#puzzle warehouse

[amberraymond]

Exclusive Amazon Haul Must-Haves 2024

[deathtodickens]

Wintery strolls down memory lane.

[zengardenphotos]

Meet the photographer

New Orleans, LA

[shy-the-trash-lion]

WHO IS SHEEEEE

I LOVE HERRRRR

Her name is Nora Winestead! She’s a character that’s for a concept I wanna make (probably gonna be a visual novel) called The Warehouse Game!

I plan to update and maybe post more of them at some point because they’re creeping back into my mind again lol

[aardvaark]

the way the leverage team make a mess of nate’s apartment on multiple occasions is so much funnier when you consider that none of them are particularly messy people. in the pilot, hardison has a very nice apartment that he is clearly proud of & has kept very tidy. parker’s warehouse is almost disturbingly neat, her tools and weapons are kept clean & shiny and are laid out in perfect rows, her bed is made, her clothes and rappelling gear is hung up. eliot likes things done properly and certainly at least cares for his car’s cleanliness. idk about sophie, but she would at least know how to act neat for a grift, and she’d be aware of how a guest to supposed to treat their host’s home.

but they all put unwashed dishes in nate’s sink, do spur of the moment renovations, set up new gear in his living room, leave clothes/costumes, plans & random items strewn about the place, and even tear up his stuff without fixing it. i love it. his apartment is their playground. they half live here now. nate just needs to chill out and let them saw into his walls, geez calm downnnn. i know nate’s eye was twitching when he saw that parker’s warehouse was so perfect meanwhile there’s probably 5 bowls of unfinished cereal hidden in his house like a damn look-and-find puzzle

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show

Masterpost

They are all in a warehouse fighting a bunch of cultists, trying to keep them from activating their summoning circle when it happens. One of the cultists manages to hit Red Robin across the face hard enough for blood to drip down from you cut. The blood lands in the summoning circle at Red Robin’s feet and he has a moment to realize he is standing in the circle before it starts glowing Lazarus green and sucks him in.

He lands with a yelp in a very large room. There is a podium at the front and people are starting to come in from the walls, but they aren’t human. They are also glowing lazarus green, and Red tracks a boy with white hair and a black suit as his tail turns into legs and he starts walking towards the podium.

Red looks up and the portal is still open above him, but It’s starting to flicker. He assumes that means it’s closing and starts trying to find a way back up there, but it’s to far from any walls, and the ceiling has nothing for the grapple to attach to, and he can’t get any further before Nightwing is falling towards him.

“Oh, shit.” Red mutters, getting out of the way. Of course, Dick rolls with it and pops up ready to fight.

“Red, are you okay?”

“ Fine, but we have no way back up.”

Dick turns to look at the portal, only for Hood and Robin to fall through as well, right before it closes.

Dick and Tim share a look as Damian and Jason pick themselves off the floor.

“Wonderful!” They all turn to the voice at the front of the room. “Now that everyone is here, we can get started! Welcome to the Infinite Realms. I’m Danny, your host for the competition. You are here because you tried to summon the Ghost King, Great One, Slayer of Pariah Dark, Ruler of the Infinite Realms. You shouldn’t have thought it would be so easy. He has brought you here instead so you can compete for the right to an audience. The rules are simple, each round you will compete against one of His subjects, and if you are successful, you will earn a clue in the final puzzle! There will be one round for each contestant to earn a clue. If you lose your round, the others play on without you. Only those still in the game at the end of the last round will have the chance to solve the final puzzle. Any questions?”

The vigilantes looked among themselves. They didn’t mean to be here, but this seemed worth at least getting more information on.

“What happens if we lose exactly?” Nightwing asks.

“You spin the wheel of dimensions, and then Kitty takes care of you.” 

“And… What if we don’t want to play?” Red asks hesitantly. 

There is a frown from Danny. The other ghosts in the room shared looks. Danny starts to flicker as he grows fangs and his eyes start to glow more brightly. 

“Are you trying to tell me that after finding, drawing, and successfully activating your summoning circle, after hearing the terms of engagement you have decided that your goal was not to meet the King, but instead to waste all of our time?”

“No! Nope, we are so ready to compete.” Nightwing states. “We’d love to meet the King.”

“Ah!” Danny calms back into a smile. “Then we continue!”

Danny nods to one of the ghosts, who leaves through a side door.

“Now you can decide who plays each challenge, but remember, each person can only compete in one round. The first three rounds are physical competitions. The first is a timed obstacle course. Since us ghosts have a natural advantage over you guys, this is a timed event rather than a race. However, since we still need to participate, Skulker will be chasing you as Boxy tries to distract you. Choose your contestant!”

Nightwing raises his hand.

Inspired by this post by @phantoms-world-and-more

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || Ch. 33]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

|| Trigger Warning: Graphic Descriptions Body Horror & Death Regarding Unnamed Children ||

All your life you have heard that there is a beauty in chaos, and while you do agree with this, you also find there is a beauty in organization. 

You like taking all the chaos and putting it into categories. You like sorting the details and finding the mysteries that need to be unraveled. You think it must be similar to how clever people feel when they solve a riddle or a puzzle, but you aren’t running in circles with philosophical thoughts - you are analyzing what is already available and coming to a conclusion. 

It is still all chaos, because everything is always chaos, but it is organized into a way that makes sense. 

And Matt’s stolen duffel bag, when first unzipped and inspected, was full of chaos. 

You, Foggy, and Karen quickly got to work looking over the different papers and forming different stacks based upon agreed parameters. 

It became clear Matt’s guess that he had found some sort of laboratory was correct. The papers all appeared to be results of different medical tests, though at first glance, the three of you could not decipher for what.

But deciphering wasn’t needed at that moment, so it didn’t matter, and once everything was spread neatly across the dining table, the next step of your beloved process began. 

Foggy gave each pile a designation and then the three of you began labeling each paper in the top corner. 

A1. A2. A3. A4. 

B1. B2. B3. B4. 

All your analyzing would be useless if you couldn’t source your data, and it was quickly clear your little group all shared the same brain cell when it came to this idea.

While you worked at the table, Matt and Jessica sat on the floor by the couches, marking up a map. You caught snippets of the conversation - this bit of evidence was heard in that alley, to get to a certain tunnel system you had to go through such and such warehouse. It was fascinating to know that Matt had memorized nearly every square inch of Hell’s Kitchen - even the parts you didn’t know existed - and it was equally amazing that Jessica knew just as much. 

After hearing them talk, it left you wondering if Frank had the same knowledge, but you would leave that question for another time. He had been assigned to the two thumb drives that had been in the duffel bag. You had furiously taken mental notes as he had grumpily explained to Matt the little devices couldn’t just be plugged into a computer. They could have malware on them or trigger tracking or something equally devious and needed to be inserted into a clean laptop that couldn’t connect to the internet. That way, if the laptop tried to send a signal or became a brick, there would be nothing lost. 

Since neither you nor Matt happened to have a spare laptop laying around, Frank went to go procure one. 

That was about half an hour ago and now you are well into your third Foggy-assigned task - highlighting any identifying information in yellow. There’s nothing easy like names or addresses listed out, but you noticed a pattern for patient labels and have determined there are at least five. 

As you jot down that Patient 031517DVA also appears on page D4 in your notebook, you find you are enjoying yourself. This isn’t exactly what you imagined when Matt talked about inviting everyone over to review what he had found, but you think it is nice. Knowing that Matt isn’t out there running around without any sort of plan soothes your nerves and seeing that he is putting in the time and thought into his next actions makes you trust he knows what he is doing. 

No one wants a shady underground lab in their neighborhood, but you need to make sure they are actually shady first and not some weird fringe group researching an unknown breed of sewer rat.

The effort going into helping Matt with this task makes your fondness of Foggy, Karen, and Frank grow even more - and gives you a fondness for Jessica. Everyone is serious about their task, and extremely thorough, and you want them to see you in the same light. You know this is not a game and you refuse to let your part in the research be the weak link. 

As you go to the next row of numbers to examine, you catch some movement in the corner of your eye. You turn your head and watch with a soft smile as your daughter emerges from Matt’s bedroom, clad in her mouse-onesie pajamas. Her sleep mask is pulled down around her neck and she looks upset, but she’s not crying, so you don’t jump to run to her. You let her make her own decisions as she sleepily looks between you and her father and you can’t help but to mentally crow a bit as she starts shuffling towards you, her little mouse-tail trailing behind her. 

Everyone’s attention is on you as Minnie lifts up her arms to be picked up once she’s within a foot of you. You dutifully scoop her up and put her on your lap, fixing her hood and mouse-ears as you do. 

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? Did something wake you up?”

She nods, then flops herself against your chest, mumbling out, “There’s monsters.” 

You begin to gently rub her back, hoping to soothe her worries as you confirm, “there’s monsters?”

Again, her head bobs up and down before she nuzzles into your neck, trying to hide herself. Across the room, Matt is up and making his way towards you, but it is Foggy who speaks up next. 

“Are they silly monsters or scary monsters?”

You smile at the question as Minnie ponders it - her little lips purse against your neck and you feel her breath against your skin as she silently repeats the words. She decides on ‘scary’ - replying in a timid voice as Matt takes his place behind you, sliding his hands onto your shoulders.

“Do you want me to help you tell them to go away?” you ask, having packed your bottle of Monster Repellent for just this cause. Little fists clutch tightly at your shirt as Mouse shakes her head and you give a soft hum in thought. “Do you want Daddy to go scare them off?”

You are sure Matt would run outside to chase away a stray cat or hungry raccoon if his princess wished for it, but she shakes her head against you, so you guess Matt will be staying inside. 

“How about we make the monsters silly instead of scary?” is Karen’s suggestion, and like the others, it falls flat. 

You consider offering to read some stories, but Matt startles you from your thoughts by sliding his hands down your arms to get to his daughter. He gently urges her to let go of you before transferring her to his arms and bundling her close. She absolutely clings to him, looking so tiny against his broad shoulders.

“I got this,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper before he turns and starts making his way back to the bedroom. As you watch him walk away, he buries his nose into her hood, and he begins to rock with each step. The itty bitty fist you can still see tightens around his t-shirt and your heart yearns to follow your family, but you know this is a Daddy-Daughter moment and you need to stay seated. 

You were worried about Minnie getting scared over sleeping in a new place - there’s so many new and different noises but you trust Matt to help her interpet everything. He’s already done such an amazing job of it in day-to-day life and you know he’ll explain away all her monsters and let her know she is safe. 

Considering the company she is starting to keep she is probably the safest little girl in New York. No monsters would dare to lurk in her shadows less they want to face the wrath of the Devil.

You know that this little group you are becoming a part of would join you in jumping in front of a bullet for your daughter and you are pretty sure even her newest best friend - Max the Dog - would not hesitate to bare his teeth if someone upset her. 

She deserves nothing less and it makes your heart soar that she is so thoroughly adored. 

Now that her research partner is on another important assignment, Jessica gets up off the floor and strolls over to the table, “anything interesting?”

“Maybe if we were scientists instead of lawyers,” Foggy replies warily, dropping his pink highlighter in favor of nursing his beer, “and knew what any of these numbers meant. We’re going to spend all night looking up these test numbers and hoping they are real. I mean, look at this,” he motions to the paper he is currently working on. “What the hell is D22S1045? And why is the result 15?”

Jessica takes one look at the paper before scrunching up her nose and blandly stating, “It’s a DNA marker. Haven’t you ever seen a paternity test?”

Foggy’s face goes slack for a moment before he is huffing, “Not since college when we had to study paternity suits, and they looked nothing like this! They were like dots we had to match, not numbers!” He uses his beer to point to you, “did yours look like this?”

Your cheeks heat up at the question and you duck your head, hating all the attention is on you with such a personal question. “No. No, mine didn’t…we just received a letter with the results. Not the data.”

