#at this point red should just blow up blue base to find it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happyanderes · 11 months

Text

⚠︎𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎⚠︎

☎︎001-001

Yandere!housekeeper x Artist!reader

⚠︎Warnings: Yandere content, drug usage(for sleep), non-consensual touches, reader is a famous artist

Word count: 1.8k

Still getting the hang of writing shorter stuff👉👈

“I can’t believe you got me a housekeeper!” You yell into the phone at your agent.

“Oh come on! When’s the last time you cleaned your room?” They replied.

“I just removed distractions from my life to keep a clear head! Steve Jobs wears the same-“

“-I’ve heard the same thing enough times already, yes, he removed choices from his life to focus on greater things with that brilliant brain of his, and I’m sure he has a housekeeper to clean out that pigsty of his.”

They say with a sigh, then before you can say anything, they continue.

“I saw how you work before, and you are distracted by your stuff all the time. He’s coming at 3 o’clock.” You check the clock, that bastard, it’s three minutes from now!

You hear the locked door click open.

As you glance at the doorway, you find yourself surprised to see a young male, who looks boyish, as if he’s fresh out of college. His pearly whites are almost glowing as a bright smile can be seen.

Your eyes trail to the bag of cleaning supplies in his bag.

“Great, he’s here……he looks so young, you sure he’s the right guy?” you mutter into the phone.

“Glad that those spare keys work! Now be polite, being a famous artist doesn’t mean you get a pass to be mean to others.” You turn away from the young man and stick your tongue out towards the phone secretly.

“That means no blowing raspberries, see you tomorrow.” And like that, they hung up.

You turn towards the young man, who looks energetic, excited, even, about working here.

“Pleased to meet you! My name’s Kyle!” with a peppy voice, his bright red hair bouncing along with his vivid movements. His pretty green eyes remind you of the shade of sunflower leaves. He reaches a hand out for you to hold.

You did not budge.

All he could do was awkwardly retract his hand.

“I’m looking forward to working in this lovely place!” He still says, with a bit less energy than before, making you almost feel pitying him. Almost.

“My room,” you point at it. His eyes trailed down your arm and to your pointer finger, then to the closed wooden door.

“It’s off limits.” That’s all you said before you sat down in front of your easel and continued working on your piece.

“Make yourself at home.”

You say absentmindedly and insincerely as a yellow stroke of paint spreads on the canvas. You lean back and a frustrated sigh leaves your lips. The phone call gave enough time for your acrylics to dry, thus making it hard to work with to get the result you wanted.

You’ve only laid the base color down, but it’s already clear that you’re drawing a field of sunflowers under a bright blue sky. Fluffy clouds and an ocean of gorgeous yellows simply waiting to be refined and brought to life.

Completely opposite from what you’re feeling.

“Okie dokie!” He said with a little salute, then his eyes scanned the room.

“Well, where should I start?” He asks you.

“Do whatever you want,” you answer. “If you don’t feel like cleaning you can go get a drink to have or something.” You say. You are actually hoping he’d listen and slack off so you’d have a quiet working space, and a reason to fire him, he doesn’t look like someone who’d really do his work anyways.

“Got it!” And then as soon as he said that, he left your house.

You hum now that it’s silent and continue working, thank goodness that went smoothly.

What you didn’t know was that twenty minutes later, you’d have a cup of ice cold coffee pressed to your cheek.

You squeal, as you didn’t expect him to come back, Kyle laughs softly and places the drink in your palms, you wrap your fingers around it out of instinct and look up at him, silently questioning.

“You said to get a drink,” he chuckled as he wiped the sweat on his forehead off with his sleeve, his chest heaving up and down as he puffed out those words. He seems to have run to and from the coffee shop.

“Sorry I was late, had to call your agent to ask what to get.”

You just stare at him, as if he’d grown two heads, then you look back at the coffee, and then to his bare hands.

“Where’s yours?”

Now it’s his turn to be confused, his lips form into a confused little smile.

“Mine……? I thought you wanted the drink.”

All you can do is blink, and look into his eyes, they’re filled with admiration, and an eagerness to please you. Almost like one of your fans you’d meet once in a while. Those fans who want to pry you open and see everything inside. Your frown deepens, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he watches you sip on your drink, with that cheery smile.

You only shrug and ignore him completely as he got to work, touring the house himself because you didn’t bother to.

Through time, you learned to tolerate him, you can’t fire him, not with your agent under his spell and him doing more than he’s paid for, but you begin to spend more time in your own room than outside of it, working nonstop, and by the time the three month monument hits, you finally start to open up just a little bit, mostly because he makes good food.

“Dinner time!” You hear Kyle shout from out of the room, breaking you out of your focus, you did not answer, only washed your brush and headed to your dining room. You always preferred sitting at the bar while you eat your food, the feeling of solidarity is nice. But Kyle tends to take his seat next to you, you don’t know if it’s appropriate, since you’ve never had a housekeeper before, but you’d just listen to him talk and talk and talk as you eat.

You know what your food is going to be, since he came to you this morning about the menu, apparently it’s a rich people thing, to have your personal chef decide the menu depending on your mood. He made you something light, a simple sandwich with freshly made juice on the side as you requested. It’s nutritious, as he says.

You take a bite of the sandwich as you listen to him rambling on about little things he has to say in life, sometimes about his life outside of your house, sometimes about his life inside of your house, but what he says the most is about you, how he’d ask you little questions and tell you some things you might’ve not noticed about yourself.

You usually listen to his ramble absentmindedly, creepy as it is, that’s probably how he became such a good housekeeper anyways. He has the eye of an artist, at least that’s how you write it off as.

The sandwich is on the drier side, so you have to mix it with your juice. It's mixed fruits, tastes like mango and apples, but the color is a bit more on the red side. You wonder what paints to mix to create this lovely shade, almost fitting to draw a sunset.

You feel his gaze on you as the liquid inside your cup decreases, as the drink is finished, you yawn.

Perhaps it’s because your body is getting used to this new balanced and healthy eating habit, you get terribly tired after dinner.

“You can go home for today, I have to—“ you pause for a yawn, “—get some more work done……”

He only chuckles.

“Oh, but you look tired.” He says, holding your arm as you stand up from the chair rather wobbly. You notice a little cut on his wrist, and you mindlessly trace your finger down it. He jolts a bit, but doesn’t pull away.

“This should’ve healed long ago……” you mumble.

“I have a bad habit of picking it.” He laughed it off and places his other palm on your back, it feels unnecessarily intimate, but is what you need when your legs feel so wobbly. What did you do to feel so tired all of a sudden?

“What was in that drink……?” You say, words dragging on.

“Well—“

He wasn’t able to finish, as you fell in his embrace, eyes closed and your breathing even.

“Love, and a special ingredient, might’ve put too much in there this time.” He whispers as he wraps his arms around you and picks you up gently, holding you tightly in his arms and burying his nose in the crook of your neck. He’s in ecstasy as he realized that you are using the shampoo and body wash he got for you. Now the two of you share the same scent.

Slowly, he carries you to your bedroom, this is an emergency, surely it’s good enough of a reason to break your rule?

And he walks into your room with caution, watching his feet as he tries to keep you in a comfortable position in his arms. He loves it when you need him, even though you’re sleeping. As he puts you on your bed, he observes your sleeping face, everything else in the world seemed to have just melted away.

“It’s so worth it, that secret ingredient. I get to see your face so close every night!” He almost squeals, carefully climbing on top of you and brushing his fingers along your jawline. There isn’t any light, only the light from outside of your room, illuminating the rim of the both of you. His breath grows heavy as he feels his cheeks turn hot. Leaning down, Kyle faces you, the distance between is so small to the point he can count your eyelashes, he would if he doesn’t have something else important to do.

“Now you may kiss the bride……” he can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, even if he knows it’s not possible, he imagines you to open your eyes and jump, he’s sure that your budding feelings towards him would perish as soon as you see him straddling you.

Slowly, shakily, he closes his eyes and places a kiss on the lid of your eyes, then on your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth, then finally, your lips. His tongue enters easily, toying with your unresponsive one, the pink muscle almost skillfully maneuvering around in your mouth, something only experience can bring. His grip on your jaw tightens by a fraction as he tugs your jaw down a bit more for better access.

After what felt like forever, he pulls away, desperately gasping for breath. He wishes he doesn’t need to breathe at all, so that he can simply kiss you for the rest of eternity, or at least until you wake up.

He stole a few more kisses, then, he leaves your room, secretly taking note to add less of the special medicine and a bit more of the other special ingredient.

“See you tomorrow.” he says with the biggest smile as he closes the door, leaving you completely in the dark.

#yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere housekeeper #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshot #soft yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere fic #yandere oneshots #yandere oc #OCKyle #he’s a creep #but he cooks good stuff #Smiley writes

105 notes · View notes

bippot · 2 years

Text

Summary: When his buddy goes missing, Adrian spends all of his time and energy trying to get her back to him. Because they're friends, obviously.

Tags: Violence, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Mommy Issues, Idiots in Love

Music Recommendation: Calendar Girl by Neil Sedaka

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

Pt 1: The 14th

Please never become a hero. That shit isn't all that it's cracked up to be. It will get you killed, or worse, it will get you captured. And that's the exact situation Y/N was in. She should never have gotten involved with A.R.G.U.S. in the first place.

She had been missing for three days. That was three too many in Adrian's book. Obviously, the team were looking for her, but to him, they weren't looking hard enough. He called in sick at his job and patrolled the streets 24/7. He had run out of leads and ideas when he came across two drug dealers that carried the same tattoo as the rest of their gang, a simple line drawing of a calendar on the left side of their neck.

The dealers were arguing about something when Vigilante approached, so he grabbed one by the scruff of his shirt and slammed him up against the wall. He had his gun pressed against the other man's neck in seconds. "Where is your boss?" he yelled.

"You'll never find him," said the man at gunpoint.

"Oh, I think I will," said Vigilante, before pulling the trigger and blowing out the man's skull. He then turned the gun on the guy against the wall. "Want to end up like your buddy?"

"I'll tell you everything," the dealer whined, raising his hands above his head in surrender. Smart. He might live because of that.

Waking up for the third consecutive day in a row tied to a chair, Y/N scouted her surroundings. Yep, still the same dingy basement. No windows, no open doors, no way to tell if it was day or night. Was she still in Evergreen? Y/N had no clue. It didn't matter anyway.

As she noticed something in the corner that hadn't been there when her captor had drugged her last, he walked in. "Hey, big boy. What are we doing today? Maybe a walk in the park could do me some good," she joked.

He smirked and perched down in front of her. "Now, now, I'm glad to see you're awake, Y/N. I have a job for you."

She perked up. It would be a lie if she said she wasn't interested in doing something. Anything. Within reason, of course. "Really? And here I was, thinking you wanted to kill me."

"Kill you? Dear, why would I do that?" He injected some type of calming drug in her arm and undid her bindings, and she tried to make some cool escape but her body wouldn't comply.

One of his henchmen handed him a blue and a red expensive-looking silk dresses, which he held out to see which one she would look best in. "I like you better in red."

The dress and a matching set of shoes were placed next to her. Even in her drugged state, she knew this couldn't mean anything good. Was he trying to set her up to experience Stockholm syndrome or some shit? Fuck. Despite how much that One Direction song bangs, she hoped not.

"You know what I'd like," she began, her voice slower than usual. "To get the fuck out of here."

Her captor's fist clenched at his side, but he didn't have an outburst. Instead, he declared, "How else would we spend time together? Especially on such a special day."

What day was it? Mentally, she tried to figure out how long she had been down here. Whoever this guy was gave her three meals a day, and she had been given eight meals so far. She was well versed in that kind of addition.

Three days ago, it was the 11th. So, it's the 14th. The 14th of February. Fuck. It's Valentine's Day.

Vigilante dragged the dealer, who he found out was called Gustin, into the beat up video store that they used as a base. He shoved the guy into the centre of the room, pointed his gun at him and ordered, "Tell them what you told me."

The other members of the 11th Street Kids just stared as this unfolded. They hadn't seen Adrian for two days as he was too busy on patrol. As soon as he heard that Y/N had been taken, it was as if nothing else mattered. They weren't sure if he had eaten. He probably hadn't slept.

"This girl you're looking for," Gustin began, looking from person to person. He was met with five annoyed faces. "I know where she is."

Leota thought she was the last to see Y/N when they were hanging out in her apartment. Keeya had gotten a little angry at her because they were supposed to have gone on a romantic holiday to Paris, but because of Leota's work, they had to push it back, so Leota decided to give her wife some space. The pair watched a movie and ate popcorn like normal people.

That's what Leota liked about Y/N, she wasn't an asshole despite the fact that her job was to murder people. One look at Y/N and you'd never know her occupation. She looked normal.

In reality, Adrian had been the last person to see Y/N. He had been badly injured and her place was the closest. That wasn't technically true. Chris's was closest. But Adrian didn't want to go to Chris's if he had the chance to go to Y/N's. She would make him feel better. Peacemaker would hand him a beer and say, 'Okay, now fix yourself up'.

Clutching his side, Adrian threw rocks at her window from her back garden to get her attention. She opened the window and looked down to see him, still in his mask, waving at her with a fully crimson hand. "Fuck, that's a lot of blood," she whispered to herself, and made her way to let him inside.

Within no time, she had helped him in and led him to her couch. She removed his suit and got to work on his injury, cleaning and sanitising the area before she did any sort of repairs. "What happened this time?"

Shrugging, he muttered, "This crazy guy on crack totally stabbed me.

"Dead?"

"He is now."

"Good job," she complimented, ruffling his hair as she said it. He liked it when she was nice to him. It was unusual because he didn't tend to let people touch him unless they had to. But, he liked it when Y/N did.

She placed the first aid kit on his chest and searched for the needle. "Gag or no gag tonight?"

That question brought a blush to his cheeks. He knew why she was asking. So what if he was a vocal guy. Yes, he had a tendency to loudly bitch and whine when people patched him up. And, yes, that's why Leota always sedates him before she fixes his injuries. But, he couldn't help but think of the other, more fun, situation where gags may be involved.

"No gag."

"Please don't wake my neighbours this time," she joked, creeping the nylon through the eye of the needle. Adrian noticed she poked her tongue out slightly as she did this.

Mr. Barten next door had left a strongly worded letter under her door the last time this happened. He had gotten the wrong idea about what was going on and had basically asked if she would stop edging her incredibly loud boyfriend at three in the morning. The letter itself was written way more conservatively, but that was the general gist.

Not that Adrian was her boyfriend. Not at all.They were colleagues. Friends. Friends who often fell asleep on each other in the back of the van. Friends who made sure they spent at least six of the seven days of the week together. Friends who had kissed that one time when they were both drunk but weren't sure if the other remembered it, so they never brought it up. Yeah, you know, friends.

Gustin continued, "She's being held in the old warehouse just next to Hurtz Lane. Our boss had her in the basement."

John immediately typed that into Google Maps and found the location. It wasn't too far away. They could save her by the end of the day if things went according to plan. A plan which had not been created yet.

