#literally so close to dropping out and joining the fucking circus

[ymdslf]

sometimes i absolutely loathe my brain

#why can’t you enjoy the things you enjoy #why do you make everything so fucking hard for me? #neurodivergent shit #the neurodivergent burnout is real #it’s REAL #i barely managed to eat or drink this week #how the fuck am i supposed to do full on exams in less than two weeks #i went to school once this week #once #for fucks sake #it’s only the fourth week of school #literally so close to dropping out and joining the fucking circus #and that’s only half joking (the circus bit. i am not athletic in the least.) #pls why can’t my brain just fucking work and make enough of the happy juice #i’m devolving into a lesser form of myself

[oh-no-a-new-hiperfocus-hit-me]

I DID IT GUYYYSSS IK LITERALLY NO ONE CARES BUT I FINALLY FINISHED THE DRAFT FOR CHAPTER THREE!!!

It's 2,5k long and wow I'm so proud of me. Ik people write multichapters way longer but I can never finish mine. I've written one shots 5k long but multichapters ?? My kriptonate. I'm so happy djsnsndnndbdbdbd

----

Dabi first heard about the war while changing clothes in the back of an old wagon. She was changing clothes, in the second day of their trip to the east side of the kingdom. They were traveling with more or less fifty people, each with their own affairs to deal with. Most people were riding horses, unicorns, chimeras or other animals, which they were going to do too if it wasn't for Mr Compress pulling a couple favors to get them on one of the wagons.

The guys who were driving it had been talking non-stop ever since they left. Dabi was really, really close to ripping one of their heads off and driving the damn thing herself. She was just finishing putting on a new pair of pants when she heard one of the man mention Chikara.

Chikara was the kingdom next to Akarui. They were insanely powerful and known conquerors. Their king was nameless. Well, probably not fucking nameless. Dabi did think everyone had to have a name. If there was a way to get rid of your name, she'd have found out by now.

In any case, no one knew Chikaras kings name. He was only known as All For One, because of how many soldiers had died fighting his battles. It was whispered in the night, that he had special knights, super strong, enormous and undefeatable. They were called the Order of Doom.

When the woman heard one of the man mention Chikara, she kneeled next to a sleeping Toga and came closer to listen. Though ignoring Tomuras snooring was hard, she still managed to hear the conversation.

"-and she said she was going there!"

" To Chikara ? To fight ?!"

"Yes! I told her it was a terrible idea but she wouldn't listen..."

"I'm sorry pal. I really am."

"It's ok. Me and my wife are working through it. But our eldest daughter ? A spy for the the king ? I mean who would've imagined it!"

"Not me, definitely not me, pal."

"Anyways, that was a couple years ago as you can imagine and her last letter arrived in the beginning of the year. It's been three months since..." He looked back, but everyone was apparently asleep. "Since she told us to run because a war would eclode soon."

"A war ?"

"We are going to Midori to scape... Yes, a war!"

They went back and forth on simpler subjects after that. Partners, kids, food. But the word war kept repeating in Dabis mind for the rest of the night. The temperature seemed to have dropped and the cold wind that came from a hole in the wagons 'ceiling' messed her hair.

War.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"No! Absolutely not." He pronounced every letter throughly, pinching his eyebrows and twisting his mouth.

"Pleeaaasseee. It's for a friend!" Toga jumped and flapped her hands in the air, and Dabi could see she was mere seconds from taking Shugarakis shoulders and shaking him with all her strength.

"Hey, what's happening here ?" Dabi sat by Shigarakis side, bumling his shoulder. She'd decided it was better to intervine now than to have to deal with a headache later on.

"This dumb blonde bitch-"

"Hey!"

"Call her that again and I'll rip your legs off."

"Sorry. This little bratty asshole-

"Hey!."

"This one's true, thou, Toga. Carry on." Toga made a sour face but didn't protest. Tomura smiled.

"She wants to play at a circus! She thinks she joined a motherfucking clown cult!"

"Hum."

" This is a respectable band! We are musicians! Good ones!" Shigaraki continued, waving his hands as he spoke.

"A friend of mine will be there! The knights in training are going to be special guests. And I heard..." She put one hand on her chin, the other covering half her mouth "I heard the youngest prince is gonna be there." She whispered dramatically.

Dabis heart started beating faster and faster. Her eyes widened, but she forced her normal expression when she realized it. Her hand tightened around the edges of the log they were sitting at. Her other hand dig it's nails into the first one, and soon enough, her skin was soaking with blood and chipped wood.

"Dabi ? You ok ?" Shigaraki looked at her concerned. Toga had apparently seen a butterfly and gotten distracted chasing it.

"Im alright." She knew it wasn't true and she knew he knew it. Her voice was cracking. "We are going to play at the circus."

"What ?!" He jumped in surprise, almost spitting at her.

"Shut up and do it. Don't be a whiney bitch." Shigaraki was probably still chocked given he didn't try to stop Dabi when she got up to leave.

Fuck. Shoto was gonna be there and she'd just agreed to go. No, she demanded to go. What was wrong with her ? Fuck.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

The circus thing wasn't happening for another couple days but she didn't get any rest. First of because they had a couple of presentations already planned. Second because she was thinking of her brother.

Natsuos letters had stopped arriving.

In the first two weeks, she barely noticed it. She was used to letters arriving late, after all she was constantly changing location and although she always gave a list of the places she was going to and the dates to him ahead of time, the mail deliver wasn't exactly precise in Akarui.

But it had been a month and a half. A month and a half since the day the bird left Natsuos last letter in Dabis hand, just after they played in that crowded bar. The mail system might not be precise, but she was pretty sure Natsuo sent his letter through special agente who had pegasus or something like that (she was never that interested in Royal family bulshit ).

  In any case, the thing was that the letter was suppose to be here already. And it wasn't. Something must've happened. Dabi thought of the conversation she'd heard. She thought of the war. Could that be it? Could her brothers and sister – her mom — be in danger? Wouldn't he protect them?

  Wouldn't the king protect what was left of his family ?

  At least, at the very very least, she knew she could keep an eye on Shoto while he was there. Her baby brother. Her responsibility. She hadn't seen him in ten years.  How much had the kid grown ? He was certainly not the little boy she had known anymore.

  Usually Dabi thought being a pessimist was good, only good things cane when her expectations were worse than reality. But at that moment she wished she could hope for something good. If the worse happened... If the worse happened she'd have to get Shoto, her friends and run.

  Oh fuck. Holy. Fuck. She'd forgotten.

  She hadn't told Shoto she was alive. You see, running away from your father was really hard when he was the king. She'd spent months planning it, to scape from hell. She'd planned to take Natsuo and maybe even Fuyumi with her, then  come back to get Shoto and her mom. After that, with the stolen riches she'd set aside, they could have a new life. And who knows? Maybe one day Shoto or Fuyumi could come back to reclaim the throne. When their father was long gone. Not that Dabi would mind taking matter into her own hands if it was for the sake of her siblings...

  In any way, her plans went to shit when The Accident happened. The accident that got her scars, the one she couldn't bare to think about. After it she had to completely change her plans and run off by herself. She scaped in the middle of the night, and met Natsuo in those dark halls to say goodbye.

  He was her best friend, and at the time, she thought that was goodbye forever.

  But despite her pessimistic beliefs, his first letter arrived six months after she ran, when she got her very first job. Since then, they'd been talking regularly ( or as much regularly as one could have conversations through mail). She told Natsuo to not tell anyone she was alive and well, but deep down, she knew Fuyumi had to know. She was the polar opposite of her sister, who was always the perfect elegant, kind, polite princess. Still, they shared a bond Dabi could not explain, a bond of caretakers and of women whose blood was the same.

  Plus there was the fact Natsuo sucked tremendously at keeping secrets.

  Dabi was not sure if Shoto knew, though she thought he probably did; Fuyumi had always been soft for him. Still, he wouldn't recognize her. He probably had faint memories of a face she no longer had. The thoughts of her siblings haunted her during those few days, often making her laugh. She laughed because she couldn't cry anymore, because it was all too absurd, because maybe her life was just a fucking joke to the universe.

  The others soon enough realized she was behaving strangely. For a couple days Dabi was able to hide her ever growing mess of feelings, but they knew her too well. Compress would ask what was wrong when he thought no one else was listening. Toga would braid her hair ( she hated it, and would immediately unmake the braids once Himiko was done.) Spinner liked to invite her to his games to distract her. Magne and Twice were always trying to hug her and get her to open up (which she hated much, much more than the braids, but the intention was sort of nice).

  And Shigaraki... Shigaraki was being distant, and she didn't know why.

  Nevertheless, with suspecting of war to investigate and money to earn, the days passed by quickly enough, much for Dabis happiness.

  "Oh my God, look! The circus is so big! The colors are so, so very pretty too!" Himiko jumped as Spinner tried — and failed — to held her back. "I can't believe I'm going to met Ochaco-chan again! She's the prettiest fairy to ever exist, and also the bravest and strongest knight! Her blood must be so sweet..." She rambled and moved her hands around in the air, spinning in her yellow dress.

  They were all dressed in their fanciest clothes, which included from flowery dresses like Togas to dark suits like the one Twice was wearing. Dabi wore the only thing she had from her old life : the clothes she had scaped the castle with. It was a purple suit with a white shirt underneath, and plain black pants. The suit was adornated in gold, and had the Kingdoms coat of arms in it, because it was for Dabi to use in formal occasions back in the castle. She had covered the coat of arms with a piece of dark fabric, which looked kind of out of place but really, who cared ?

   As they approached the circus, more and more people started looking at them. It was a fancy part of town, not the kind of place they usually played at. When they got there, Compress chatted with the man who was producing the show. Apparently he'd heard them play before, and was looking forward to having them there. Dabi suspected it wasn't true, maybe Toga had threatened someone or bribed them to see the knights in training. She immediately felt bad. Himiko wouldn't bribe anyone. Threatening, maybe, though.

  The inside of the circus was huge, even bigger than it looked from the outside. There were bailarinas and gymnasts in black suits, a man caressing a lion next to them. A beautiful woman with a long beard went over the presentation with the dancers. Clowns ran around, playing with each other, and...

  And an enormous dragon slept in a cage. It was so big the cage could barely fit its wings, and it's deep blue and yellow scales shined in the light. It looked comfortable, at ease, almost like it was safe. But it wasn't possible, dragons had never lived peacefully with humans.

  Dabi must have looked more amused than scared, because the showman, who was chatting with one of the gymnasts, walked towards her eith a smile on his face.

  "Isn't she beatiful ? She's going to be our main attraction tonight." He cackled. Dabi got ready to fight. There was no fucking way she was going to leave someone to be trapped by shitty people, a mere attraction in their shown.

  "She's my wife, you know. She's been resting all afternoon, to have energy to perform tonight. Can you believe she like to sleep in the elephants cage? Haha." As the man laughed Dabi saw that the cage was open, blankets scattered on the floor. The dragon yawned.

  "She sleeps better in her dragon form?" The woman didn't mean to ask, but she was so shocked from the conversation she couldn't help turning thoughts into words.

  "Yes, actually! I find it to be fascinating. Saori says when she's transformed her rest is far better." He looked at her for the first time, staring at her scars. "Do you know any dragons? Perhaps, family?"

  "Yes" she said, and allowed her shoulders to deconstract, her breath to calm down. "I am a dragon." The man widened his eyes even more."It runs in the family." She turned and left.

  ▪︎▪︎▪︎

  The instruments were old, but had clearly been taken good care of. There was a violin for Compress and a piano for Toga, and even guitars for Shigaraki and Spinner. Tomura wasn't happy, he  loved his own guitar, and Toga was usually the only one who relied on other people's instruments. It's not like they could transport a piano, so she only played when there was one in the place they were going to play at already.

  When they were all set, the showman asked them to rehearse with the dancers. Those people were very skilled, jumping and spinning endlessly like it was nothing. Dabi spotted some metaforms among them, which brought her back to the dragon in the cage, Saori.

  Was it really possible for people like her to have something like that? Something alike acceptance? She shut her eyes tight. No. Hope was a damn waste of time. People would just throw her aside again.

  When the spectacle finally started, she was relieved. As soon as it was over they could leave. They could pretend nothing happened.

  Dabi should've thought something like 'relief' would not last long for her. When the showman started announcing the first number, Toga pulled her sleeve and, smile as wide as ever, pointed to the right side of the bleachers. Waiting for her, was a young boy, hair split down the middle. But he was looking the other way, chatting with his colleagues. No, he wasn't looking; but someone sure was. The knights in training hadn't come alone. Dabi found she knew their companion, and almost tripped as golden eyes stared into hers.

@arson-n-barf if you could tell me if there's anything weird here, that'd be awesome! I don't want to be rude as you've already happened me a lot, I'm just happy you're liking the story so no pressure. :)

#SJAJJSNSNSJS #they will FINALLY meet in chapter 5 #im writing 4 rn :) #we r 500 words in and its definetly going slower than i wanted but still #its progress!! #ive been writing every day and im so happy about this :)

[cognitosclowns]

Reader has a baby and they bring them to work one day and them interacting with the group? Or maybe just headcannons about them with kids.

AAAAAA I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR AN ASK LIKE THISSSS <333

ALL SFW JUST SOME CUTENESS <333

UHHHH THIS IS MOSTLY <33 BABYSITTING HCS ACTUALLY BUT CLOSE ENOUGH LMAO. also sorry this got so fucking long lmao i just loved this idea sm. its so fluffy.

GIGI

OH SHE LOVES KIDDOS <33 I like to think she either has a kid of her own, or maybe a little sister? Either way she's so good with kids. If you need smb to look after your kid for a few hrs, drop em off at her office

SHES NOT AFRAID TO BE GOOFY WITH THEM. She'll let them do her makeup and smear it all over her face while,, she makes them look super adorable. She'll take a bunch of pictures w/ them too.

SHE LETS THEM TRY ON HER HEELS N SHIT?? they're stumbling around all over the place but they feel COOL so its fine

'Little Miss/Sir/Mx', usually doesn't use their name!!

'Little Mx <3 come here please, I'm not gonna have you go back to Y/N without some food in your stomach'

THEY RAID THE VENDING MACHINES <33 OH BOY OH BOY SHE NEVER HAS AN EXCUSE TO DO THAT, ITS A BLAST.

YEA SHE KINDA SPOILS THEM <3333 a buncha junk food and yummy treats and probably a buncha gifts whenever they visit.