“So, they are doing DNA and blood tests?” Karen asks, taking over the conversation and directing it back to Jessica. “And comparing them with each other. Could they be looking for relationships between them?” 

“I’m not a fucking doctor,” is the reply she gets, but Jessica picks up the paper to examine it more closely either way. “But none of these match. The numbers have to be the same for a parental match, but that might not be what they are looking for. Just because it looks like a paternity test doesn’t mean it is one. DNA markers are used in a lot of shit.”

“It might not be human,” you add quietly. “Matt said the lab smelled of human blood, but we don’t know that these tests are on humans. There’s no dates on these, so they could be years old.”

Karen whips out her phone and is typing away before you are done talking, “What was that DNA marker, Fog?”

Foggy repeats the string of numbers and letters and you watch Karen’s eyes scan her screen.

“It’s human,” she states after a long, tense moment. The scowl Jessica gives is near legendary.

“Great, so we have a bunch of assholes in abandoned tunnels running tests on people.”

“That sounds both sanitary and humane,” Foggy grumbles before throwing back the rest of his beer. 

“OSHA and FDA approved,” you add sarcastically and that earns you a smile from Karen. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before she guides you all back on track.

“We still have no idea what they are looking for, though. This could be cancer research for all we know - we are still at square one.”

“One point five,” Foggy argues, “we confirmed it’s human.”

“We don’t know what the tests are looking for,” Karen repeats, ignoring him, “and I don’t think looking up the significance of each DNA marker is going to do us much good. Can you and Matt go back to the lab and look around?”

As the clear recipient of the question, Jessica huffs then turns away from the table and goes right to the bottle of Macallan Matt keeps on top of his fridge. She pops off the lid, taking a long drink of it before answering. 

“That was the plan, but I’m betting it’s going to be sprayed with bleach after knowing Devil-boy was poking around. It’s not like we will get much, not that there was shit to get beforehand.”

“So, we have no who, no why, and no where,” Foggy points out. “We are doing great.”

The joy you had gotten from trying to organize the chaos of paperwork evaporates and you sink down into your chair a little. Would continuing to highlight and document be useful or was this all for naught? The rational part of your brain told you to keep going, because it was better to have it done and not need it then to need it later and it still be a mess of paperwork.

“We’ve just started, Fog, of course we have nothing,” Karen says, rolling her eyes a bit as she does. “Did you expect them to write their plans in gel pens and leave them lying around?”

“I mean, that would be useful.”

You roll your lip between your teeth, thinking that Karen is right. You don’t have much, and you’ve only just started - of course things look pessimistic. While Karen and Foggy begin to banter back and forth about the use of gel pens in a professional setting and Jessica finishes off Matt’s whisky, you let your mind wander around the facts of the case. 

Someone is out there running medical tests in a gross underground lab, probably trying to hide what they are doing. To do a lot of tests, they probably needed lab equipment, and a few years ago you would have said to follow that trail, but with all the advancements in technology, a machine to run DNA tests on probably only cost a few hundred dollars and was compact enough to move easily. Generators could keep people off the grid and there were enough tunnels under the city that years could be spent exploring them. Everything they would need could be ordered offline, and thus, was untraceable to you.

The only solid clues you had were what Matt had come home with, so you needed to keep digging there and hope that the thumb drives would contain something more useful. 

So, you pick yourself back up, grab your highlighter, and get back to work. 

Soon enough, Foggy and Karen pick their highlighters back up as well, and Jessica takes up a spot on the couch, putting her feet up and getting out her phone to tap at. The mood is much more somber, but you feel the same determination to find answers that is in you coming off of everyone else as well. 

You don’t pay attention to the passage of time, but it is not long after you grab the final stack of papers to comb through that Matt slips out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him. 

He starts towards the dining table only to stop by the couch, tilting his head towards Jessica, “That bottle was a gift from Foggy’s dad.”

“Boo-hoo, cry me a fucking river, Murdock.”

Despite the venom in Jessica’s voice, Matt chuckles and finishes making his way to you. 

His hands once again find your shoulders and he begins rubbing them, digging his thumbs into just the right spot as he begins his Minnie-update.

“Someone with a really nice sound system is having a horror movie marathon. She was actually hearing monsters.”

“My poor baby,” you instantly coo, your heart breaking for your little one. “Did you tell her it was just a movie?”

Matt hums in affirmation, “That doesn’t help with the noise, though. We walked through turning things off and found something to work as white noise. It’s still hard for her to do it with new sounds, especially so tired, but she’s a quick learner.”

“How long did it take you to learn all that stuff,” Foggy asks, interest clear in his eyes. Karen puts her pen down as well so she can get the gossip. 

“I don’t know, years? It didn’t come naturally to me like it does with her - I would train for hours to be able to pinpoint something, but she can do it pretty easily. I mean, she can’t tell me exact distance because she’s four and doesn’t know what that means, but she can point and say if it’s close or far.” You can feel Matt practically puff up with Pride over his baby girl. “She’s learning inorganic versus organic sounds now. She can tell if a loud banging is someone hitting something or if something just fell over. The other day she told me it was the wind making the window shake, because she couldn’t hear any other noises around the window.”

You smile at the story, having a feeling Matt is going to start going on about all the declarations Minnie had made during the storm and you don’t mind at all. 

“So, she’s as good as you?” Karen teases and you know Matt is just beaming.

“Better. She can actually read a sign.”

Foggy barks with laughter while you and Karen have to cover your mouths to not giggle. 

Once it subsides, you tilt your head back so you can look up at your daughter’s oh so loving father, bumping against his abdomen as you do, “is she down?” 

He gives another positive hum, “In a nice deep sleep. Frank’s on his way back up and I wanted her out before he got here.”

You don’t know if that is from Matt wanting to rejoin the group to know what is on the thumb drives or if it is from him not wanting Minnie to get excited over Frank, but you are thankful she’s conked out either way. The thought of her hearing all your discussions about what lurks in the darkness of the city makes your stomach turn. 

She doesn’t need more monsters to imagine. 

You thank Matt while reaching up to rub one of his arms - letting yourself give him a small bit of affection. You ignore the look Karen is giving you in favor of making sure Matt is all caught up.

“I take it you heard everything?”

He sighs deeply through his nose, and you take that as a ‘yes’. He confirms with his words. 

“Human testing with government trained agents isn’t what I was hoping we would find.”

“I was personally hoping for research on the mutant alligators in the sewers,” Foggy says as he gets up to go towards the kitchen, probably for another beer. “You know the ones they flush down the toilets.” 

“That’s a myth, Fog.”

“Look, with everything else that goes on in the world - weird aliens and giant green men - let me believe in my sewer gators, Murdock. They make me happy.”

“With everything that Stark and Roxon dumped in the waters, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Karen muses, resting her chin in her hand, “I mean, Matt got superpowers from something getting in his eyes. If a rat ate something that was contaminated, it could have gotten super senses as well.” 

You raise your brows up at the idea, a smile coming to your face, “a crime fighting rat?”

“A crime fighting rat that is a ninja,” Foggy chimes, a wide grin on his face and it sends you into giggles.

“How would a rat even learn martial arts?” Matt counters, “There’s not a rodent karate school he could spy on.”

“I don’t know Matt, how did you learn ka-ra-te,” Foggy emphasizes the word to make it sound more mystical. “He would learn from a secret ninja rat clan.”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Jessica asks, looking over her shoulder at the dining table, disgust and confusion clear on her face. 

You and Karen erupt into more laughter while Foggy just grins like he won the world cup as he returns to his seat. Matt gives your shoulders a firm squeeze before letting go and pulling away. He disappears into the narrow passage that is his hallway, and you hear the front door open. Heavy boots signal Frank’s reappearance, and when he and Matt come back around the corner, you offer a small smile. 

The Punisher holds up a clunky looking laptop, straight from your middle school years, “Got it.”

“Does that thing even work?” Foggy asks, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. You trust Frank, but the question is valid - if you saw that in a Goodwill, you would doubt it would even turn on. 

“Of course it works,” Frank scoffs as he delivers the device to Karen. She instantly opens it up to get it started. “Old body, new hardware. Got it built just for this type of shit.” 

Foggy’s lips twitch and you wonder if he wants to say something but is holding his tongue. Jessica joins the table as Matt once again returns to standing behind you. His hands find your shoulders like they are drawn to them, and you wonder if he can’t help but want to touch you. It makes you feel special and wanted and your belly stirs with a certain type of warmth. 

Everyone’s focus is on Karen as she works - the laptop boots up and she fiddles with the first thumb drive until it is ready to be inserted. It feels like you all are holding your breath as she finally plugs it in. You expect there to be a password, but apparently there is not, as she just clicks away.

“There’s two files,” she narrates. “One labeled 082616DUK and one labeled 121417BNY.” 

You instantly recognize the first designation and push your notebook towards Karen, trying to not sound eager as you tell her, “The DUK one is in our files. Can we look at that first?” 

Her face lights up at the prospect of a connection and selects the requested file, “There’s five pictures. Hold on, let me bring them u- Oh my God.”

The little color in her face drains as a horrified expression takes over and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. You and Froggy scramble up out of your seats while Frank and Jessica crowd around Karen to look at the screen. Matt stays where he is, tilting his head just slightly. 

When you see what is in the file, you wish you had stayed under Matt’s hands. 

The neatly severed head of a boy stares back at you with blank milky eyes, sitting on an examine table. His hair has been shaved away and there is an incision line around his skull that makes it clear someone has probably removed his brain. His mouth is open in a silent scream, showing off that he still had his baby teeth and that someone has taken his tongue. 

You want to throw up and you want to turn away, but you can’t. You can’t look away from this poor child who someone has so thoroughly defiled. Who had done this to this boy and why? You wanted to shake them and scream and demand to know what could possibly possess someone to do this to a baby? Because this was someone’s baby - someone’s little boy - and someone had taken him and ruined him. 

You don’t know how she manages it, but Karen brings up the next image and it fills you with just as much disgust and anger. 

It is that of a tiny hand with its fingers forcibly splayed, stuck with pins to keep it that way. The tips are bulbous and round, different to anything you’ve seen on a human before, and between each digit, there was a thin stretch of skin connecting them, much like the webbing of a duck’s foot. Like the head, the hand has been surgically removed from the rest of the body, and it isn’t hard to determine they go to the same person. 

The next image is of the head again but turned to be facing the left and pre-removal of the tongue, as the appendage is pulled and stretched from the mouth with a pair of forceps. The muscle is an odd shade of purple and coated with some sort of liquidy-white residue, but that is not what is unique about it. The boy’s tongue doesn’t just peek out of his mouth - it extends across the table almost three feet, if the tape measurer under it is to be believed. 

You need to turn away after that and to no surprise, Matt is instantly by your side, wrapping you up in his arms and guiding your head to his neck. “He’s just a baby,” you whisper in horror as you cling to him, not understanding how someone could be so cruel. Even if he had died naturally, there was no reason to treat him like that in death. 

“Did they…” Froggy starts, his voice low and quivering and you don’t know if it's from rage or grief, “Did they make him a frog? Did they mix this kid with a fucking frog?”

“No,” Frank replies, not hiding how he is feeling at all. The fury is clear in his voice. “They did it because he was like that.”

“What’s the other file?” Jessica demands and part of you doesn’t want to know. You bury yourself more into Matt and you listen to Karen click away at the track pad. 

Matt’s arms tighten around you and you can’t imagine what he is thinking. No one has said out loud what the images show, and he has not asked - but he must know it isn’t good. He’s gone tense under you, like he’s ready to jump into action and rip someone apart with his hands. 

And you want him to. You want Matt to find whoever did this and make them pay. You want him to punish those who hurt the child in the photos, the people who ran tests on him. 

You want to help Matt find who did this and for him to make sure they can never hurt anyone ever again.

“She’s…she’s got a beak.” Karen says slowly after a few moments, and you can’t bear to look at another autopsy photo. You hide yourself more against Matt, not at all ashamed of your choice.