Harcourt pondered the situation for a second. That still didn't explain why she was taken. They had the where. Not the why. So, she asked, "What does your boss want with Y/N?"

"He wants somebody special to spend the day with."

Chris lowered Adrian's gun, gesturing for him to hand it over. He didn't even need to his buddy's face to know that he was tired. The way he was slowly swaying from side to side gave it all away. He instructed Vigilante to, "Get some rest, dude. We'll wake you before we leave."

Adrian was about to speak when the words caught in his throat. He needed to be on top form to save Y/N effectively, and for that to happen, he needed to sleep. But what if something happened to her while he was sleeping? What could he do? That's right, absolutely nothing.

Ultimately, he tried to go off to sleep, but it was unsuccessful. He got maybe thirty minutes, at most. He couldn't get the look that she had on her face when he asked, "What are you doing for Valentine's Day this year?" out of his head.

Her gaze remained on him as she brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and replied, "I'll probably eat ice cream alone and play Borderlands till I pass out. You?"

"Something similar." He let in a sharp inhale, mostly due to the pain of her stitching him up, but a small part of him needed to psych himself up to ask her, "So... since our, ow, plans are the same, want to do them together?"

Whoever had kidnapped her had taken his someone special, and that was fucked up. This was supposed to be the day where he would try and tell her what was going on in his head. Maybe she could've helped him make sense of it. But, obviously, that wasn't going to happen now.

Y/N had been escorted into a bathroom to get cleaned up and dressed in her new outfit. It fit perfectly, which freaked her out. Had they measured her while she was passed out, or did someone have a really good eye when it came to guessing clothes sizes? She hoped it was the latter.

She slipped the shoes on and looked at herself in the mirror. Hell, she didn't even look that shabby. It was what she would look like if she went on an actual, proper date, which was something she hadn't done in a long time. The excuse she always used was that 'I don't have time' or 'I'm hitwoman, that's not a green flag', when in reality, it was because she couldn't find anyone interesting enough to want to date.

Well, she had found one, but he clearly only wanted to be her friend. And that's totally fine. She liked being around him, and that was enough.

Two loud knocks made her halt her thoughts about Adrian. It was time to go along with whatever this was. Maybe she could come up with a plan to get the fuck out of there.

When she opened it, she was face-to-face with her captor. His bald, tattooed head shone due to the overhead light. "So, Julian, what's next?" She asked, maintaining a cool and icy stare.

He held his arm out for her to take. When she remained still, his jaw clenched and he stepped backwards to give her enough room so she could walk out by herself. He gestured for her to make her way in front of him, so she did.

Admittedly, she was curious and he hadn't hurt her yet. Judging by the flashes of anger he showed whenever she disobeyed, he had the ability to freak out. So, she chose her steps carefully, making sure she didn't trip on anything. Her heart was beating at an alarming rate, but she ensured her face never gave that away. It was a blank slate with nothing to be gleaned off of it.

She was guided upstairs into the most horribly decorated room she'd ever seen. Not because the items were gruesome or gory or repulsive in any way. The floor had a pattern that she didn't recognise at first, then she realised it was a strange type of tile. Each one said a different date on them. The walls were plastered with store bought calendars, each overlapping the other.

"This motherfucker is called Calendar Man?" Chris exclaimed. That was the lamest name Chris had ever heard of. "That's worse than fucking Kite Man."

"Kite Man is definitely a worse name," Economos retorted. The pair of them got into a small argument about which name sounded the dumbest.

Adrian couldn't believe his ears. This was what they were focused on? Y/N was gone, and that's what they wanted to focus on? It made him so annoyed that he wanted to tear their throats out, but he knew that would be a dumb move. Y/N was obviously still in danger, and he needed to keep his mind ready.

Emilia came back into the room and watched this unfold. When she heard the commotion, she thought it was Peacemaker and Vigilante having one of their usual idiotic and off-topic back and forths. She was taken aback when she noticed Adrian sitting quietly and nervously tapping his foot against the floor. She called out, "Look, we need to stay focused right now. We need to get her out of there. That's all that matters."

Thank God for Harcourt, Adrian thought. Normally, her no-nonsense, stoic vibe really dampened his fun. But without Y/N, he wasn't having any fun.

The boys sat down and prepared for their briefing. Leota was the one giving the presentation, so Chris gave her a supportive thumbs-up and whispered, "You got this."

Giving him a nod, Adebayo started her speech with, "Julian Gregory Day. A criminal mastermind that is obsessed with dates. On New Year's, he used a flamethrower to interrupt the annual Gotham Ball. And our reports say that last Valentine's Day, well he..." She clicked the remote in her hand to show the next image on the PowerPoint.

A girl who looked similar to Y/N had horrid purple bruises that were visible above the neckline of the blue silk dress that she was wearing. Grimly, the girl had been left where she had been strangled, upright in her chair and covered in roses. Calendar Man had clearly fed her beforehand, as the remnants of a box of chocolates could be seen on the table before her. It was a sick and twisted version of a romantic meal.

The clock behind her in the image was stopped at one minute to twelve. They had six hours to get to Y/N before she ended up the same way.

Adebayo watched as Adrian shielded his eyes. He had never done that before. He wasn't squeamish, never had been. The picture itself wasn't bloody or particularly gory in any way. But, she knew why. Everyone did. There was a reason why he always insisted that he had to pair up with Y/N. A reason why he let her use his weapons. That was why he couldn't look at someone who looked like her in a position like that.

"We have the who, what, where, and why. Now we need to come up with how we are going to get her out of there," Emilia declared.

"Guns blazing. Peacemaker and I go in, shoot every motherfucker in sight."

"Vigilante, there are two of you and, judging by what Gustin has told us, up to fifty of them," Leota countered. They needed a plan. It was sweet how much he wanted to save her, but he would get himself killed in the process.

2 vs. 50? Vigilante thought he could take that. Even if Peacemaker was too much of a pussy to try, he could take that all by himself if he had to.

Economos turned his laptop and informed them, "I managed to find the blueprints for the building. If you give me five minutes, I can hack the security cameras and see how many henchmen are posted up at the back door."

"We don't have five minutes," Adrian declared, his voice cold. These people were fucking pussyfooting around, and he was getting sick of it. If they were going to sit around and talk instead of doing something, Y/N would end up just like that picture. He got up and made his way to the door. "Fuck you guys. I'm going by myself."

Chris managed to stop him before he got out of the door. He held his hand up to stop his buddy from passing and gave him a look that said 'hold on for just one second'. He was met with an angry glare. Adrian gave in and turned to face Adebayo and Harcourt once more.

"It takes an hour and forty-five minutes to get there, so we have plenty of time to figure this out," Harcourt tried to soothe. Judging by the way Adrian blankly stared daggers at her, it did not work. Time to change tactics. Her voice finally showed the anger that she felt as she said, "I want nothing more than for her to be back with us, but going in half-cocked without a plan ensures her death. And none of us want that, Adrian. Especially not me."

Within no time, John had hacked into Calendar Man's security system and found out that there were no longer fifty henchmen in the building. Only Calendar Man and a woman in a red dress. Adrian watched as that bald headed freak, who was dressed in a very flamboyant salmon coloured three piece suit, sat opposite her, eating a meal. The table was littered with so many candles, yet the lights were still low. It looked like something out of a romance movie.

"How are your meatballs?" Julian asked as he shovelled one into his face. "I had them made especially."

"I'm a vegetarian," she replied. Whether that was true or not is another thing.

The fork in Calendar Man's hand bent under the force of his clenching hand. The skin on his face stretched and veins bulged. His cutlery clattered against the table as he let out a horrible roar. "Eat the fucking food," he snarled.

With an eyeroll, she ate some of the food before her. It wasn't actually that bad. But she pretended it was gross. Teasingly, she complained, "Wow, that tastes like actual ass. Is this the sort of service you provide in this establishment? It's going to-"

"Shut up. Shut your fucking whore mouth."

"Dirty talk, already? That's a little too soon. Sorry buddy, I just met you," she joked. His face turned red, but he took a breath to calm down. "Woah, dude, you totally have the same complexion as a tomato now. That's crazy."

"Eat the food and shut up, bitch."

John drove the van as the other members of the gang geared up in the back. Peacemaker and Adebayo had helmets on. Chris had the sonic boom one. Leota had the force field one. Harcourt was attaching a holster belt to herself. She was ready to fucking get back out there on the field. Vigilante had his visor on and was ready when they got into the van. He said it was since he needed to get 'in the zone'. In reality, it was so his team couldn't see how worried he was.

"Okay, just because they're not in the building, doesn't mean his henchmen aren't posed around the property," Emilia reminded them. John had seen a few milling around on the CCTV, waiting for their boss to be done.

This sentiment couldn't have been more correct. As they pulled up a few streets away, they could see an army of gun wielding bald calendar tattooed hooligans aimlessly walking around.

The plan was simple. Kill the henchmen. Surprise attack Calendar Man. Whilst he was preoccupied, get Y/N out of there. Bada bing, bada boom.

Calendar Man's henchmen looked as if they were lost. A bunch of muscular skinheads just waiting for something to happen. And fuck, something happened. The first one to shoot was Vigilante. Of course it was. He took down three without even aiming that hard.

"Vee, we said we'd all start shooting on three," Chris argued. He shot another two before they even realised they were being attacked.

"You guys were taking too long to count."

Harcourt and Adebayo shot each other an exasperated glance and started firing too. Leota was always horribly surprised by how good at this she was. Leota got five in the leg. She never shot to kill again; it was too hard on her conscience. Emilia got two.

That was the first line of defence out. Peacemaker and Harcourt went left. Vigilante and Adebayo went right.

Peacemaker made sure to always keep Emilia behind him. Not that he thought that she couldn't handle herself, he just didn't want to see her get hurt again. That crushed him the last time. He had begged her to stay in the van with Economos, but there was no convincing her otherwise.

Y/N and Emilia had known each other for years. While Emilia had been working under Waller, Y/N had been feeding her any information that she found out that could get Emilia out of her employment. Any tidbit of gossip, allegation, or piece of intel she could get her hands on was passed along. Hell, Y/N may have even tortured a bad guy or two to help Emilia. Harcourt wasn't one for friends, but if she were one, Y/N would be classified as her dearest.

She still had a slight limp as she walked. That didn't stop her. When they came across another henchman, Emilia kicked him in the back of the knees and got him in a headlock. "How many more of you are there?"

"I don't know. We don't exactly do a head count. Just -" The guy never got to finish his sentence as Emilia shot him in the temple before he could.

Chris loved watching her fight. She was a certified badass. "You can quote me on this if you want. That gave me a semi and I'm not even joking."

"Gross. Why did you tell me that?"

On the other side, Adebayo had yet to shoot another person, despite this side being crawling with henchmen. Vigilante executed them without even trying to have fun with it like he usually did. Before she had even registered that there were enemies around, he had killed eight of them already.

Ducking behind a large dumpster, she looked across at Vigilante as he reloaded. The red pane of glass next to his eyes had a splattering of blood across them. She could tell without even seeing his face that his jaw was clenched and his brow was furrowed. "Hey, man, we are going to get her back," she reassured.

"I know." He sounded determined. Leota was taken aback. He hadn't spoken much since they got into the van. It was almost unsettling. For the first time in her life, she wished he would start ranting or speaking his mind like he usually did. When he was silent, she noticed just how effective he was. This goofy, dorky dude could easily be a villain with how good and at ease he was at killing people.

Maybe not a supervillain, she thought. He's not smart enough for that. But he's smart enough to be dangerous.

Still not saying anything, he placed his gun next to Leota's head and shot some guy behind her that had just spotted them. The sound rang in her ears and she chastised, "Warn me next time, dude."

Without replying, he got up and made his way towards the next line of defence. He didn't even look behind him to see if Adebayo was following.

After picking at her meatballs, Y/N tapped her hands against the table in a fun little rhythm. She had heard from her dentist that circulating blood flow was a great way to help ease the effects of local anaesthesia.

Julian watched in annoyance. His victims had never acted so casually before. They usually would be begging for their lives at a moment like this. None of them had been so cocky. Who the hell was this girl?

"Julian, you seem more stressed," Y/N commented.

"Shut up."

"Is everything alright?"

"That's none of your fucking business," he snapped back. He had stalked her for at least a week. Unlucky for him, that was the week she had taken off. From the outside, she looked like a completely normal person. She had waited in a really long line with Economos to get the newest Assasins Creed. Had gone drinking with Adrian and Chris. Emilia had stopped by her apartment to have a chat. Leota hid out from her wife with Y/N. She seemed normal at that time.

But, clearly she wasn't.

"Do you want to know why I picked you?" He asked. She narrowed her eyes.

Oh no, the bad guy was about to reveal his backstory. Maybe she didn't have long left.

"No. But you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?" She jeered, her voice monotone. It may prolong her life expectancy if she made this story go on and on. Or, he might get angry at her attempts to interrupt him and just finish her off before she even regained total feeling in her body again.

Novocaine. That's what he must've used. That would explain the faint ringing in her ears and the tingling in her fingers. That drug only lasts around ninety minutes, and it had been longer than that since he had injected her. Maybe there was something in the food too, she concluded.

"When I was young -"

"Oh, please don't tell me that I look like your mother," she teased. It was typical. A guy like that clearly had issues. And mummy issues are so easy to come by these days. By the look on his face, she could tell that she was 100% correct. "Aw, did mummy not love you?"

"Shut the fuck -"

"You kidnap women and pretend they're your mother. And then you take them on pseudo dates," she yelled. She was enjoying this. "You are seriously oedipal. Did you want to fuck your mother? I bet she was a great lay."

Calendar Man shot out of his seat and forcefully attached his hand to her throat. He hadn't squeezed yet. She still had a smile on her face as she commented, "Are you trying to scare me or turn me on?"

He released her neck and started running his fingers over the skin just under her collar bone. Her grin turned into an angry snarl. This girl reminded him a lot of his mother.

Gross.

The fire behind her eyes. The hurtful taunting. The way she didn't like him. The way she fought when he first captured her. The way that nothing he had done seemed to faze her. That was just like his mother.

Maybe he would keep this one. That would totally mess up his schedule, but he couldn't ignore this. She was special. Too special. He had to keep her.

Placing his finger under her chin and tilting it up to look him in the eyes, he tried to say something, but she spat in his face before he got a word out. He pushed her away from him, wiping the saliva off of his face with his wrist. He grabbed his gun off his belt and took his time aiming it at her head. Repeating her words, he said, "Are you trying to scare me or turn me on?"

"Neither. I wanted to get that god awful meatball taste out of my mouth."

Vigilante was out of bullets. He had resorted to slicing Calendar Man's henchmen to pieces. His gloves were covered in blood. Just in general, he was covered in blood. There was so much blood that his footsteps left red prints wherever he walked.

Leota had given up on her no-killing rule. It was better for these dudes that they went quickly, so after Vigilante left them to bleed out, she shot them to put them out of their misery. He had gotten through four and didn't even stop walking forward. Another one got a jab in the stomach. The final one had the blade dragged across his neck.