She's their super fun Auntie Gigi now <333

MYC AND ANDRE

IF YOU GIVE THE KID TO EITHER OF EM, THEY'RE PAIRING UP. They both know there's no FUCKING WAY THEY CAN DO IT ALONE LMAO.

MYC ABSOLUTELY DISGUISES HIMSELF AS A HUMAN BC,,, HE DOESN'T WANNA DEAL WITH ALL THE QUESTIONS.

'what do you feed a 10 year old?' Myc is just,, rummaging through Andre's sparse pantry n fridge.

'uhhh cheese.. and... g r a p essss?'

'woow is that so?' in that Way Of His

'>:( do you have any bright ideas???'

meanwhile the kid is like,, already getting into shit. Into all the shit. they probably steal some shinies from his bowl of Cool Shit He Found (tm)

ITS FINE THEY FIND ANDRE'S LEGOS AND ARE COMPLETELY DISTRACTED FOR LIKE,, 10 MINUTES TRYNA PRY TWO PIECES APART. andre absolutely joins them bc,, he forgot he had those!! oh fuck he used to built such cool shit w/ them!!

'what kinda fuckin adult has legos???' Myc is lovingly teasing him while he spoons Microwaved Mac N Cheese into a little bowl for the kiddo

'the COOL kind. Come play with us I saved you a pile.'

(... yea myc plays legos. by the end they all end up making this,, giant castle thing w/ a little place for the kid's Circus Tent that they made. They order takeout and inhale sweets and are all passed out in a pile on the floor when you come to get your kid)

ALSO,,,,

'oh ffffffffffff- (remembers theres a kid)-fffffriiiiick?'

*the most unimpressed look* '... fuck shit piss!!!'

'EYYYYY I LIKE THIS KID, WANNA LEARN A NEW ONE-'

'MYC N O-'

JR

OH FUCK NO GET IT AWAY FROM HIM

I'm sorry he cannot stand kids. They're loud they're messy he never knows what to say. Any living human sub 15 he cannot tollerate. PLEASE NEVER GET HIM TO BABY SIT HE'LL BE SUCH A NERVOUS FUCKING WRECK.

he worries so much its gonna,, fall off smth and bonk it's head or explode or smth.

IF THEY'RE A LITTLE OLDER LIKE,,, IDK 13-17?? HE CAN PROBABLY MANAGE FINE AS LONG AS THEY DON'T GET IN HIS WAY TOO MUCH mdnsmds. he's still gonna worry himself into a fit.

He genuinely might use them as an assitant. Like sit them down by a filing cabinet and ask them to like,, sort stuff?? MSDNS HE'S VERY SURPRISED WHEN IT WORKS

REAGAN

VERY MUCH THE SAME. she doesn't explicitly hate kids,,, she just,,, really struggles with knowing what to do??

What do you say how do you interact with kids. her parents were awful she literally has No Clue What You're Supposed To Do When You Baby Sit

She mostly just sticks them in the corner with some books she used to read as a kid?? Like comics n stuff she had in her closet??

<333 eventually she notices the kid is like?? super into them but is having trouble reading some of the books??

........ *sigh*, she plods over, sits down, and starts reading to them. Because god dammit, her dad never did that when she struggled with shit and she refuses to have this kids memory of her be like that.

she nearly bursts into tears when the kid,, leans against her and falls asleep?? Its that kinda Nostalgic Sadness for smth that you never got as a kid?? <3

GLENN

HES LITERALLY A DAD <33 AND HE'S SUCH A GOOD DAD.

HE'S JUST <333 like such a classic dad too?? Like he plays catch with em and everything?? MAYBE EVEN TEACHES EM SOME WRESTLING???

HES NOT AS YOUNG AS HE USED TO BE THO SO HE ABSOLUTELY GET TIRED LMAO

*sigh* he will be very dissapointed if you say he can't teach them how to shoot >:(

IF THEY GO TO THE PARK??? OHOHO HE MAKES ALL THE STUFF SO FUN

YKNOW THOSE,, GIANT WAVE THINGS?? I think it's called an X-Wave?? HE GRABS ONE OF THE ENDS AND STARTS PUSHING IT UP AND DOWN TO MAKE THE WHOLE THING,, LIKE A ROLLER COASTER RIDE. The kid (and every other kid on the playground lmao) is holding on for dear life, laughing their ass off.

Jungle Gym Races!! It reminds him of Basic Training lmao. LOTS OF CUTE NICKNAMES TOO. 'Cadet' is his favorite bc this kid gives him this,, Big Proud Grin <3

BRETT

AAAAA HES SUCH A GOOD BABYSITTER.

HE'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING ENERGETIC <333 HES A WALKING GOLDEN RETRIEVER. Pure and absolute energy. he gets genuinely excited when the kid asks to go to the park. THEY PLAY TAG TOGETHER. THEY TRY TO SWING A COMPLETE LOOP AROUND THE SWINGSET.

ALSO HE'S PLAYED EVERY SPORT AT LEAST ONCE SO LIKE,, if they're a sporty kid?? HELL YEA the two of em are gonna be having a blast.

HES,, KIND OF A PUSHOVER SO YEA THEY GET A BUNCH OF SWEETS AT THE STORE. How can he say no to those puppy dog eyes?? He wants the kid to like him!!

AAA they absolutely have a movie/video game night. Mario kart w/ popcorn n soda n all the good things in life.

HE SHOWS THE KID ALL THOSE OLD TV SHOWS AND MOVIES??? eventually the kiddo passes tf out halfway through Back to The Future 2.

When you pick up your child at the end of the day they're,,, completely exhausted <33 brett picks em up from where they're nappin on the couch and passes them off to you/

AB

'fine, I suppose' 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 into infinitum

He sits the kid down with some books that are,, absolutely way too far above their reading level. Because he also has no Fucking Clue what you expected him to do???

As kids do, they get bored as fuck and start asking questions about Why his Face Is Like That.

'I'm a highly advanced Artificial Intelligence, created to-'

'So, like a robot?'

'....... yes, I'm a robot.'

'NO WAY!!'

WHEN YOU COME BACK, AB IS DOIN ALL SORTS OF COOL ROBOT TRICKS?? turning his hands backwards, rolling his eyes back to reveal his circuits - the kid sitting on his shoulders, positively losing their mind bc its the coolest shit they've EVER SEEN

he spots you and Fumbles To Make Himself Look All Professional And Mean And All That Jazz

'productive day?'

*clears throat, smooths hair, removes child from his shoulders, etc* 'Productive - oh, nonono, haha. Perfectly calm. They were asleep most of the time.'

... meanwhile the,, entire basement area is chaos. Clear evidence of at least a few games of tag,,,,, Cardboard Tube Fencing,, and,,, *gasp* a chess tally, where he Totally Didn't Let The Kid Win So they Could Brag About Beating A Robot? If you didn't know better, you'd think the two of them had a fun day!

'BYE MISTER AB!!' with this big wave before you two leave? He'd protect your kid with his life you can drop him off at the basement literally anytime lmao

#*clenches fist* resisting the urge to have the kid call Ab Mister A #someone take The Hoosiers away from me smdnsd #IM SORRY IM SO OBSESSED WITH AB BEIN A GOOD BABYSITTER BC ITD BE SO UNEXPECTED #LIKE <333 AWE THATS SO FUCKIN CUTE MSORRY #reagan ridley #brett hand #andre lee #myc #magic myc #alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta #gigi thompson #jr scheimpough #glenn dolphman #sfw #GOD THIS WAS SO FUCKING CUTEEEEEEEEEE #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #inside job

[djarinsbeskar]

Spandex and Smiles

I blame @aesnawan for beginning this entire fiasco of an AU based on this idea, and @alliterative-albatross for enabling us both with the most perfect headcannons. Is this edited? Nope. Beta’d? Nada. A complete mess I just had to get out of my head? Absolutely. 

I randomly tagged it to a Detective!AU I’m playing around with so who knows where this will take us. Anyway, on with spandex covered Cyclist!Din.

AU Masterlist

Word Count: 1,200

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader 

“You finally going to say more than two words to her this time?”

The harsh exhale that left Din wasn’t in exertion as one might think as he easily kept pace on the uphill climb known ominously as ‘Heart Attack Hill’ to anyone who bothered doing cardio this side of town. A two mile stretch with a constantly steep gradient, it was the biggest hurdle on the route before the more relaxing downhill cycle back into town.  

No, Din exhaled in exasperation as Fennec shot him a wolfish grin from beneath her helmet, barely a sheen of sweat on her skin and peddling much too easily for Din’s liking.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a ‘mind your own business’, Shand,” he bit out, his thighs burning with the repetitive push of every peddle. He could feel the tension in his quads and hamstrings, the muscles working hard against the resistance gravity attempted to push on him. His lungs burned and his skin was slick with sweat beneath his gear.

God, it was fucking roasting this morning.

There was no way of escaping the heat this time of year, not even at seven thirty in the morning and momentarily, Din lost himself in the thought of the shower he would have once he got back home after dropping the kid off at day-care.

Fennec merely threw back her head and laughed, releasing the handlebar with one hand to give him a light punch to his shoulder and Din wondered aimlessly if he should stop being so competitive. After all, Fennec was the only one who kept pace with him at this part of the cycle, the others falling behind to a slower speed as exhaustion crept closer. Maybe, he would get more peace if he slowed down and let their chatter drown out his existence where he would mercifully be left to his thoughts and Grogu’s quiet gurgles and nonsensical, half-formed words from his child seat.

But then he remembered who made up the rest of this ragtag group of cyclists he had somehow found himself training with every morning and he scraped the idea entirely. No, Fennec was the least of his worries when it came to teasing.

One passing comment that he cycled to Cara at the office and suddenly he had a cycling partner, which turned into a cycling trio, which turned into a certifiable cycling circus. He still envied Boba for flatly refusing to join a team of any kind even when his own partner – Fennec – decided to test all their mettle by joining since she was a literal machine, her endurance unfathomable and awe-inspiring.

“You teasing Din about his crush on teacher again, Fen?” he heard Cara call up from behind. The two were incorrigible together. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a moment’s peace with them all working together in the same office.

Din sighed, his grip tightening on the handlebars of his bike.

That would teach him to tell them that his kids’ new day-care centre was on the way. Instead of continuing on to their own homes, like normal people, this motley crew of spandex covered idiots decided they wanted to wait at the school gates as he brought Grogu to the door before making their way home.

We’ll watch your bike!

“I usually bring it in with me.”

We want to say bye to the baby!

“Say bye now.”

I just really want to watch your ass in those tight shorts. It’s enough to give even me bi-panic.

“Fuck off, Cara.”

Suffice to say, none of them left. Which made Din overly aware of his every movement as he pulled off the small, bright green, frog shaped backpack from over one shoulder. Grogu sat comfortably in the crook of his free arm and squealed joyfully when he saw where he was, his small fists slapping onto the sweaty fabric against Din’s chest and shoulder.

Even if the slaps felt feather-light to Din, he knew his son was strong and it filled him with pride. Then the colourfully decorated door - filled with painted handprints and large colourful rainbows – swung open and suddenly, Din was filled with something distinctly different to pride as you wandered out with a bright, disarmingly beautiful smile on your face when you saw them.

For the first week or so, Din had been met by the owner of the day-care, who kept him updated on how Grogu was settling in. It looked like the bottomless toyboxes and the nutritious meals this place claimed to provide wasn’t the only reason he was excited to come here every morning.

When you lifted your eyes to meet his that first day, Din blushed. He could damn well feel the heat rise to his cheeks when you smiled at him and offered him your name. God, you were pretty. No wonder he way paying an arm and a leg for this place, with people like you taking care of his son.

“Mr. Djarin, isn’t it?” you had ventured kindly when Din made no effort to respond. He cleared his throat and nodded, your eyes softening at the corners as your smile turned gentle.

“Well, Mr. Djarin why don’t you let me take this little monster off your hands, we have a big day planned for the sandbox, don’t we?” you directed the question to Grogu who babbled on excitedly and reached a small hand out towards you.

“Uh—sure,” he responded lamely, inwardly cringing at how rough his voice sounded, harsh against the backdrop of children’s laughter and your sweet smile. He turned to look at Grogu, equally dark eyes staring back at him and his own gaze softened as affection bloomed in his chest,

“Be good,” he muttered before letting you take the kid into your own arms, the little boy nestling his cheek happily against your shoulder and popping his thumb into his mouth as he snuggled close to you. Din ran a hand carelessly through his hair and winced a little at the sweat-soaked strands; not the best first impression.

“Say bye bye, Grogu,” you spoke softly, your voice light as you waved your own hand to show him, Grogu immediately waving to him and the display made his gut clench, “see you after work.”

I, uh- yeah,” he nodded once, and held out the froggy backpack to you before he forgot and walked off still holding it. You took it with a small ‘thank you’ and he grunted in response.

He offered you a simple nod of thanks before tucking tail; turning to make his way back to the nosy group standing around the gate, his cheeks flushing hotter when he grabbed his helmet from Cara and pointedly ignored her smirk.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one admiring you ass,” she teased with a clap to the back of his shoulder, and he knew he would never hear the end of it.

Two weeks later, standing outside the gates of the same day-care, they still hadn’t let it go and he was beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of murdering his colleagues.

Maybe then he could go back to cycling in peace again.

Randomly tagging my Stitches darlings but feel free to let me know if you want me to stop tagging you!

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79 @boxdyeblonde @fangirl-316 @niiight-dreamerrrr @tanzthompson @theamuz @the-scandalorian @gallowsjoker @helmet-comes-off @ladyjenny19 @justanotherblonde23 @alliterative-albatross

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin

[bakugous-bbygirl]

~Circus Princess~

Bakugou x f!reader

Hello hello, today I have a circus au, because the Bakusquad is filled with clowns, I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send in requests!

Warnings: swearing, (a lot of dumbass)

When you were younger the circus had always filled your heart with wonder. Every part of the circus has your eyes running to catch every single piece of amazement.

So when you got older you ran off and joined the circus for yourself. When you first joined you had no idea how much better your life felt and all the new friends you would make.

You got close to your fellow acrobatist Mina first, then she intorduced you to her friends and that’s how you all came to be so close.

One by one you spent more and more time with your new friends and felt yourself falling more and more in love with your new home.

“Hey babe can you help me out carring this stuff to the main tent?” You smiled at Mina as you hopped from your bed “of course!” You regconized the box as Bakugou’s favorite knife set. You learned after a fit he threw at kirishima for dropping them on accident that he was very serious about his babies. No way were you hearing that yelling fit so you made sure to keep an extra firm grip on the box. “So Mina, how was your date last night?”