“She’s Enhanced,” is Jessica’s reply, almost blank with stifled emotion.

“She’s a kid. They are hunting Enhanced kids.” 

“Why?” Foggy questions, sounding wet, like he’s starting to tear up. You don’t blame him in any way. “Why would they do that?”

Under you, the Devil finally speaks, his voice low and eerily calm, “it doesn’t matter why. We are going to find them, and we are going to stop them.” 

---

:) :) :)

---

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer  @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall 

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[bacchuschucklefuck]

i like that the power scaling in the worse manga AU goes a classmate → a biotech genius with four extra machine arms → a self-engineered "perfect life form" → a circus gymnast → a tour guide → a LARPer

[deathtodickens]

[thehothcast]

not a hugger

pairing: castiel x reader

synopsis: you’re a hunter, travelling with sam and dean - the brothers who’ve become your family. when you meet castiel, the angel is distant and confused by human connection. he watches, curious, as you fight beside the winchesters and hold them close. he tells you he’s not a hugger, but maybe you can change that.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none

message from the authors: omg our cute shy lil cas we love him!

—

The cheap motel room smelled like old coffee and gunpowder. You’d just tossed your bag on one of the two sagging beds when the door swung open with the subtlety of a car crash.

“Hope that’s you, Dean,” you called, already reaching for the knife in your boot.

“It’s not,” came a voice that froze you mid-motion. You turned. And there he was.

Tall. Trench coat. Expression unreadable. There was something off about him. Not bad, just different. Like his soul was tuned to a frequency you didn’t recognise.

“And you are?” you asked, standing slowly.

“I’m Castiel,” he said. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”

You blinked.

“Right. And I’m Father Christmas.”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Dean and Sam said they needed backup,” he continued. “They didn’t mention you.”

You snorted. “Likewise. I must’ve missed the part where Heaven started sending babysitters.”

There was a pause. His head tilted just slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle with one frustrating missing piece.

“I don’t babysit,” he said. “I kill demons.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So do I. Maybe we’ll get along after all.”

He didn’t smile, but something flickered across his face.  Curiosity, maybe. Intrigue.

And when Sam and Dean finally showed up, bickering about pie and hex bags, neither of you moved. You just kept staring at each other. Not in challenge. Not in distrust.

Just trying to understand.

—

The warehouse was crawling with vampires. You were already bleeding from a slice to the shoulder, but adrenaline kept you going. Your blade gripped tight, every step was calculated, every breath sharp.

Dean was right beside you, swinging his machete with brutal precision.

“You good?” he barked over the clash of metal and snarls.

“Just wonderful!” you shouted back, ducking under a swing and bringing your blade up, severing a vampire’s head in one smooth motion.

One came at Dean from behind. You didn’t hesitate, and you launched yourself forward, tackling it to the ground, wrestling for control before swinging hard and taking its head clean off, just as Dean turned around.

“Nice save,” he grunted, giving you a rare, genuine nod.

“You can buy me a drink later as a thanks,” you shot back, breathless.

It took another ten minutes, but finally, it was over. A mess of blood and bodies pooled at your feet. Dean leaned against a stack of crates, panting.

You joined him, pressing a rag to your shoulder.

“You’re getting slow,” you teased.

He gave you a look. “You’re getting reckless.”

You laughed, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

A moment passed.

Dean spoke again, quieter. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Define weird.”

He shrugged. “Distant. Quiet. Ever since… y’know. Pretty boy halo Barbie showed up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my God, Dean.”

“I’m just saying.” He glanced over at you. “You trust him?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know,” you said finally. “I want to. But he’s hard to read.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah. He’s not like us.”

You looked down. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Dean didn’t argue but he didn’t look thrilled either.

—

The motel bathroom light buzzed faintly overhead as you struggled to wrap a fresh bandage around your shoulder. The angle was awkward, the tape kept folding on itself, and your skin stung with every movement.

You muttered a curse under your breath.

“I could help with that.”

You startled, nearly dropping the roll of gauze, and turned to find Castiel standing in the doorway, hands awkwardly clasped, eyes full of that same unreadable storm.

You blinked. “Do you always appear out of nowhere?”

His brow furrowed. “I knocked.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I thought about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched before you could stop them.

Cas stepped closer, gaze dropping to your shoulder. “You’re injured.”

“Yeah, well. Part of the job.”

“May I?” he asked, gently reaching for the bandage in your hand.

You hesitated. Something about him, the way he looked at you made your throat tighten.

But you nodded.

He stepped closer, and his hands, when they touched your skin, were surprisingly gentle. Calloused, sure, but steady. Careful.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, voice softer now. “I’ve had worse.”

“I know,” he replied. “But I want to.”

You went quiet.

He focused on the bandage, but you caught the flicker of something else in his face, like he was concentrating harder than necessary. Like this wasn’t just first aid and touching you made something shift inside him that he didn’t understand yet.

When he finished, he stepped back, fingers lingering for half a second longer than they needed to.

“There,” he said. “You’re patched.”

You tried not to smile. “You’re a real poet, Cas.”

He tilted his head. “Is that sarcasm?”

“A little.”

—

The abandoned cabin was deeper in the woods than expected. When the ghoul came out of nowhere, everything turned sideways.

“Split up! Flank it!” Dean shouted.

You nodded, veering left as he cut right, the two of you disappearing into the dark in opposite directions.

In the chaos, you didn’t realise how far you’d gotten. Branches clawing at your arms, your lungs burning as you sprinted into the dark. Then came the sound of snapping twigs behind you.

It was fast.

You turned, and it lunged. And then your instinct kicked in.

Blade out. You didn’t hesitate, gripping the handle with both hands and swinging hard.

The edge caught the ghoul across the temple, sending it staggering. You followed through, slamming it down to the ground and driving your boot into its chest.

Then came the finishing blow.

You raised the blade high and brought it down again and again, until bone cracked and the skull caved in, brain matter splattering the forest floor.

You collapsed beside it, gasping, covered in dirt and blood and triumph.

By the time Sam, Dean, and Cas found you, you were standing over the creature’s corpse, breathing hard, knife still in your grip like a trophy.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

You turned at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide, relief crashing through you like a wave and you ran.

Straight into his arms.

“Missed you too,” Sam huffed, squeezing you tightly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “You have no idea.”

Next was Dean. Gruff and solid, and clearly holding back about seven different emotions.

“Nice work, sweetheart,” he muttered into your hair.

Then you turned to Cas.

He stood a few steps back. Stiff. Watching you with that stormy, unreadable gaze again. But there was something softer underneath, something almost vulnerable.

You stepped forward, arms just starting to lift before he spoke: “I’m not a… hugger.”

You paused, letting your arms drop.

“I thought as much,” you said, a faint smile playing at your lips. “Still. Thanks for coming.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“You’re welcome,” he said, voice quieter now.

And even without the hug, the moment hung there. He didn’t understand why that brief pause mattered, but he felt it anyway.

—

Sam was cleaning his guns, Dean was halfway through a beer, and you were in the shower, rinsing off blood and monster guts.

Castiel stood silently by the window, “Why do humans hug?”

Dean choked on his drink.

Sam looked up slowly, blinking. “Uh… what?”

Castiel turned to face them, frowning ever so slightly.

“She ran to you and embraced you,” he said to Sam, “And then to Dean. But when she came to me, I informed her I wasn’t a hugger.”

“Yeah. We saw,” Dean muttered into his beer.

“I don’t understand,” Cas continued. “Was that a mistake? Should I have participated?”

Sam cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. “No, Cas, it’s not a mistake. It’s just- it’s a way we show connection, relief, comfort. You know, feelings.”

“I do feel things,” Cas said, genuinely puzzled. “I felt relieved. When we found her.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well, hugs aren’t mandatory. It’s just something people do when they care about each other.”

Cas processed that for a moment.

“I do care,” he said, like he was surprised to hear it aloud.

Sam’s brow furrowed, softening. “Then maybe next time, let her hug you.”

—

You stepped out of the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt and joggers, hair damp, skin scrubbed raw from blood and ash. The boys had gone to grab food, but Cas was still there, sitting on the edge of the second bed, staring at the TV with the volume off.

“You watching something?” you asked, toweling off your hair.

He shook his head. “There’s no sound.”

“Still weird to me that you don’t sleep,” you said, flopping onto the bed opposite him. “You just sit there? All night?”

“I don’t require rest,” he said, tone soft. “But I enjoy the quiet.”

You glanced at him.

The lamp on the nightstand glowed warm and low, casting soft gold across his features. He looked almost peaceful like that. Hands folded, trench coat draped over the back of the chair, tie slightly crooked.

“You ever get bored?” you asked.

Cas blinked. “Sometimes.”

You sat up, grabbed the bottle of whiskey Dean had left behind, and poured a little into two motel mugs.

“Here,” you said, offering one to him. “For the boredom.”

He took it carefully, examining the liquid like it might be enchanted. “This doesn’t taste good.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well. That’s not really the point.”

He watched you drink, then mirrored the motion, grimacing slightly at the bitterness.

Another silence stretched between you. 

“Do you miss it?” you asked suddenly. “Heaven. Being… what you were.”

Cas stared into the cup. “Sometimes. But it was not what you think.”

You waited.

“I followed orders,” he said eventually. “Even when they hurt people. Even when I didn’t understand why. Down here, things are messier, but at least I know what I’m fighting for.”

You nodded slowly.

“You’re not half bad at this whole humanity thing, you know.”

He looked over at you, eyes steady.

“I learn from you.”

Your heart skipped. Just a little.

You looked down into your mug. “Well. I’m a work in progress.”

“So am I.” Cas said.

—

The case was small. A missing persons trail outside a tiny town in Colorado. Nothing big enough to warrant the whole team. Dean handed you the file and tossed you the keys.

“You and Cas take this one,” he said. “Think of it as bonding time.”

You shot him a look. Cas tilted his head, looking at you. “Are we… bonding?”

Dean smirked. “Not if you keep asking it like that.”

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. 

By the time you reached the motel, it was nearly midnight. There was only one room available (because of course there was) and it had two twin beds pushed against opposite walls. Beige everything, thin walls, flickering lamp etc.

You didn’t complain and neither did Cas.

You spread the case files out on the desk, along with a road map you grabbed from the petrol station.

Cas leaned in beside you, reading upside down. His shoulder hovered just a breath from yours. Every time you shifted, he shifted too. Not closer, but never away. 

“This symbol,” he said, pointing to a mark on a missing girl’s journal. “It’s Enochian. A warding rune.”

You turned your head to look at him. You hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten. Your faces were inches apart.

Your breath hitched, just for a second.

Cas blinked. “Did I… do something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, stepping back, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension crawling up your spine. “No. No, you’re fine. I just- personal space, that’s all.”

He straightened. “You didn’t seem uncomfortable.”

You weren’t. That was the problem.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway. That mark, you said it’s Enochian?”

Cas nodded, still watching you a little too closely. “It’s meant to keep angels out.”

“Well,” you said, forcing your attention back to the map, “someone clearly didn’t want you snooping around.”

“I still found it.” he said quietly.

—

That night, you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. Cas didn’t move. He just sat by the window, watching the stars.

You weren’t sure how long you watched him before you finally fell asleep.

—

It was too quiet.

You and Cas crept toward the clearing where the last victim was found. There were symbols carved into the trees, a strange smell in the air like rot. The creature had been careful. 

You caught its eyes just before it struck.

It was stronger than expected. Bigger. Faster. The fight turned bloody within seconds.

Cas handled the first hit. You got the second. But it was the third, a swipe across your ribs, that sent you crashing into the forest floor, breath knocked from your lungs.

You gasped, hand pressing to your side, red already blooming across your shirt.

“Stay back,” Cas shouted, stepping between you and the creature, angel blade drawn.