Adebayo managed to hurry out of the way of the spray of this guy's fluids. At least she didn't have to shoot that guy. She hopped her way over all of the ichor puddles and followed behind him.

Peacemaker and Harcourt had also mowed down a fair few henchmen. Chris had a tactic. He'd walk into the middle of a cluster, then set off his sonic boom. It would kill maybe six at a time. He had used it three times.

Every time he did it, he would give Emilia a thumbs-up to ensure she was ready and a safe enough distance away. Somehow, guts and organs and all that gross shit still managed to find their way over to her. On the third time, a guy's still intact pancreas landed on her head.

"What the fuck, Chris?" She'd asked him in shock. It was not in her game plan to have parts of the human body land on her.

"I can't control where shit gets shot!"

The final sonic boom should've been heard by the pair at dinner. It wasn't. The room was soundproofed. No sound could be heard from outside, and vice versa. Calendar Man was unaware that he had lost most of his army.

Economos asked over comms, "You guys in position?"

"Affirmative. Wait, hold on," Vigilante replied, then looked behind him and gestured to Adebayo. She saw the enemy and shot him. "Now we are."

"We've got three guys in front of us," Emilia informed them as she shot from around a corner and hit one. "Two."

Dual wielding his pistols, Chris took no time to execute the final two. "Go time?"

"Fucking go time," John replied.

From either side of the building, the 11th Street Kids made their way inside. On the right was the most direct way into the room where the dinner was happening. That's why Adrian insisted on going that way. He would be first to get to her.

Julian lowered his gun as he saw how little she reacted to it. "The anaesthesia will wear off soon. Give it five minutes. I usually want the woman to feel the full extent of her last breath."

Usually. That implied that this time was going to be unusual. "But not this time?" She inquired.

"No. Your last breath will not be tonight."

Well, fuck. This had gone from a weekend kidnapping to a life time kidnapping. She'd prefer to die. Her body had regained most of its feeling, so she was ready.

Clumsily, she knocked over the wine he had provided. Actually, no, it wasn't out of clumsiness, she had intended to do it. It ensured that the fire she was about to start would be much more flashy. Wine isn't flammable, but it does give a cool flambé effect.

Harshly yanking at the dinner table, the mass amount of candles fell onto their side and instantly lit aflame. The plates and cutlery were thrown onto the floor, but she managed to grab the wine bottle before it smashed to the ground. She got to her feet and took a swig, then smashed it against the table.

Her first step was a little wobbly as she backed her way towards the wall. But, that was fine because two seconds later, she watched as Vigilante kicked down the door and instantly got to her side. "I've got you," he reassured her, placing his arm around her waist to steady her.

She was ready. She'd been ready since the moment she awoke. Ready to kill. It took her no time at all to regain her balance, which was aided by the fact that she leant down and took the heels off.

Calendar Man just tried to hurry to the other door, only to open it and find Peacemaker with his gun already aimed at him. He made his way back to the middle of the room with his hands up in surrender as each member aimed their weapons at him.

Y/N reached for the knives Vigilante kept on the back of his utility belt and sauntered up to her captor, being sure to step over the broken pieces of bottle on the ground and grabbing a handful of some of the cold spaghetti and meatballs. She taunted, "Oh, Julian. Looks like we have you cornered, buddy."

The look in his eyes, fear, disgust, and anger, made her smile. The moment she did, she kicked him in the balls, causing him to slump to his knees. "Who the fuck are you people?"

Crouching down to be eye level and shoving the food in his face, she retorted, "We're people who have fucked your mum," and stabbed him in the abdomen over and over. His blood spooled onto her hand, which she brought up to cup his cheek as she continued, "I'm so glad that the drugs have worn off, so I can feel every second of your last breath."

It was moments like this that Adebayo remembered that Y/N was not normal. Not in the slightest.

She ripped the knife out of Julian and placed it against his neck, slowly dragging it against his skin. Tears filled his eyes as the blood and spaghetti poured down his shirt, and he managed to squeak through his pain, "Mummy?"

What a sad little man. At least his life was over now.

Adrian tried not to get a boner watching this unfold. Luckily, his body was too tired to even try. Fuck, she was so hot. And safe. She was safe now. That's all that mattered.

"Bit intense, don't you think, Y/N?" Emilia declared, her face finally morphing into a smile. Y/N handed the knife back to Vigilante and brushed some hair out of her face with her bloodied hand, getting red all over her cheek before being engulfed in a hug by Harcourt.

They had never hugged before. Y/N wasn't sure if Emilia had ever hugged anyone before. She reciprocated instantly and joked, "You try being stuck with this guy for three days."

One by one, they left the room until it was just Vigilante and Y/N. She was on her knees, examining what she had done. It was probably her messiest job ever. She tended to be clinical. Some would say it's humane. This was cruel. "The spaghetti is what made it too much, right?" She playfully asked, looking up at him.

He didn't answer. He held out his hand to help her up, then wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in her neck. "Are you okay, Ade?" Y/N asked, squeezing him back.

"I am now," he responded, his voice muffled by her hair and his mask.

Taking him by his blood-covered gloved hand, she led them out of the building. Listening as he gave her directions on how to leave. When they made it back to the van, she greeted John, "Economos, how are you doing pal?"

John just stared at how blood soaked they were. He threw them some cloth and ordered, "Do not come in here like that."

In response, she laughed and wiped her hands off as Adrian de-Vigilanted. Somehow, he had even managed to get blood under his mask, so she reached out and got it off for him. As she gently wiped his face with the cloth with one hand, her other was lightly caressing his other cheek.

Adrian finally smiled. It was big and goofy and tired and perfect.

They were handed spare clothes, and each took turns getting changed out of sight of the others. Adrian had made sure that her spare clothes were 'forgotten', so it was really lucky that he brought two sets just in case.

"It's a shame," Chris mused when he saw that she had changed. "You looked really hot in that dress. Didn't she, Vee?"

Chris was rewarded for that comment with a punch in the arm from Adrian and a glare from Emilia. Y/N laughed and added, "You should've seen me before I took the heels off. Total knockout."

On their way back to Evergreen, she noticed that Adrian looked exhausted and guided his head to her shoulder, her fingers softly raking through his hair. Within no time, he was fast asleep. Leota caught this and explained, "He hasn't slept since he found out you were missing."

"Well, that was stupid of him."

"Love makes you stupid."

She looked down at him and smiled to herself. It was obvious. Why hadn't she seen it before? His stupidity was love. He was in love with her. It was mutual. She kissed him on the crown of his head and tried to ignore the looks her team was sending her way.

Evergreen. What a sight for sore eyes. She never thought she would feel so relieved to see that busted, gross looking video store.

As soon as they arrived, she lightly pulled on his ear to wake him up. It was silly, but it was how she always used to wake him up when they had to take shifts on overnight stake outs. It was so he knew it was her. "Home?" He groggily muttered, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah. Home."

After some tests that Emila forced her to do to check if she was okay, she said her thank yous and goodbyes to everyone but Adrian. Chris ruffled her hair and John waved. Adebayo told her that she had patched things up with Keeya and didn't need to hide out tonight. Emilia, very forcefully, insisted that she'd be by in the morning to check up on her. Adrian waited and waited for his goodbye.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Adrian?" Chris asked, slamming his arms down on his buddy's shoulders in an attempt to wake him up further.

"No," she stated. Wasn't it obvious? "There's still an hour left of Valentine's Day, and I said we'd spend it together. He's coming with me."

Adrian was stunned. After all that, she still wanted to celebrate today? Then he remembered, "Oh fuck, I forgot to get some ice cream."

"I've got plenty," she replied, and lightly pushed him towards the door. "Come on, loser. Let's go."

The drive to her home was comfortably silent. His head leaned against the window as she drove. She could tell he was still shattered. He was usually so talkative. She could listen to him talk for hours, and usually did. Before she could stop herself, she took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it in his.

"I missed you," he said, his voice rough. "Like a lot."

The way he said it made her look twice. Maybe, just maybe, this was an admission of feelings. "I missed you, too," she answered, her thumbs gently brushing against the back of his hand.

And it was true. Every bit of alone time she had, she'd think of him. Think of him talking to her so she wouldn't be so alone in some weird guy's basement.

Making it to her house, she held out her hand for him to take so she could pull him through her front door. Her apartment looked as if it had when she had left it last. It was as if nothing had happened.

"When did you last eat?" He answered with a shrug. That meant he hadn't had food for quite a while. "Well, I was nabbed when I went to the grocery store, so I don't have much," she told him. "Will jalapeño poppers be enough?"

Anything would be enough. As they waited for them to heat up, they sat down on her sofa. At first, he seemed awkward. What was he supposed to do? Now was hardly the time to bombard her with all of the questions that were swimming around in his head. She had just been kidnapped for fucks sake. The last thing she needed was for her friend to say: 'I think I might be in love with you because every second you weren't by my side, I wanted to crawl into a hole and collapse in on myself.'

She noticed his apprehension and placed his arm around her shoulders, leaning her head against his arm. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," he let out. "It's okay."

The pair didn't speak much. They didn't need to. They just enjoyed the feeling of being back together. When the food was done, she plated it up for him. "Where's yours?" He asked, noticing she wasn't eating.

"I had some pretty good meatballs earlier," she replied. "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat them again, but, oh well."

He let out a light chuckle. She seemed to be doing okay, and that's all that mattered to him. After everything that had happened, he just wanted to be with her and make sure nothing like that ever happened again, which was wishful thinking in their line of work.

After he was finished, she laid back and held out her arms for him to crawl into. He obliged and placed his head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart. It was a little faster than he had expected. "Sorry that you didn't have a normal Valentine's Day," he apologised. Not that it was his fault. He felt like it was. He could've and should've saved her within the first day, at least that's what he believed.

"All I wanted to do was spend time with you, and I've done that," she stated, running her finger down his spine. "I'd say that it was a success on that front."

Adrian leant up in surprise. He had to scan her face to see if she was fucking with him. It didn't look like it. As he analysed her face, he noticed how her gaze wandered down to his lips. Did she want him to kiss her? Fuck, before he could debate it further, he just went for it.

His thumb brushed down her bottom lip, parting them as he brought his closer. Then his hand landed on her chin and slowly tilted it to give him better access to lower his head to press a soft, sleepy kiss on her lips. It was nothing like what he imagined it to be; it was better. She gave in without question, allowing him to deepen it, and he felt her heart speed up in response. He could stay like this for hours if he was allowed to.

But she didn't allow him. She pulled away and offered, "If you sleep, I promise we can spend all of tomorrow making out."

"All of tomorrow?"

"All of it."

Giving her one final peck on the lips, he nestled his head in her collar bone and soon fell asleep as she drew little soothing shapes across his back. She watched with a small smile as he peacefully rested against her.

How could she have missed the way he looked at her? Ever since Leota had brought it up, she had noticed how big and beautiful his heart eyes for her were. Did she look at him that way? She felt that way, but she had always been good at suppressing what she felt.

This led her to questions that she didn't want to answer. He was a vocal guy. Why hadn't he let slip how he felt about her? Had she said something to make him think otherwise? Or was he too nervous? Maybe he didn't think that she felt the same way. Maybe he thought that she was just being nice and he should just go along with it because that's what friends did. She pondered all of this before she fell asleep too.

Pt 2: The 15th

She woke sometime in the early morning and tried to wiggle out from under him. But he wasn't having it. He just held her more tightly and whined, "No, I'm not letting you go yet."

"Ade, I need a pee and it would be nice to use a toilet instead of a bucket like I had to before," she explained. He released her but didn't seem happy about it.

When she returned, she laid down on him and his hand instantly clamped around her waist. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt, and it sent tingles up and down her spine. "I'm going to make you breakfast when we wake up," he informed her. She knew that he was not a good cook.

"Why don't we sleep as long as we can, then order so you don't burn my kitchen down?" She compromised, her hand cradling his face. It was sweet of him, but she preferred her waffles unburned.

"My cooking is not that bad."

Kissing him on the cheek, she retorted, "It is, baby."

Baby. The way she said it, it just rolled off her tongue. It was as if she was supposed to call him that. He couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks. "Baby," he repeated, giving it more emphasis. He had a silly grin on his face, so she laughed.

They got up far too late. Adrian usually had an alarm that went off every morning at eight, and they completely slept through it. They had also slept through multiple missed calls from Emilia, which caused her to use the key Y/N had given her for emergencies and barge into the apartment with her gun out.

The very loud, "Oh fuck," is what woke them up. Emilia had silently crept in to check for intruders and came across the pair on the couch. Y/N actually liked Adrian back? She thought her friend had more sense than that.

Y/N hand immediately reached under the sofa and grabbed the gun that she hid under there, preparing herself for a showdown. It never came. As she lifted her head off Adrian's chest and pointed the barrel at the origin of the sound, she realised who it was. "Emmy, what are you doing here?"

"She lets you call her Emmy?" Adrian inquired. If anything, that was the most insane thing he had ever heard.

Ignoring him, Emilia countered, "What are you doing?"

"I was sleeping."

"You know what I mean." Emilia holstered her weapon, so Y/N did the same. "I was planning on checking up on you, but I see that Vigilante got here before me."

"I never left," he replied, smugly smiling at her and his arm pulling Y/N closer to him.

Harcourt wasn't fond of this relationship, but she had to admit it made sense. It was inevitable that it would happen. She made her way towards the door. "I'm going to leave before I see something that will scar me for years to come."

"Bye, Emmy."

"Yeah, bye, 'Emmy'" Adrian repeated. That little shit.

"Only she gets to call me that," Emilia retorted as she stepped out of the door. Seconds before she was out of sight, she added, "Call me that again and I'll make it so you'll never be able to have kids."

Adrian knew to never call Harcourt that ever again. That was a pretty good threat. It was one that he never wanted to find out if she was being real or not.

Just as Y/N was about to say something, she got cut off by an attack. A kiss attack. A full on kiss that she returned with gusto. "I should've done this sooner," Adrian murmured against her mouth. His fingers threaded through her hair as he deepened the kiss. "Way sooner, baby."

She moaned into his mouth. This was the kind of kiss she'd been waiting for. The kind that made her forget about everything else. It made her feel free and not worried about anything. It made her feel loved, and that was all she needed right now.

"Can we skip breakfast?" he whispered, breaking the kiss. His hands slowly moved down her back until they rested on her ass, which prompted her to straddle him.

"We can do whatever you want," she replied huskily, her lips already on the way to his neck. She rested her hands on his cheeks and ran her fingers through his hair.

He leaned his face up to her ear and teasingly asked, "What if I called you mummy like Calendar Man did?"

"That man has ruined all the sexiness of that word for me."

"I'll stick to baby then," he confirmed. He didn't mind. It made sense. Using his strength, he stood up with her legs still attached around his waist and made his way to her room. "I'm going to fuck you so good you'll never even think about another man."

