are given lavish funerals, honored as soldiers who fell in battle. It is never public, of course. The matter is too unsavory. The services are held at night. I was about eight years old when we lost Rafael and Erwin. We were dressed in our best clothes, marched up onto a hearse, and taken to the Chantry. We were told in clear terms: ‘This is what being a Crow is about! Remember them! Honor them! You will follow them soon enough.’”

“And that is why we are here,” Hamal said softly.

“I found the Chantry.”

Somehow, it became real then. Zevran brushed his hair back and rubbed his eyes.

“I’ve been searching since we arrived, and I’ve finally found it. This is the one, I am certain of it. And just in time; there is a funeral tonight.”

“What are you going to do?” Hamal asked.

“Nothing,” Zevran said quickly. “I hope to follow them back, and finally discover where the villa is. Only with that information can I plan the next step.”

“You should have said something sooner,” Hamal said. “We have to prepare—”

“Amor,” Zevran interrupted him. This was the part he’d been dreading. “I’ve already prepared.”

Hamal sat up in his chair and looked at him, brow furrowed.

How could Zevran make him understand? Something within him squirmed at the thought of Hamal being there, in that Chantry, seeing—

Seeing him. His upbringing, and all the shadows of his past.

Zevran winced at the thought. “This is something I’d like to do alone,” he said.

“That’s… Zevran…” Hamal shook his head, grappling with what Zevran was telling him.

“It will be easier this way. For me. Please.”

Food forgotten, Hamal sat back in his seat. Zevran met his gaze, and saw within it a turmoil that made him ache. But he was resolute, and after a very long moment, Hamal looked away.

“Will you be in any danger?”

“No,” Zevran said honestly. “I won’t come near enough to be in any danger. This is strictly information gathering. But so much has changed. I’ve changed. I am not sure how I will react when I see them.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to go with you, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Zevran conceded. He bowed his head, worried that Hamal would succeed in wearing him down.

Truth be told, it was hard to say no to him, because he loved him, and because he knew Hamal’s fear. He’d felt the same fear not long ago, in Denerim, seeing him off to battle.

“Please,” he repeated. “Alone.”

Hamal let out a low sigh. Then, mercifully, he reached for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Very well, vhenan. I trust your judgment. But please, please be careful.”

“Ah, but of course!” Relieved, Zevran brought Hamal’s hand up to his lips, where he kissed each knuckle, twice. “Home before you know it! You’ll barely notice I’m gone!”

.

Tristeza Huitz had met Zevran Arainai three days ago, in the Chantry. It was hard not to notice the young man, for a number of reasons: Firstly, his hair—light against his brown skin—typical to certain Dalish clans West of the city, though he was not Dalish; secondly, his tattoo—sharp, along his temple—which she recognized as the mark of a Crow; and thirdly, the look on his face when he entered the Chantry—not reverence, not comfort, but something akin to recognition.

Feeling bold, she struck up a conversation. She learned he was an orphan, like herself. She learned he was born in Rialto, like herself.

And so it was the Maker’s will that the man who had set out to destroy the Crows should meet one of the few Chantry Sisters who knew what the Crows did with their fallen, and certainly the only one who was opposed to them as fiercely, passionately, even religiously.

“I will help you,” she whispered without hesitation, a fire in her eyes that surprised Zevran. “It is vile, what they do! I cannot believe that all this is as the Maker wills it. Come back to see me in a few days. Ojala, by then, I will have information that will help you.”

Yes, Tristeza thought that night, reading in her bedroom and finding herself unable to focus on the words. I know it is Your will, or it would not have come to pass! And yet, I am terrified. Maker forgive me. I know it is right to oppose the Crows but what is my little life, even in its greatest capacity, compared to the whole of them? Maker, I humbly beg of You: Protect us! Guide us! Keep us from harm!

In the end all she really did was whisper the time to him. The conveniently unlocked cellar door was just luck, or a fluke, or perhaps it was the Maker’s will. She threw a prayer in for Zevran Arainai as well.

Unbeknownst to both of them, it did reach him.

.

The records were just where Sister Tristeza said they would be.

The ornate architecture of the old Chantry on Nueva de la Paz lent itself to shadows and tricks of the light. Perhaps whoever built had made this a conscious decision: to festoon it in gilded pillars and stained glass, with statues in every corner, chock full of roses, thorns, ivy, faces, a weeping Andraste, a spiral like a snail, a long mantel for hundreds of lit candles to dance their flames upon, and windows so vast and colorful one could stare at them for hours and still not see every detail in them. Such beauty could make one forget all their sorrows.

Zevran allowed himself a moment to appreciate the artistry that surrounded him. Then he corrected himself; this was not the work of the Maker, but the work of the Antivan people.