But even he stumbled. It wasn’t going down easy.

Then gunfire. Salt. Fire.

Sam and Dean exploded onto the scene, shoving Cas aside just in time to land the final blow. The creature dropped with a sickening shriek, curling into ash.

“Where is she?” Dean shouted.

You managed to sit up, biting back a groan. “Here. Still breathing. Barely.”

Sam reached you first, crouching beside you with wide, panicked eyes. “Oh my God, are you-”

“I’m fine,” you croaked. “Just a scratch.”

Dean was next, crouching and pulling you into a hug before you could protest. Sam wrapped around the other side. You let them hold you, letting your eyes fall closed for just a second, grounding yourself in the feeling of home, of safety.

Then you heard him.

“I was worried.”

You blinked your eyes open.

Cas stood just a few feet away, his voice quiet, unreadable. His coat was torn, his tie askew. There was dirt on his face.

But his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, were fixed on you like nothing else existed.

You pulled back from Sam and Dean slowly. Your ribs ached.

“Well,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath whilst pushing yourself up onto your feet, “I lived.”

Cas didn’t move.

You held out a hand toward him to offer a handshake, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “Since you’re not a hugger.”

He stared at your hand.

Didn’t take it.

Didn’t say anything.

And then he crashed into you, pulling you into his arms.

You froze. Just for a second.

He was solid and warm and trembling ever so slightly.

Your arms came up slowly, almost in disbelief, before wrapping around him.

Tears stung at your eyes. He buried his face in your shoulder.

“I was scared,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded against him. “I know. Me too.”

—

Sam and Dean had gone out. Probably for food like usual, or maybe just to give you space. You were back in the room, stitched up and bandaged, lying across the bed with your arm resting over your eyes.

You heard the door open gently, feeling the air shift as someone entered.

Then the rustle of a trench coat. You lifted your arm and squinted.

Cas stood near the door, uncertain. “May I sit?”

You nodded.

He moved quietly, settling at the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap.

You watched him for a long moment.

“You okay?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “You’re the one who was injured.”

“Still,” you said softly. “You looked shaken back there.”

Cas didn’t answer immediately.

Then he spoke quietly, “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, trying to sound light. “I usually dodge better.”

Cas gave the smallest smile, barely there, but warm.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I knew the others would come, but the thought of losing you…”

He trailed off. You sat up slowly, wincing at the pull of your stitches. Cas looked at you, his eyes searching.

“I thought you didn’t understand human emotion,” you teased, voice gentle.

“I don’t,” he murmured. “But you make me want to try.”

The room went quiet.

The air between you felt different.

He leaned forward slightly, just enough to test the space.

You didn’t move nor blink.

He whispered, “Can I…?”

But before the question could finish, you leaned in, closing the space, pressing your lips softly to his.

It was barely a kiss. Just breath and warmth and the kind of stillness that says everything.

He pulled back first, eyes wide like he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

You smiled, heart thundering. “Still not a hugger?”

Cas looked at you, gaze steady. Then he shook his head slowly.

“Not with you,” he said quietly.

That made something in your chest ache in the best possible way.

You didn’t say anything else. You just leaned forward, resting your forehead against his and stayed there, breathing the same air, wrapped in his warmth. 

[raekensluver]

lethal love

masterlist | main masterlist

description: a fight with an unsub takes a deathly turn...

pairing: fiancé!spencer x fem!agent!reader

contains: angst, established relationship, guns, typical criminal minds violence, reader is stabbed, reader dies in spencer's arms.

song rec: sign of the times by harry styles - "will we ever learn? we've been here before."

w.c: 4.0k

a/n: sorry :(

the weight of the bulletproof vest pressed down on your shoulders as you secured the last strap, each click echoing through the quiet room like the tick of a clock. it felt heavier than usual today, the fabric warm and stifling against your skin. you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the faint scent of metal and the lingering odor of fear that clung to the air in moments like these. the vest was a constant reminder of the unpredictability of the job, a silent companion whispering tales of valor and sacrifice.

to your left, spencer, your fiancé of less than a week, was intently listening to emily's words. her sharp gaze was focused, her hands animated as she laid out the new details of the case that you had been working on for a week. the intensity of her briefing was palpable, the scene around her seemingly electrified by the urgency of the situation. spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, his mind already racing through the labyrinth of facts and probabilities that would be his to navigate in the coming hours.

you grabbed his vest from the back of the van, the fabric whispering against your hands as you pulled it free. the weight of it in your grasp was a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. it was a piece of equipment that could mean the difference between life and death, and as you handed it to him, you felt a sudden, intense wave of love and protection for this man who had chosen you. the vest was placed into his hands and he looked at you, his eyes flickering with a mix of gratitude and determination. he knew what was at stake, not just for the case, but for the future that you had so recently promised each other.

the fbi's tactical unit was already set up, the stark contrast between their professional calmness and the chaotic anticipation in your heart was stark. they communicated in hushed tones, their faces a mask of concentration as they surveyed the warehouse that loomed in the distance, a silent sentinel of the horrors that might be waiting within. the air was thick with tension, the occasional snap of a radio the only sound breaking the silence. you could see the muscles in spencer's jaw tighten as he took in the scene, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle that was the unsub's motive.

emily, her voice a beacon of clarity in the tumult, turned to you both. her eyes searched yours briefly, a silent question, before she began to speak. "as you know, the unsub is highly intelligent, meticulous, and has shown a pattern of targeting law enforcement. he's elusive, but his mo suggests a vendetta that's personal. be ready for anything," she warned, her gaze flicking to the tactical gear you both wore. "he's known to use traps and misdirection, so stay sharp and trust your instincts. he's been two steps ahead of us at every turn, but we're going to change that today."

you nodded, the weight of her words sinking in, and reached for your earpiece. with a quick motion, you slid it into place, the sudden embrace of cold plastic against your skin jolting you to attention. you gave spencer a firm look, the kind that conveyed everything without saying a word. fear, excitement, determination - it all reflected in his eyes before he mirrored your actions, donning his own earpieces with a quiet resolve that sent a shiver down your spine.

together, you and spencer moved towards the warehouse, each step measured and silent. the concrete was slick beneath your boots from a recent rain, the water mixing with the grime to create a treacherous dance of shadows and light that played out under the flickering streetlamps. in the distance, you could hear the distant wail of a siren, a mournful cry that seemed to echo the anxiety building in your chest.

you paused at the edge of the building, the shadows playing tricks on your eyes as you peered around the corner. "i'll take the front," you murmured into the microphone, your voice low and steady. "you circle around back." you felt spencer's eyes on you, his hand reaching out to squeeze your arm reassuringly. "be careful," he said, the words barely audible, but the concern in his voice was clear as a bell.

you gave a curt nod and moved forward, your heart hammering in your chest with every step. the rain had picked up, the droplets pattering against your helmet like a thousand tiny drums. your hand gripped the butt of your gun, the cold metal a comforting presence. the warehouse loomed in front of you, a monolith of darkness that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. you could feel the eyes of the unsub on you, watching, waiting.

as you approached the entrance, you noticed the subtle signs of tampering - the door slightly ajar, the faint scent of something acrid in the air. your instincts screamed at you to be wary. you crouched low, your eyes scanning the area for any traps or booby-traps that could be lying in wait. the rain had washed away any potential footprints, leaving the scene eerily clean, as if the unsub had never been there at all.

spencer's voice crackled in your ear, "i'm in position at the rear. no signs of movement yet." his words were a comfort, a lifeline connecting you both in the darkness. the warehouse was vast, a labyrinth of corrugated metal and shadows that seemed to stretch on forever. the sirens grew louder, the sound bouncing off the buildings and echoing through the streets, a discordant symphony that only heightened the tension.

you took a deep breath, your heart racing as you pushed open the door. the sound of it squealing on its hinges was like a gunshot in the quiet night. the darkness inside was absolute, a stark contrast to the harsh reality outside. you flicked on your flashlight, the beam slicing through the gloom and revealing a dance of dust motes in the air. the floor was slick, the smell of oil and decay permeating the space.

before you could respond to spencer, movement caught your eye. it was fast, a blur of shadow darting towards you from the corner of the room. your instincts took over, your hand rising in a fluid motion to aim at the threat. "i've got movement!" you barked into the mic, adrenaline flooding your veins. the figure was on you in a second, and suddenly, you were falling, your body slammed to the ground. the impact knocked the wind out of you, and for a moment, everything went fuzzy.

the unsub was on top of you, his hands scrabbling at your vest, trying to get to your weapon. you could feel the panic rising, a bubble in your chest that threatened to burst. but training kicked in, and you managed to keep your grip, pushing him off with a grunt. you rolled away, bringing your gun to bear, but the flashlight had been knocked from your hand, and you were momentarily blinded by the sudden darkness.

spencer's voice was in your ear, urgent and concerned. "are you okay? what's going on?" but the struggle was too intense to respond. your lungs burned as you tried to suck in air, the weight of the vest feeling like it would crush you. the unsub was quick, his movements erratic and unpredictable. you could feel the cold steel of his knife graze against your arm, and you bit back a cry of pain.

his voice was low and taunting, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "you think this makes you invincible?" the sound of the vest being torn away from your body was a mix of fabric tearing and your own panic. the sudden exposure to the cool air was a stark contrast to the warmth that had been trapped against your skin. "now, let's see if you're as brave without your little armor, shall we?"

you could hear the sneer in his voice, the malicious delight in his words, and you knew that you had to fight back. with every ounce of strength you had left, you threw your elbow into his gut, feeling a moment of satisfaction as he grunted in pain. he staggered back, giving you enough room to scramble to your feet. the pain in your nose was intense, a throbbing pulse that sent stars swirling before your eyes. you could taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth, feel it dripping down your chin.

the world was a blur, the only thing in focus the glint of the knife in his hand. your training took over, pushing through the fog of pain and fear. you knew that you had to keep moving, to stay unpredictable. you darted to the side, trying to use the darkness to your advantage, but the unsub was fast. he was on you again, his grip like a vice around your arm. the cold steel of the knife was at your throat, the tip of it pressing into your skin, sending a fresh wave of panic crashing through your body.

and then, there was a sudden flash of light, and spencer was there. his eyes were wide with fear, his own gun trained on the unsub. "stop," he said, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that was unfolding before him. "it's over. we know who you are. we know what you've done." his words were a beacon in the darkness, a promise that help had arrived, that you weren't alone.

the unsub's grip on you tightened, his eyes darting to spencer, then back to you. "you think this changes anything?" he spat, the knife digging deeper into your flesh. "you're all the same, playing god with your badges and your guns." spencer took a step closer, his eyes never leaving the unsub's. "i know you've had a vendetta against cops, but she's not just a cop." the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, a raw emotion that seemed to resonate through the warehouse.

you felt a warmth spread through you, the fear momentarily abating as you watched spencer. the tears in your eyes weren't just from the pain; they were for the love that was so palpable between you both, a love that had grown stronger through the years of working side by side, solving cases, and now, facing death together. the rain outside seemed to mimic the deluge of feelings within you, the droplets on your face mixing with the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

spencer's voice was a balm, his words a gentle reminder of who you were and why you were here. "she's a daughter, a fiancée. my fiancée. she's part of me," he continued, his voice unwavering. "she's more than just a target to you." but the unsub's eyes remained cold, his grip unyielding. "you think that means anything to me?" he sneered, his voice as sharp as the knife he weld. "you're all just numbers, statistics in the grand scheme of things."

you felt the knife at your throat twitch, a precursor to the horror that was about to unfold. your heart hammered in your chest, each beat echoing like a gunshot in the silence of the warehouse. spencer's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you could see the fear, the love, and the resolve that burned within him. "please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "please don't do this."