“A joke! He didn’t even pay for our food! He just looked at me like some idiot! Ugh when will I find a good guy who likes meeee!” Mina groans and leans on your shoulders as she walks “get off goof ball your gonna make me drop bakugous knives.” You bring the box closer to your chest as Mina begins to try and take the box from you. “Ah come on no ones scared of him. Your grown dummy!”

You and Mina went back and forth for a while when trying to walk to that tent. Neither of you worrying about the consequences of if you dropped the box. But minas big hands had gotten in the way and the next thing you know you feel the box hit your foot.

Hard.

“Ah! Damnit! Oh my god that hurts!” You fell to the grass and gripped your foot in pain. You never experienced a pain surge through your body like this before and you remember screaming out serval more swears that you would have never imaged you would say. You don’t remember much after that but you remember Mina grabbing your arm and some other people running over.

You wake up in your tent from a stinging sensation coming from your leg. “Hey..hey hey she’s moving guys..hey y/n..how you feeling?” You look around seeing Mina, kiri,denki, Sero and the man you were worried about, Bakugou all standing over you in concern.

“Fuck, Bakugou I’m so sorry I dropped your knives..” you move to sit up but all you feel is a tense pain in your leg. “Ah shit..” Bakugou puts his hand on your chest to push you back down. “Don’t move dumbass. It’s just a bunch of knives. How’s your foot feeling?” Denki leans over to look at you. “Yeah your foot is like, swolen to shit.”

“Dumbass don’t tell her that!” Sero pushed denki so he falls over then turns to you in a nervous stare. “Your foot isn’t that bad.” Kiri then hit Sero on his neck to make him stop talking before it got worse. “Don’t talk about the foot at all guys! I’m sure she feels it...” “you guys are the biggest clowns I’ve ever met. And we literally work with them.” Mina sits next to you on the bed and rubs on your arm. “Your foots fine we had the doctor look at it...it’s going to be swollen for a few days but you’ll be okay..” you nod a bit and try to look at the foot. “I wouldn’t do that dumbass..it looks gross. And the doctor already wrapped it.” No one hit Bakugou for his comment on your foot.

You ended up falling asleep while everyone was trying to talk to you. Your eyes felt heavy and you just fell asleep. You woke up to Bakugou shaking your arm a little too rough for your taste. “Come on dumbass, wake up, I got some food for you.” You move slowly and rub at your eyes “I want to apologize again for dropping your knives Bakugou..” all you hear is a chuckle as he set the plate on your lap, He moves to sit at the end of the bed to talk with you. “It’s not a big deal. It was an accident. Mina told me what happened.” “I still feel really bad..I know you really love those knives..”

“Their objects dumbass. Your more important than them. I’m more worried about your foot. I know you really like staying here. I would hate for something to take that away from you.” He was right. You loved the circus. It felt like home. Better than home. It felt like a place to belong..”why did you start working here?”

“It felt right. All my friends were joing so I followed. Then I started to like my stay here and figured I should keep staying. Can’t let those dumbasses outdo me.” You giggled at his comment and begun to pick at your food. You still felt a little bad so your hunger was honestly gone. “What about you? Why are you working here? Someone pretty like you could be whatever she wants.”

Was that a complement? You feel your face heat up slightly but you hide it in your hands. “I-I just loved the circus when I was a kid..so I really wanted to give that same feeling to others..that wonder..the joy..I want other young kids experience that..” Bakugou gave a grunt of agreement while nodding his head. “I hear that. My mom never really brought me around the circus. I was bad enough as is.” You giggled again at the blonde boy. Who knew when you got past his tough guy act he was actually kinda funny?

It’s not uncommon for people who work together to grow feelings for one another. And you were no diffrent, you thought Bakugou was really handsome, and that’s why you wanted to take such good care of his things. You know it was something he cared for and didn’t want him upset at you. Little did you know for the longest time Bakugou has been trying to come up with ways to spend more time with you. From practicing the same times you practice with Mina, inviting you to his tent to talk about ideas, anything and everything this boy could come up with to get you around him.

Conversation came naturally between you two so it felt strange that all of the sudden both of you had nothing to really say. Both your minds just felt blank. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just diffrent. Bakugou probably decided that it didn’t make sense to sit in silence and moved to leave, however, “wait..” you gripped his jacket carefully and looked up at him like a child. “Just stay..? My foot really hurts and I don’t want to just go back to sleep..” Bakugou didn’t say anything. Just sat back down and held your hand in his.

And that’s how the both of you stayed for a good chunk of time. Bakugou’s presence was enough to make you feel better about your foot, him holding your hand helped slightly too, he was gentle as he rubbed your knuckles. His calloused fingers running over your smooth and dainty ones.

“Does it..feel like shitty or whatever?” Bakugou was trying to be serious but it just came off as a silly question that both of you found yourselves laughing too. “That was such a dumb question..” “I know I know...this talking thing is hard around you..right now..”

You tilt your head gently as to ask why. “Not in a bad way dumbass..it’s just..” he sighs and moves his hand from yours to rub his face. Your not going to lie, you already missed his warmth. “I..sorta..maybe really like you and don’t want to screw this up..” Bakugou’s face begun to mirror yours while you both heated up from embarrassment. Did he really just confess to you? “You..wait..I’m sorry..what?” The blonde rubs his back in a uncomfortable way as if he’s not sure of his own feelings. “Your just..really beautiful you know..? And smart..and your always happy to be here and you communicate so well with those idiots..I just..want to call you mine okay..?”

You look down at your lap for a few seconds as your brain tries to process what all was just said to you. “Ah fuck..I’m sorry I-“

“Okay.”

“Sorry come again?” Bakugou is in the middle of standing up so he’s in this sort of weird half crotch position, clearly stunned by your short cut answer.

“I said okay..I-I would like to be yours too..If that’s okay..” you trail off a little on the end but Bakugou pays no mind to it. All you get his two firm arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Yeah..yeah it’s alright with me stupid..”

#my hero academia #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boko no hero academia #x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakusquad #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha fanfiction #mha x y/n #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #mina ashido #kirishima eijirou #denki kaminari #hanta sero #mha au #bnha au

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Nine

Now

Clint opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t asleep, but with his hearing aids out, it wasn’t your walking towards him that prompted it. It was the light touch of your fingers on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nod slowly and take a deep breath, “Can I sleep with you?”

He felt his heart flutter, and he smiled, “Forget your teddy bear?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, cheeks heating.

“Come’er,” he coaxed, shoving the quilt aside to pull you onto the couch with him. He’s dimly aware that he could sleep with you in your bed. But if that’s what you wanted, that’s what you would have said. You wanted to be here. So here he’d keep you. He holds his arms out, and you go. Snuggling close, your head on his shoulder so you can bury your face in his neck. It reminds Clint irresistibly of a little kid seeking comfort in a storm. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had trouble sleeping. And been emotional. He’s seen you tear up at the drop of a hat again and again. And he has questions. A lot of questions. 

But they can wait. 

Because lying in the semi-darkness, staring at the moon out the window, he can almost understand what you mean when you say that the moon is singing as he watches dustmotes and fireflies. Because you’re here. And you’re safe. And because he’s sure that he loves you. He loves you in ways he can’t put to words. But he knows because you feel like home. The smell of your shampoo and the warmth of your breath tickling his neck. The feel of your fingers tangled in his shirt, clinging to him for comfort like a teddy bear. It’s home. This is home. And even if he never gets to do this again, he has right now. And it’s perfect. So perfect. And he never wants to go to sleep. But, like any time he wants to stay awake, there’s no running from rest. It sneaks up on him like you do during laser tag. And then, all he knows is nothing. Nothing except the best sleep he’s had in 10 years. 

In the morning, he wakes up alone, but the smell of coffee breakfast cooking gets him to his feet. He finds his hearing aids, putting them in as he wanders into your kitchen, “Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey,” you answer, “Hungry?” You hold out a cup of coffee, and he crosses the floor to take it. 

“Starving,” he said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar to watch you work.

“I hope you like blueberry,” you say apologetically, “I bought way too many at the farmers market.”

He grins and tilts his head, “Babe, when have I EVER complained about pancakes?”

“True,” you answer, flipping a cake onto the plate and adding a couple more with butter and bacon. 

He takes the plate and groans, “This looks amazing.”

Your cheeks heat, and you don’t answer right away. Turning to start doing some cleaning up. “I’m sorry I woke you up last night.”

“I’m not,” he garbled around a mouthful of food before he swallowed, “That was the best sleep I had in forever... Forgot how good I sleep with someone cuddling me.���

He knows he’s probably making you anxious. That you don’t know how to handle someone refusing to let you feel bad. But the thing is, he hates that you do that. That you flay yourself over any little thing. And he refuses to let you. Not over something as small as asking for comfort. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after the silence had stretched on for a few minutes. 

You sigh, and he can see you weighing an answer. “It’s... weird,” you tell him. “I don’t regret my choice. But my hormones fucking do. So I can logically think about what I’m feeling but... Fuck if I can do anything effective about it.”

Clint blinks for a second. He hadn’t considered that. It just wasn’t on his radar. “That- that sounds like hell,” he murmured. 

“It is,” you say, exhaling slowly, “But- it’s for the best. I can’t- I mean. Looking after me is a full-time job... And I can’t really see Bucky helping me do little league or girl scouts.”

Clint snorted bitterly, “No. Probably not.”

He wanted to add that he would. But this wasn't the right time. You were tearing up again and trying not to cry. 

You look away for a minute, and Clint stays quiet, eating and wondering if you’re going to make a plate or if you just cooking for something to do. When you put the rest of the food away without a dish of your own, he winces, “No breakfast?” he asks gently.

“I tried a bite earlier. It didn’t work.”

Clint cock his head, “Didn’t work?”

“I couldn’t swallow, and it just didn’t taste good.”

He still doesn’t get it. It’s amazing. But then. Food was a tricky thing for you, and it had been as long as he’d known you. Sometimes shit like that just happened when you didn’t feel well. Nothing tasted good. You had to struggle to eat.  Or other times, you ate fine. There was no rhyme or reason to it. 

Clint nods and goes to wash his plate, “Well, what do you need, babe?”

“Just some time,” you tell him with a small smile, “maybe some cuddles. I came out here to basically wallow and wait for the storm to pass. Plan my next move.”

“Home,” Clint insists, “Please come home.”

“Why?” your tone is soft. You genuinely want to know. It’s not sarcastic or bitter or angry. You just want to know.

“Because it is home. Because I- Because we love you,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Because Dr. Strange isn’t as fun on missions. And because everything feels weird without you.”

You sigh, “But-”

“I know,” he said, “You’re scared to go back. To face Bucky. But you’re gonna be fine, baby girl. I’m not gonna let him hurt you. Whatever made him think this was okay, I’ll beat it out of him if I have to. I mean, hell... I think Bruce was just gonna go beat him to death. And not as the Hulk.”

You open your mouth to answer, and he puts a hand over it gently, “You don’t have to decide now,” he soothes, “Just let me be here for you. I mean. I have no idea what I’m doing, but... Please don’t just wallow out here alone.”

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, looking for comfort, and he sets his plate down, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head. “You have time,” he reminds gently, “So take it.”

You thud your head against his sternum and groan, “I can’t- I just. I knew he didn’t love me, but-” you trail off and swallow hard. 

“You wanted him to,” Clint finished, “so when he started being nice, you kinda forgot.”

“I just. I wanted it so much.”

Clint nods, “I had that. A few times. And I still haven’t learned.”

He tilts your chin up and smiles a little, “How old were you when you left home?”

“I was 12 when they threw me out,” you murmur, “I got my period and my powers in the same week... They threw me out after my stepdad was screaming at me for... fuck knows what. He was about to shove me, and I yelled, “Stop... and he did. He fucking froze mid-swing at the top  of the stairs.”

You snort, “Not even an hour later, I was on a greyhound bus going who knows where... Worst. Birthday. Ever.”

Clint smiles a little, “Have you seen anyone since?”

You shake your head, “They reported me as a runaway, but then... after a few days, everyone just kinda stopped looking.”

“You shoulda joined the circus,” Clint teased. 

“And step all over your tragic backstory?” you counter, “Fuck that. I needed my own.”

Clint is quiet for a long minute, and you sigh. 

“Sometimes,” you say slowly, “I wish my mom was someone I wanted to call.”

“You can call Nat,” Clint said, “She’s low key worried about you.” He knows it isn’t the same. But he wants to remind you how fucking loved you are. That you deserve the love, they’re all giving you. Even now. 

“I know I can,” you answer, “I could have- probably should have told her everything but-”

Clint kisses your head, “But you didn’t want to be told what to do or how to feel.”

You nod.

“I know we treat you like a baby,” he says, “But... you are. I mean. You’re a baby to all of us in different ways.”

“What about you?”

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he says, grinning, “but Christ, are you cute.”

“Clint-” you start.

“I mean, I love you. I really love you... I don’t think I figured that out until you were demanding that I bring Lucky to see you, though... Such a brat.”

He smiles a little sadly, “I know you’re all heartbroken and shit. I know you probably never want to have anything to do with men again, but... Just know. I’m not laying in wait. I looked for you because I missed my friend. And if all we ever are is friends, babe. That’s all I need. So don’t- I mean. Don’t feel like obligated or anything. I mean. Lucky needs a mom, but you can be his favorite person without dating me.”

You giggle, and Clint lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Clint, you dummy,” you groan, voice muffled by his chest, “I love you.”

“I know,” he answers, resting his cheek on your head. And he did know. It was an immutable fact. The sun was going to come up, and you loved him. The way you loved all of them. And that- even if it wasn’t romantic, was no small thing. Even if it didn’t mean getting married and having babies, it was still comfortable just being near you. 

“But, he rumbles, “If you go be with Bucky after all this...”

You shake your head, “If I ever see him again, he’s gonna wish he’d just killed me,” you say. It isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. Punctuated by a casual tilt of your head that makes your neck pop. And Clint shivers reflexively. The last time he saw you do that, you were getting ready to rip someone’s head off. Literally. 

“I’m not sure if that just made me scared or Horny,” he said out loud.

And when you laugh, the butterflies in his stomach take wing.

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #clint barton #Clint Barton x reader #fluff #discussion of past abuse #trauma #hurt/comfort

[queenofgotham800]

Little-Big Fights (1/3)

(Roman Sionis x Reader)

Warnings: Gramatical Errors, Swearing, Blood, Deaths, Lots of fighting, cheating, Angst

Summary: You got into fight with your husband Roman Sionis after he flirted with few girls in Black Mask club. After he nearly hits you, you decide to leave him, joining the Birds of Prey. In the final battle you will decide.