Centuries of their rich history could be found within the Chantry’s archives; births and baptisms, marriages and funerals. And though not every Chantry had ties to the Antivan Crows—the Crows served the Chantry, not the other way around—this one carried on the proud tradition of affording them protection and blessings. There were others throughout the country like it. Chantries where the clergy accepted coffins too small and bodies too battered without question. They already knew what had happened to them. They didn’t need to ask.

These documents were records of untold crimes.

Working fast, Zevran found the drawer labeled with the most recent dates and emptied it. Then he emptied the year prior to that, and the one that followed. Each emptied drawer was filled with blank parchment, which would hopefully eclipse the theft for a few days, at least.

He took as many records he could reasonably carry. Then, taking care to leave the room just as he had found it, Zevran quickly left.

Keeping to the shadows and moving with every means of stealth at his disposal, he slowly made his way to a spot hidden in the rafters, where he waited for the service to begin.

He waited. He waited, and then waited a while longer.

Zevran massaged life back into a cramping muscle in his leg. He’d sat here, immobile, for over an hour. In his line of work, this was never good. Every second that ticked by risked his discovery or worse.

He cursed inwardly, shutting his eyes. There was much of his life that he could reflect on as he waited, hidden in the Maker’s sights, but this was no time for introspection. He was nervous. And he was itching to learn something. Patience had never been his strong suit, alas.

Desperate for anything to happen, he felt a shameful sense of relief when the doors finally opened. Almost immediately he chided himself—for here he was, grateful that his night would soon come to an end and he could return to his warm room and his lover and his rented bed, while the first coffin was being brought in. Shame was always his first reaction, where the Crows were involved. He swallowed it quickly and his eyes fixed on the scene that unfolded beneath him.

One, two, three, four little coffins. Then came the most somber procession he’d ever seen.

Even the caps were the same, pointed in the front. Seven boys filed in, the oldest looking to be around 10. They were dressed in their finest clothing, with black brocade fabric, clean linen shirts, and shoes polished just so; only the very best for such a grand occasion. He’d worn such clothing himself once, long ago.

He’d wondered what it would feel like, seeing these shadows from his past, but he had not prepared himself for this.

Zevran felt nothing.

As the Cleric began to speak, as the young Crows took their seats among the pews, Zevran searched within him and saw that he was empty. He tried a little harder to draw out a reaction; imaged Hamal at his side, how surely the Warden’s heart would buckle under the sight of children being interred, and found that he still felt nothing.

Not sorrow, not pity, not anger.

Carefully, Zevran removed himself from the scene.

It was not for him to say goodbye to these boys, and he made his way outside, unnoticed, where after making sure the street was well and truly desolate he continued his surveillance from a nearby rooftop: An old mill, long abandoned, its red-brick façade wearing away.

Once there, he let out a sigh. A heightened tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding within him left his body in a rush, leaving him a bit fuzzy around the edges. He forced himself to refocus. Whatever he’d felt or hadn’t felt in the Chantry didn’t matter.

What was I expecting, anyway? he wondered. Too damaged.

Still, it was a relief he had not fallen apart at this, the first step of many to come.

Looking down at the street, Zevran spotted a carriage a few buildings off of the Chantry. There was nothing too luxurious about it, from the plain construction of the vessel down to the horses drawing it. The Crows preferred not to draw attention to the training villas. It followed that this was how they had arrived tonight.

He would have to wait to confirm that suspicion. Antivan funeral masses were long affairs, and the Crows added a layer of pomp, with prayers and speeches, anything to reaffirm in the young recruits’ minds just how fortunate they were to have been selected thus by the Maker.

And he had felt special, hadn’t he? Yes, he had. Once.

Zevran closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the brick wall.

.

By his internal clock, nearly two hours had passed before he heard the Chantry doors open again.

The unassuming horse-drawn carriage pulled forward until it reached the entrance. One by one, the Crow recruits filed out the same way they’d come in; quiet and orderly. A tall figure followed after them, shutting the door behind them, and with that the carriage departed.

Zevran waited, watching as the distance between he and the carriage grew. Better to be cautious, however; he quickly made the decision to follow, leaving his perch atop the old mill.

He hadn’t done this sort of thing in years, but he hadn’t forgotten. A rooftop chase under a new moon was the sort of thing he was expertly good at, all of his muscles working in concert; a leap here, a short scramble up a water tank there, his keen elven eyesight penetrating the darkness, careful not to get too close while still tracking the target from afar. A growing sense of apprehension took hold of him, too.

Finally, he would know where he’d lived all those years. His life had begun in the most humble of settings, the brothel El milagro. From there he had been shuffled to a cramped apartment in Antiva City’s leather-making district, no more than a holding area, in fact, and a house of horrors. What followed from there… had always been a mystery.

But this was all wrong. As Zevran moved from roof to roof, even dropping into an alley at once point when the way ahead was not viable, he saw his surroundings changing. No more chipped paint, no more crumbling stone. The carriage led him to the wealthier neighborhoods now. Lawyers and well-off merchants, artists and scholars lived here. Not Crow children!