but the unsub's grip remained firm, his eyes glinting with a manic excitement that sent a shiver down your spine. "it's already done," he murmured, the knife's tip digging deeper into your flesh. "you can't stop what's coming." spencer's voice grew stronger, more assertive. "i know you're smarter than this," he said, his voice a lifeline in the sea of fear that threatened to drown you. "you're not just some mindless killer. you have a reason for this. tell me what it is."

his words hung in the air, a silent plea that seemed to resonate with the unsub. for a moment, you could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a crack in the armor of his madness. "my reasons are my own," he said finally, his voice low and menacing. "you'll never understand." the knife at your throat twitched again, and you felt the warmth of blood trickle down your neck.

then, emily's voice crackled in your ear. "backup's on the way," she said, the words a lifeline thrown into the abyss of your fear. but before you could even begin to feel relief, spencer's voice cut through, loud and urgent. "no, emily, don't!" but it was too late. the sound of boots on the wet concrete grew louder, the shadows outside the warehouse door morphing into figures with guns drawn.

the unsub's eyes widened with glee, a twisted smile stretching across his face as he tightened his grip on the knife. "perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "now, they'll watch you die." the knife pressed deeper, the pain so intense it was almost numbing. you could see spencer's expression change, the calm resolve replaced by a searing rage that seemed to set his eyes on fire.

the backup agents burst through the doors, their weapons sweeping the room in a deadly arc. but the unsub was ready for them, his own weapon now pointing directly at spencer. "drop it, reid, we got it from here," one of the agents shouted, but spencer didn't move, his gaze locked on yours. the unsub took the opportunity to press the knife even further, a sickening crunch filling the air as it pierced through the fragile barrier of your neck. the world began to dim around the edges, the pain giving way to a cold, empty numbness.

spencer's face was a mask of agony as he watched you, the love in his eyes turning to fury. he knew that the backup was there, that you were supposed to be safe, but in that moment, all he could see was the crimson river flowing from the gaping wound, the light in your eyes fading away. without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger, the bullet flying true. the unsub's smile froze on his face, his grip on the knife loosening as he stumbled backward, the life draining from his body.

you felt the world spin as darkness closed in, spencer's arms wrapping around you, catching you as you fell to the floor. the cold, hard concrete was a stark contrast to his warm embrace, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. you could feel the warmth of his tears mixing with the rainwater on your cheeks, the tremble in his body as he held you tightly. "you're okay," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "you're going to be okay."

his hands were gentle as they moved over your neck, applying pressure to the wound. the pain was a distant throb, a reminder that you were still alive, still fighting. the sound of the unsub's body hitting the ground was a dull thud, lost to the symphony of rain and sirens that filled the air. spencer's breath was hot against your ear, his voice a whispered chant that seemed to keep the darkness at bay.

"stay with me," he pleaded, his voice tight with fear. "don't you dare leave me here alone." the warmth of his breath mixed with the metallic scent of blood, creating a potent cocktail of fear and love that washed over you like a wave. the rain continued to fall, the drops hitting the warehouse roof like a million tiny fists, a relentless rhythm that matched the erratic beating of your heart.

you tried to speak, to reassure him, but the words caught in your throat, a gurgle of blood escaping instead. your eyes searched his, finding the love that had grown stronger with every case you had faced together, every danger you had survived. "when did you know?" you managed to croak out, the question barely audible over the cacophony of the storm and the sirens that grew ever closer.

spencer's eyes searched yours, the question echoing in the tension that filled the space between you. "know what?" he murmured, his voice thick with fear and confusion.

you coughed, the pain in your throat searing. "that you wanted to marry me," you whispered, the words barely audible over the din of the rain and approaching sirens.

spencer's eyes searched yours, the fear slowly giving way to understanding. "the moment i realized i couldn't imagine a world without you in it," he replied, his voice choked with emotion. "you're the one who makes sense of the chaos, who brings light to the darkest of cases."

the sirens grew louder, the wail a cacophony that seemed to pierce the very core of your soul. you felt the warmth of spencer's hands on your neck, the pressure steady and reassuring. the world around you was a blur, the pain a distant throb that paled in comparison to the overwhelming love that filled you.

"you're not going anywhere," spencer murmured, his voice a lifeline in the storm of pain and fear. "not now, not ever." his eyes searched yours, desperation etched into every line of his face. "you're going to be fine," he said, the words a mantra that seemed to hold the darkness at bay.

you tried to nod, but the movement sent a fresh wave of agony through your body. instead, you whispered the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long. "i love you," you said, your voice barely more than a breath. the rain outside seemed to pause, the world holding its breath as you made your confession.

spencer's eyes widened, a mix of shock and relief flooding his features. "i love you too," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "more than anything." his hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away the blood that was starting to pool beneath your chin. the warmth of his touch was like a beacon, guiding you through the darkness that threatened to swallow you whole.

the sirens grew louder, the wail of the emergency vehicles a crescendo that seemed to shake the very foundation of the warehouse. the sound was a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of your confession, a reminder of the chaos that was about to come crashing in on you both. spencer's grip on you tightened, his eyes never leaving yours as he whispered, "you're going to be okay. i'll make sure of it."

but the truth was, you didn't know if you would. the darkness was spreading, a cold embrace that seemed to suck the warmth from your body. your hand reached up, finding his, and you squeezed it tightly, the strength leaving your body in a rush. the world was spinning, the shadows swirling around you like a tornado of pain and fear.

spencer's voice grew distant, the sound of his panicked whispers a comfort that grew fainter with every passing second. the rain continued its relentless assault, the drops mixing with your tears to form a river that flowed into the abyss. you could feel yourself slipping away, the warmth of his touch growing colder, his voice a distant echo.

the world around you began to fade, the darkness closing in like the jaws of a predator eager to claim its prey. the sirens grew distant, the sounds of the approaching cavalry a muffled drumbeat that seemed to come from another world entirely. the pain in your neck was a dull throb, a heartbeat that grew slower with every passing moment.

you clung to consciousness with a fierce determination, desperate to hang onto the warmth of spencer's embrace. memories flooded your mind, a kaleidoscope of moments that had led you to this fateful night. you thought back to the first time you had met him, his shy smile and the way his eyes had lit up when you had talked about the case that had brought you together. the way his mind worked was like nothing you had ever seen, a whirlwind of brilliance that had both intimidated and intrigued you.

your first date had been simple, a quiet dinner in a restaurant that had been his favorite spot. you remembered the way his hands had trembled slightly as he reached for yours across the table, the gentle way he had looked at you, as if he had finally found something precious that he never wanted to let go of. it had been a moment of pure, unbridled joy, a spark that had set alight the flame of love that had burned steadily through the years.

his proposal had been unexpected, a sudden flash of vulnerability in the middle of a hectic case. you had been poring over files, your eyes burning with fatigue, when he had looked up at you, his own eyes filled with a hope and love that had taken your breath away. the way he had fumbled with the ring, his voice shaking with emotion, had been so utterly human, so utterly spencer.

you had stared at the ring, the diamond winking at you like a star that had fallen from the sky, and felt your heart swell with joy. "yes," you had said, the word a promise that seemed to echo through the room. "yes, i'll marry you." the moment had been perfect, a snapshot of happiness in a world that so often dealt in pain and suffering.

now, as you lay in his arms, the reality of your situation crashing down upon you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. regret that you hadn't had the chance to explore that love more deeply, to build a life together outside of the shadow of your work. regret that you won't get the chance to walk down the aisle, to see the joy in his eyes as he watched you come toward him.

spencer's voice grew more urgent, his words a desperate plea that seemed to echo through the darkness. "don't go," he said, his grip on your hand tightening. "stay with me." the rain outside seemed to mirror your own tears, a mournful cry that echoed the pain in your heart.

you tried to smile, to reassure him, but the effort was too much. your eyes drifted shut, the darkness pulling you under like a relentless tide. you felt his hand squeeze yours one last time, a silent declaration of his love and his fear. "i'm here," he whispered, his voice a lifeline that you clung to with all your fading strength.

the warehouse was a cacophony of noise now, the sirens and the shouts of the approaching agents a dissonant symphony that seemed to grow louder with every passing second. the world was spinning, the cold seeping into your bones as the warmth of spencer's embrace began to fade.

spencer's voice grew more frantic, his whispers of love and reassurance now a desperate chant that seemed to hang in the air like a prayer. "stay with me," he repeated, his voice a ragged sob that tore at your heart. "you can't leave me now." but the darkness was relentless, its grip on you tightening like a noose.

the world grew quiet, the rain outside a muffled lullaby that seemed to sing you to sleep. spencer's breath grew ragged in your ear, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. the warmth of his hands was the last thing you felt as the cold claimed you, pulling you under like a relentless wave. your grip on his hand loosened, your fingers slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

the darkness was complete, the pain a distant memory as the embrace of oblivion wrapped around you. you could feel yourself floating, the weight of your body gone, the heaviness of the world no longer a burden. you were free, adrift in a sea of nothingness that was both terrifying and peaceful.

taglist: @maxsisly, @misatxox

[solar-wing]

⚣ Badass 👊

⚣👊 A/N → @natef458 Last request from my previous account. Now, I can focus on one inbox (at least for now)! Shorter than what I've normally done, but I wanted to keep it simple. Hope you enjoy it! Tamaranean male image generated by AI. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Tamaranean Male Reader | Dick Is Nightwing |

⚣👊 Summary → It's Y/N's first mission as a part of the team since he came to Earth. The Team and their leader Nightwing soon found out just how capable Tamaraneans are in a fight.

⚣👊 Words → 3.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

Under the harsh glow of the moonlight, the Young Justice team converged around the abandoned warehouse where Vandal Savage and his cronies were holed up. Nightwing was co-leading the mission with Aqualad, coming far in his leadership and skill since they had founded the team along with their friend and teammate Kid Flash, and new friends Superboy, Miss Martian, Artemis, and eventually Zatanna.

Many of the original members had grown much from their early days as a part of the team, moving away from their past titles as sidekicks and coming into their own identities as heroes.

One of them was the former sidekick to the Dark Knight, previously known as Robin, who’d realized he wanted to separate himself from Batman and forge his own path and identity. Thus, within a few years after the team’s founding, he left his position and title as Robin and took on the persona of Nightwing.

He’d come a long way from the kid he was before, becoming more of the leader his mentor, and friend Aqualad saw in him. So much so, that the Atlantean had decided to start letting him help co-lead missions, seeing that was their original deal during that first fateful mission on Santa Prisca. And it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Batman had alerted the Team about a new mission concerning Vandal Savage who had just stolen a prototype weapon from a top-secret government facility. This weapon, codenamed "Project Eclipse," was not only a formidable tool of destruction but was clearly another attempt at trying to make humans evolve as a race due to his crazy beliefs in Social Darwinism and survival of the fittest.

By now, the Team knew this could only be the minor puzzle piece to something bigger. But, a weapon of that capability was way too dangerous to be left in his hands. Thus, they were tasked with intercepting Savage and recovering the stolen weapon before he could carry out whatever twisted experiments he had planned.

Only now, their team had grown much larger, bringing in various new members. Some were sidekicks to other heroes a part of the League while others were just regular people who had developed powers and abilities, whether intentionally or not, and were recruited into the team so they could learn how to control them and use them for good.

They’d lost a few along the way, some choosing to leave the team on their own while others had met a different and more grave fate, one of them being the new Robin, Jason Todd, who’d taken Dick’s place after he’d given up the position of Batman’s sidekick. Of course, the team mourned the loss of their fallen teammates, but it didn’t take away from their strength, especially with the other new members who had joined.

One of them being Y/N, an alien refugee who’d made quite the entrance to Earth just two years prior. He’d escaped from the captivity of the Gordanians, an intergalactic race of slavers who’d attacked his home planet, Tamaran, and abducted him as a slave in the process.

But, the slavers were ignorant of the fact that Tamaraneans gained strength from sunlight. So, when traveling closer to Earth within view of the distant sun of the solar system and after encountering the inherent unpredictability of space travel, Y/N seized his opportunity for escape, breaking free from his confines and escaping the vessel.