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3

You were standing in front of circus tent in ruines of amusement park, thinking why is destiny treating you so bad.

Yesterday in Black mask club...

Roman was flirting, kissing other womans in club, while you saw it. Your heart broke, but you didn't cried. Victor came to you, covering your sight of Roman.

"You don't have to look at it, you know," he took your shoulder and turned you away from your husband.

"I know Vic, and you don't have to do this," you sat on the barstool, while Victor ordered you drink.

"Hey, he is just doing business," Victor hugged you as first tear from your eye dropped on floor. You looked on Roman again, who was smacking ass with hand of some random slut.

This was just too much.

"I am sorry, I have to go," you stood up from barstool, going up to your and Roman's apartment. You wanted to break something as anger boiled in you, and when Roman came back from the club for some papers to apartment, he found you sitting in his chair in living room. He came to you, leaning to you for kiss, but you slapped him.

"Are you fucking serious Sionis?" you stood up in anger and watched his surprised expresion.

"What the hell? What did I did again?" he asked, while holding the hurted spot on his cheek.

"You were literally flirting with those girls, touching them on intimate places, while I stood next to you in club.." you looked at his eyes.

"But they were just business, babe..." Roman rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you call those sluts business, even when they are just common people of Gotham? No criminals, no business. You told this last time, remember?" you frowned, and left to kitchen. Roman followed you, while shouting on you, "Yeah? And this is my fucking club! I can do whatever I want here!" he lifted hand, ready to hit you, but then he stopped, catching his head. You backed a bit, with slight fear in your eyes. He never hit you, he never even wanted. How did you both got into this situation?

Without thinking, you put down the ring that he gave you off your finger and put it on table. "Oh, come on, hit me!" you came closer to him, looking into his blue eyes, which were fulled with tears and regrets.

"Well, it looks like this is your club and your apartment, so i should go somewhere else. I wish we never met eachother. I don't want to see you again, Roman Sionis, you broke my heart," you looked on him, like he was some stranger, that you don't know.

"No, wait, please, I am so sorry (y/n) I didn't wanted this.." he cried as he held his head, kneeling as he crawled to you. "Please don't leave me." he made those puppy eyes that you loved so much on him. But you couldn't stay. At least not now, you needed break.

"Sure," you said as you closed doors, leaving that damn club and leaving your husband.

Now, you were entering the circus tent, following the sound of voices, which were comming from upstairs. They were all there, pointing weapons at you, arguing whether they should kill you or not.

"Hello," said Harley, while pointing at you little pink revolver. You didn't had weapons, only knife that Victor gave you on birthday. You also had few guns in your new apartment, but all of them were from Roman, so you did not wanted to use them.

"Hello," you waved to them, looking at ground. They were all there, Harley Quinn, Black Canary, behind her hiding Cassandra Cain, Renee Montoya and the Crossbow killer.

"Should we kill her or what?" asked Harley.

"She is Sionis, of course we should Kill her," whispered Montoya.

"Sionis? Let me kill her then!" told the crossbow killer.

"So you are the famous Crossbow killer?" you asked surprised.

"No, i am the Huntress.. But yeah.. The crossbow killer..." she came closer to you, pointing the crossbow to your forhead.

"I am (Y/n) (Y/s) now," you said and looked around the place, spotting something familiar in background.

"Already? Was he cheating on you?" Black Canary rolled her eyes and smirked. You two were always arguing back then, when she sang in club, and it didn't changed. You were quiet, but quite of surprised when Harley jumped on you and hugged you.

"I am sooo sorry about that (Y/n)," she said and you hugged her back, burrying your face into her shoulder, so others couldn't see your tears. When Harley turned to others, your eyes drifted back on familiar object- green shirt.

"She is okay ladies, we can trust her," you heard what Harley said, and you were going closer to the laying thing on the floor.

"Victor!" you screamed and kneeled to him. He was dead. "No, Victor." you whispered and tears came from your eyes again, without control.

"He was something like her best friend to her," Black Canary said, turning to rest.

"Hey, I am sorry," Montoya came to you, catching your shoulder.

"I.. I just need a moment," you said, stopping the tears, slowly getting them under control, thinking how weak you looked.

"It looks like you won't get it.." whispered Huntress.

"I'm sorry?" you frowned turning to her. She was looking from the broken window out, together with Harley. You heard voice of your husband too. It was just a day and you missed him so much. He didn't knew about you, being here and you were stressing.

Yesterday you left him, fighting him with words, now you have to fight him with weapons?

"No, no, no.. Why is he here?!" you shouted.

"He wants the diamond," said Cassandra Cain.

"Of course, the fucking diamond.." you said and took the knife out of your pocket as Roman's goons started running to the tent.

"Ladies, we have to take the weapons and go," said Harley and opened the big box on the wall. Sadly, it was empty.

"What if we tried this one?" you asked as you opened a smaller box, which was laying on the ground, fulled with knifes and big hammer.

Seconds later, you were found in middle of the battlefield, knocking down soldiers of your husband.

"We have to go!" Harley shouted as you ran to the exit.

You saw Roman aiming with the gun on you. When he saw you, his hand with gun felt down, but then he aimed it once more, on Montoya this time.

And you know he was about to pull the trigger. You jumped in front of her, protecting her and then you felt unfamiliar pain. Your vision became blurred... and last thing you heard, was Roman screaming your name, then turning around, escaping in his Rolls-royce as you saw Harley going after him on skates.

#Roman sionis #roman sionis x oc #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #birds of prey #harley quinn #victor zsasz #the black mask bop #the black mask

[nadisabug]

Ringleader

Prompt: circus AU centering around Saionji

Requested by: Anon

Fandom: SDR2 AU

Rating: G

A/N: Heres a little request I got before Fictober starts. I hope you and the Anon who requested enjoys it! And remember! Fictober starts tomorrow so you guys can send in requests with the prompt numbers if you like!

Saionji owned the stage every time she stepped foot on it. From head to toe, she was absolutely perfect. This circus was honestly lucky to have her.

Her act was far from simple. She wore an ornate, traditional dress, bursting with color, worked into it were pockets to hold small firecrackers and fuel for her long pipe that hung from her lips. She danced and lit firecrackers, an intricate performance, and as the finale she shot her comrade, Teruteru, off in a cannon. She was a show stopper, not a side act.

Yet, here she was, her act threatened to be cancelled.

"What do you mean it's broken?" Saionji said, venom dripping from her words.

"Uh, I mean it's broken," Kaizuchi bit back with an equal amount of sass. He threw his hands up, a metal tool waving dangerously in the air, before he slammed them down on the cannon he was currently working on.

"Be careful, bolt-brain," Saionji growled.

"Guys," Hinata sighed and stepped between the two. "Knock it off." His words were enough for Kaizuchi to swallow his retort, even in the face of Saionji's smug grin from getting the last word in.

Hinata turned to Kaizuchi. "How broken is it? Can it be ready for the show tonight?"

"Yes and no. It's really broken, but it is fixable. It's just going to take a long time."

"How long?"

"Long enough to pull pigtail's act from tonight's show."

"Then work faster!" Saionji snapped.

Hinata put a hand on her shoulder, both a threat and reassurance, then turned to Kaizuichi. "This is top priority." Kaizuchi nodded in understanding and turned back to the open panel he was working on.

Saionji wanted to stay and yell at Kaizuichi more, but the Ringleader's hand guided her away from the mechanic. She hesitated but Teruteru, who had been silent up until now, waved her off. So, she let herself be lead by Hinata.

On their walk, Saionji bitterly watched others get ready for their act for the circus show tonight. Akane was stretching under Niadai's watchful eye, preparing for the trapeze. Pekoyama was sharpening her swords for her display of swordsmanship. Even Saionji's good friend Koizumi was preparing her cameras to record tonight's show.

A show without Saionji and Teruteru.

Saionji did her best to keep quiet as Hinata took her to the ringleader's tent. Once they were inside though, that was another matter.

"You can't pull my act, we are the closer the finisher, we are the biggest part of the show you can't just pull that-"

"Saionji."

Saionji bit her lip to hold herself back from speaking. Somehow the twink could be incredibly intimidating.

"I am not pulling your act. If," he paused, emphasizing the condition. "You can find a different way to close the act."

Saionji wanted to scream to yell to ask him how the literal fuck was she supposed to come up with an alternative show in less than a couple hours, but she didn't. She knew he could easily have Pekoyama's sticks or Gundam's rats easily replace her so she kept her mouth firmly closed.

"You have until an hour before the show to tell me what it is. Otherwise..." Hinata left it hanging. She knew what he would have to do.

Saionji looked at the clock above Hinata's desk. Fuck. She only had an hour and a half until the deadline.

She was fucked.

When she left the office, she went directly to Teruteru. He was her partner and had to help her think of a good enough closer. They talked for an hour and when all seemed hopeless, Saionji stormed off to go on a walk around the circus tent to clear her mind. She had to think of something, but nothing was good enough.

Halfway through her walk, she bumped into a boy. He looked absolutely homeless. He had on a tattered green coat, his white hair was an awful mess, and his shirt looked two sizes too big. However, and most odd, he was carrying a comically large hammer.

Suddenly, the gears began turning in Saionjis head. She began thinking and all at once it clicked.

She needed that hammer.

"You. Gimmie that." Saionji stopped right in front of him.

"What?" The boy looked at Saionji, tilting his head slightly. He looked confused but Saionji didn't care.

"Give it to me." She held out her hand this time, motioning for him to hand it over.

The boy didn't respond, he only stared with wide open doe eyes.

"The hammer," she sighed. "I need it."

The boy looked down at the hammer, seeming to just remember it was there.

"Ah, this. Interesting," he mused. "Why do you need it?"

"I don't have all day," Saionji growled.

The boy smiled. "I do."

Saionji narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth. She didn't want to explain her life to this stranger but it seemed that if she wanted the hammer she would have to. "I need it for my act. I plan to launch my partner with it. Our usual closer is broken so I really need it otherwise my act is being cut."

"You work at this circus?" The boy asked and gestured to the tent.

"Duh."

"And you know the ringleader?"

"Fucking duh??" Saionji scoffed. "He's my boss and the one who's going to cut my act if you don't give me that hammer."

"Let's make a deal," the boy began. Saionji waited patiently to hear his terms. "I give you this, and you arrange a way for me to meet this ringleader."

It wasn't a particularly weird request, people wanted to join the circus all the time. Hajime had limited time but Saionji was confident in her persuasive powers.

So Saionji shrugged. "Fine, but I'm not responsible if he doesn't hire you. Our debt is settled once I get that meeting."

"Oh I don't want to join," the boy shook his head. "I just want to meet him."

Saionji scrunched her eyebrows, confused. The boy didn't seem to intend to clear it up as he handed her the hammer and bid her goodbye. So she let it drop. It wasn't her problem if Hajime had weird stalker guys. So all she did was mutter "fucking weirdo" under her breath, accept the hammer, and turn to go back to Hajime's office. She had a performance to do.

#hiyoko saionji #circus au #komaeda nagito #Hinata Hajime #kazuichi soda #teruteru hanamura

[jclie]

— && guests may mistake me as ( elizabeth olsen ), but really i am ( jolie madison + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 7/29/1992 ). i am a ( musician ) and would like to stay in suite ( 314 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( driven, audacious, & charismatic ), but i can also be ( perfectionistic, reticent & self-sabotaging ) at times. personally, i like to ( paint, hike, try new recipes & sing karaoke ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( chai sugar cookies ) to have in my suite.

hi everyone! i’m red, and the only excuse i have for this dropping so late is that Work Sucks and has held me up, but i am here and ready to love u all! rlly, what better to do with the remaining bits of summer ( and being awake, tbh ) than join this super cute group and put my intro post together? so yes, here is the 411 on jolie, with a more *~cohesive~* bio and stats page on their way — i am so excited to get to know all of your muses and begin interacting! i promise i do not bite so if you’re feeling brave, pop over in the ims, or, just wait me out, because i’m sure i’ll be appearing in them soon enough :~)

general info

full name: jolie drew madison

nicknames: j, jo, jojo (calling her this is a bit of a death sentence unless you have explicit permission), mads

date of birth: july twenty-ninth, 1992 (27)

zodiac: leo

sexual orientation: bisexual

birthplace: chicago, illinois

occupation: musician

hogwarts house: slytherin

mbti: enfj

suite #: 314

tw: drug use

past

born on a wednesday in chicago, illinois to a set of parents who had a very “informal” relationship to say the least — to make a complicated situation as cut and dry as possible, jolie’s parents were best friends with benefits. her mom wound up pregnant and decided to keep the baby. instead of jumping to some rash decision like getting married solely for the sake of their child, they decided to simply remain friends and split custody in the best way they knew how that didn’t require a mediator in the form of a family court judge. her parents remained close friends (and still are) once jolie was born; custody was weirdly split with jolie spending the majority of her time with her mom. they were an unconventional sort of family but a family nonetheless. dad does something with numbers (yes, think chandler bing), and mom is a local business owner.

as a kid, jolie never knew a stranger, and therefore had no trouble making friends once she hit school age. she was the kid who never found her niche group or “clique” because her feet were wet in several of them. school was not a miserable time for her. she had her friends, was a solid a/b student. jolie was a big perfectionist though, it not uncommon for her to beat herself up over something incredibly minute and self-sabotaging herself as punishment or because she didn’t know how to adequately process her feelings of anxiousness — she’d procrastinate, cut people off or drive them away, things of that nature.

music was always in her life, but it was a very casual thing in her world, situated on a backburner. it was something that she was able to bond over with her dad more so than her mom; her dad was a massive music junkie, loved sharing his favorite songs with her, bought her her first vinyl player when she was twelve and supplied her with every album under the sun, whether it was one she wanted or one of his favorites or just one he thought she might enjoy. she was in dance classes as a preschooler (this was an epic fail, because not even her rhythm could save her from the generally awkward disaster she is whenever she dances) and took piano lessons in elementary school, but she didn’t love either? she felt very restricted when it came to formal lessons, and almost needed the freedom to explore and learn it on her own terms — she ended up teaching herself guitar on her dad’s guitar on the weekends she spent at his place. there was also the 6 month stint her junior year of high school when she and some friends started a garage band (which jolie represses to a certain degree because the embarrassment it invokes is on another level) but it was mostly just an idea formulated from boredom and was something to pass the time, nothing really serious. 