That was a bold statement and she had no clue if it was true or not, but she didn't mind in the least. "I'd love to see you try," she challenged, pulling his shirt that she was wearing over her head and throwing it behind them.

"You're on."

Placing her down on the edge of the bed, he gazed at the sight before him. Fuck. She looked like that under her clothes? Holy fuck, how had he gone without seeing that for so long? He needed to touch her. Desperately. He knelt between her legs and waited for her to pull her trousers down. She did, of course, and he couldn't help himself. He kissed his way up from her ankle to her thigh until he finally settled on her clit. "Oh fuck," he whispered, his thumb taking over for his mouth as he spoke. "So fucking hot."

"Glad you approve, baby," she moaned. She grabbed his hair to keep him where she wanted him and rocked against him in a rhythm that made her breathless. Adrian didn't waste any time. He licked his way up her slick core and then plunged his tongue inside, delving deep. "Fuck, Ade, don't stop."

He didn't. Not until she was coming down from her high and gasping his name. When she was finally able to breathe normally again, he stayed where he was, his tongue dancing around her, getting any last drop he could.

"Alright, your turn." He shook his head and gestured to his crotch. He didn't need a hand (or a mouth) to get him ready. He was fully ready. "Shirt and pants off now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Adrian did as she said, and she didn't waste any time looking over his body. Arousal was written all over his face, and his breath was coming harder and faster. She liked the way he looked when he was turned on. The way his body tensed and his face flushed.

When he was fully naked, she ran her hands over him, appreciating his muscles and the way his skin felt. Her finger traced a line from his neck to his stomach. She looked up and asked, "How'd you want to do this?"

Shit. He had imagined this situation so many times. In so many positions that he had no idea which one to pick. He just knew he wanted to see her as she unravelled. He wanted to see her come undone in his arms.

He was shocked by how turned on he was, but it made him even more excited. "You choose," he said.

Answering by getting on her hands and knees, she waited for him to understand what she was asking. He did, of course. He pressed his hands on the sides of her hips, holding her in place as he entered her from behind. "You feel so tight, baby," he groaned. He slid his hands up her smooth back, undoing her bra in the process.

To steady them even more, she reached out and held onto the bars of her bed as he went deeper and deeper inside her, the friction so good that she could let out a guttural moan. She arched her back and tilted her head, loving the way his body moved with hers. "So good."

"So, so good," he echoed, moving his hands up to her breasts, giving them a light squeeze. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, which only caused her to push back further against him, her orgasm already building. "Are you close?"

She nodded, unable to speak past the lust-coated lump in her throat, so he stopped and flipped her over. She was okay with that. She liked looking at him. The slow, sexy slide of his hands over her body. The way his eyes darkened when he looked at her.

With his gaze trained on her face, he watched every single movement of her face as he entered her again and again. He took his time, savouring every breath and every sensation, not wanting to rush even though he was dying to come inside her. He was slowly and surely leaving all of his thoughts behind him.

Maybe that's why he breathed out, "Holy fuck, I love you," then realised what he said and opened his eyes wide. He could see her trying not to laugh as panic washed over his face.

"I love you too, baby."

It was earlier than she had expected for them to admit that to each other, but they had known each other for a fair while. Plus, she had never been more turned on or felt more loved in her life. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she had. He kissed her back, his tongue slipping into her mouth and his hands finding hers, pressing them into the mattress as he pounded into her.

Adrian was coming to terms with the fact that, after tonight, he would never be the same. He was addicted, and she was something he never wanted to give up. If he did, he'd never hear the little squeak she made just before she came again, and that was a sound he needed to hear as often as possible. He could feel her body twitch as she climaxed, and he followed her soon after.

When their breathing had slowed, Adrian lowered his forehead to hers. "I can't believe we did that," he whispered.

She laughed softly. "Oh, baby. We did that."

Immediately, she brought him in for a kiss. She loved everything about him, all the good and the bad. She loved his strength and his gentleness. She loved the way he'd fallen for her and the way she'd fallen for him. She loved him wholly.

Jokingly, she declared, "Hey, if this is what I get out of it, I should get kidnapped more often."

He pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered, "The only person who is allowed to kidnap you is me."

Chuckling at his comment, she squeezed his bicep and flirted, "Wouldn't have it any other way, pretty boy."

The next time she went to work, Vigilante made sure his hand was firmly intertwined with hers as they walked into the base. Peacemaker didn't believe him when he admitted that they were together now, despite Emilia confirming that she saw them. But even Chris had to admit that if they were together, it was a good thing. Now Adrian would have to stop lovingly leering at her when she wasn't looking at him.

Chris was wrong. Adrian continued to do that. If anything, it got worse as he also progressed to doing it when she was looking at him too. Their work environment just got more horny.

And all of this was thanks to the creepy wannabe motherfucker, Calendar Man.

#adrian chase #adrian chase x female reader #vigilante x reader #Vigilante #Youtube

95 notes · View notes

dauntless-gothamite · 3 years

Text

Prove Them Wrong [2/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter. A/N: it seems this may be a little bit of a slow burn, based on the pacing and where I am in chapter three right now... Enjoy!

You woke up to the sound of metal clanging together, an unpleasant alarm if you’d ever heard one. “Get up, get dressed, and be in the training room in two minutes,” Four said, banging the metal together one last time before leaving the room.

Everyone scrambled to get dressed in their new black Dauntless clothes, and as people entered the training area, they began to form a semicircle around Four and Eric. “Ok, let’s get started,” Four said, clapping his hands together. “There are two stages of training. The first is physical, you will push your bodies to the breaking point and you will master the methods of combat. The second is mental, again breaking point. You’ll face your worst fears and conquer them--unless they get you first. You’ll be trained separately from the Dauntless-born, but you’ll be ranked together. After initiations, rankings will determine what jobs you move into: leadership, guarding the fence, or keeping the factionless from killing each other.”

“The rankings will also determine who gets cut,” Eric cut in, rising from where he sat on a concrete slab. An uneasy whisper spread throughout the initiates. No one knew about this, and you had to admit, you were getting a bit nervous yourself. “At the end of each stage of training, the lowest-ranking initiates will be leaving us,” Eric continued.

“To do what?” asked Al.

“Well, you can’t go home to your families, so you’ll be factionless.”

Another wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd of initiates, but it was quickly silenced by Eric’s glare. “Someone should have told us,” Christina said.

“Why? Would you have chosen differently? Out of fear?” Eric replied challengingly. “I mean, if that’s the case, you might as well get out now. If you’re really one of us, it won’t matter to you that you might fail, alright? You chose us. Now, we get to choose you.” Eric looked at each initiate, his blue eyes challenging each person to look away. Some people did, others didn’t. You didn’t.

Instead, you held his intense gaze as the itch to prove others wrong that had been inside you since the day you were born rose up, ready to be set free. What Eric said was scary, but it didn’t matter--all your years of studying the faction system told you that they would try to scare the initiates, and while you hadn’t expected this, you had known it wouldn’t be easy. But you had worked your ass off for years to be top of the class in Erudite, and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to do the same here, in your new faction.

“Everyone, get some water before we move into the next segment of training,” Four called out. It took everything in you not to bend over as some others were doing; you knew standing up straight, getting fresh air in your lungs, would make the cramp in your abdomen go away faster, even if it hurt more now.

“Tris, stand up straight,” you whispered to your friend, who was red-faced after running twenty laps around the room, which was everyone’s warm-up for the day.

“Just so you know, tomorrow we won’t just be running laps,” Four said, surveying all the tired initiates. “So get used to this.”

You sighed, mentally thanking yourself for joining a small workout group in Erudite. It was fairly new, and it was only created because studies showed that after some physical activity, the brain was better equipped to come back to problems it struggled with earlier and continue working whereas remaining stagnant was more likely to result in burnout and fatigue. The workouts were nothing like this, but you were still appreciative of them.

“Alright, everyone find a punching bag and start hitting. Eric and I will be walking around correcting your form, but it’s on you to put our advice into practice. Go,” Four announced after barely even a minute of the “break” had gone by.

Turning on your heel, you walked over to the nearest punching bag and lined yourself up. Feet spread evenly about as wide as your shoulders, then step the left foot forward just a bit. Knees bent slightly, fists raised high. Then, you get to punching.

After what felt like an hour of hearing Four quietly critiquing other students between Eric’s shouts of disappointment at other initiates, the two trainers finally got to your area of the training room. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Four walking up to Tris, slightly adjusting her position and giving helpful tips. Another set of footsteps came to a stop behind you, which meant Eric would be the one helping you. Your shoulders tensed for a moment, but you quickly forced yourself into a more relaxed position and continued punching. Just pretend he isn’t there, you told yourself. After hitting the punching bag six times, called out “Stop” from behind you. He walked over to your side and took a fighting stance. “Make sure your hips are square, like this, so when you throw a punch with the hand that is further back, you can twist your hips and use core strength to put more power into it,” he said stoically, and you did your best to mimic his stance. “No, like this,” he said, grabbing your hips and twisting them, holding you firmly in place for a second before letting go. “Try it now,” he said. You started throwing punches again, and he nodded before silently walking away. When you paused to readjust your stance, you heard Eric yell “Did I say you could stop, Y/N? No, I did not; keep going!” You took a deep breath and began the next onslaught of punches as the room fell quiet save for the sound of fists hitting punching bags, a rhythmic thumping sound.

“First jumper!” Eric called out, disrupting the steady beat and sense of calmness in the room. “In the ring.” Beside him, Four sighed and looked down at his feet, and you had a bad feeling about whatever was about to happen. “Last jumper,” he continued, looking at a girl with dark hair--you think you may have heard her friends call her Molly, but you aren’t entirely sure. “Time to fight.”

Tris and the girl stepped up to the ring. “How long do we fight for?” the girl asked.

“Until one of you can’t continue,” Eric said in response.

“Or one of you concedes,” Four interjected, stepping forward.

“According to the old rules,” Eric corrected. “With the new rules, no one concedes.”

“You really want to lose someone in their first fight?”

“Well, a brave man never surrenders.”

“Lucky for you, those weren’t the rules when we fought.”

Eric clenched his jaw, irritated, before saying “You’ll be scored on this, so fight hard.” Tris and the other girl squared up and began to circle each other, but Eric was getting impatient. “Go!” he barked.

After nearly falling off the mat, Tris lunged, but the other girl dodged, twisted, and retaliated with a swing of her own, landing a punch to Tris’ face. As Tris retreated, the other girl pressed her advantage, catching Tris’ waist, bending her over, and punching her stomach a few times before Tris managed to break free of her hold. Just as she reached the end of the mat and turned, Tris was met with another punch to the face, sending her to the floor. The other girl--Molly--glanced at Eric since Tris was down, and he nodded, signaling Molly to send one last blow Tris’ way, knocking her out. As you watched the fight, you felt bad for your friend; she was much smaller than Molly, and part of you wanted to speak up about the cruelty that the trainers were showing, but you shoved it down. There was no need to compromise your position right now.

“Next,” Eric yelled, pointing to a girl named Selene and a former Candor named Peter who had made fun of Tris, calling her a Stiff several times. You secretly hoped Selene would kick his ass, but it was unlikely, he was tall and strong, plus he was willing to fight dirty--he’d admitted as much in the dorm area. Guess he still couldn’t keep his mouth shut, even though he’d left Candor.

Selene was tough; what she lacked in strength she made up for in endurance, but after a few rounds of dodging Peter’s punches, he finally landed one to her solar plexus, stunning her, allowing him to sweep her legs out from underneath her and kick her as she lay on the ground. You clenched your jaw as he did so, feeling anger rise up inside of you. Selene was unable to fight, that was the stopping point of the fights, but Peter was still kicking her. And Eric, the emotionless person that he was, didn’t do anything.

“Peter,” you said, “stop it.” Peter turned towards you and smirked.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” he taunted. You considered for a second before turning to Eric.

Looking up at him, you steeled yourself. “I know we don’t get to determine the fighting order, or who we fight, but I would like to fight Peter. Now,” you said, sure to keep your voice level and maintain eye contact with the leader.

He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, and thankfully, Peter had stopped kicking Selene when you started speaking to Eric. Selene scooted to the edge of the mat, but that was as far as she could move without assistance. “You two,” Eric yelled at two initiates, “help Four get this one,” he pointed at Selene, “to the infirmary.” Then he turned back to you. “What are you waiting for, initiate? Get up there.” For a moment you were stunned, you didn’t actually think you would end up fighting Peter, and you knew that both Eric and Peter were expecting you to lose quickly. You caught Four’s eye as he carried Selene out with the help of two initiates, and you looked around to see Christina, Tris, Will, Al, Edward, Molly, and a few other initiates staring at you like you were mad. Maybe you were, but it was too late to back out now. You stood in a low, sturdy fighting stance, just like Eric had shown you. Peter did the same. For a moment, the room was dead silent as your eyes locked with his, and then both of you whipped into action.

Peter went right for the face punch, but you quickly blocked upward and threw a low roundhouse kick at his knee, making him wobble. He recovered quickly, and he quickly used his height to his advantage, moving to grab your shoulder and slam you into the ground. You were smart though, and you let him move you slightly before turning the downwards motion into momentum that allowed you to do a somersault, twisting his arm and landing on your feet. As he was turning around to face you, you sent a snap kick right to the back of his knee, making it buckle. You moved quickly to his other side, ready to send a few punches to his face and knock him out, but he sprung forward, wrapping strong hands around your neck and squeezing. For a moment you panicked, hitting his arms, but they didn’t move. Everyone was sure that was it for you, but you had another trick up your sleeve--Peter was overly confident this would weaken you and in the process of squeezing, he had left his own body defenseless. So you kicked him in the groin. Hard. He called out and released you, and as he leaned over in an instinctual reaction to pain, you kicked his forehead with your knee, shoved him to the side, knocking him over, and kicked him again, this time in the solar plexus. You stood there, stone-faced, and when Peter didn’t make a move to fight back, you turned to Eric, who nodded, and you jumped down from the mat.

You landed next to Will, Tris, and Christina, all of whom were staring at you in a mixture of horror and admiration. You blushed in embarrassment and looked at the ground, thinking to yourself, What the hell did I just do? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize the next two initiates were on the mat and fighting, and you only came back to yourself when Eric yyelled, “Hey! Are you deaf, initiate? I said go grab some ice for your neck, I don’t want to hear complaints about it tomorrow!”

You nodded to your friends and said “I’ll be back in a minute,” shocked at how hoarse your voice was. “Just going to… yeah,” you trailed off before walking quickly towards the infirmary.

A/N: can you tell I love writing fight scenes? also I do martial arts and have played sports my whole life, so I love when I get to use my knowledge of anatomy and physiology two write action scenes :)

Tag List: @shykoolaid

#eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x reader #divergent #divergent im #dauntless #erudite #divergent fanfiction #abnegation #amity #candor #tris prior #four divergent #tobias eaton #peter hayes #caleb prior #motherfxking-flannel #motherfxking flannel

278 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms.