They’d pursued after him, hot on his trail as he made his way onto Earth, landing in the unsuspecting municipality of Happy Harbor. Unknowingly, but thankful in the end, his arrival had caught the attention of the Young Justice team, whose base was located in the nearby mountain and had come to his rescue.

It’d definitely been an interesting first meeting, considering none of the Team could understand him since he was speaking an alien language they’d never heard of. That’s when Y/N took it upon himself to lock lips with the Boy Wonder, who had yet to give up his identity and position as Batman’s sidekick.

Apparently, Tamaraneans possessed the ability to learn language through skin contact. It didn’t have to be done explicitly through kissing, but they were also a very direct and forward race when it came to their feelings. Being a race ruled more by emotion than reason.

Simply put, Y/N found Dick attractive and planted one on him so he could learn English, much to the then Boy Wonder’s surprise, but also enjoyment. He didn’t know much about Tamaraneans, but, judging by YN’s appearance, it definitely had to be a planet full of attractive people. But, he only had his eyes on one at that moment.

Now, two years later, Y/N had become an integral member of the Young Justice team, his journey from alien refugee to valued ally a testament to his strength and resilience. Despite the initial language barrier and clear cultural differences that in the early stages separated him from his teammates, Y/N had quickly adapted to life on Earth, his determination to learn and grow matched only by his unwavering commitment to the team.

Y/N brought a unique blend of strengths and abilities to the Team, complementing and enhancing the skills of his fellow teammates in various ways. His Tamaranean heritage bestowed upon him powers and abilities that were on par, if not equal, with those of Superboy, making him a formidable force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Like Superboy, Y/N possessed superhuman strength, allowing him to perform incredible feats of physical prowess and to go toe-to-toe with even the most powerful adversaries. His invulnerability made him virtually indestructible, able to withstand the most devastating attacks without so much as a scratch.

But what truly set Y/N apart was his extreme proficiency in hand-to-hand and weapon combat. Trained from a young age in the art of combat on his home planet of Tamaran, Y/N was a master of various fighting styles and techniques, able to hold his own against opponents of any size or skill level.

In addition to his formidable combat skills, Y/N possessed the ability to generate energy bolts and blasts from his hands and eyes, a power known as star bolts on Tamaran. These powerful energy blasts were capable of incapacitating even the most resilient foes, adding a deadly edge to Y/N's already impressive arsenal of abilities.

Together, Y/N's strength, combat prowess, and energy manipulation abilities made him a major asset to the Young Justice team, capable of turning the tide of battle in their favor with a single well-placed strike. Whether facing off against street-level criminals or cosmic threats, Y/N stood ready to defend his teammates and protect the innocent, his unwavering determination and indomitable spirit serving as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

As the Team faced off against Vandal Savage and his henchmen in the abandoned warehouse, the air crackled with tension and anticipation. Nightwing and Aqualad led the charge, their years of experience and leadership guiding the team through the chaotic fray.

Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna with a few of their other teammates had split off to retrieve the stolen weapon, leaving Nightwing, Artemis, Kid Flash, and Y/N to hold off Savage and his goons. The battle was fierce and relentless, with Savage's forces proving to be formidable adversaries.

As Nightwing faced off against Vandal Savage in the dimly lit warehouse, the villain was proving himself to be a most formidable foe. Savage's millennia of combat experience and immortality made him a threatening force, his strength and resilience far surpassing that of any ordinary adversary.

The two circled each other warily, each seeking to gain the upper hand in the deadly dance of combat. Nightwing moved with the grace and precision of a trained acrobat, his nimble movements a stark contrast to Savage's brute force and relentless determination.

With a calculated look, Savage launched himself at Nightwing, his fists crashing down with bone-crushing force. Nightwing barely managed to dodge the blow, rolling to the side and countering with a swift kick to Savage's midsection.

But, he shrugged off the attack as if it were nothing. With a savage grin, he came at Nightwing again delivering multiple strikes that drove the young hero further back towards the edge of defeat.

Even with his own experience and endurance in battle, Nightwing found himself struggling to keep up with the relentless assault. His movements grew sluggish and tired as his body began to succumb to the pain of the attacks, his mind racing as he searched for a way to turn the tide of battle in his favor.

As he staggered back from Vandal Savage's brutal onslaught, his muscles burning with exhaustion and his mind reeling from the relentless barrage of attacks, he knew that he was on the brink of defeat. With Savage bearing down on him, his fists raised for the final, devastating blow, Nightwing braced himself for the inevitable impact, steeling himself for the pain that was sure to follow.

But just as Savage's fist came crashing towards him, a streak of emerald energy shot through the air, intercepting the attack with pinpoint precision. Nightwing's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched Y/N swoop in, his Tamaranean abilities allowing him to move with speed and agility unmatched by any ordinary mortal.

With a powerful surge of energy, Y/N deflected Savage's blow, sending the immortal villain stumbling backward with a grunt of rage and frustration. Nightwing could hardly believe what he was seeing as Y/N stood before him, his expression determined and his eyes blazing with determination.

But the battle was far from over, and Savage wasted no time in launching another furious assault. As he lunged towards Y/N, his hands outstretched for the kill, Y/N met him head-on, his own strength and resilience proving to be more than a match for the immortal foe.

With a swift movement, Savage managed to grab Y/N mid-attack, his grip like iron as he sought to crush the life out of the young hero. As he tightened his grip around the Tamaranean’s midsection, he was despondent to see Y/N unfazed by his move, his expression calm and determined as he looked Savage straight in the eye.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am stronger than I look," Y/N declared, his words resonating with undeniable strength and conviction no matter how soft they were spoken.

As he spoke, a flicker of determination ignited in Y/N's eyes, the vibrant emerald glow intensifying until his eyes shone with a brilliant radiance. The Tamaranean brought his foot back before unleashing a devastating kick to Savage's chest, the force of the blow sending the mastermind staggering back. His expression contorted with pain and surprise despite his strength and healing as he struggled to maintain his footing against the onslaught.

As Savage stumbled backwards, Y/N seized the opportunity to press his advantage, launching a relentless barrage of attacks that left the immortal villain struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Zatanna had succeeded in securing and disabling the prototype weapon, turning the tide of battle in their favor.

As the battle raged on and the rest of the team rallied to their side, they watched in awe as the Tamaranean held his own against Savage and his goons, his strength and resilience shining through with every strike.

He was relentless, pressing his advantage with unwavering determination as he launched into a relentless barrage of attacks. Each strike fueled by an inner fire and a fierce determination to protect his teammates and emerge victorious against the forces of evil.

Also, no one was allowed to lay hands on his leader like that without repercussions. Vandal truly did not know who he was fucking with.

As Nightwing watched Y/N in the heat of battle, a wave of admiration washed over him, mingled with a sense of awe that bordered on reverence. His eyes traced the contours of his form, noting the fluid grace with which he moved and the unwavering determination etched upon his features.

In the flickering light of the warehouse, the Tamaranean seemed to glow with an inner fire, his emerald eyes ablaze with determination as he faced off against the immortal menace of Vandal Savage. Nightwing couldn't help but be captivated by the sight, drawn to the raw strength and resilience that seemed to emanate from Y/N's very being.

But it wasn't just his physical prowess that impressed Nightwing. It was the strength of his spirit, the unwavering resolve that burned brightly within him even in the face of overwhelming odds. There was something undeniably magnetic about Y/N, something that stirred a longing within Nightwing's heart that he couldn't quite put into words.

With a determined nod, he rose to his feet, his own resolve renewed as he prepared to join the fray once more.

Together, Nightwing and Y/N fought with a synchronicity that bordered on instinct, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched a devastating assault on Savage and his forces. As they drove their adversaries back, the rest of the team rallied to their side, their collective strength and determination proving to be more than a match for the forces of evil.

As the battle raged on, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a stirring of something deeper than mere admiration. There was a connection between him and Y/N, a bond that transcended words and defied explanation. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, each complementing the other in ways that went beyond the battlefield.

In that moment, as they fought side by side against their foes, the acrobat couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to truly be with the Tamaranean, to share in the triumphs and trials of life as partners, as equals, as something more.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. There would be time to explore the depths of his feelings later. For now, he fought alongside Y/N with a renewed sense of purpose, his heart filled with admiration and longing for the alien hero who had captured his attention in more ways than one.

Y/N used his incredible strength and ability of flight to help launch Nightwing into the air, while Nightwing used his light and agile nature to deliver a series of lightning-fast blows against the villain. Together, they worked to bring the villain to his knees, their combined efforts finally proving to be too much for the immortal.

As Savage finally admitted defeat with a promise and retreated into the shadows, the Young Justice team stood victorious, proud and relieved smiles etched onto their faces from their hard-earned victory. They all surrounded their co-leader and teammate, making sure he was okay while praising Y/N for his prowess in his battle with Savage.

"Dude! That was like total badass moves out there!" Kid Flash exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe.

"Yeah, I know you've been on the team for a while now, but I haven't seen a more well-deserved ass whooping like that in a while," Artemis agreed, her lips curling into a smirk.

"It truly was a sight to behold. Well done, Y/N," Aqualad added, his voice tinged with pride.

"I'm so glad you're both safe," Miss Martian added, relief evident in her voice.

"Yeah, that was a close call," Superboy chimed in, his expression serious.

Nightwing couldn't help but chuckle at their enthusiastic praise, his gaze drifting to Y/N. The Tamaranean smiled, his eyes sparkling with appreciation and gratitude at the praise.

"Thank you. Though, I think my friend here is deserving of just as much credit," he replied, gesturing to the former Boy Wonder.

"Oh, no, you definitely did most of the heavy lifting," Nightwing insisted, shaking his head. "If it weren't for you, I would've been a goner."

"I do not know about that. You were holding your own quite well before I arrived. But, we make a good team, do we not?" Y/N mused, his smile widening.

"Yeah, we do," Nightwing agreed, his cheeks flushing slightly at the compliment.

"And now we know, the next time we need to save our butts, just throw Nightwing into mortal danger and Y/N goes into god mode," Kid Flash teased, breaking the mood.

"Dude!" Nightwing hissed, punching his best friend on the arm.

"Yeah, payback, Robby-Poo," Kid Flash, still using his old nickname for his friend despite his name change.

"Well, we should probably head back to headquarters. We need to get this weapon back to the cave," Aqualad interjected, ever the voice of reason.

"Sounds good to me," Superboy agreed, already heading for the exit.

As the Team made their way out of the warehouse, a warm feeling settled over Nightwing's chest, his gaze lingering on the Tamaranean. There was no doubt in his mind that they would continue to make a great team, both on and off the battlefield.

"Hold on a sec, Y/N. We'll be right behind you, guys!" Nightwing called out to his teammates.

The rest of the team shared a knowing glance, a few snickers, and suggestive grins exchanged between them. But they didn't say anything, opting instead to give their friends some privacy.

Except KF who was giving the vigilante a thumbs-up and a wink.

Nightwing rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the blush didn't fade.

Once they were alone, Y/N turned his attention to the former Boy Wonder, his expression curious.

"Is everything okay, Dick? Are you still hurt?" He asked, voice lilting with curiosity.

The acrobat tried not to blush at Y/N's use of his name, the way it rolled off his tongue like liquid gold. Even though they were technically still in the field and should be addressing each other by their alias names, he didn't mind it. Not one bit.

"No, no, I'm fine. Really. Just wanted to say thank you," Nightwing assured, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"For what? Defeating Vandal Savage?" Y/N questioned, confusion written across his features.

"Well, yeah, that, too. But, I meant, thank you for saving me," Nightwing explained, his tone growing soft.

"Oh," Heat growing under the Tamaranean's golden cheeks.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was worried for a second. But, then you came swooping in and turned the tables. I knew I was safe," the acrobat confessed, his gaze locking with the Tamaranean's.