jolie found herself at a bit of a crossroads after her graduation. most of her friends were off to college but college did not seem like the kind of environment for her. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself or her life, but she knew she had to do something. so she pretty much copied and pasted what one of her close friends was doing at the time, decided to go to northwestern and share an apartment with her and pray that something would speak to her along the way. spoiler alert: nothing did. her first year quickly fizzled and faded for her and most of her time was spent going to parties, embracing the social scene, the like. nothing of real educational value.  

she was still fucking around when it came to music; she’d met some people in one of her creative writing classes (the only class that she legitimately finished and enjoyed) and would go to open mic nights or other gigs around town. never meeting a stranger meant jolie was good at networking, making friends with other musicians — the more she spent time immersed in the world, the more she felt compelled towards music. she began writing songs that weren’t just the product of teenage angst (see: that awful high school band), even took a few music classes at northwestern. 

by the time she hit her junior year, she was over classes and was pretty much only taking filler classes still, wasting her money while she bar tended at one of the bars close by. but she’d never felt more creatively charged; she was putting her nose to the grindstone in writing songs, recording songs in her bedroom so she wouldn’t wake up her roommates, playing gigs on her nights off work literally anywhere that would take her, and using those new-er friendships to her advantage. she had gained some local traction but things really didn’t explode until she started posting original songs online and got contacted by a few record labels. jolie was hesitant to sign with anyone but she got one of her friends in pre-law to help her look over contracts and pretend to be her manager and eventually signed. subsequently, she dropped out of college and went to work on the music thing full time.

from 21-23, jolie was pretty much doing nothing but playing festivals and clocking in hours at studios. most of her time was spent on the road and she absolutely loved it  — she loved the music festival atmosphere, loved the crowds, loved meeting other bands and fans. she was pretty much touring on the few songs she had released, covers, and unreleased tracks from a wip, but it worked for her and it worked for the fans. she released her first album, ultraviolet on her 23rd birthday, and hit the road again. 

jolie missed her “college” life with the parties and socialization at her fingertips, so she started elbowing her way into that scene while she was on tour — at first, it wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, but jolie’s limits were very fluid. being on tour was draining and the perfectionist in her would always find something to berate herself about, and getting out of her head was the only way that she felt she could truly enjoy the whirlwind success that was happening to her. the drugs started as a one-time thing, just to try it, and then she was using regularly, and then it got to a point where she couldn’t go more than an hour without a line of coke. the drugs stripped away a lot of what made her jolie and left her with a more miserable, grouchier version of herself where her highs were almost normal and likable and the lows were hell to be around. 

she came off of ultraviolet’s tour and essentially jumped right back into the studio (she was beginning to break through in mainstream music, with her last promotional single off ultraviolet hitting mainstream radio and doing fairly well) for album #2. it was finished and ready to go, but by that point, the drug use had gotten to an all-time high and the constant turning a blind eye to it from her team was no longer possible. she ended up od’ing and that was it  — there was an intervention in the hospital room, and it was off to rehab for jolie. album got postponed and she basically fell off the radar.

she didn’t really make a “comeback” until she was knocking on 26′s doorstep, and by that point she’d been in rehab, getting sober, and then laying low for nearly two years. by the time she was releasing her first single for the new album cycle, she’d all but scrapped the record she’d made before rehab and had something else put together entirely. she released wonderland, which did very, very well. she toured for it and it was wildly different than anything she’d done prior — venues were bigger, more fans, just a whole different circus all around. 

probably the one thing she was more proud of than the music was her sobriety, and going on two years of being sober, not much else was important to her. she knew had a pretty black and white view of was good for her and what wasn’t, so after the tour wrapped, she decided to come home. she never pegged herself for the type to get “homesick” because her spirit was very much the wandering type, but she knew she needed to get out of la and nyc. back to chicago it was — which is how we get to the malnati. 

present

she’s in what she’d aptly describe as “professional limbo” — she’s not actively working on any one project, she’s just kind of floating until she can find something to tether herself to, whether it’s a single song or an album or something else that appears on her radar. she’s just taking things easy for the time being.

career wise, think marina, l*na —  more of a cult favorite than a mainstream artist. not going to get mobbed when she goes out and about, able to fly under the radar for the most part. as far as her music goes, i don’t necessarily know if i’ll claim any one artist’s discography and adopt as her own; in my head, jolie’s alt pop. think somewhere along the lines of hayley williams, st. vincent, tove lo, splash of the 1975.

personality wise at this point in her life: will charm the pants off of just about anyone she comes into contact with. flirty. a little goofy, hella sarcastic. there’s method to her madness even if no one else gets it. is still a little guarded when it comes to talking about herself. doesn’t mind talking about what’s happened to her but when it comes to the feelings and emotions as to why those things happened, she shuts down. it’s why she’s a musician: why talk about your feelings when you could just write them into a song and pretend they don’t exist beyond that, lmao. is the passive aggressive type, bottles things up and simmers. 

being in the kitchen and cooking has been a tactile sort of therapy for her, especially in her hiatus years. she loves trying new recipes, baking at random (all) hours, sometimes likes to pretend she’s on an episode of master chef. she’s a dork, your honor.

has a thing for polaroids. she has a blank moleskine notebook that she has put through a total ringer, gluing polaroids and other little mementos onto pages as a journal of sorts.

has a stick and poke tattoo (among other professional ones) on her ribcage that she gave herself when she was sixteen. it’s a tiny smiley face. 

her middle name came from her dad’s middle name (andrew).

if you want someone to go out with you at night (or during the day, she’s not picky) and just aimlessly wander around the city, letting things find you, she’s your girl. she loves a good adventure.

i headcanon jolie as predominantly dirty blonde/brunette lizzie? but she is also the type who has ruined her hair over the years over all the impromptu dying so... welcome to close your eyes and pretend hour.

plot ideas

this is by no means a comprehensive list of plots, just stuff off the top of my head that i’d like to see? again, i promise i don’t bite, so pls hmu if one of these appeals to you or if you just wanna brainstorm, i live for that shit!!

jolie’s a chicago native, went to college here, so 👀

meredith to her cristina — basically her best friend (not gender specific, either) who tells it to jolie like it is, doesn’t mind if she laments about how the world sucks every now and again, the person she’s calling if she needs help with a body

physically and/or emotionally, somebody who checks in on jolie and that she checks in on as well. we love a solid support system

exes — jolie’s a little bit (a lot of bit) of a player?? so i’d love to see exes that maybe didn’t end too hot, ex fwb or ex flings that never made it official, people she ghosted, exes that don’t want to get back together but don’t like seeing each other with anyone else, anything under that sun

jolie also is a Lowkey (read: highkey) commitment-phobe, but i’d rlly love for her to maybe have an ex that she was so In Love with that she was willing to push through it bc she saw herself with them forever..... and then, for reasons tbd, it ended, and it absolutely crushed jolie

someone who, on the occasion of needing to scratch an itch, is very good about getting the job done. it’s casual sex. there are zero romantic feelings involved, there is no getting jealous when the other person finds a relationship, the two are just good friends who have seen (and will probably continue to see) each other naked #yeehaw

maybe someone who was at one of jolie’s gigs when she was still playing bars that she bought a drink and kept in touch with or smth? or someone she met when she was still predominately playing small sets at festivals? idk i’m rambling someone stop me

a “muse”??? like, someone jolie is fascinated with / inspired by and she finds herself writing songs about / for

gimme someone who’s like an acquaintance at best, they’ve maybe got mutual friends and therefore they hang out a bit but they’re always arguing with one another for whatever reason (they both probably annoy each other) but they’ve got mad sexual tension going on? maybe they act on it, maybe they don’t, but either way, they lowkey enjoy the bantering and being at one another’s throats even if they act otherwise

jolie is a night owl, so... gimme someone who she can turn up at their room at some unholy hour (or that turns up at her room at said unholy hour) and watch a movie with or make a mess of the kitchen from fixing a premature breakfast

maybe someone who knew jolie when she was not in a good place?? and things are still v much tense / unresolved between them for whatever reason

and stuff for the event omg PLS *makes grabby hands*

#malnatiintro #malnatiooc #drugs tw #tw drugs #not sure what to tag so here's ALL the tags lmao

[sleepyverstappens]

Let me share this whole new world with you (Chapter 2/6)

Title: Let me share this whole new world with you

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

Rating: Gen/PG

Word Count: 2833

Tags: Oliver Verstappen-Ricciardo, Original Child Character, 5+1

Summary: Oli comes to the track from the first time

Read chapter 2 or Read from the start

1) Spa Francorchamps, Belgium 2021

Oliver is just two months old when they first bring him to a race weekend. While Spa isn’t technically Max’s home race anymore there is still a lot of family around for the weekend. His father isn’t there, like he hasn’t been for years now, but both of his sisters are there and his mum brought her new boyfriend Johan. Along with them there’s Tom, because wherever his sister goes he goes, and there’s Johan’s son Alex. So plenty of people to help them take care of Oliver as they go and race.

First though there are a lot of people wanting to gush over the new paddock baby. The photographers lined up at the paddock entry to grab the first shot of the newest addition to the Verstappen-Ricciardo family. They do their best to act like they don’t notice them, like usual, but the sound of camera shutters clicking rapidly somehow feel louder this time around, so they quickly find some peace and quiet in the Red Bull hospitality. The rooftop terrace almost eerily quiet compared to the paddock downstairs.

The girls are the first ones to properly see him... again, there are some privileges with being personal assistants and one of them is getting first access to the little bundle of joy strapped into the carseat in Daniel’s hands.

“Oh he’s gorgeous,” Vicky gushed, running her finger over Oliver’s cheek softly. Oliver squirmed a little as Dan worked the straps loose from around him, gently lifting him from the seat into his arms, but his eyes remained closed as he slept on.

“You want to hold him?” Dan asked, already knowing the answer as their assistants were almost literally making grabby hands at the little one. He gently transfers the baby into Vicky’s waiting arms, smiling softly at his former assistant as they can see tears start to well up in her eyes. They were such a close knit group of people, the Red Bull and Renault crew their family away from home, that he isn’t surprised by her reaction. Especially with her connection to the both of them, while sometimes she could feel like their babysitter most of the time she was like an older sister to them. The one that would guide them through this circus, but that would easily join their banter.

They let the girls gush over their son for a little while, taking the opportunity to quickly go and grab some food for themselves inside before making their way back to the table, Oliver now in Aurélie’s arms.  

Max is just about to go and get Oliver’s bottle warmed up when they see Alex and Christian approach. His teammate and team principal eager to take the spot the girls have just left. Max sighs internally, he’d figured they’d barely get any time alone with their son this weekend, but it was already becoming a bit much, everyone gushing over him, his hands itching to take Oliver back into his own arms and keep him just for himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said instead, holding up the bottle of formula to indicate where he was going. He steps into the kitchen area easily, everyone too busy preparing the food during the lunch rush for them to be bothered by the driver going to borrow the microwave without their permission. He can still hear the clatter of plates and utensils from outside, the clean up area of the kitchen hidden away from view and empty of staff as they scramble to get everyone their lunch in time.

He adds water to the bottle of dry formula and gives it a quick shake before pushing it into the microwave, pressing the buttons on autopilot. He didn’t know it would affect him this much, all these people wanting to see his son. Gushing over him as he was cradled into a different pair of arms again and again. Sure, his and Daniel’s families had been over to see Oliver plenty of times, but somehow this felt different. A new location where it somehow felt like they had to figure out how to take care of a two month old all over again. Where the bottle of formula was premeasured, his son waiting in the arms of Christian or Alex instead of his own as he tried to fumble his way through measuring it out one handed. Where the bloody microwave wouldn’t warm up the bottle enough in 60 seconds like at home.

“Fuck, come on,” he cursed at the appliance as he placed the bottle back inside and added another 30 seconds. Squeezing a drop out once it beeped at him again angrily, great now it was to fucking hot. He swore he could hear Oli’s cries through the loud rumbling of noise outside of the door. He sighed, figuring the bottle would could down enough on his way back to the terrace. At least when he got back he got to hold his son again, no way was he letting anyone else feed him right now.

He stepped back out on the terrace, Oliver happily cradled in Christian’s arms, suckling on his pinky as the three men chatted. Everything was fine, everything is fine , he told himself as he sat himself down in his chair again, Christian already moving to hand Oliver over to him with a smile. Everything is fine, he reminded himself once more as Oliver latched onto the plastic nipple, his bright blue eyes staring back up at him.

---    

After his little internal breakdown he’d decided to go on a little stroll through the paddock, Oli strapped close to his chest making him feel better immediately. Dan had suggested he come along, but one look from Max had told him Max needed to be on his own for a little bit. He may not know what was going through Max’s head, but he knew that sometimes a bit of time on his own was all he needed to sort his head out again.

He’d made one lap of the paddock when he ran into Lando, the Brit jogging up to him excitedly.

“I still can’t believe you actually have a kid Max, you’re someone’s dad,” Lando said in wonder as he looked down at where Oliver was strapped to Max’s chest, pulling faces at the little boy. His hands come up to wrap around Oliver instinctively, his brain still wanting to keep him as close as possible even though Lando is not making any move to try and hold him with how he’s strapped into the carrier.

“You’ve known for months mate,” Max chuckled. Whilst obviously neither of them had actually been pregnant and they had both just raced throughout Madeline’s pregnancy it had been no secret that a baby was on the way.

“I know, but still. Knowing it and seeing it are still very different things. You’re only two years older than me, yet you’ve got your whole life sorted mate. The husband, the adorable kid, the career, feels like you’ve got it all.”

“I know, it sometimes doesn’t even feel real to me either. I feel so lucky getting to have it all. Couldn’t have done it without Dan though, I’d have had so many mental breakdowns already if it weren’t for him.”

“Really? He told be he was scared shitless for the first few weeks, that you were the one to keep things afloat.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah mate, he’s proper smitten. By the both of you. So it seems are you,” Lando smiled, bumping into his side gently, as to not jostle Oli too much, as they strolled along the paddock. Happy to just walk and not talk for a while until they arrived back at the Red Bull hospitality. “So no iRacing for the foreseeable future?”

“Don’t think iRacing fits into my schedule for the next while no,” he laughed, already imagining when Oliver would be big enough to sit in his lap as he steered the virtual car around the track. When he would be big enough to turn the wheel by himself, only needing Max to reach the pedals with his feet. When he would finally be big enough to reach them himself.

He could do this. He could race and have his baby there with him to take care of. He could let other people hold him and help them out knowing he would be just fine. He’d still rather he would be in his own arms, but he knew Oliver would be safe in the arms of their teams, their family.