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

989 notes · View notes

moonknightly · 3 years

Text

now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

739 notes · View notes

gamergirl929 · 3 years

Text

They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”

You smirk cockily.

“Kinky.”

Alex snarls angrily.

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.

“But-

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.

She growls.

“Fuck.”

***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.

Alex lets out a feral growl.

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.

“You too!”

***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.

Alex pushes you backwards.

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”

You snicker.

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.

***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”

***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.

Alex’s eyes narrow.

“Better my ass.”

***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.

Alex sighs in annoyance.

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”

Alex growls.

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”

Alex blows a raspberry at you.

“Real mature love, real mature.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.

Alex lets out a mock laugh.

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”

You throw your head back with a groan.

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.

“Th-Thanks.”

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.

Her shoulders hunch.

“I know.”

***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.

Alex shakes her head.

“No, I’m not.”

You move to your feet.

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.

She shakes her head.

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yeah, you still suck.”

Alex growls.

“Fuck you Y/N.”

You grin.

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”

***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.

You smirk.

“Show time.”

***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.

Alex shrugs.

“Lucky shot.”

You snort.

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Alex snorts even louder.

“I mean, I DID assist.”

You roll your eyes.

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.

Alex growls.

“Still so infuriating.”

***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.

“They literally want each other dead.”

Christen rolls her eyes.

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.

“I mean, it’s obvious.”

Ashlyn scoffs.

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”

***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.

Tobin turns towards Christen.

“You call THAT being into each other?”

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.

“Oblivious.”

***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.

“Yeah.”

***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.

“WHAT!?”

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.

“O-O-Oh...”

You snort.

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.

“What?”

You shrug.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.

“Fuck you.”

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.

“I’d never lose to you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”

Kelley hums.

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.

“I beg to DIFFER.”

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“Of course, I did, because I won.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.

“Like one time, Morgan.”

Alex growls.

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.

“SHUT UP.”

***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”

***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“I should be asking you that.”

***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.

“Get over it.”

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.

You nod, your cheeks flushed.

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.

***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.

“Beats me.”

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.

***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.

“Nothing.”

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.

“Not a chance.”

***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.

“But I don’t want to get up...”

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.

“It is.”

***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.

***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.

***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.

***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.

“Say it again.”

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.

“Say it again...”

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.

“We told you.”

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.

You sigh.

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”

Alex’s brows arch.

“It was cute.”

Alex scoffs.

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”

You shrug.

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.

“I guess so.”

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.

“Idiots.”

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.

“Actually, it’s adorable.”

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Lead the way.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

583 notes · View notes

sweeterthansammy · 3 years

Text

Undercover || Stucky

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes; The reader is Bucky and Steve’s girlfriend.

Summary: Despite their protests, Y/N goes undercover during a mission, leaving her boys astonished nonetheless.

Genre: Random

Written in third person point of view.

Warnings: Mentions of killing, mild arguing, sexual innuendos, sad Bucky (if you squint), mild language, and me using Google Translate for French dialogue :)

Word count: 2.5k+ (with translations); 2.4k+ (without translations)

A/N: I wasn’t sure as to whether or not I should put smut in it but let me know if you guys want a part two with smut! Divider made by yours truly 😌

“You’re not going and that’s final.”

Once in a blue moon was Bucky stern with Y/N, tonight being one of those blue moons. Y/N fought and fought and fought. She wasn’t a little kid, most certainly not his, and she thought that she was making that clear. Same with Steve. It was beyond infuriating, having the two constantly babying her.

“I am going to complete that mission and you can’t stop me. Nor can you.”

She looked at Steve who seethed of irritation, big arms bulking out of the tiny black tee. As Bucky opened his mouth to protest yet again, Steve stopped him.

“Let her go. She wants to do it, so let her do it.”

He kept his eyes on her the entire time, stalking her like a predator.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I found you in pieces,” he grumbled, crotch pressed right up to her behind with his nose nuzzled into her hair.

She scoffed, elbowing him in the ribcage before proceeding to pack her clothes. He simply chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest once again.

“If that’s how you plan on taking anyone down that isn’t me, consider yourself dead.”

She looked back at him, eyebrows furrowing as she forced herself out of Steve’s grip.

“That’s what this about it, isn’t it? You don’t think I’m strong enough to actually anyone down.”

“No-”

“That’s exactly why you don’t want me to go!”

“We don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Bucky interjected, looking back and forth between his two lovers.

“I don’t need either of you to watch over me like a fucking child and that’s the last time I’m reminding you,” she spoke quickly and quietly, packing the remainder of her clothing into her suitcase before zipping it up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

“The mission isn’t until tom-”

“I didn’t ask you,” she sung, making her way up to Nat’s floor.

“And then Steve goes ‘if that’s how you plan on taking anyone down that isn’t me, consider yourself dead,’” she quoted Steve, deepening her voice to her best ability to mock the captain. “And then Bucky has the audacity to deny it, like, dude, I know that you’re undermining my skills!”

Natasha was dying of laughter as Y/N recited the quarrel she had found herself in with Steve and Bucky. She eased up, face red and cheeks aching as she held onto her stomach.

“Oh, jeez,” she muttered, shaking her head as she felt the laughter dying down. “I mean...it’s unbelievable. I can’t believe they still do that even after being with you for over two years. Hell, what do I know? I’ve been on and off with Clint for plenty of years and I have to yell at him for being so protective over me.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her own relationship, reflecting on the many times that she’s actually scolded Clint for babying her. He may act like a hardass around the crew, but he was far from that - he was a huge softy for Natasha.

“Thanks for letting me stay up here with you, though. I probably would’ve ended up killing them if I spent another second in there,” Y/N giggled, placing her suitcase in a corner that wouldn’t disrupt anything of Nat’s.

“Anytime,” she started, offering a lopsided smile. “Besides, we haven’t had girl time alone in forever.”

Girl time suddenly became girl time including Bucky. He was there for all of the movie-watching, doing facemasks with them, painting their nails. As much as the two girls loved Bucky with all of their hearts, they couldn’t just let loose. Natasha had to bite her tongue down to refrain from gossiping so many times just because Bucky was there.

If he heard half of the things that they spoke about, not even the latest gossip, he would more than likely be traumatized. So kicking back with Natasha, they whipped out nail kits and face masks, Nat’s huge collection of snacks, and they picked The Notebook, getting ready to spill all of the tea and unleash their younger selves for the first time in months.

Not even one full night into staying with Natasha that they were brought out of their zone, a sturdy, rhythmic knock on the door, bringing Nat to her feet.

“Don’t die,” Y/N called after her, throwing her arm over the armrest, eyes pasted to the screen.

“Natasha, I’m not stupid. I can literally smell her, she’s sitting in the living room.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, the sound of Bucky’s voice causing her to stand up from her seat and go over to the door.

“What do you want, Buck?”

“You. Come back to the room please, we’re sorry.”

“I don’t see Steve anywhere, so, you’re sorry. Bucky, go to bed, it’s late. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Nat watched as Y/N closed the door on him, his entire demeanor slumped.

“Don’t sleep in front of the door either.”

She wasn’t going to lie, she felt guilty dismissing Bucky, but she wasn’t giving in to either of them that fast.

Her night spent with Nat had flown by within the blink of an eye, the two girls using the power in their legs to travel up the ramp into the Quinjet. Y/N took a seat next to Nat, smiling at Sam who sat directly across from her.

“Not sitting with your lovestruck puppies?” Sam snickered, looking to his right to see them coming up the ramp. “Speaking of the devils.”

She chuckled as she shook her head. Her eyes followed Sam’s, the red rimming of Bucky’s eye bags notable. He didn’t sleep…just because she wasn’t there.

“You’re staring,” Nat muttered, gently kicking the back of Y/N’s heel with the tip of her boot.

Y/N smiled up at Bruce, who took the free seat to her left. She didn’t miss the deadly glare from Steve, shaking it off as she began to buckle herself in. The flight was quick as per usual, landing in Paris, France, in only a couple of hours. Nat couldn’t wait another second on the jet before taking off, running to the facility at which they were staying at.

“Holy shit, that’s ours?” Y/N asked, jaw hung open from pure amazement as they stood in front of the primarily glass-made building.

There were many floors to it, way more than their home base in New York. She gratefully pounced on Tony as he handed her the key to her own floor.

“Enjoy cause you won’t have it when we go back to New York,” he awkwardly pat her back, her arms becoming loose around his neck as she forgot who she was hugging for a moment.

She was so excited. Not only did she have her own privacy, but she was able to stay away from Bucky and Steve. As much as she wanted to see them, she wouldn’t break easily since she wasn’t sharing a floor with them.

Hours passed, dusk was finally closing in on them, signaling them to get ready for their mission. This was her first mission in months so it was nerve-wracking, putting the bullet-proof vest right below her button-up and slipping her feet into a pair of high heels, a garter with a knife strapped right around her thigh, nearly invisible underneath her skirt. The sound of heels clacking on the floor drew her attention from the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room.

“Are we going to a fucking seminar or a nightclub? Don’t get me wrong, you look hot, but you look like you’re ready to give a two-hour lecture.”

Y/N gasped, feigning pain as she placed her hand over her chest.

“What, it’s formal-“

“We’re going to a nightclub, not a class. You need to fit in, and I have just the thing.”

“Nat-“

“No, don’t ‘Nat’ me,” Natasha lampooned, spinning on her heels before leaving Y/N’s floor, hurrying down to her own.

She came back in less than five minutes, bunched up white fabric draped over her forearm.

“You, my friend, are going to look stunning in this. It’ll also catch the attention of your soldiers,” she added with a wink.

She in fact did look stunning in that dress. A white maxi dress with a large slit coming up to the front side of her right hip, straps keeping the dress up just off her shoulders.

“Nat, one blow of breeze and my entire vagina is exposed to French people at a nightclub.”

“Good.”

Y/N left on her strappy black heels, the straps wrapping all the way up to the skin just around the middle of her calves. They were at the club in no time, sweaty bodies, the stickiness of spilled drinks, and booming music filling the environment. The dress in fact was an eye-catcher, everyone whipping their heads around to look at Y/N. She looked like a goddess and anyone would be willing to fall at her feet, especially Bucky and Steve.

“Anyone got eyes on the target yet?”

She was dragged out of her thoughts by Stark’s voice muffled through the earpiece stuffed into her ear.

“Negative,” everyone mumbled.

Their eyes danced around the crowds, looking for none other than Georges Batroc. The clock was ticking and no sight of the man. As they waited out any chance to find him, they sipped on drinks, danced with many strangers as well as each other. Y/N’s eyes were as sharp as daggers, dodging each person until she was looking directly at the blue-eyed monster.

“Bingo,” she muttered.

She scrambled for her earpiece, holding down on the black piece that was discreetly clipped to the strap of her dress.

“I have eyes on the target. I’m moving in.”

“Be careful.”

It was Bucky. She smiled at the sound of his voice, tucking the black piece right under the fabric of her dress strap. She walked over to him confidently, chest puffed out to expose a little more cleavage as her legs stealthily moved over to the man leaning against the bar. That sick son of a bitch.

“Bonsoir, monsieur,” she greeted with a pleasant smile.

[Good evening, sir.]

“Bonsoir, colombe.”

[Good evening, dove.]

She pretended to grow flustered at the nickname, looking down at her feet. She swirled the drink in her hand before taking a tiny sip, leaning against the bar right next to Georges.

“Parlez vous anglais?”

[Do you speak English?]

“Pas beaucoup.”

[A little.]

“Ah. Je t'ai vu là-bas et ça m'intéressait...un homme élégant, tout seul. Je devais venir.”

[I saw you over there and I was interested...a smart-looking man standing all alone. I had to come over.]

“Tu es trop précieuse, colombe. Now, what do you really need? J'ai vu vos petits amis s'occuper de moi aussi.”

[You’re too precious, dove. I saw your little friends looking out for me too.]

“Vraiment un homme intelligent, non?” she paused, her eyes locking with Steve’s. “Ils pourraient facilement vous déchirer directement du trou du cul et vous laisser crier à l'aide, mais ce sont de bonnes personnes. Nous ne cherchons que des fils de putes comme vous. Alors donnez-nous ce dont nous avons besoin ou nous le ferons à la dure.”

[Indeed a smart man, aye? They could easily rip you apart right from the asshole and leave you crying out for help but they're good people. We only go after sons of bitches like you. So give us what we need or we'll do this the hard way.]

“C'est ce que tu veux?”

[This what you want?]

“You know damn well that that’s what I want,” she said through a fake chuckle as he held a silver key right above her head.

“Demandez-le gentiment.”

[Ask for it nicely.]

She scoffed, “Qu'es-tu? Mon père?”

[What are you? My father?]

He chuckled at her snarky remark, his hand remaining above her head.

“Ask for it.”

“Je suis un agent. Pas un super-héros. Ça ne me pas d'avoir un peu de sang sur mes mains, chérie.”

[I'm an agent. Not a superhero. I don't mind getting a little blood on my hands, honey.]

“Pas si je mets ton sang sur mes mains en premier.”

[Not if I get your blood on my hands first.]

“Bien essayé.”

[Nice try.]

Those were the last words she said to him before exposing her thigh, pulling the knife from under her garter, and sending it straight through the skin hovering over his jugular vein. She watched as the blood seeped out of his neck, creating a deep wound in his neck as she dragged her knife down, almost as if she were cutting through a piece of meat, which she technically was. She gave him a knee to the sack before snatching the keys from in between his fingertips.

“Fais de beaux rêves, homme intelligent.”

[Sweet dreams, smart man.]

She winked as his figure slowly dropped to the ground, his hands tight around his throat to succumb to the bleeding. She looked around, seeing bodyguards, most likely his, making their way over to him. She fled into the crowd, a pair of hands falling onto her hips before spinning her around.

“That was so fucking hot,” Steve whispered, ferociously kissing her as if he would never get to do so again.

Her bloodied hand left a trace over Steve’s chest, clad in a tight white button-up. Her hands felt up on his skin, slipping the keys into his back pocket as their tongues continued to dance around each other.

“Y/N? Y/N? Why are you breathing so heavy? Oh my god, is she dead?”

She pulled away from Steve, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

“No, Stark. I’m not dead. I got the key to the chamber and I killed the bitch.”

“You killed him!?”

She walked hand in hand with Steve, his muscular figure trailing behind her. She was attacked with hugs almost immediately, Nat rambling about how good Y/N did.

“And she speaks French!? Why did I not know this!?” Sam asked, agreeing with Nat as to how amazing Y/N performed.

Y/N was overjoyed. Back on her first mission and she did it, leaving unscathed. She looked around, Bucky leaning against a booth with one arm in his pocket and the other holding a drink, most likely his metal arm as a sliver of it peeked from under his leather jacket. She let go of Steve’s hand for a moment, shimmying past anyone in her way over to the super soldier.