"You are most welcome. It was an honor to fight alongside you. I would not have let any harm come to you, Dick," Y/N replied, his expression earnest, though he wanted to say more.

Ever since he came to Earth, he'd grown into the Earthling culture, which meant he was a lot less direct with his feelings, which proved to be much more frustrating than he thought. Especially when it came to expressing the lingering feelings he had for his leader.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," the acrobat said, offering a small smile.

"Of course," the Tamaranean responded, returning the gesture.

"We should probably get going. The others are waiting for us," Nightwing pointed out, though he didn't want the moment to end.

"Yes, they are," Y/N agreed, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"Maybe after we're finished filing our reports and debriefing, we can hang out? Catch up on things, or whatever," the acrobat suggested, his heart racing in his chest.

"I would like that," the Tamaranean replied, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Cool," Nightwing nodded, trying his best not to grin like an idiot.

"Yes. Cool, indeed," Y/N echoed, his eyes sparkling with gleefulness.

"You two coming or what? Let's go," Kid Flash yelled from the warehouse entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming!" Nightwing called back, rolling his eyes.

With a final shared smile, the two heroes made their way toward their teammates, the promise of a new beginning and a blossoming relationship hanging in the air.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[cntloup]

You wake up in an unfamiliar room angst, kidnapping, thoughts of miscarriage, mention of torture, blood

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You wake up to the buzzing of a semi-broken light and a thick damp oily smell filling the rusty old room. 

You wince as you slowly move your neck, gradually gaining consciousness, feeling your ears ringing and a sharp stabbing pain in your head. 

You struggle to open your eyes, even in the dim light of the small room, your vision slightly blurry from what seems to be sweat, tears and blood from a hard blow to your head. 

You groan in pain and slightly jolt in your seat as you notice you’re tied up in an unfamiliar room.

Vague disturbing images prance around your mind as your eyes land on the various tools on a small table beside you and you shake your head to get rid of them but to no avail.

Then they slowly come together like the pieces of a puzzle and you remember. You remember all of it. The agonizing torture. And several blows to your belly. Oh god! 

You dip your head to check your swollen belly, only to see the pool of blood beneath you.

You feel a surge of panic rising from deep within you and start to feel light-headed, from the loss of blood, or the thought of losing your child, you honestly don't know.

And you don't know how many days have passed. Are they even looking for you? Will he save you?

There are whispers outside the room, some foreign language, Russian probably by the sound of it and you can barely make out any words, but there's one word you fully understand... 'Ghost'.

At the base, there's a thick tension in the atmosphere. After Simon found the blood and no sign of you in the house, they started working on finding the possible kidnappers.

Simon is pacing the halls as they try to track down your captors and he's absolutely livid at whoever dared lift a finger on you, anxiety bubbling up inside him, gnawing at him to the point of being utterly unbearable.

You lower your head and shut your eyes again, acting as if you’re still unconscious after you hear footsteps approaching and the clicking of keys. 

They put a sack over your head and carry you to the car and drive to an unknown secluded area so a doctor can see you as you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and thrashing around to free yourself.

Simon makes his way to Price's office with heavy footsteps and slams his fist on his desk, snarling furiously "We both know who it is. If you don't order the raid now, I swear-" "We must act fast. Laswell called with the location of the warehouse they're headed to." Price cuts him off.

They place you on a bed while your eyes are covered and you don’t notice much else as a wet rag covers your nose and mouth.

There's only the faint sound of gunshots in the distance and muffled shouts and punches. And you can sense the ground quaking by what seems like the pounding of footsteps and you feel the rag being removed followed by a loud thud and a pair of strong arms lifting you as you drift unconscious.

[szonyix6277]

.:Under the Uniform:.

summary: Seung-hyun was notorious for not following the rules and orders of being a police officer. He’s done several cases not by the books and gave the chiefs more than enough headaches. They thought if he’s got a frail girl like you by his side, he’d calm down. But you were just as bad as him - if not worse. You loved proving people wrong, that despite your stature, you can take care of yourself and others around you. You absolutely loved this bad boy side of his and he liked how his rookie got balls. A rogue cop and a reckless rookie. What could possibly go wrong?

trigger warning: this is a police AU, hostage situation, mention of death, rape and human trafficking, some injury details - banner by @cafekitsune

pairing: PoliceOfficer!Choi Seung-hyun x PoliceOfficer!FemReader

a/n: standalone/oneshot. since we can all agree Seung-hyun looks great in his uniform *doki doki intensifies*, i rehashed an old drabble and decided to put him as the mc

w/c: 3.2k

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You were still a rookie at your new post as a police officer, under your super, Choi Seung-hyun. He genuinely took you under his wing and that meant being out and about, getting down and dirty to catch perps. He was working with the special victims’ unit when you joined his side. The new case was related to a human trafficking ring – mainly children and women.

“It is risky, but…” -he started, filling you in with his plan.

“Let’s go!” -you agreed.

Seung-hyun was notorious for not following the rules and orders of being a police officer. He’s done several cases not by the books and gave the chiefs more than enough headaches. They thought if he’s got a frail girl like you by his side, he’d calm down. But you were just as bad as him - if not worse. You loved proving people wrong, that despite your stature, you can take care of yourself and others around you. You absolutely loved this bad boy side of his and he liked how his rookie got balls. A rogue cop and a reckless rookie. What could possibly go wrong?

You wanted to catch the perps. They’ve been two steps ahead of you for the past seven months. Day in and day out, you and Seung-hyun were working out your plan, bit by bit, putting the puzzle together, twirling the pieces until they fit and made sense. You drank coffee until your stomach couldn’t handle it anymore and smoked until you could no longer bear your own stench. But you got it. You got the bigger picture.

The main man you were after was going to be alone in a warehouse in the southern side of Seoul, in Dongjak-gu. However, you completely miscalculated and you were both caught. Without any back-up.

“(F/n)! Hey, (f/n)!” -you heard Seung-hyun calling your name.

You wanted to speak but you couldn’t -you were gagged.

You wanted to open your eyes but again, you couldn’t -you were blindfolded.

You couldn’t even move. You were in a lot of pain and drenched in what you could assume was blood. Your own blood. The last thing you could remember was getting a hit right on your head.

Fear was starting to set in, thinking the worst that you might never see daylight again. You were fretting in distress.

“Hey, it’s cool! I’m right here, shhs!” -you heard his voice again. It felt somewhat soothing in such a situation. “We fucked up.” -he chuckled in a low tone. You felt his hand on yours. You were both tied to chairs, back-to-back. Your hands and backs were in contact. He squeezed your fingers in a reassuring manner. “They gagged you. Squeeze my finger twice for yes and once for no. Got it?” -he asked. You nodded and squeezed his fingers twice. “Good girl. Now, are you blind folded?” -two squeezes. “Are you hurt?” -two squeezes. Your head and left side hurt like hell. You imagined someone must have been pretty pissed at your presence, knocked you unconscious and kicked you a few times. “Okay. I’m not gagged or blind folded. You know what that means?” -two squeezes. You started to whimper. Not being blind folded meant they would kill him. They wanted no witnesses. “It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.” –he said. You could see he was smiling. His sweet smile and little dimples on his cheeks. And next time you see him, he won’t be alive. Tears escaped your eyes, soaking your blindfold. You started caressing his fingers. It’s been only 7 months, but he’s been a great mentor and imagining a day without him? It hurt more than your head and side combined.

You heard voices coming towards you. You perked up.

“Yo, pig, are you ready to die?” -a man was addressing your super.

“Just get it over with already, fuckface.” -he teased them .

Your muffled screams and erratic wiggles interrupted their conversation.

“Tsk, what’s with her?” -another man’s voice spoke, from your side.

“Eh, my mate’s kid, picked her off after he died.” -he lied through his teeth. Very smart - he didn’t want to let them know you were also a cop.

“U-huh, a kid. Too bad she had her gun and badge on her.”

“Shit!” -Seung-hyun cursed under his breath. He was squeezing your finger so tight you thought it would turn blue and fall off. You were royally screwed.

“So who is she to you?!”

“She’s a nobody.” -he lied again. He was trying everything he could so that the perps wouldn’t catch on that you were important to him, that he cared for you - that he adored you. Working with you for endless hours for the past 7 months Seung-hyun started to develop feelings for you. You weren’t just a rookie he had to show the ropes. You were his colleague, a beautiful, tenacious woman - he loved everything about you.

“So you’ve got no problem if my friends gang raped her, would you? Let you hear her sad, agonizing, helpless screams before I kill you, huh?” -the perp taunted.

You started to fret and tried to scream again. A hand was gripping your face, fingernails digging into your skin. You felt a sharp blade just under your jaw. Your blood ran cold, your breath nearly stopping in anticipation.

“Try to sell her as a virgin, you bastard! She'll be worth a lot more that way.” -he wouldn’t budge. He kept lying - trying to keep you safe.

“She’s a virgin?”

“Cross my heart and hope to di~~e!” -Seung-hyun replied in a sing-song tone. “She’s been a nerd all her life. Video games, manga, anime... Never attended a precinct party, not a single drop of alcohol… boring as hell, if you ask me!”

In your mind, you were cursing and thanking him at the same time - rolling your eyes behind the blind fold. You hung out at your place at ungodly hours playing video games and watching anime together. He loved Tokyo Ghoul! But you knew he was trying to detach himself from you right now in order to protect you. If he survives, you owe him big time!

You were squeezing his fingers. You were both trembling in fear, trying to play it cool, while you knew the ugly truth. There was no way out.

“Well… her pussy is better to be unused then.” -the man was breathing in your face. You could smell the alcohol and nicotine mix on him. Something that didn’t bother you when Seung-hyun reeked of that mix, but right now? It was the most appalling smell on the planet. The perp took the blade from your jaw. He cut your T-shirt in half. You let out a shocked gasp. Wolf whistles filled the room. “Such a hottie.” -you felt a finger caressing the top half of your boobs. You flinched, trying to pull away to no avail. “I’ll just wank on her tits. Mark my territory!” -the men were laughing and agreeing with him. “What a beauty…” -you heard him unzipping his pants. Your stomach somersaulted.

Seung-hyun was raging inside. He wanted nothing more but to kill every single one of the perps in here. There were four of them in total. Two facing him, two facing you. But he couldn’t do anything from his restraints.

“You seem a little worried there, pig. What’s your girl’s worth to ya?”

“She’s not my girl. But you better leave her the fuck alone.”

“Or else what?” -you heard a gun getting cocked. You knew Seung-hyun was staring down the barrel of it. He will die and you will get taken in a trafficker ring when…

“POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

Through the large metal doors of the warehouse several dozen of your colleagues and special forces, fully armed, poured in.

You heard gunshots being fired. Orders yelled. Screaming. Name calling. Cursing. You had no idea what was happening. Who got shot? Did anyone die? Were the perps taken into custody? Has it been mere seconds? Or minutes? It felt like an eternity.

“ALL CLEAR!” -someone shouted. “SUSPECTS IN CUSTODY. I REPEAT. SUSPECTS IN CUSTODY.”

Finally, your blindfold and gag came off. You saw a SWAT member’s concerned face in front of you.

“Are you ok, officer?!” -he asked you.

“Yeah. Fine.” -you hissed. You were half naked, covered in blood and bruises… but sure, you were ok(!) At least you were alive.

“I’m taking you to the ambulance outside, just need to untie you first.”

“Thanks.” -you said.

You were escorted to an ambulance.

There were two ambulances, two SWAT wagons and several squad cars at the scene. Everything was so bright and flashy, it hurt your eyes.

You threw up before getting in the ambulance.

The medic gave you a bag in case you needed to throw up again. They checked you out and tended you immediately. You were safe.

But where was Seung-hyun?! You didn’t see him in the chaos.

“Choi!” -his super, Hwang Jun-ho, growled as he found his subordinate bound to a chair.