#my fic #let me share this whole new world with you #lmsthnwwy chapter 2 #chapter 2 #maxiel

[pollylynn]

“Every scribble is like a fingerprint.” —Leslie Ruiz, Child’s Play (7 x 04)

Title: Fabrication Rating: T
 WC: 1400

A/N: I don’t think anyone is as nutty as I about this, but there are extremely—I mean EXTREMELY—vague spoilers for Raging Heat and Driving Heat in this.

He’s not much of a liar lately. It’s kind of a problem. It’s kind of a big problem.

His charm depends on the white lie, the smooth conversational transition that’s really a bank shot—an abrupt and total redirection away from the thing he doesn’t know, won’t admit, doesn’t want to talk about. He’s failing big time on the charm front. Mrs. Ruiz hates him, and with good reason. Jason hates him, says his books suck, catches him with his pants wet and grassy, and when you’ve got no comeback up to the job of taking down an unlikeable eight-year-old, you’re seriously failing on the charm front—you’re failing at the all-important white lie.

The restoration of peace to hearth and home depends on shades-of-gray lies: I’m good, never better, slept like a baby, wrote a bunch. They’re all telling those. His mother and Alexis. He and Kate. It’s not a contest, but he’s bringing up the rear there, too. He’s fooling no one, though they all pretend that he is. They tell their own top-quality lies, and he’s bringing the team down. They’ll never bring home the gold with his dead weight.

The problem—the real problem from which all other lie-based problems emanate—is the fact that he can’t lie on the page. He hasn’t written a word since he’s been back. He cannot write a word, and he’s like a pinwheel without a pin. He’s a series of dangerous blades, spinning promiscuously around no particular axis.

There’s a kind of lying he does—a kind of lying he’s always done when it comes to writing—that hasn’t quite failed him yet. He learned early on to stockpile, to never give anyone, even himself—especially himself—everything he’s done on anything. He withholds a page or two from an overdue chapter, a couple dozen words that slosh over the edge of the page count he’d aspired to on a particular day. He keeps a scene, a plot point, a much-needed emotional beat tucked up his sleeve. He curls himself around them like a dragon with his tail flicking ceaselessly over his little hoard, then doles them out in tiny bits when he’s really stuck.

He’s managed that kind of lying, so far. Alexis clamors for pages, because that’s normal. Right about now, even carving out three weeks for the honeymoon that wasn’t—two weeks before that for the aborted flight into Canada—he should have blurt drafts of a few chapters. But he doesn’t, so he fills the doorway to the vault with the breadth of his shoulders. He surreptitiously snatches out a few cheap pieces from the very edges of the hoard and hopes they’re a convincing place to start.

They’re not a convincing place to start.

“Dad, these are all the end of the last one.” Alexis’s face crumples in confusion, disappointment, worry. “Right after the proposal!”

They are. They are Nikki saying yes, Nikki saying no, Nikki joining the circus, Rook joining the CIA. They are unusable nonsense, so he pretends to confess.

“Stuck,” he says, trying to remember how his face should look, where his hands go, what his posture should be when that’s all it is. “Not sure where to pick up yet, so they’re just springboards.”

“Springboards.” She nods and pretends she believes him.

She doesn’t believe him, though. He’s not much of a liar lately. She calls in the cavalry.

He’s sitting in the dark of his office, at the desk, not in one of the big chairs, because discipline might help? Rigor, discomfort, method, habit—one of them has to fucking help. None of them, to date, has helped.

She scares the shit out of him. She’s behind him, heavy hands on his shoulders, voice right in his ear before he even registers she’s there.

“Kate!” he shouts, splitting the black.

“Sorry,” she says, not really sounding like it. She comes around the front of the chair and plants her hips on on the edge of the desk. “I called you. I was calling.”

“Caught up, I guess.” He gestures to the keyboard and tries to sound sheepish. Blurrier, he thinks. More broken sentences. That’s how he sounds when he’s writing, isn’t it?

“In not writing?”

Now she sounds sorry. She sounds deeply, world-without-end sorry and the lie—even the pathetic excuses for lies he’s been telling lately—won’t come.

“I can’t anymore,” he mumbles down at his useless hands. “At all.”

“That’s silly.” She slides from the desk into his lap. “Of course you can.”

She’s a better liar than he is. She’s a great liar, warm and fierce with her arms around his neck, but a liar nonetheless.

“I really can’t.” He buries his face against her shoulder. His breath comes in short, tight bursts. It hardly comes at all. “There’s nothing.”

“You’ve been stuck before,” she scoffs. “How do you get unstuck?”

It’s a blank at first. It’s a punch to the midsection that drives out what little air there is for him to work with. He can’t think what he does—what he’s done before—when he’s really, truly stuck. Then he does remember. Then it’s literally on the tip of his tongue as he opens his mouth against the skin the wide neck of her sleep shirt leaves bare. 

“I make up elaborate excuses to follow beautiful women around until they say they’ll marry me one day,” he says with a miserable laugh.

“One day.” She pinches his side. She gives him a savage kiss, then a gentle one. “One day,” she says again as she settles herself against him once more. “So that’s off the table. What’s Plan B?”

“No Plan B.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

He hopes she’ll say something. He hopes she’ll rescue him, but she waits him out. She lets the black knit itself together again and press in on him—on the two of them. He sighs. He forces himself to calm, to breathe, to cast about for the most fundamental thing.

“If you can tell a story, you can write a story.” It doesn’t sound any more convincing now than it did in the hateful sing-song of the day before. “But I can’t tell it. I don’t know it.”

“You don’t know it.” Her voice sounds tight. Unhappy, but she rallies. She shakes it off for him. For him. “Do you have to tell that one?”

“I think so?” It’s the heart of it. He kind of hates her for swooping in and finding that out straight away. He kind of hates himself for tripping over it and tripping over it and never once seeing it. “I can’t not tell it. But I don’t know it.”

“You do,” she insists. “You know some of it.” She drops her cheek against the crown of his head. “You know how you came home.”

“In a sky blue dinghy,” he snorts. It’s an ugly sound in the hollow of her shoulder, but it catches him—the ludicrous mouth feel of the word. “Dinghy,” he says again.

His fingers twitch toward the desk. The sharp movement startles her.

“Castle?” she sits up straight. She gathers herself as if to go, but he hems her body in with straight arms on either side as he reaches to slam a thumb down on the space bar.

“Stay.” He ducks his head around her rib cage. He lands an inelegant kiss somewhere in the neighborhood of her armpit and she swats at him. “Just a second.” He kisses her there again and gets a second swat as he bangs out the words on the empty page.

Dinghy.

Sky blue.

“Okay.” He breathes as hard as if he’s just finished a marathon in under three. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She leans in, narrow-eyed. She squints at the meager harvest before he moves to bring the lid down. She stops its progress with an incredulous hand. “That’s it?”  

That’s it, he’s about to say. He’s about to point out that it’s infinity more words than existed a minute ago—the division-by-zero truth he tells himself in desperate times. He almost tells it to her, but inspiration strikes again. He taps back to the not-quite-blank document.

Celeste pallido.

“Now that’s it.” He closes the lid with infinite satisfaction. “That’s it for now.”

A/N: A super, overly long thing about writer’s block. Ha! Oy.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 7 #Castle: Child's Play #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Alexis Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #writing #drabble #drabble fail #My Brain is Fucking Incorrigible

[grimmjowjaegerjaquez]

so. ach’m. he is an amphibious alien character thats been with me for a long time and i havent had the feeling for him in YEARS. but i have to talk about him because hes still got a special place in my heart despite my uh... abandonment of him. 

this is really long so it’s under a cut

first things first: his name, Ach’M Raten, is pronounced, Ahk-mm Rah-ten. it has a meaning to it because apparently those are names derived from words in his people’s language, which you’ll find out about more later. 

he was someone i made when i was RIGHT in the middle of my Alien phase, and was also just starting my OCT xDDD phase on deviantArt. (i was. not good at octs bc i had no concept of cohesive storytelling in a limited timeline comic format and also had really bad add that made it impossible to ever finish anything.) the OCT he was apart of was Tapestry of Horror, which, honestly i think my audition comic for that was the only good one i made for that entire tourney. this was his reference for it: 

ahh, look at that. the nostalgia is all coming back to me. the amount of “:U” which was a go-to face for 13 year old me. this was posted back in 2010! wow!

the reason the 63 on his age is crossed out is because THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY THE ORIGINAL REFERENCE I HAD FOR HIM! i had to redraw him because his original reference (which unfortunately has been lost to the annals of time) was too human looking? and tapestry of horror was an anthro/alien/no-human-faces tourney, so they told me i should probably change his face up some and then he’d be fine, and ORIGINALLY, ACH’M WAS AN OLD MAN. I DON’T KNOW WHY I ALSO CUT HIS AGE IN HALF BUT IT’s PROBABLY BECAUSE I WAS THE INDECISIVE BASTARD THEN THAT I STILL AM TODAY.

supposedly he used to slink around in shadows and laugh and speak in rhymes, and im pretty sure that was a side effect of edgy 13 year old interests? like, i think i tried giving him kind of a creepy serial killer vibe? and then just never executed it? he had an epithet of, The Laughing Cyborg, which is still relevant in later versions of him. 

oh and here, have some TOP SECRET ACH’M LORE COURTESY OF THE IMAGE DESCRIPTION OF HIS REFERENCE:

i don’t believe i was lying. i think i did originally make an amphibious alien woman character that just later evolved into ach’m. i’m sure if i had any of my sketchbooks from that age physically with me i would ABSOLUTELY be able to find it and show you guys but i dont so, rip. 

because i was trying to be coy and ~*~mysterious~*~ i never originally explained his backstory on his reference. it was planned to be something revealed overtime through ~*~dramatic~*~ flashbacks and dream sequences that i did not have the ability to execute. its always followed the same beats, though: ach’m and his younger brother were child refugees from a civil war on his home planet. in their initial escape, ach’m is caught under a crumbling wall and loses his leg, and they’re later found and adopted by a retired opera singer of another species. through vague never-established family issues, ach’m leaves his adoptive mother and joins a travelling circus. 

this is his adoptive mother: 

her name is (and i’m sorry) Nippeteranulzenkodelonio. You can just call her Nippy, though. Please just call her Nippy. 

god, her species used to be called draconae? what the heck. in future designs, those religious symbols are obsolete and replaced with other symbols relating to a galaxy-wide secret society that has NOTHING to do with ach’m and i never figured out how nippy was involved in it, so we’re not delving into that. 

they both come from a planet called Naruviie, which in his language just means, “Land of the People,” “naru” being the part that means people. i never like, fully fleshed out their planet aside from very vague allusions to it being mostly swampland populated by cute little amphibious animals like this fun guy: 

pictured: a gold Yarlian, which is basically the Naruviian equivalent of a dog. 

SO BACK TO ACH’M AND THE TAPESTRY OF HORROR: i only won the first round because my opponent had to drop out, and i lost the second round. it didn’t really matter though, because ach’m remained an incredibly popular character to followers of the tourney, and No, It Was Not Because Of Me. it was because one of the other competitors who i was friends with included him in her rounds, mostly for jokes, and i thought it was the best thing ever. the problem with that though, was that even though in every entry for the tourney she would say IN THE DESCRIPTION that he was NOT her character, everyone thought he was. because she was just a more well-known artist in that community, and i was just. some 13 year old. 

but anyway, she was a more competent storyteller than i was so she actually like... gave him more character than i was capable of at the time, and she would ask me if i characterized him wrong and i would always be like, “NO ITS GREAT HES PRETTY MUCH WHAT I WANTED HIM TO BE BUT JUST COULD NOT WRITE FOR WHATEVER REASON!” not that i ever expressed it like that because... from what i remember about my 13 year old self... i was very Virgo in all of my statements. yikes. 

im not close with that artist anymore, and our interests have diverged a lot since then, but i always think back to that time with fondness. for my tween mind, having an artist that i looked up to see my character and actually like them enough to do that absolutely had a profound effect on me at the time. 

ALRIGHT NOW FOR THE NEXT VERSION OF ACH’M, 2015: 

see i told you his name had a meaning. and look, i even gave his language a name! wow! such developments!

his backstory didn’t really change, except this time instead of a wall falling on him and crushing his leg, he was just born with a bad leg that had to get amputated. apparently. i also changed up his personality more. instead of him being this one dimensional jokey boy that talked in a bad accent, he became more of this like... roguish bardish type of character? he’s more flirty, more prone to being pride and false bravado, tells ridiculous stories of his life to appear more dashing, and, get this: i literally put in his updated backstory that he used to work more Colorful Jobs (ie: he was a prostitute at some point) 

his brother also has more of a presence and an actual character? i think i planned on him being dead in his 2010 iteration. Orith in this version is a grouchy mechanic/space engineer with a prosthetic eye. oh yeah that’s right him and ach’m were like. attacked by giant birds at some point in their childhoods? i think i had it that the giant birds were a natural predator of his fucking species????????? and thats why ach’m is missing an arm and an ear

moving on. 

LOOK WOW I GAVE ACH’M MULTIPLE OUTFITS!! WOW!!!

big himbo energies. i knew what was up. 

and that leads us to the latest ach’m that i’ve drawn which is these sketchy things from 2016

his cybernetic arm looks completely different now, he doesn’t have the robot ear anymore and his brother (wow an actual picture of his brother!) doesn’t even have a robot eye, and nippy now looks actually old and is like. completely blind now. i didn’t even realize my art style changed THAT much in the span of like, one and a half years until like.. JUST now. wow. 

he definitely looks like more of a scumbag now, and i don’t think i ever made anymore drastic changes to his backstory. i’m probably going to take another crack at it though because uhhhhh i dont like a lot of the implications i made in his backstory lmfao.

anyway yeah that’s the story of ach’m! 

#my ocs #ach'm #< look he has his own tag now. do apostrophes even work in tags?

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Fighting the Clock

Fighting the Clock - Kidge Fest Prompt 3 Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: It’s New Year’s Day, and Pidge is a little miffed with Keith being away on a mission with the Blade after already missing the other holidays leading up to this. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Previous two prompt-fills can be read [here] and [here] respectively. The final post for KidgeFest!... Or is it???? :3c

She wasn’t normally very fond of big crowds but she had always wanted to attend the ball drop in New York City in person. It was just like her to let her curiosity outweigh her discomfort or unease, but she wasn’t alone. Hunk and Lance had also been excited at the idea and agreed to come along. She had spent most of the early morning and afternoon alone, bundled up and waiting on the top of a parking structure, while Hunk and Lance had gone to do some sight-seeing and hit up some four-star restaurant Hunk had been raving about in the weeks since they’d agreed to coming with her. She had received a brief message on her communicator from him shortly before she was supposed to meet back up with them.