Her hands rested on either side of his neck as his fell to her behind. He tasted like fresh whiskey, his tongue rolling into her mouth, their lips creating a sloppy mess. Their teeth clashed as Y/N’s arms engulfed Bucky’s head, fingers getting lost in his near-shoulder length hair as he hoisted one leg above his hip. Flipping them around so she was being pressed up against the wooden divider of the booth, his thumb circled her hip, completely exposing her right leg as it snuck past the large slit.

“Fuck, hearing you speak French does some shit to me.”

“Ramène-moi dans ta chambre et baise-moi stupide.”

[Take me back to your room and fuck me stupid.]

“Gladly, dove.”

The voice in both her and Bucky’s ears caused them to look back, Steve nodding his head in the direction of the door.

Taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky imagine #stucky imagines #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers

535 notes · View notes

letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds #x teen!reader #reader insert

703 notes · View notes

jinx-jade · 3 years

Text

When A mother's & A father's world's collide Chapter 1: Dick meets Marinette

Dick couldn’t help but wonder how he got here as a fist made contact with his jaw. The punch confuses him enough for the goon to get the upper hand, slamming the young Robin into the cement. He truly thought this was the end, his only hope being Batman noticing he was missing from his bedroom. The chance of that being slim since Bruce’s girlfriend Talia was staying at the manor.

Robin closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow, only for it to never come.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, hoping that Batman had come to his rescue. Hoping that his mentor had cared enough to check on him after the fight they had.

To his surprise, it wasn’t his mentor that stopped the final blow, it wasn’t even a vigilante or hero that he knew of.

It was a woman dressed in almost all black.

Her combat boots, tights, skirt, and leather jacket were all shades of black, while her shirt was red, the only colored bit of her outfit.

“Hey, kid, are you doing ok?” The woman asked, crouching down next to him.

Dick wasn’t able to give a response before blacking out. He wasn’t sure why, but his nerves seemed to have calmed in the woman’s presence, eliminating his adrenaline and fight or flight response.

When he came back to consciousness, he was still wearing his mask, but his uniform was changed out for a pair of sweatpants.

His chest, arms, knuckles, and face were covered in bandaging, and he seemed to be in some type of medical area.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” the woman claimed as she walked in.

“Where am I?” Dick asks, confused.

“Secret temple, somewhere in Tibet.” the woman answered with a shrug.

“What?” Dick stared at her blankly.

“Don’t worry about it kid. All you need to know is that my name is Marinette, and this is my home. Oh! And you have a few bruised knuckles and ribs, nothing was broken though, but you should still be careful.” Marinette claimed.

“Why are you helping me?” Robin questioned. It was strange for anyone in Gotham to help out like that unless they were a hero or a vigilante.

Marinette simply gave him a shrug before gesturing for him to follow her. Having nothing else to do but sit in bed alone, or follow the random person who was helping him, Robin chose to follow Marinette.

They ended up in what seemed like a kitchen, but a few things seemed too out of place for it to be a normal kitchen.

“Do you have any food allergies or preferences on what you want for breakfast?” Marinette asked while gesturing to a stool at what was probably the kitchen island.

“Uhh… No food allergies… Can I have pancakes?” The masked child asked in a hopeful tone as he took a seat on the stool.

“Sure! What kind do you want? I can make chocolate chips, blueberries, cinnamon sugar, strawberries, bananas, or plain vanilla.” Marinette questions as she began taking out the base ingredients for pancakes.

“Can I have Chocolate chip with lots of toppings?” He answered unsurely, causing Marinette to smile softly at him.

“Of course!” Marinette says before grabbing a pen and paper to hand the young robin. “Here. I’m sure your guardian will be worried about you, but I’m not comfortable with letting you leave while still injured if you’re just gonna go back to fighting recklessly.”

Dick took the paper, unsure what to write.

Should he tell Bruce that he was injured and a stranger had come to his rescue and also seemed to be taking care of him till he was healed?

No.

Bruce would only care that he disobeyed the grounded order.

Did his mentor even know he was gone?

Would Bruce care that he was gone or missing?

He probably wouldn’t notice till it was pointed out to him.

Alfred might notice.

Who was he kidding it was Alfred of course he would notice.

Would staying here to heal cause problems for Alfred?

How does someone explain that they didn’t run away from home but were simply beat up badly?

Does he make it seem like he ran away?

What should…

Dick’s train of thought was interrupted when a hand softly landed on his shoulder. Not enough weight to feel trapped, but just enough weight for the young vigilante to ground himself.

“Hey,” Marinette spoke softly, her bright blue eyes having the same calming effect they had before he had passed out after the fight that had brought him here.

“There we go, just focus on my voice, sweetheart. Take a breath in.” She instructed him while moving her hand from his shoulder to his hair, lightly combing her hand through it.

“One two three four. Out, two three four. In, two three four. Out two three four.” Marinette spoke softly, at a calming pace.

“You’re doing such a great job,” Marinette says with an encouraging smile.

“I… Sorry… I didn’t… I…” Dick tried to explain his thought process but couldn’t find the words.

“Shhh. It’s ok. You have no reason to apologize. Do you want help writing the note for your guardian?” Marinette questioned.

Dick didn’t answer for a while, unsure what to say.

“You know, when I was little, I used to have the hardest time doing things for myself. I even created a happy-go-lucky persona that I would use whenever someone was around because it made them more comfortable. This persona helped to comfort others even when I felt like breaking. The people who understand this, and know the real you will have no problems with you taking a mental health day or week.” Marinette said as she moved away to continue making breakfast.

Dick took a deep breath, before beginning to write.

_____

Hi B.

Not sure when you will find this note, but leaving a note makes it so you don’t need to worry. Look I need time to breathe. I’m sure you think that your way of thinking is universal or something, but it’s not. It doesn’t even come close to how I process stuff. So I decided I’m gonna take a few days or weeks for myself to calm down. Please don’t look for me. I plan on returning to the manor but I just need space right now.

Dick Grayson

_____

During Dick’s stay with Marinette, he felt like a spoiled brat. Marinette seemed to always know what to do or say to make him comfortable. She even did gymnastics with him when she deemed his injuries healed enough to do such a physical activity.

When it came time for Dick to go home, he felt bad for not wanting to leave. This random, secret, temple, somewhere in Tibet, felt like more of a home than Wayne manor did sometimes.

Marinette wasn’t too happy about his leaving either, but gave him a necklace with a bluebird sitting on a branch. She claimed that all he had to do was ask the bluebird to bring him home. Wherever he deemed home to be, in other words, the necklace would serve as his way back and forth from the manor to the temple.

While this didn’t seem possible, Dick had already suspected Marinette of being magic, so this was just confirmation to him.

Dick gave Marinette a tight hug.

“Hey, this is only a see you later, not goodbye,” Marinette informed him with a smile.

“I know…” Dick said with a pout.

Marinette smiled at him before making the, go on, gesture.

“Oh! My name is Richard Grayson, by the way.” Dick said before disappearing after the bluebird.

Marinette only chuckled to herself at the boy’s seemingly random idea to tell her his real name.

Upon Dick’s return to the manor, to his surprise, he was greeted with a hug from Bruce and no Talia Al Ghul insight.

Dick froze at the unusual contact from his mentor.

“Uh… Hi?” Dick said quietly, a little confused. He looked to Alfred for help on what to do.

“You were gone for quite a long time, Master Richard. I do believe Master Bruce was worried when he noticed your suit was missing and none of your trackers were working.” Alfred informs him before walking off to presumably make breakfast.

“I… left a note?” Dick tells Bruce, still a bit confused.

Bruce released Dick from the hug with a sigh, unsure what to do next.

“Do you want to spar while we wait for breakfast?” Bruce asked.

“Sure!” Dick lit up with a smile. It’s been a while since he was able to spar with anyone.

#maribat #maribat march 2021 #mominette #when a mother's & a father's world's collide

405 notes · View notes

prof-peach · 3 years

Note

My little kirlia loves to have tea in a garden, so I've been thinking of planting some flowers around a little table outside, I'm not very good at it myself though, and do tend to be forgetful. Any recommendations on easy to care, yet pretty flowers? Do any flowers/plants have special effects on Pokemon that I should be concern/excited about?

ok, so we had a little chat about the weather you get, and I now know you have cold-ish climates, but a good bit of sun, so this is what I can suggest for you and your dear partner, to get the most out of your garden without too much work. SO, first things first, Grasses. They come in so many shapes and forms, all different colours, heights and can often tough out even the most bitter winter. The only real work I find you have to do with ornamental grasses is at the very end of winter, cut them back to the ground, and they’ll grow back nice and lush come spring when the sun starts to shine. People cut these grasses down quickly because they see them as scruffy, but I encourage you to avoid this, as the grass itself is so important to small bug types, and feeding bird pokemon who need nesting material, grubs to eat, and generally cover from predators. plus bonus, less work for you.

Grasses can create a privacy screen too, so if you're overlooked by neighbours, or your garden is very open and gets a lot of harsh wind, then plating tall tough grasses will not only give you incredible textures, but also some well deserved cover from prying eyes or bitter winds. They also help smaller less tough plants shelter, and can help keep the other things you plant in the space safer. They naturally clump and spread, and you really don’t have to do much other than sit back and watch their beautiful seed heads blow in the wind, creating movement, sound, and giving a great depth of texture to any garden. Plus who doesn't like to see sweet little pidgey feeding on seeds?

Pampas Grass: Super tall, beautiful foliage, real winners, Extra tough plants. ^

Zebra Grass, tall, dense, beautiful stripes, easy and tough ^

for a more Tropical vibe, perhaps try some bamboo ^

some folks are nervous about it because its fast growing and harder to control, you can stop its spread by planting in containers, OR putting bamboo into the ground, but line where you want it to grow with pond liner, a thick durable plastic, that the plant will struggle to grow through. If you plant a few in a lined trench, they'll fill that space in no time, giving you a thick wall of tough evergreen grass, that literally can be left all year round. makes for pretty foliage in cut flower mixes too.

Ok thats the backdrop laid out for you, now the fun stuff and colour! So heres some of my favs, which i know come in a range of variants.

^ Hardy Hibiscus, a shrub, known for their reds, whites, pinks and purples, and yellows, with lovely foliage and a mass of flowers big enough for the combee, cutifly and even butterfree to frequent. they arent overly sweet smelling but very pretty and need little care once established. You can even plant them in pots and they’d be pretty happy if you just feed them.

Hydrangea ^, known for pinks and purples, blues, and whites, their flowers (when not fed specific colouration feed) will change based on how acidic or alkali your soil is. If you want the flowers to not change colour, then get a white one (which is far prettier in my opinion haha). The white ones don’t change colour and will stay no matter your soil type. You can get special feed for them to keep them a certain colour, but its a bit of a faff and not for everyone. these plants can be delicate (see Hydrangea ‘limelight’, or ‘bluebird’) or bold and big (Hydrangea ‘big daddy’ or ‘annabelle’). Should you have a wall and some cash to splash, you can even get a climbing Hydrangea, which is quite stunning.

^ Lilac. Tough, easy to care for, and SO sweet smelling you’d think you’d died and gone to heaven. They come in whites, pinks and purples mostly, and have a robust nature you’d not expect from such a sweet smelling thing. I cannot stress how good and tough these plants are, and once established they can get incredibly aged and majestic.

These shrubs can be controlled to be small, or left to turn to large shrubs, depending on the space you're working with. I would advise putting in your larger plants first, then slowly adding smaller bits, as the big stuff creates the frame for your garden, its like putting bones in first, to support and hold together the spaces form.

after this, its all down to small floral bits. you mentioned tropical vibes up top, so i’d say go for some greens in there too, ferns and large leaved hostas are pretty cold tolerant (hostas can also flower which is lovely), and give a real feel for depthy jungle and texture, and the more green you get, the more the flowers pop against it.

for ground cover and softer smaller plants, think hardy Geraniums, maybe some hardy shrub Fuchias, a personal fav for its fearless defiance to the cold is Erysimum, and then you have age old winners like Aquilegia, Yarrow, and Scabiosa. Do a google, check out the options and hopefully head to your local nursery to pick a few bits up. i’d suggest planting up when the ground doesn't get frost in the morning, to give your new plants the best chance. water whatever you plant into the ground thoroughly once, and only do so again should you get a particularly hot summer day.

All the plants i’ve mentioned are tough as old boots if you make sure they're ‘Hardy’ thats the word to look on labels with anything you plan to put in. There aren't any plants that I know of that affect the Ralts line thoroughly AND fit the vibe you were gong for that we discussed, but i do know they're easily calmed by scented plants, so go to a local centre, or even public gardens and take some time to smell the flowers. If they plant it in your local park, and your pokemon enjoys it, chances are it can survive your weather and rough soil type. I find the Ralts line is very in tune with their trainers, and so if you enjoy the garden, if you like the sound of the grass in the wind, or the smell of the flowers, or buzz of combee floating by, then they'll join in and be content.

You mentioned your Kirlia likes tea? grab some mint and pop that in a pot for her, don’t put it in the ground, it goes wild and rampant. Also Chamomile is a rather hardy plant to have, and she may enjoy to learn the process of caring for and using that delicious little herby plant. It has sweet daisy flowers and does well in sunny spots or pots, and smells divine, some people even use it as an alternative for a lawn.

Pleeeeeease let me know how it goes, and if any of these names or phrases seem daunting, I am here to help, and can promise you i’ve given pretty easy starting points, and ALL of these plants can handle being in containers or in the dirt, in exposed positions, and none need rigorous feeding or care, other than the odd water, and the dead flowers trimmed off. If you get stuck message in, Gardening is kind of my vibe, and i’d hate to think you’d get a little overwhelmed. Plants move so slowly, you get a lot of time to fix issues and mistake (i know i make a lot of them haha) and they're also very forgiving, so don’t feel like you have to know a lot to get started, its a hobby that gets us outdoors, and brings great joy when the things we care for flower and give results, and we can learn from our decisions if they should fail and die.

GOOD LUCK!

#i went OFF #pokemon #gardening #prof.peach #peach talks

389 notes · View notes

hood-ex · 3 years

Text

This is a fic written for @stxleslyds! The prompt was: a fic with Dick, Roy and Lian spending time together in the Outsiders era. Thanks for the donation, Tati 💙.

Important: This fic takes place a week after the events of Outsiders (2003) #19.

“We could use you here,” Roy says. Even with his voice coming directly through the comm, Dick almost doesn’t hear him say, “I need you here.”

A soft wind blows through Blüdhaven, ruffling through Dick’s sweat-matted hair. What a filthy night it is for a Friday. Thunder rumbling in the distance with hot, humid air filling Dick’s lungs. It’s the kind of air that isn’t natural for a place like the ‘Haven. It’s here for whatever reason, and it’s no better now that the sun has been replaced by pink and purple neon lights flashing across the strip. It’s nights like these that Dick can admit to missing his red tunic and green shorts. It was shit to wear them in the winter but an absolute godsend in the summer.

Dick sighs deeply, moving away from the ledge of the building and away from his view of the herds of drunk people whose laughter echoes between the bars and casinos. There’s a tall HVAC unit in the middle of the building that he walks over to and sits against. The fabric of his suit rubs against it, and he squirms a little at the uncomfortable position. He bears it because this is a conversation that requires a little support.