“How the fuck did you know I was here, sir?” -he jumped up once the team cut his ties loose.

“I’ve been working with you for 5 years, asshole! I know when you’re about to put your life on the line.”

“So you followed me?”

“You bet!”

Seung-hyun’s eyes scanned the warehouse. He couldn’t see you anywhere.

“Where’s (f/n)? How is she?”

“Everything is fine, she’s already out with a med-…”

“Oi, (f/n)!” -he ignored his super and searched for you. He had to see it with his own eyes that you were ok. “(F/n)!”

You heard your name being shouted in the distance, over and over.

And then Seung-hyun appeared at the door of your ambulance.

“Choi-nim?!” -you jumped from your seat and into his arms. He was covered in blood and dirt, had a black eye and a fat lip. He looked very roughed up. But he was alive.

“Hey! Are you okay?” -he lifted your face with both of his hands. His eyes scanned you, noting you were really there. His lips curled to a smile -his dimples making their appearance.

“Ouch…” -you hissed.

“What is it?”

“I just realized I’m sore all over, seonbae.” -you chuckled. You both had happy tears in your eyes seeing each other alive. “That was a close call.”

“No shit! I’m so glad you’re ok.” -he sighed, wrapping his arm around your body. You hissed in pain. “Fuck, sorry…”

“I’m ok.” -you smiled. You were in pain, but you couldn't ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It wasn’t out of fear or stress. You were happy that he was here - that he hugged you. Like a silent confession.

“Ma’am, we need to take you to hospital now for further tests and assessments.” -the medic stopped your idyllic catch up. “And sir, you need to be seen, too!”

“Can I ride with you?!” -he asked the medic.

“Fuck, no!” -you noticed Hwang shouting from behind. “You get your ass in that ambulance over there!” -he pointed at the other one.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” -he put his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a single tear.

“Ok.” -your squeezed his wrist. He let his forehead touch yours.

“Get moving!” -Hwang shouted again, ready to explode. Seung-hyun placed a kiss on your forehead and left. You got in your own ambulance and on your way to the hospital.

Luckily, you didn’t suffer any brain damage nor internal bleeding. You did have a severe concussion, the sole reason you were throwing up. You were hit with a blunt object, which you suspected already. It cut your skin, deep enough that it caused all the blood. You got 4 stitches. You also had a few bruised ribs, but nothing broken. The hospital wouldn’t let you go home for 48 hrs. You were playing a game on your phone, when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Come in!” -you said. It was Seung-hyun, with a bouquet of flowers. He had an arm sling, his eye and lip less swollen than the day before. “Choi-nim! That’s so kind!”

“Eh, it’s the least I can do now.” -he shrugged. “What’s your diagnosis?” -he asked and put the flowers on a chair. He sat on the edge of your bed.

“A concussion and a few bruised ribs.” -you sighed. “Nothing serious.” -you gave him a smile.

“I wouldn’t downplay it, it is serious.” -he disagreed, holding your hand.

“You?”

“Just bruises, nothing else.” -he shook his head, like his health didn’t matter. “I got you in some deep shit. You were sexually assaulted…”

“I was happy to join.” -you counter argued. “But I was such a wuss…”

“Are you kidding me? You were a badass!”

“Please! I was trembling in terror.” -you scoffed.

“Shut up, so was I!” -he playfully nudged your cheek with his fist.

“How did we even get out?”

“Hwang. The bastard was tailing me for weeks.”

“We owe him a big thanks.”

“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but we do…” -Seung-hyun chuckled.

“And thanks for saying all that shit about me being a loser virgin! It could have gone a lot worse, if…”

He leaned closer to you, cutting you off. Your breath caught in your throat.

“(F/n), I, uh… I’m really sorry. For everything.”

“I-it’s o-okay…” -you dropped your eyes.

“I mean, what would I do without you?” -he was so close to your face he only had to whisper. You could feel his warm breath lingering against your skin. Your words died before they could reach your lips. What could you even say? He practically confessed his love for you. You closed your eyes, with your heart throbbing in your chest so loud, you could hear it… hell, Seung-hyun could hear it!

He closed the small gap between you two, his soft, slightly bruised, lips gently kissing yours. It was a chaste one. He quickly retreated.

“Choi-nim…” -you started but he put an index on your lips.

“I got demoted for the stunt I pulled. Just call me Seung-hyun already.” -he added.

“Right.” -you sighed. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Huh?!” -he pulled away completely.

“Well… fiancé, to be exact.”

“You what now?!”

At this moment, your room’s door opened and a short, orange haired guy came in.

“Cheonsa!” -he ran to your side, pushing Seung-hyun off the edge.

“I’m okay, Ji!” -you giggled at his theatrics. He never failed to entertain you. “Choi… I mean, Seung-hyun.” -you corrected yourself. “This would be my fiancé, Ji-yong. Um.. Park Ji-yong.”

“Really?!” -Seung-hyun raised an eyebrow at you two.

“Hey, man!” -Ji-yong bowed and gave him a bright, gummy smile. “Thanks for checking on her. She told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah, uh… great! Heh!…” -Seung-hyun let out a nervous chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll give you two some space!”

“I’ll see you later!” -you nodded.

“Yeah!” -and with that he was out the door.

“Cool guy.” -Ji-yong said and turned to you. “So why the fuck am I Park Ji-yong, your fiancé?”

“Don’t start, bro!” -you exasperated and lied back on your bed.

Of course, Ji-yong wasn’t your fiancé. His name wasn’t Park. He was your older brother, Kwon Ji-yong. But sometimes, as an alibi, to get men off your back on your girls’ night out, you’d wear a ring and lie, you had a fiancé. You would always have a picture of Ji-yong on your phone if they pressed.

“Seriously!”

“Ji, I am not gonna date him! That man has a death wish!”

“Yeah, so do you!” -he reminded you. “Perfect match(!)”

“Ha-ha… you can put that on our gravestones.” -you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t joke about that! Every day we fear it might be your last day!”

“I know…”

“What were you thinking?!”

“Hey! We caught them, didn’t we? The end justifies the means.”

“I spoke to your super, (Y/n)! You were tied to a chair… half naked and beaten!”

“It comes with the job…”

“Screw that!” -Ji-yong was genuinely worried for you. “Maybe you don’t realize it but we don’t want to fucking lose you either!” -his chest heaved and nostrils flared as he spoke. All this time, you were fine putting your life on the line. Worst case, you die. End of story. But your family - you never considered how it would affect them to get your lifeless body back in a box. How would they deal with the loss of a sister, a daughter... It was never put in perspective. “You should think about getting a desk job instead. You’re not bulletproof.” -with that he left.

A week later, you were at your apartment, hanging out by yourself, a beer in hand looking at some parking violations. You were still on leave for another week but you were going crazy! You needed to work on something. Anything!

You heard a knock on the door. You opened the door.

“Choi-nim!” -you were surprised to see Seung-hyun at your door. He wore a T-shirt with a denim jacket and jeans. His face was healing nicely - wish you could say that about your ribs - but he still had his arm in a sling.

“I told you, I’m not your super anymore. No need for formalities.”

“How could I forget…”

“Is beer such a good idea when you’re on meds?” -he taunted in a cheeky tone.

“Is that why you came here?” -you smiled and opened the door wider. He walked in.

“I wanted to ask you a few things.”

“Okay?” -you shrugged and closed the door.

“Where’s your ring?”

“My what?” -you frowned.

“You said that guy was your fiancé. I’ve never seen you wear a ring.”

“Maybe he gave me a necklace.”

“Or maybe you’re bullshitting me.”

“Choi…” -you sighed.

“I saw your file. You don’t have a fiancé, but you do have a brother named Ji-yong.” -he stepped into you. “Why?” -he whispered. “You could have said you don’t like me. It’s fine.”

“It’s not that.” -you looked away, feeling the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Then what is it?”

You gulped.

“I’m terrified of... losing you, okay?! When I heard that gun being cocked, I-…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence. Seung-hyun kissed you, full of urgency and passion. His lips and teeth were devouring you. It happened in a split second. You kissed him back, just as wild, your hands gripping his short, black hair. He pinned you against the door.

“Ow!”

“Shit! Your ribs!” -he quickly backed away. “I’m so sorry!”

You looked at him, chuckling. He smiled back.

“Cho- I mean, Seung-hyun… I really like you.” -you admitted. “But knowing the way you work, risking your life daily, bold and reckless… I don’t think I’d want that in a boyfriend.”

“I understand.” -he sighed. “I’d hate that in a girlfriend, too.”

“What if she got a boring desk job then?”

“What if he got a boring desk job?” -he cupped your chin.

“Yeah? You’d do that for me?”

“Not only for you.” -he corrected. “That night put things in perspective for me. Me dying in the field is one thing. It never bothered me. I’m dead, I don’t give a fuck! But when that asshole pointed that gun at me… I was thinking about everyone I’d leave behind. And I don’t want the people I love to feel that sort of pain.”

“I agree.”

Seung-hyun closed the space between you. His kiss was a lot more delicate this time.

“Wanna stay over?” -you asked, looking at a spot on your couch.

“More than anything.”

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Taglist: @bettelaboure @flymetothexmoon @nerdydoll-com @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @cybertempo @breakmeoff @wcnderlnds @emmiesoverthemoon @berfgrimm @forevervibezzzz1 @youlikeex @moontabi

feel free to request to be tagged/removed in future fics!

[wendichester]

So since you said you could try another character - I was hoping to see your take on Crowley! Maybe with a Winchester!reader or a bff of the Winchester that's also a hunter?

If he isn't someone you'd feel comfortable or confident writing for, I totally understand! Figured I would ask because I've got total supernatural brain rot for him and Dean rn 😅

⋆.˚ ★ crowley's favorite,

summary. crowley is slowly but effectively starting to grow on you.

pairing. crowley x reader

wordcount. 359

notes. crowley is honestly one of my favorite characters! the charisma, the sophistication... just amazing!

"Darling, if I wanted you dead, I’d have let that vampire rip your throat out five minutes ago."

You huff, crossing your arms as you glare at the King of Hell. "Yeah? And why didn’t you?"

Crowley smirks, brushing nonexistent lint off his expensive suit. "Call it… professional courtesy. Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle. Either way, you’re welcome."

"Gee, thanks." You roll your eyes, stepping over the still-smoking corpse of the vamp Crowley had conveniently disposed of with a snap of his fingers. You hate owing demons favors—especially this demon.

"Careful, darling. That tone of yours might make me think you’re ungrateful," he drawls, following you out of the abandoned warehouse.

"You don’t do anything for free, Crowley," you mutter. "So what is it? What do you want?"

He clicks his tongue, eyes glinting. "Always so suspicious. And here I thought we were friends."

You let out a short laugh. "Yeah, friends. Because friends blackmail each other, trade souls like poker chips, and show up uninvited constantly."

Crowley sighs dramatically. "You wound me, love."

You glare at him.

"Fine," he concedes, rolling his eyes. "Maybe I do have a small request."

"There it is." You shake your head. "Spit it out, Crowley. I’ve got actual work to do."

"Touchy," he mutters, but his smirk returns. "I may or may not need a certain book currently in the possession of your moose."

You narrow your eyes. "Sam’s lore books? No way. Not happening."

Crowley sighs. "It’s hardly dangerous. Just a little light reading on Enochian runes. Nothing sinister. Scouts honor." He raises two fingers.

"You were never a Scout."

"Details, details."

You cross your arms. "No deal. But thanks for the assist tonight."

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some puzzle he enjoys trying to solve. "One day, you’ll need my help, darling. And when that day comes, I do hope you remember how generous I’ve been."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t hold your breath, Crowley."

His smirk deepens. "I don’t breathe."

With an exaggerated wink, he vanishes in a swirl of black smoke, leaving you standing there, half-annoyed, half-amused.

The bastard really was growing on you.