Zevran pulled himself onto another roof and let out a strangled curse. Money meant security. With all this wealth there would surely be hired guards in these homes, and city police in the streets. It was not possible!

Just as he was beginning to tire, the carriage drew to a stop.

Zevran crept forward and watched.

The door opened. The tall figure stepped out. The man that had trained him all those years ago closed the carriage door and made his way to his wealthy, comfortable home. And the carriage, so out of place amidst this opulence, carried on further into the wealthy mercantile district.

“Shit,” Zevran said, giving voice to his anxiety for the first time that night.

Master Atanasio had been the first Crow he’d ever met, and he’d made all the ones that followed seem meek in comparison. Far from the slavers who’d acquired him at the brothel, beyond the landlord who’d kept him and the others in that dirty apartment, even greater than the starvation and neglect meant to cull the weakest among them, Atanasio’s cruelty and precision were unmatched and unparalleled. He was given children as young as five. The only way out for them was in a casket or as full-fledged killers.

Zevran was no fool. He’d known that the possibility of encountering people from his past had always been there. He was returning, after all, to the halls and torture chambers of his youth. He was returning to root out the monsters that resided there. To ensure nobody else went through what he went through—what Rinna and Taliesen went through. But this was… unexpected. This was…

“Shit!” Zevran exclaimed, louder still.

He’d let himself be distracted. And the carriage, with its cargo of young Crows, was gone.

.

The decision that followed was nothing if not pragmatic.

A Crow really was such a fragile thing, all bluster and bravado, but at his core remained something malleable; something for one’s betters to shape and manipulate as needed. Such a grand organization could scarcely get by if its masses held too much agency, and by his own agency did Zevran make his way into Atanasio Trepidus’ estate, where he confronted the old man on the stairs.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d never thought to imagine what such an encounter would entail, but oh, his heart was beating in his chest loud enough that surely Atanasio heard it before he saw him. He had to remind himself that he was no longer a Crow—and that the man before him held no power over him.

Most of all, it had to be true.

Atanasio paused at the foot of the stairs. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“So,” Atanasio said, and Zevran felt his resolve waver. After just one syllable! But his voice was the same. Hateful, cold, and calm.

Unbothered, Atanasio walked across his darkened study, sliding a desk drawer open and rummaging through its contents. He withdrew a set of matches, striking one to light an oil lamp upon the wall.

Now illuminated, Atanasio gazed at him, searching. Then, he let out a sigh. He looked the same. Grayer, certainly, but unchanged. Here was the moment where any professional assassin could tell you the job had gone awry.

“Zevran Arainai,” he murmured. “I am… not surprised it is you.”

“What,” Zevran said, and found that his mouth had gone quite dry, “do you mean by that?”

“You’ve come to kill me, no?”

In mere moments Atanasio had maneuvered himself behind the desk—yet another clumsy mistake on Zevran’s part, but he himself was quite unable to move from his spot on the stairs. Not when every part of him screamed at him to get away from this man.

“You were expecting me?” Zevran managed.

“Not you, exactly, but someone. After all, my dear boy,” Atanasio said, and the words made Zevran’s skin crawl. “Look at my line of work. Sooner or later, someone was going to come. And you… you always had a little spark to you. Yes, even back then. Took every lesson without question but Maker forbid I set a hand to one of the other boys. One little bruise and you’d be glaring daggers at me all night.” He chuckled, as if they were reminiscing of good times. “I advised the Grandmaster of this: ‘A bit unruly, that Zevran, but he has potential-’”

The oil lamp shattered beside his head, sputtering sparks before plunging the two of them into darkness again.

“I have plenty more daggers where that came from,” Zevran spat, and took a step forward. “Enough talk. You will answer my questions. Where is the training villa?”

“I don’t know. It changes. By magic.”

“Where do the Crows source their slaves from?”

“Not my business. I do not ask.”

“I am supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want. I am in fact retired; have been for years.”

“And yet you were burying more of your victims tonight! You will tell me what I need to know or-!”

He’d drawn up to the old man now, pressing a dagger against the thin skin of his throat. Atanasio stood stock-still, unable to see Zevran save for a shadow.

“What’s happened to you?” he asked. “A Crow does not lose his composure like this. Have you so quickly forgotten everything I taught you?”

“You taught me nothing!” Zevran said, and he continued, fiercely, “You only cut at me—again and again!—until the scar grew so deep that nothing else remained! Until my mind knew nothing else! It was cruel! Erwin had a weak heart! Rafael was epileptic!”

Atanasio was right about one thing: A Crow did not lose his composure. Even with a line of blood beginning to form at his neck, the man looked at Zevran with a wholly unimpressed expression. He remained thus, quietly thinking, before answering.