Keith’s smile on the screen twitched with nervousness at the corners.

“You aren’t going to make it, are you?” She asked bluntly, raising one eyebrow and forcing a teasing grin on her lips. It was hard to manage due to her disappointment, but a small voice in the back of her mind nagged that she shouldn’t really be surprised at this point. He had been unable to come back in time for Christmas. Or her father’s birthday. Or Thanksgiving.

It was just like him to be unable to be punctual when she had something important to talk to him about.

“I’ll be there, I’m just… Gonna be a little late,” He said, wincing a bit, and his tone sang of a thousand apologies she’d probably be hearing later. Evidently, her frustration must have showed through. So much for her poker face. “Not because of the Blade or the mission, though. I was fine leaving headquarters, I just… The coalition checkpoint is backed up all the way to the Big Dipper and it’s slow going.” He turned his communicator to show her the long, long line of ships ahead of his cruiser.

For the first time, Pidge resented convincing Allura to take them back to Earth so that they’re home world could join the coalition. If she’d known that so many aliens would want to come visit the planet the newest Paladins originated from she wouldn’t have said a damn word. Or, rather, she would have made a camouflage device for Keith’s cruiser so he could just bypass the whole circus. She’d never been a big supporter of bureaucracy and all that restrictive caution tape, anyway. “Have they given you any kind of E.T.A.?” She asked as the communicator focused back on him.

“A few hours… Probably closer to, like, ten or eleven o’clock tonight, if the estimate on the space-highway sign in correct,”

“Oh, well then we’re totally fucked, because those things are never right,” She barked, rolling her eyes.

He frowned. “Maybe things will go faster. You okay? You seem a lot angrier than I was honestly expecting you to be,” He said, his tone a bit softer. He had learned over the years that inquiring what had Pidge’s feathers ruffled was a science; tread carefully, and if she only rustled up even more than drop it until she felt like opening up herself.

She cast him a bland look, not even wanting to dignify that comment with a verbal response. He winced again and she let her shoulders sag a bit, trying to remind herself that getting angry wouldn’t help any. “You know, last time I checked, I was the one wearing the wedding band, not Kollivan.” She let a slightly more teasing note creep in to her tone. She didn’t want to end her year with making Keith feel like shit, thus starting the year on a sour note.

His smile was small and thankful. “Being married to Kollivan would be pure Hell, don’t even joke about that,” He laughed. She giggled as well and then stood up, making sure to keep her grip on the communicator so it stayed primarily focused on her face. “I’ve missed you.”

Her smile became softer and her eyes warmer. “I’ve missed you too, you big sap. I’m meeting up with Hunk and Lance so I have to go. If you can, let me know when you’re past the check point, though, so I can meet up with you,” She said.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon, promise,” He said, flashing her a quick salute before the feed shut down. With a deep sigh, Pidge stuffed the communicator into her purse, adjusted her scarf and gloves, and then scrambled to the elevator of the parking garage.

She ended up hailing a cab to get to the restaurant the other two had gone to, since it was across the city from her position, much to her chagrin. The drive had given her the chance to clear her mind and wonder what she would do if Keith ended up not making it in time to see the ball drop with her – as, she surmised, she could let it slide if he missed dinner – and the idea of kicking his sorry tail on to the couch didn’t seem quite strict enough. Her pettier side insisted that she make him spend at least two nights in his cruiser, since she knew that thing couldn’t maintain heat when shut down and tended to go in to an automatic shut down if left on free-flight mode for longer than three hours.

When she arrived, Hunk offered her a small plastic bag with a Styrofoam container inside as well as a water bottle. “I take it he got held up?” He asked, flashing her a sympathetic smile.

“He’s stuck in a long line waiting to pass through the coalition checkpoint,” She said, taking the two offered items, letting the bag hang from her wrist by the handles. She opened the water bottle and took a quick sip. “Thanks, by the way. How much do I owe you for it?” She asked while putting the water bottle in her purse and peering into the bag to verify that some plastic utensils were inside.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hunk laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yeah, we figured that Keith would get caught up in that mess,” Lance scoffed lightly, waving one gloved hand flippantly in indication of the sky above them. He indicated his head and started walking, Pidge and Hunk falling into step with him. “Last year we got caught in that whole headache bringing Allura and Coran down for Thanksgiving. Which is why they just come down here and stay from Halloween until the last week of January.”

“It can get pretty crazy, now that Earth has become a hotspot for alien travel,” Hunk agreed, shuddering a bit at the memory. They’d never divulged the full history of what they’d gone through trying to get back to Earth, but she was well aware that some less-than-diplomatic phrases had been exchanged between Allura and one of the Garrison staff stationed at the checkpoint.

Lance ended up leading them to Central Park, where they settled on a bench so Pidge could eat. She had nearly wept her gratitude as she opened the container and took a bite of the herbed chicken parmesan they’d picked out for her. It didn’t hold a candle to her mom’s homemade one, but it was a nice substitute that would leave her full throughout the rest of the days activities. As she ate, Hunk and Lance told her about some of what they’d done. They’d stopped in front of the Macy’s Department Store where the Thanksgiving Day Parade always stopped at and perused through. “It’s, like, twenty times bigger than any other one I’ve been to before! And it’s selection? Totally validated the size of that place,” Lance said.

They’d also gone to Broadway to see a musical right before lunch, which had Hunk thrilled to talk about. She remembered how Lance had enlisted her help to get the tickets the minute they went on sale, as there was a big bustle over the latest presentation of the renowned classic The Count of Monte Cristo. “I mean, I’ll always have a preference for the years old original Broadway casts recording,” Hunk said excitedly, showing her the bag full of merchandise he’d bought after the show, “but this was definitely an amazing performance! Especially the two they cast for Edmond and Mercédès! And their rendition of I Will be There was so amazing! They really sold it!”

“And this is why I’m the literal best husband in the world~!” Lance sing-songed proudly. Pidge chuckled but did have to admit that it was a sweet gesture. Hunk was a surprisingly big buff on classic literature and had loved the novel that inspired the musical many years later. It had always been his dream to see the musical in person if it were ever brought back to Broadway. So when Lance found out that very musical was being brought back for the new generation of musical buffs? He had known it would get him tons of bragging points if he got them in to see it.

Even if that meant waking up one very disgruntled Pidge at nearly two in the morning to guarantee the purchase.

They walked around the park after that, enjoying the sights and atmosphere. There were still plenty of people present, but there seemed to be more space for a bit of privacy between she and her friends. She watched Lance head out toward the water, pointing excitedly at some ducks and geese swimming close to the shore, tugging Hunk along with him. She stretched, humming in delight at the light pop and rush of relief, and stared up at the sky. She huffed quietly as she turned her attention back to Hunk and Lance, whom were now being chased by a disgruntled goose. For as much as she loved spending time with Hunk and Lance, she couldn’t help but wish that Keith was there with her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Keith groaned and drummed his fingers along the armrest of his seat. He’d been sitting here for a whole hour and probably only managed to slip half an inch closer to the checkpoint. He looked at the watch he wore that was set to Earth time and scowled. He would still have another two hours of flight before reaching Earth even after the checkpoint. He groaned again and scrubbed his hands over his face, staring up at the slim gold band on his finger, then let his eyes close. It was a simply band but it was the engraving inside – Sword and Shield; the perfect pair – that always had him falling for her all over again.

You aren’t going to make it, are you?

Pidge’s disappointment had been painful, but what had been worse was how resigned she seemed to the notion. She had been expecting him to call and cancel his arrival just like he had for Christmas the week before. And Samuel’s birthday before that. And even Thanksgiving before that. The realization that he hadn’t seen his wife in person since the second week of November was a sobering one; he knew that he’d been gone for a long time, but putting it all in to perspective like that was like a punch to the gut.

You know, last time I checked, I was the one wearing the wedding band, not Kollivan.

She had meant it as a joke and clearly wasn’t trying to be underhanded or passive aggressive – mostly because Pidge didn’t do passive aggressive; she did regular aggressive – but it still hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d been taken away for extended periods of time due to missions. In the last two years of their marriage, he’d spent a total of eleven months away from her – including his most recent stint – and it left him suddenly reeling as he realized that he’d spend nearly half their marriage away from his wife. They had been talking about starting a family before he got the call for this most recent mission but he got the feeling that talk would be non-existent for at least a month once he finally did touch back down on Earth.

He opened his eyes to stare at the wedding band again. What would happen if Pidge did get pregnant and he got another mission and something happened? While medical technology was advanced – and Allura was always just a call away – there were always risks that could come with a pregnancy. Or, his mind goaded, what would he do if Pidge went in to labor while he was away and he couldn’t be reached in time to make it back? What if he wasn’t there to support her through delivery and see the birth of their first child? ‘Well,’ A voice in the back of his mind scoffed, ‘you’re certainly getting yourself a splendid track record of being dependable and supportive. Assuming she doesn’t just dump your sorry ass for a better guy after all the shit you’ve pulled recently, you’d better be intending to make it up to her.’

That thought was all that was needed to steel his resolve. He sat upright and reached out, taking a grip of the throttles. In one quick motion, he sent his cruiser upwards, hovering just above his spot in the line-up as well as the tops of the other space crafts around him. He then twisted to the left, shoved his foot down and sent his ship spiraling around and past the lines. He knew that the patrol vehicles used by the Garrison in charge of the checkpoint didn’t get quite a much speed as the fighter pilot models – the ones that were similar to his own Blade provided cruiser – so as long as he got a decent head start on them, he could land his cruiser on the lot roof Pidge had gotten sealed off just for him – another perk of being a Paladin, she had said – and be well on his way into the crowd before they knew what hit them. He wouldn’t be able to change clothes like he wanted to, but he should be able to take the duffel bag he had shoved them in to with him.

Finding a bathroom to change in wouldn’t be hard, given their locations, and then it was just a matter of locating Pidge on the ground.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

He stole a glance at his communicator as he leaned against the wall of the handicap stall of a restaurant two blocks from the parking garage. 11:21. “Okay,” He breathed, a bit winded and winding down from the adrenaline rush that the chase had been, “all I have to do is call Pidge and find out where exactly she is. That shouldn’t be too hard.” He ran his fingers through his hair again before dropping his duffel bag and rummaging through. He changed in to his casual clothes as quickly as he could, then followed it up with a quick combing of his hair and brushing his teeth. He used a water bottle he’d had inside to rinse and spat in to the toilet, instead of the sink to avoid getting weird looks.

Well, more than he already got from when he first walked in wearing his Marmora suit and asking where the bathroom was.

He pulled on his gloves and grabbed his scarf from the bag, holding off on putting it on until he got outside and instead just tossing it over his shoulder. He rested the strap of the duffel bag on his other shoulder then headed out of the restroom. He took another quick glance at his communicator as he stepped out on to the street. 11:35. He started up to the link with Pidge’s communicator and watched the fuzzing noise line as it chimed to reach her before tying on his scarf and starting at a jogging pace towards the ball drop.

He ducked through the crowd and weaved between the other people, making his way to try and get as close to the ball as possible, while looking around and then back down at his communicator. Pidge would be as close as she could get – he was certain of that much – but then it became a concern of if she’d actually hear the communicator going off. He hoped that he’d be able to spot her in the crowd, but it was a bit difficult already. Between the light snowfall and everyone being bundled up in dark, heavy winter coats, it was near impossible to tell this huddled blur from that one.

He growled, terminated the attempt to reach her, and launched another as he checked the time again. 11:43. He looked around again before cupping one hand over his mouth. “Pidge!” He called out loudly. A few people turned to look at him with confused or annoyed expressions but none of them were the face he was looking for. He growled and tried calling for her louder, continuing to push through the throng. “Pidge! Pidge, are you around here? Can you hear me? Katie!” He shouted, getting louder and more frantic as he struggled against the current of other people.

He kept struggling and shouting, even as the crowd erupted into chanting out the count of the last minute before the ball dropped.

It was then that his eyes caught sight of a back. The person was wearing a black coat with a faux fun lining the hood and a bright blue scarf. What caught Keith’s eye was the fact that they were far too tall, towering twice as tall as those around him. He realized quickly that they were sitting on the shoulders of someone else, the two almost blurring together by the similar coloring of their coats. It was the scarf, however, that specifically caught him; he recognized the color and initials embroidered on the end.

L.M. Lance McClain.

He charged forward and felt his chest warm when he saw a slightly smaller figure standing just a few paces ahead and to the right of Lance, wearing a green and white stripped sweater and his red beanie with the white puff ball on the top. He shoved past Hunk and Lance, ignored the exclamation of protest he got, and reached to grab her arm as they reached the final few seconds.

10!

She whipped around, lips twisted up in a snarl, ready to spit venom. She was on edge already with so many people constantly bumping and crowding her, but when combined with the fact Keith hadn’t made it? She was starting her New Year on a note of irritation just as she’d been dreading. She gasped when her eyes landed on an all too familiar.

9!

“Keith! You made it!” She gasped, her irritation melting away. He looked distressed and his shoulders sagged a bit.

8!

“I’m so sorry I cut it so close. I was trying to get here faster but the Garrison was chasing me and I had to shake them and I didn’t think that running around in my Blade uniform would be a good idea in this weather and-!” He kept prattling on, his words laced in anxiety. She could tell he’d been rushing to find her, frantic to make it back and keep his promise.

7!

She decided to take pity on the poor guy and lightly pressed one gloved hand over his lips to cut off his rambling. Pidge could be petty and spiteful, but even she knew when it was time to bury the hatchet; especially when she could tell he felt sincerely bad.

6!

She let her hands slide to rest on either of his shoulders and grinned up at him. “Hey, you made it before the end of the year, right?” She teased.

5!

He blinked a bit before reaching over to cup both sides of her face, still seeming a little distressed. “I should have been here a few weeks ago,”

4!

“Yeah, but I’m willing to let us start the year off with clean slates. Sound like a plan?”

3!

His lips twitched up in a smile and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Well, at least let me make it up to you. For the sake of my own conscience,”

2!

“And what did you have in mind?” She mused, raising one brow at him inquisitively. His smile turned a bit more devious before he tilted his head and pressed his lips gently against hers.

1! Happy New Year!

She pressed her lips more firmly to his and let out an eager little purr. He took charge and surged forward, lightly tracing her lip with the tip of his tongue and letting one hand slide up higher, tangling in her hat-frazzled hair. She was more than happy to voice her contentment with a slightly louder moan. He left one hand in her hair but let the other slide down to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, his body sturdy and warm through their respective layers.