“Dick.”

“I know,” Dick mutters.

He should be under the streets of Brooklyn the same as all the other Outsiders should be. Considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise that some of them have deserted the ship for the time being. Licking their wounds in private so to speak. Dick’s not proud of it. He tacks it onto his mental bulletin board of shame where it sits up there all torn and ugly like the rest of his deplorable moments.

“I’d feel better if you were here to watch Lian when I step out of the room,” Roy says in Japanese. Dick’s brow furrows. Either Lian is in the same room as Roy and he doesn’t want her to know they’re talking about her or there’s an Outsider nearby that he doesn’t want listening in on his personal issues. “She hasn’t started therapy yet and her separation anxiety is still high.”

“High for both of you,” Dick points out. He thinks back to a few days ago when Roy had called him in a panic because he’d left all of his groceries in the middle of the store after his paranoia got the best of him and had him running back to the base to check on Lian.

“Tell me about it,” Roy laughs dryly. “I feel like I’m going fuckin’ nuts, dude.” The strain in his voice sends a full body shiver down Dick’s spine. “All I can think about is whether she’s okay and if the base is protected enough, and if I can really trust everyone here. You and Kory are the only ones I feel okay leaving her with.”

You shouldn’t trust me like that, Dick thinks bitterly. Lilith and Donna trusted me with their lives and look where they are now.

“Everyone else is… I trust them as teammates. I trust them with my life. But I can’t—"

“Trust them with Lian’s,” Dick says, knowing how much this whole situation has fucked with Roy's ability to trust anyone and everyone. Except him and Kory, apparently. Probably Ollie and the rest of Roy's family too.

He thunks his head against the HVAC unit and stares up at the dark sky. Not a single star up there, he thinks, and something like guilt burns in his chest. You took them all with you, didn’t you, Donna? Put them in your pockets and faded away. “She might not be comfortable with me there,” he says after a moment.

It pains him to think that Lian could be scared of him. Scared of him because he looks similar to one of the blue-eyed, dark-haired kidnappers who murdered her babysitter and then branded her like cattle. That type of trauma association doesn’t go away after a week.

“Kory told Lian you might stop by, and you know what Lian asked her?”

Terrible things flash through Dick’s head. Things like words born of fear or disgust. He hugs his arms around his knees and squeezes them tight.

“No, what did she say?”

“She asked, ‘Is Uncle Nightwing gonna bring Blue’s Clues with him?’”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips and his eyes start to sting. He can’t believe that’s the first thing she thought of. It only seems like yesterday that he was watching Blue’s Clues with her in Titans Tower. Sometimes he would pause the show and ask Lian questions about each of the clues just to hear what kind of outlandish answers her kid brain could come up with. Other times the detective in him couldn’t help but steer her towards a logical answer. Roy used to always roll his eyes and tell him to stop trying to turn her into a mini Nightwing.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be okay seeing me in person and you know it,” Dick reminds him.

Roy’s sigh is soft and muffled in his ear. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dick’s not one to wait around.

“Let’s cross it now.”

“You’re coming over?” Roy asks, and even though he mostly sounds neutral, Dick can hear the disbelief hidden under it all.

If there was an award for the world's most shitty friend, Dick would probably be in the lead to receive it. Here Roy is dealing with the fact that his daughter was abducted and almost trafficked, and what’s Dick been doing for the last few days instead of sticking by his side? Working himself to the bone in Blüdhaven, that’s what. Hiding away from the fact that he almost lost another important person to him. Trying to avoid the crushing weight of failure that clings to him like a second skin.

Pathetic. Some safety net he is.

“Yeah, give me an hour,” Dick says.

The commute from Blüdhaven to Brooklyn isn’t bad at this time of night. Most of the traffic is packed downtown where all the bars are lined up. Dick takes the highway to avoid the worst of it.

The roar of the city dies off once he goes underground. Down here the HQ looms over him in all its steel glory. Dick’s always thought of it like one giant elevator. It’s all hard angles and sleek, silver walls. Hardly a place one would describe as homey, but it was home to a few people nevertheless.

Dick goes inside after getting his eye and hand scanned by the computer. He heads down the hallway, keeping his footsteps light and quiet out of habit. So far there’s no sign of Jade, Indigo, or Rex in any of the rooms he passes. They’re the most likely to be here around this time. From what Kory told him the other day, Grace has been spending most of her time clubbing, and Anissa has been staying with her dad. He hates to admit it but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about running into either of them.

He ends up finding Roy and Lian in the rec room. Lian is sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She must have had a shower not too long ago because her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing a pair of purple pajamas with unicorns on them. A Cinderella blanket is strewn across her lap and a stuffed rabbit sits discarded on the floor by her feet.

Roy looks small squatting in front of her. His pants are the only sign of his Arsenal gear, and it makes Dick feel slightly out of place since he’s still decked out in full mask and suit. It’s the first time Dick’s seen Roy in person since they brought down Tanner’s operations a week ago. He looks how Dick would expect any parent to look after being targeted by a major sex trafficker: stressed and exhausted.

Those tired eyes of his shift to the doorway where Dick stands, and Dick can see the way Roy looks him over from head to toe, assessing Dick’s condition. He can look as hard as he wants, but he won’t find anything. Dick keeps his face blank and unreadable.

“It still hurts,” Lian whimpers, and both Dick and Roy's attention immediately snaps back to her.

She wraps her arms around her stomach and bends over her lap like she’s going to throw up all over the floor. Roy doesn’t move to try and avoid any possible bouts of vomit. Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. No retching or anything. There’s only the sound of Roy’s hand rubbing up and down Lian’s arm.

“Me and your Uncle Nightwing are gonna get you feeling better soon,” Roy assures her in a gentle voice. “And guess what?”

Lian makes a questioning sound in the back of her throat.

The look Roy shoots Dick is somewhere between caution and amusement. “He’s been playing quiet mouse behind you this whole time.”

Dick braces himself as Lian shoots back up like a rocket. “He’s behind me?” she asks, twisting around in her seat. Dick’s heart starts jackrabbiting because what if she’s scared of him? What if he accidentally triggers her PTSD? What if— “Uncle Nightwing!” Lian shrieks.

Relief shudders through him because she sounds happy to see him. Not scared or angry or disgusted like he feared. She’s looking at him like he just told her he brought her a bag of candy, and that revelation is enough to make him take a breath and finally enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick says, hurrying over to the couch so that she doesn’t have to get up. “I missed you.”

Lian reaches for his hand and holds on to it. It’s not like the hug Dick usually gets from her and maybe that’s because she doesn’t want anyone touching her back after the incident. Dick will take anything he can get. His much larger hand closes over her own and he swings them back and forth lightly.

“Me too,” Lian says. She squeezes his hand three times. “Why do you still have your gloves on?”

“My hands are cold,” Dick lies. “Why were you bent over like an accordion just a minute ago?”

“Her tummy’s been hurting,” Roy says with a frown.

“It’s because tigers used to try and eat people,” Lian tells him matter-of-factly. Roy looks like he’s about to correct her but she quickly hurries on. “My brain says there’s danger and it makes my tummy stop working.”

A lightbulb goes off in Dick’s head as he realizes that she’s describing anxiety. A simplified explanation of how the digestive system shuts down and sends blood to other parts of the body when there’s danger.

“My tummy does that too,” Dick says after a pause. “I get a lot of anxiety sometimes. Do you want me to show you how I try to make it go away?”

Lian scrunches her nose. “Do we have to take medicine?”

“Nope. All we need to do is sit up straight and breathe. Breathing really deep helps our brains calm down and makes our tummies feel more relaxed,” Dick explains. He sinks down on the plush couch and demonstrates how she should be sitting. “Now move back until you’re sitting like me.”

Lian does as she’s told and scoots back until she’s resting against the back of the couch. Dick only remembers how short she is when he notices how her feet stick out straight in front of her instead of dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Now tell your daddy to get in position.”

“Daddy,” Lian slaps the free cushion beside her, “sit next to me.”

“Magic word?” Roy prompts.

“Please,” Lian pouts.

“That’s better.” Roy’s knees pop when he shifts out of his crouched position. The whole couch rocks when he falls back against it. “What’s the strat here, Wing? We need to close our eyes or what?”

Dick wants to ask him why he’s acting like he’s never done this before but the playful words stick in his mouth like glue.

“We’ll close our eyes in a second. Lian, I want you to watch how your daddy and I take really deep breaths, okay? Then we’re all going to do it together.”

“I can take really big breaths!” Lian insists. She scrambles out of her pose and gets on her knees. Her little fingers wrap around Dick’s bicep as she leans in close to him. “I can take one million breaths as big as an elephant!”

The tired and apathetic part of him tells him to ignore her kid logic and to get back on track. The uncle part of him is another story. It wants him to be fun and helpful. To distract Lian from the worries and fears she has.

In the end, he does what he always does best: puts on a performance.

“Oh yeah?” Dick challenges with a grin that hopefully doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I can take five billion breaths as big as a planet.”

“Elephants are bigger than planets,” she says.

“I think maybe the elephants are only bigger in your dreams.”

“Yeah, they are,” Lian agrees because she’s a typical kid who will support anything that proves she’s right in some capacity.

Roy looks amused when he puts his hands on Lian’s shoulders and steers her to sit back on her bottom. “Alright little missy, no more talking. We’re gonna do what Uncle Nightwing says now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lian agrees, looking over at Dick expectantly.

Coaching Lian through the exercise is easy. The most important part is making sure she’s taking breaths that are deep enough to make her stomach expand like a balloon. Dick has her place her hands on top of her stomach so he can see them rise when she inhales.

Roy follows along and Dick can tell that he’s taking advantage of the exercises for his own benefit. His face looks peaceful and relaxed as he follows along with Dick’s instructions to suck in a breath on the count of one and exhale up until the count of ten.

“Keep focusing on counting,” Dick tells them while they exhale. “We don’t want any other thoughts in our heads. No bad thoughts or funny thoughts. Only think about counting to ten.”

They run through a few more cycles. Dick’s pleased when he hears both Lian and Roy’s stomachs grumbling as they exhale. It’s a good sign that the deep breaths are massaging their organs and decreasing any kind of stomach pain.

“That’s it,” Dick says. “We’re all done.” He opens his eyes and sees Lian slumped against the back of the couch. Her hands are still resting on her stomach, but she looks languid instead of tense like she was when he first saw her.

“I’m tired now,” Roy says. His movements are slow as molasses when he slides forward to the edge of the couch and bends over to rest his arms on his thighs. He looks at Lian. “How about you, princess? You feeling any better?”

“Mhmm. My tummy doesn’t feel really uh…”

“Tight?” Dick offers.

“Yeah, it’s not so tight anymore.”

Roy pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. Mine feels a little better too.”

“Can we do Uncle Nightwing’s breathing thing again tomorrow?” she asks through a yawn.

“Sure thing,” Roy nods. His attention shifts to Dick. “Are you gonna still be here to lead us through it?”

This isn’t some kind of test but it feels like one. It feels like if he says no then he’s only proving that he’s a bad friend. That he can’t be relied on. He doesn’t want to give Roy that impression because it’s not true. Roy can rely on him the same way Dick relies on Roy. He hopes showing up here tonight is proof of that.

“That’s the plan,” he says, voice soft.

Roy leans over the couch and squeezes Dick’s knee gently. “You sure?” he asks, and his eyes roam over Dick’s face like he’s trying to find evidence that Dick is lying.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He pats Roy’s hand reassuringly in the same way Alfred's done for him and Bruce a hundred times. It's only now that he realizes it's a habit he's picked up.

Lian suddenly leans into Dick’s side and presses her weight against his arm. She pats both his and Roy’s hands.

“I’m sure too,” she says, and this time Dick can’t help but smile.

#Dick Grayson #Roy Harper #Lian Harper #tw: mentions of sex trafficking #tw: mentions of past kidnapping and child abuse #my fic #fic commission

89 notes · View notes

mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #enemies to lovers vibes

112 notes · View notes

jeannereames · 3 years

Note

Hi, love your blog and your books, they have been good for my knowledge, they had made clear some points that were cover by the mist of ignorance, I mean, when I was at school my teachers didn't know about Alexander so when we saw him in history class there were a lot of incoherences (sorry for my poor grammar, I'm still learning english).

Hephaestion is an interesting character, we don't know much about him but I have always wonder how he was as a husband, in my research it seems that he wasn't so interest in women like others were. I have wonder if that make him a careless or a typical (in the context of the history) husband? Did he marry because Alexander say so or because he wants to ensure his place? Does he felt pity for the girl or he didn't care about her at all? Was a better husband than Alexander?

And talking about Drypetis, we know about the famous beauty of her mother and of Roxanne. But how do you think that beauty was? Certainly, not like my modern view about attractiveness of a female, so I wonder yours.

Sorry for the long post! 🙃

We know nothing about his interest (or lack of it) in women. He did marry in Susa in 324 because Alexander told him to…along with 90 other officers. That doesn’t mean he was against the idea—may have been one of the few fully in favor of it for the politics.

While fictionally I’ll make hay over his lack of recorded lovers (of either gender), from an academic point of view…it’s meaningless.

This is probably a good time to review “arguments from silence,” and why they’re so tricky.

An ARGUMENT FROM SILENCE suggests a lack of evidence is significant. BUT this only works if one can demonstrate that such evidence ought to be there…and isn’t.

That’s hard to do for the ancient world as “a lack of evidence” describes our cursed lot. My modern historian colleagues are regularly astonished by how little we have, and what we can spin out from that little.

I bring this up is because arguments from silence are too common in pop history, which too often does them badly due to a lack of understanding regarding 1) what evidence IS available, 2) what should be available, and 3) what’s absolutely unsurprising not to find.

Sometimes students will ask me, “But didn’t they write stuff like that down?” (‘That’ varying.) The answer is often, “No.” Or more colorfully, “They didn’t give a shit.” Even in the Roman Empire, they lacked bureaucratic record-keeping as we understand it. In Greece, centuries earlier, a few city-states kept some records, but most didn’t, especially prior to the mid-4thCentury BCE. It’s connected to the “epigraphic habit”: the desire to record information (in public) for posterity, and the idea that record-keeping might be a good general idea often merge.

Even so, WHAT they thought worthy of recording isn’t always what we’d like to know. This, in turn, pertains to how they wrote historical texts: what they chose to report (or not).

So, with that background…

The problem with knowing Hephaistion’s sexual interest (or lack of it) in women is how and why our sources relate such information.

In short: they mostly don’t.

This owes to their LASER focus on Alexander. Even then, what each source tells about him varies. I think we can probably be sure we know all Alexander’s wives, although Barsine’s status is not completely clear (imo). I assume she was at least a palakē, which is a formal mistress: less than a wife, but more than a hetaira. Yet given Macedonian marriage practices, perhaps she was a wife in Macedonian eyes? The Greeks regularly “demoted” Macedonian royal wives to mistresses, so I don’t trust our sources on this score.