“Who?”

Zevran slit his throat.

How he would have liked to say something more to him, but all the feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in the cathedral hit him in a devastating wave. He found himself on the floor just as Atanasio fell, blood sputtering from his wound, soaking the plush carpet.

Zevran had once been a Crow, but no longer. A ragged sob heaved out of him, and he wept.

.

Antiva City was awake, and beginning a day like any other, when Zevran returned to the inn.

The door to their room opened before he could knock, and Hamal looked at him, brow furrowed, eyes heavy with lack of sleep. In one quick sweep, he took in the blood-stained clothes. Zevran shook his head. He pushed his way in.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I may have… underestimated things.”

As he spoke, Hamal set about a more thorough examination. He slid a hand from Zevran’s shoulder down to his forearm, where he tugged gently at his sleeve, looking at the blood upon it.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, searching for the source.

Zevran glanced down. It had been a messy kill, and he hadn’t explained himself. Stopping Hamal’s hand, he held him still for a moment.

“I am unharmed.”

“Thank the Creators! Zevran-”

“Please don’t. You must know I did not plan this.”

Hamal stood before him, but Zevran could not meet his eyes. Then, worse than any beratement, Hamal simply asked, “What am I supposed to do, Zevran?” His voice very soft, he asked him directly, “What am I to do if something were to happen to you and I never found out?”

A short exhale left him, and Zevran chuckled, finding the question far too incisive.

“I suppose you would be better off not knowing what became of me.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Don’t say that.”

Zevran walked to the table. He removed his gloves, and unlaced his collar, suddenly feeling crowded in.

“I need a moment,” he said, and he sat down. Hamal sat with him, but quickly realized he couldn’t bear the quiet.

The Warden pushed off of the table and set about doing something in the background, puttering here and there while Zevran rested his face in his hands. When Zevran looked up again, he saw a bowl of freshly boiled water had been placed before him, along with a washcloth.

Hamal picked up the washcloth and wrung it out, fingers turning pink from the heat. Zevran sat up in his seat and turned to him, wordlessly allowing him to clean the blood from his hands and face.

“You must let me face these things with you, Zevran,” he spoke after a moment, not content to let their conversation end.

“They are horrible things, amor,” Zevran told him. “The danger-”

“I’m aware of the danger. I did not leave my clan to come with you on a whim. But if something happened to you, I would be left alone. In a country where I do not know anyone, or speak the language, and still, I would spend the rest of my life here, to mourn you in your homeland.”

Zevran’s eyes filled with tears as Hamal continued.

“I wouldn’t know where you had fallen, so I would honor every street. I wouldn’t be able to guess at where your remains were, so I would plant trees in every town. And if I could, I would find the ones responsible and avenge you, or die trying. But wouldn’t it be better, vhenan, if we faced these things together?” He paused, crouching down before him so as to better see him. “Then we’d protect each other.”

“You realize what this would entail,” Zevran said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Would you kill to follow me down this path?”

“I would,” Hamal said firmly.

“Kill not darkspawn, but people.”

“Yes.”

“Not just murderers or slavers, but unassuming people playing tiny roles in something very large and nefarious—decent people save for an occasional contract, a business deal with the Crows here and there—or even to kill without explanation, if I asked you to?”

“Yes,” Hamal said again.

Zevran shook his head. Impossible to believe, and yet, he felt like a drowning man being pulled from the cold water. His words came out in a rush.

“I’ve done horrible things. I have blood on my hands and I do not feel even a little sorry for it. I intend to draw more blood. Even knowing that… even knowing…”

“Yes, even knowing.”

“And… what if we never succeeded? What if this truly is all a fool’s errand? What if we pressed on for years, for decades, for the rest of our lives, seeking to end something insurmountable—would you stay?”

“I would.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“Would you kill forever? Would you maim?”

“Yes—”

“Would you marry me?”

Hamal’s eyes went wide, and Zevran, quite beside himself now, continued, impassioned.

“Would you marry me in a Chantry? Before the Maker? So He knows then, if I die- when I die-”

“Yes! I would marry you anywhere, Zevran! Even before the damned Divine herself if you asked me.”

Zevran looked at him. “Really?” he asked, shocked into gentleness.

“I will marry you,” Hamal said again. “Zevran, I will. I’ll marry you.”

Zevran made no further effort; he only threw his arms around him and held him tightly, feeling Hamal press his face into the crook of his neck. Saying no more they clung to each other in silence, knowing the fear and sorrow were all just marks of the deep love that had found them.

He felt resolute now, more than ever, of what needed to be done.

The Maker did not hold a candle to this feeling. Neither did the Crows. And if he died fighting them he knew all his deeds would be carried by his trembling spirit to the Beyond… where marrying Hamal Mahariel would stand out as the best thing he ever did with his mortal life.