Whatever the case, we don’t know all Alexander’s female (or male) sexual liaisons outside his wives because the sources mostly don’t care. When they do care (ala Plutarch and Curtius), it’s for some—often Romanized—moral point. Which is a looong-ass way from anything the Macedonians cared about.

And if we don’t even know his, how can we assume we know his officers’? Hell-to-the-no!

We hear about these women only if they matter to the larger (Alexander-driven) narrative. So we know the name of Philotas’s mistress, Antigonē, because she was hired by Krateros to bring pillow talk back to Alexander. We know Harpalus’s mistresses because he spent oodles of treasury funds on them, and got in trouble for it (twice). We recognize the name Laïs because she later became the long-time mistress (palakē) of Ptolemy I, mother of some of his important offspring in the Successor wars.

Ergo, not knowing the names of Hephaistion’s mistresses—or whether he had any—is not significant. Outside of special circumstance, we wouldn’t expect to.

We DO know the name of his wife from the mass-marriages at Susa in the spring of 324 because she was a princess, sister of Alexander’s wife, and her selection for him had distinct political significance. Yet that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a wife already, back in Macedon. Others of Alexander’s officers did–one reason many promptly divorced their Persian brides after Alexander’s death. I note the possibility largely as it illustrates the level of what we don’t know.

My educated hunch is that Hephaistion’s marriage to Drypetis was his first marriage. And I don’t believe he had any children (even by-blows), or we’d have heard about them as a result of Alexander’s extravagant grief. Yet this is far from saying he had no mistresses—or boyfriends, for that matter.

Regarding Drypetis and his relationship with her…it’s a complete blank. We just don’t know how Hephaistion treated her, what she thought of him, or what he thought of her. They weren’t married long enough. The weddings were in early spring, after ATG got back to Susa following the Gedrosian march/rest in Karmania. He spent a while sorting business in Susa before he went on to Opis (and subsequent unrest/mutiny there). I suspect Hephaistion and Drypetis were married no more than 6-7 months. He died in early/mid-October. She wasn’t pregnant by his death, but given how busy that period was, it could be a function of his duties and lack of time.

As for the beauty of Persian royal/elite women, it seems to have been something remarked upon by more than just Alexander historians. We lack images of Achaemenid Persians, alas, but below is a lapis lazuli bust of among the most famous: Atossa, daughter of Cyrus, wife of Darius, and mother of Xerxes (lived second half of the 6th century BCE). Note the large eyes, high eyebrows (apparently plucked), and small mouth. Given the tendency to idealizing in Ancient Near Eastern art, this suggests what would have been considered high beauty.

Beneath her is a Roman copy of Praxiteles’s original Aphrodite of Knidos—considered the ideal of Greek female beauty in the early-mid 4th century BCE (based on the incomparable Phryne, Praxiteles’s mistress).

Both have an oval face with full cheeks, and we can see Aphrodite’s nicely plump. That meant something! She had enough to eat = wealth. The modern starved-skinny model with long face, strong jaw, and stark cheekbones…that’s attractive now partly owing to what photographs well: prominent features and thinness (because the camera adds pounds). Persians and Greeks preferred rounder features, heart-shaped faces, small bow mouths, soft jaws, and fullness in the body (plump, not overweight). About the only hold-over would be large eyes.

What I haven’t really noted is coloring…other than a preference for pale skin as that signified one had slaves (= rich) and didn’t have to work in the fields outside. Hair color and eye color just wasn’t that big of a deal. Sometimes it comes to the fore: gray-eyed Athena. (Although the word is generic for blue/gray/greenish.) Similar for Apollo and Dionysos, in the Homeric hymns. Dionysos had black hair there (as did Apollo). Both “blond-up” only in the Classical era. And Hera was noted for her extraordinarily beautiful “cow-eyes.” E.g., large and dark-dark brown.

BUT, because I love to support the Gingers of the World…RED-blond hair was considered the most desired in Greece. Aphrodite was a strawberry blonde (at least sometimes), as was Helen…when anybody bothered to note it. And (quite probably) Alexander.

#Hephaistion #Hephaestion #arguments from silence #problems of the sources #Alexander the Great #Drypetis #Alexander the Great's wives #standards of beauty #asks #what the sources tell us #Classics #tagamemnon #ancient macedonia #ancient greece #ancient history #Praxiteles #Aphrodite of Cnidus #Atossa

65 notes · View notes

hey-hamlet · 3 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas : Your blessings are your curses.

Also on AO3

TL;DR:

Dead All Might acts as a guardian angel to this heroic quirkless kid he runs into. Izuku gets put into a dangerous situation and turns out – DNA wasn’t needed to pass OFA. Just intent. Izuku gains the ability to see All Might along with the ability to use his quirk.

Sadly, AFO notices.

Now Izuku is on the run with a ghost for a guardian after AFO’s goons kill his mother.

Your blessings are your curses:

TL;DR: Dead all might, acts as a guardian angel to this quirkless kid he runs into. Izuku gets put into a dangerous situation and turns out – DNA wasn’t needed to pass OFA. Just intent. Izuku gains the ability to see All Might along with the ability to use his quirk.

Sadly, AFO notices.

Now Izuku is on the run with a ghost for a guardian after AFO’s goons kill his mother.

So – In the fight between All for One and All Might six years before canon, All Might loses.

Not horribly. All for One is still left almost dead and retreats into hiding, but All Might falls unconscious never to open his eyes again, later dying of sepsis in the hospital. His eyes may never physically reopen, but he does awaken – translucent and noncorporeal.

For a while he doesn’t know if it’s a latent quirk, or maybe something All for One did as a final blow, but no – it’s One for All. One for All has a mind of its own and refuses to disappear until Yagi has found a successor. Not that Yagi knows that.

His old haunts are too painful to hang around, the whole nation is grieving for him and seeing that pain on his old friend's faces burns something fierce. So he does what he’s always done. He helps.

Midoriya Izuku is nine when his favourite hero dies. He sees how the nation is grieving and his desire to be a hero only burns brighter. The bullying he suffers worsens, hate crimes against the quirkless and those with ‘villainous’ quirks uptick. Japan isn’t a pillar of safety and security anymore – crime rates have risen to match or overtake worldwide averages.

Still, he feels almost, safer? He gets luckier – the book his classmate stole shows up in his bag by the next period, bullies trip more often, and sometimes as he runs from villain attacks or classmates with their quirks popping against the nape of his neck, he feels a broad hand push him forwards, giving him an extra burst of speed.

He decides it must be the All Might charm he bought the day before the news of All Might’s death broke. A small solid plastic charm meant for a phone with a bright yellow bell attached, along with a tag reading “I AM HERE”. He fills the bell with scraps of paper so no one can hear it ring as he holds it tight in his hand when he gets nervous.

Midoriya Izuku is nine when he is almost killed.

With All Might gone, organized crime spikes. Quirk trafficking rings spring up – very rare, but no less real. It’s one of these such rings that kidnaps Izuku on his way home from school. He awakens, sore and blurry-eyed in a warehouse with a half dozen other crying children. One by one they are forced to show off their quirks, to gauge their value.

Izuku has no quirk to show. He has no value to these people. They growl at him to stop playing around, to stop pretending to be a hero (his All Might charm is almost cutting into his hand from how hard he holds it. He needs his luck more than ever please all might save me one more time - ). He can't bring himself to shut his eyes as a flaming hand reaches towards his face.

For a moment it feels like he's being held. He feels safe.

A shockwave levels the warehouse, leaving he and the other children untouched, the villains buried in the rubble. Green sparks sink into his skin, dancing over the rapidly purpling bruises decorating his arm. He runs.

He comes back to himself in a park, sobbing and shaking, arms wrapped around his shaking form and an oddly familiar voice murmuring apologies and praise as a broad hand runs gently through his hair.

It seems One for All never needed DNA, only intent, to pass itself along. With the passing of the quirk, Yagi should have dissipated, but he refused, clinging to the child he’d accidentally burdened with his legacy, the same quirkless child he’d been playing guardian angel for all this time.

When Izuku sees All Might he freezes. It’s not All Might as he knew him, rather – this is the All Might that died. He’s translucent, faded around the edges, with a tattered and bloodstained costume, thick padded bandaging over his stomach hiding stiches staining to close infected wounds, doing little to stop the blood oozing through. Still – All Might’s eyes are bright blue and kind and his smile is as it always was. Izuku throws himself onto his hero and sobs.

All Might – Yagi, as he insisted Izuku call him – led him to the nearest police station, as he tried to explain what had occurred. It wasn’t easy considering Yagi didn’t seem to be sure himself, but Izuku was pretty sure the quirk he’d been accidentally gifted was sentient.

Izuku held his arms up to the sky, stretching his fingers to the pinpricks of light in the night sky. Sparks of glittering gold, green, white, blue and red jumped across his skin, like the static shocks he’d get when he wore his wool socks in bed, but less painful. They almost felt playful.

“What are they called?” Yagi looked at him, confusion clear on his face. One of his spikes of hair drooped, and if Izuku could ignore the dust and blood that ran through it it would almost be funny.

“They? My boy, do you mean the sparks? If so, they don’t have a name.”

Izuku frowned, letting his hand drop. He could feel the sparks gently brushing his injuries, almost soothingly. “No, I mean your quirk. They should have a name, they’re so nice to me.”

Yagi coughed, dark blood spilling from his mouth, never to hit the ground. “One for All. It’s called One for All.”

Izuku’s frown deepened.

“All Might, mama says it’s rude to call someone an it.”

Inko is reunited with her only mildly injured son, now excitedly gushing about a quirk he’d somehow manifested. She privately thanks whatever spirit finally decided to smile upon her son, even if it took so long.

Their happiness doesn’t last long. Days later Izuku receives a summons to the head office. He freezes when he sees the police officer, Yagi’s comforting hand on his shoulder the only thing that keeps him from running.

It was a villain attack, the officer says with kindness so forced Izuku wants to cry. Yagi looks angry. If you’ll just come with us so we can get you to the safehouse with your mother –

Yagi almost growls with rage. “She’s lying.” He whispers, habit enforced despite the fact Izuku is the only person alive that can hear him. “Follow her out of the school then run” Izuku does exactly that, quirk sparking up his legs and pushing him forwards, down the familiar path to home. He takes the stairs six at a time, quirk chipping the edges of the concrete as he hurls himself forward.

Their apartment is in shambles, bookshelves tipped, small objects laying scattered on the floor, a pale arm laying limply from a half-open bathroom door.

Yagi pushes him out of the apartment and confirms the identity himself. He urges a sobbing Izuku to say his goodbyes to his mother’s corpse as they quickly gather all the money in the house, a few spare clothes and whatever food and water Yagi could knock down from the pantry shelves for him. Izuku crams it into his backpack as he sobs, Yagi guarding the entrance as he boils with rage and guilt.

He didn’t think All for One would find Izuku. He didn’t think he would even be looking. He was wrong and now his boy was paying the price.

So starts his time on the run.

He meets Shinsou first, saving him from some rubble in a villain attack. He meets him again later, battered and bruised – not from a villain, but from his foster parents. Shinsou joins him, no matter how Izuku explains hes in danger. Shinsou wants to be a hero, and if the only way he gets to be a hero is stubbornly keeping Izuku out of trouble? That’s not a bad trade-off, considering izuku was the first person to save him.

A little while later the two run into Shouto feverish and badly burnt and try to nurse him back to health as best they can. A few days in Touya and Toga run into their little camp guns blazing, expecting them to have kidnapped Shouto only to see Izuku patiently trying to feed him rice porridge with a veritable pile of ‘liberated’ fever reducers on the floor beside them.

They apologise but Shinsou and a still feverish Shouto refuse to talk to Touya or Toga for like three days bc they made Izuku cry.

They refuse to leave no matter how Izuku explains he has a centuries old villain after him. These kids are ride or die. So Hitoshi, Shouto and Izuku are like 9 and trying to learn what they can from libraries and newspapers, never settling down for too long. Toga (12) and Touya/Dabi (14) try and keep them all alive by working or stealing what they need to live. It doesn’t take long for them to evolve into a mini vigilante group.

Aizawa becomes familiar with the messy group of short vigilantes that seem to bounce from prefecture to prefecture every second day, to the point that the force is pretty sure one of them has a teleportation quirk because they don’t seem to have any kind of home base. He’s completely uninterested in trying to arrest them in the beginning – they aren’t hurting anyone and are not half bad at what they do.

That changes when he meets them.

Battered and bleeding out in a rainy alley with a villain looming over him with a knife, Aizawa is pretty sure this is the night he dies. The knife swings back, glinting in the streetlights as he tries in vain to scramble backwards with heavy limbs. It never connects. The villain jerks back as a brilliant blue plume of flame cuts him off, burning the tips of his hair. Not expecting backup the villain bolts. Aizawa feels small hands helping him into a sitting position – his stomach starts to sink. When the short masked figure with curly hair speaks he feels his heart turn to ice. The figure couldn’t be older than 11, probably closer to 10.

He wakes up in the hospital and he makes it his mission to save these kids.

Ghost All Might is having a rough time. His boy is in danger and the best he can do is rattle windows and trip sprinting villains. He can’t help them enough.

He has a plan though.

He warns Izuku that he’ll be gone for a while and to keep safe without him and he goes out scouting. Being invisible and impermeable is normally a curse but when trying to find a paranoid 200-year-old super villain? It’s pretty damn useful. It takes months but eventually he’s not only tracked down All for One’s main hideout he’s also memorised his schedule. It’s nothing impressive considering the man is still mostly bedbound after what All Might did to him, but he won't be a pushover. It’s a start, though.

Izuku cries tears of joy when he sees All Might again and cries even more when he shares what he found. It’s do or die time. He offers every one of his friends the chance to split now because there is a good chance they’ll die, but none of them wants to leave him. With that, he starts planning.

They’ll need Eraserhead, no bones about it. Without him, there would be no way to strike the final blow. They spend a few weeks refining their stealth then they seek Aizawa out.

They knew he’d have a price for helping them, but they never expected it would be so high, but simultaneously so kind. In exchange for his help and a vow of silence he wants each child to let him help them, to find them a safe place to live, a school to go to – a future. Izuku has spent his whole life being told he doesn’t have a future, from when he was diagnosed quirkless to the almost 2 years spent on the run from Japan’s most dangerous villain. He’s still not sure he’ll have one, even with All for One dead, but he knows he wants his friends to grow up happy and safe.

He accepts.

With Aizawa’s help, with Dabi and Toga clearing the way and Shinsou standing in the wings as the last resort, Izuku kills All for One as he sleeps. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy, just quiet footsteps, a sharp knife and shaking hands.

Aizawa is horrified this child just killed someone in front of him, but Izuku is sobbing and All for One is notorious in underground circles so he keeps his quirk up until the blood stops flowing from his neck. He takes the children and flees.

#bnha au #full au #your blessings are your curses au #all might #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #dabi #shinsou hitoshi #toga himiko

433 notes · View notes