God, she’d missed him.

She’d missed being able to lean into him and press close, to share his warmth. She’d missed tucking under his arm or into his side and just resting there. She’d missed waking up with his face pressed into the crook of his neck and his arm around her waist, her back flush against his chest. She’d missed being jolted out of her work by a puff of air against her cheek followed by the soft touch of lips to the hinge of her jaw. She’d missed the two of them dancing around the kitchen together to make dinner or tidy up. She’d missed feeling like her partner-in-crime was just a brief hand gesture away.

She’d just missed him in general.

When they pulled away she smiled up at him, their foreheads touching again. It seemed that the world had faded back into focus and the ruckus around them sparked back to life. People were bustling around more aggressively than before and Pidge stepped even closer, curling up against his side to avoid getting moved around too much. “Glad we came this year. No way would we be able to do this next year with a little one,” She laughed.

He chuckled a bit and hummed. “Yea- Wait, what? Pidge, are you pregnant?” He asked, at first jovial and then freezing and staring down at her in surprise.

Her grin widened. “I’ve been waiting to tell you in person since I found out. I intended to tell you at Thanksgiving, and then when you came back for Dad’s birthday, and then I figured I’d just tell you at Christmas but that never panned out. And, I mean, I really should have just told you since I know that would have gotten you home, but that just didn’t feel right. Telling you in person was the only way I wanted to tell you,” She explained, nodding her head from side to side as she mentioned each time she’d planned to, and then nodding at her conclusion.

She watched his reaction carefully, his expression seeming to be frozen in shock, before his eyes sparked bright and his lips split in to one of his rare full smiles. He scooped her up with both arms and spun them around in a circle, laughing like a mad man while she squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. When he skidded to a stop he looked up at her with such wonder and glee it left her a bit winded. “We’re gonna have a baby!” He breathed.

She flushed a little bit and giggled. “I’m about thirteen weeks in now. Due date is looking like mid-June right now, and we can find out the sex in February,” She mused, leaning down to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, so the lone wolf finally comes trekking back to the rest of the flock, I see?” Lance huffed as he and Hunk strode up.

“Um, Lance, I don’t think that you’ve got that quite right,” Hunk said meekly, squeezing the other’s hand with a small chuckle.

“Hunky, my love, I’m trying to make a point,” He said, looking up at him with a raised brow before turning his attention back to Keith and Pidge. Keith set Pidge down but still kept her pressed into his side with an arm around her waist, which she appreciated. Even with her heavy clothes, she was still a bit nippy. “Oh, and thanks for nearly send us toppling over. Couldn’t even say an ‘excuse me’?” He huffed, though there was a bit of a playful hint at the edges of his tone. While the rivalry still existed between them, they – Lance – had gotten better about letting the rivalry be more teasing than volatile.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” Keith blurted out excited, still grinning like mad. He then swooped in and gave Pidge a kiss to the forehead.

Lance opened his mouth – most likely to make some kind of teasing remark – but Hunk beat him to the punch. “Congratulations, you guys. You’re gonna be great parents,” He laughed happily.

Pidge wrapped her arms around Keith’s chest and nuzzled in while Keith, Lance and Hunk fell in to casual chatter. She wasn’t showing too much yet, but there was a little bit of a baby bump starting to become more prominent. She leaned up and kissed Keith’s chin when she felt his hand stroke against her side through her coat. She waged he had probably noticed the slight bulge now that she was pressed so close up to him.

She basked in the light glow that the year was starting on; well, until she had to get in to a screaming match with the Garrison over them trying to detain Keith after foregoing the checkpoint.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #KidgeFest #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

[ravengirl94]

Imagine: Getting Dean to go Jogging

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Language, jealous!Dean, implied smut

A/N: this is my submission for @hannahindie‘s Party Like It’s Pawnee Indiana Challenge! I adore Parks and Rec, and these prompts were absolutely incredible. Congratulations on the followers, hun!!

My prompt is “Jogging is the worst! I know it keeps you healthy, but God, at what cost?” and is bolded below! Enjoy!

"Aww, look who finally made it out of bed," you teased, stepping into the kitchen to find a sleepy looking Dean sitting at the table. His hair was messy, and he was still in just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, a bowl of cereal in front of him. You were sweaty and tired, but in a good mood after a long morning run.

"I've been up for... Okay, twenty minutes. Shut up," he muttered, scowling. You just smiled and placed one hand on his shoulder before planting a rough kiss on the side of his head, making him grunt.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked, watching you throw ingredients into the blender for a smoothie.

"I'm not allowed to be happy?" you shot back, giving him another grin that had him narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Considering you were out exercising and sweating, no. You're usually grumpy when you get home."

"Well maybe today was just a good day," you replied cryptically, the roar of the blender not allowing Dean to comment further.

"You hate running," he continued to prod when you sat down across from him, sipping at your drink.

"It's good for you," you replied, grinning again as Dean's brow furrowed, "and let's just say it's nice to be appreciated."

"Appreciated?"

"Mhmm," you hummed in agreement, enjoying this immensely.

"Sammy, what the hell is she talking about?" Dean snapped over at his brother, who had just strolled in, back from his own run.

"I don't know, what is she talking about?" Sam questioned, looking appropriately bewildered by Dean's question. The two of you had taken different routes today, so Sam legitimately had no clue that a few other runners had pointedly checked you out on their way by. Attractive, male runners.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow and find out for yourself," you quipped, making Sam bark out a laugh.

"The day Dean goes running is the day hell freezes over," he said, still chuckling. Dean was scowling at the both of you, clearly not amused by the teasing.

"Seriously, Y/N, what the hell do you mean appreciated? I appreciate you. I... I got you that ice cream when I bought pie the other day." He was so earnest, so confused and borderline hurt that you couldn't tease him anymore.

"No, D..." you murmured, reaching over to squeeze his hand on the table, "You're great. There were just some guys checking me out today. It felt good to be noticed, that's all. Makes exercising seem worth it." Dean stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then suddenly he got up, snatching his keys off the counter. "Dean? Where are you going?" You asked, jerking to your feet.

"To buy some damn sneakers!" He shouted over his shoulder, stalking off towards the garage.

Sam made a small choking noise, and then he was shaking with laughter, collapsing into a chair and wiping at his eyes.

"Oh god, I can't wait to see this," he chuckled, "I can't believe it. You might actually get Dean Winchester to go jogging."

"If I knew all it would take was to make him jealous, I would have said something a lot sooner," you replied, still in shock that Dean might actually go running with you. You were half convinced he would change his mind about the sneakers and return empty handed, but when he came home a little while later, he had a couple shopping bags with him.

The next morning you nudged Dean, trying to wake him up gently. He'd asked you to get him up when you got up, so there you were, trying to coax your hunter awake.

"C'mon, D, up and at em," you whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Five more minutes..." He grumbled, rolling over and throwing his arm around you.

"Dean, it's time to get up," you tried again, attempting to squirm out of his hold.

"I can think of something way more fun we could do," he murmured, kissing at your neck, "and I promise we'll both work up a sweat." You moaned a little at the idea, at the feel of his lips on your skin, the hand that was sliding under your shirt.

"Sex after we run," you bargained, "if you're not too tired, that is."

"I'm never too tired," Dean protested, pushing himself up on his elbows and releasing you.

"Hmm... Prove it," you whispered, giving him a quick kiss before sliding out of bed to change. Dean literally rose to the challenge, getting up and yanking a pair of shorts on. You tried not to gawk at the sight of his lower legs, since he practically lived in jeans, and didn't comment as he tied his new grey sneakers. The less you teased him about it, the more comfortable he would feel joining you... Right?

"No way. I am not running with him," Dean protested when he saw Sam waiting by the front door, stretching.

"Oh come on," Sam complained, "this is like a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Go on," you urged, pushing gently at Sam's shoulder to get him out the door, "he's not a circus animal." Sam grumbled under his breath, but finally left, leaving Dean looking simultaneously grateful, expectant and grumpy.

"You gotta stretch first," you said, leaning down to touch your toes. Dean raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, remaining motionless. "Dean you're gonna hurt yourself if you don't stretch." He sighed, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and crossed his arms, signaling he was finished. You echoed his sigh, realizing you weren't going to get anywhere with that, and yanked open the door. "Okay tough guy, let's go."

Dean surprised you by keeping stride for the first few minutes or so, your footsteps beating out a matching rhythm against the pavement. He was a strong guy, but you didn't think he'd be this decent on the cardio front, since he mostly sat around and ate pie or drank whiskey. He was doing well.

But then he began slowing.

"Fucking shit," he huffed out, his breathing getting more labored with every passing second.

"Push through it," you panted, casting him a worried glance, not daring to break stride, "don't stop, you'll get to the runner's high soon enough."

"This is the worst," he complained, face twisted in pain, "I know it keeps you healthy, but god, at what cost?" You laughed at that, a breathless giggle that cost you precious oxygen and broke your rhythm.

"Keep going," you urged Dean, who was beginning to lag. He needed inspiration, which luckily rounded the corner ahead. You turned back to him again, giving him a pointed look. "That's the guy that checked me out yesterday."

Dean's mouth tightened into a thin line, his expression hardening as he saw the other man running along easily. He muttered something that sounded a lot like "stupid prick" and then kicked into second gear, pushing himself to keep going, his longer legs keeping stride with you easily.

The man nodded in greeting as he passed you, but he definitely wasn't as nice with Dean there. Yesterday he'd smiled and said hello.

"You okay?" You asked when Dean dropped back, turning to see him right behind you, though nothing appeared to be wrong. "You're kidding me," you muttered, realizing that he was physically obstructing the other runner's view if he happened to turn to look at you. "You're actually insane, you know that?"

"Your ass is mine," he growled, and then he was bolting past you, forcing you to pick up speed to keep up with him.

Dean did better the second half of the run, though you were pretty sure he was just motivated to get back.

"Four and a half miles," you said proudly, giving Dean a high five as the two of you stepped into the bunker. Sam was already in the kitchen making breakfast, and turned expectantly when you appeared. "He did it," you announced, grinning at Dean, who was looking pretty damn proud of himself even if he was limping a little and breathing heavily, "we ran the whole way."

"Who knew those bow-legs could run," Sam said with a wry smile.

"And he looks good in those shorts, too," you added, eyes trailing up Dean's body. The combination of the runner's high, the fact that Dean had gone running, actually running, out of sheer jealousy and possessiveness, and the way those shorts hung from his hips... It made your earlier bargain sound better and better. "My man the athlete," you whispered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him. Dean kissed you back, his mouth hot, skin salty with sweat, and pinned you against the counter with his hips. And with you in yoga pants and him in those shorts, you could feel everything.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, and Dean lifted you up, your legs hooking around his waist as he carried you down the hall.

"You sure you're not too tired?" you teased when he reached his room. He growled in response and tossed you onto the bed, following closely and kissing every inch of bare skin along the way.

"Never too tired," he reminded you, grinding his hips into yours, his hard length making you gasp and arch into him. "And if this is the reward, I might be talked into going again."

"I think that can be arranged."

Everything/Forever Tags:

@deanssweetheart23 @atari-writes @trexrambling @feelmyroarrrr @mrswhozeewhatsis @docharleythegeekqueen @pickupthatamulet @emoryhemsworth @aiaranradnay @dekahg @eileenlikesyou-maybe @babybrreena @ria132love @maddieburcham1 @maui137 @imaginesofdreams @ew-whats-that @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @27bmm @bradygabrielle-blog @petrovadixon @multifandomlove2002 @extreme-supernatural-lover @kodiy-333 @captainemwinchester @love-yourself-first-tfw @seb-bucky-barnes @sassy-losechester @lenaabs @sandlee44 @dustycelt @brittanyovens @mygayisland @summer-binging-spn @gabriels-trix @canadianjelly @awesomestperson22 @oneshoeshort @iamnotsaneatall @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @autopistaaningunaparte @duhhandrea @oh-balls-you-idjits @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @watermelonfruitsalad @adaliamalfoy @yorunasu @mysterious398 @ashleygee16 @mogaruke @thedanteofthe52ndstreet @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @winchesters-flannels @riversong-sam @rileyloves5 @superwhomerlockinuum @justachorusgirl96 @mandylove1000 @lovingcupcake51002 @gallxntdean @carryonourwaywardoneshots @mjdoc90 @milkymilky-cocopuff @spooookyscary @mariahoedt @blackcherrywhiskey @atc74 @shhhs3cret @anticipate1003 @wayward--dragon @katelynbkool @spn-smut-destiel @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @jessilliam-caronday @super100012 @thebikiniinspector @ghostlyunknownlady​

  Dean Tags:

@amoreagron​ @emilywritesaboutdean​ @supernatural-jackles​ @bringmesomepie56​ @torn-and-frayed​ @escabell​ @kathaswings​ @be-amaziing​  @anokhi07​ @karrueda​ @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday​ @rlawson418​ @imma-fcking--nerd​ @zeusmyster​ @akshi8278​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @jayankles​ @jellersquad​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @electricbluecas​ @tas898​ @wonderstruckbyfandoms​ @boxywrites​ @ruprecht0420 @katrena7 @zanthiasplace @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nerveguitarists @my-blogging-skills-are-rusty @its-not-a-tulpa @af112992 @deanandsamsbitch @thebabeontheback @anti-social-cacti @winchasterdean @brindz30 @michellethetvaddict @rizlow1 @micky-m399 @castianityislife02 @smalltowndivaj @winchester-writes @peachyenzo @aesthsuggestion @mrsbatesmotel53 @callie-swagg1 @weasleywinchester @walkerbex98

#HanCelebratesWithPawnee #dean x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #jogging with dean #jealous!dean #sam winchester

[takerfoxx]

RD Walpurgis Nights 6: Part 4

They moved forward as one, Ophelia in the lead, spear in one hand and Oktavia’s sword in the other, the fire of her hair lighting the way. Her eyes darted back and forth, giving the open doors only the briefest of glances. Through each one it was the same: another hospital bed made from treats, in which sat a dummy wearing either a pink or a blue hospital gown, its face painted to resemble the clownish-doll thing, its arms outstretched to hold a plate containing a cake. The same applied to all of the gurneys, each one possessing a cake-holding dummy. It was very creepy, but also very tempting. Fortunately, the creepiness outweighed the temptation, preventing her from reaching over and grabbing a handful.

Candeloro and Oktavia followed closely behind, with Oktavia riding on Candeloro’s back, arms thrown loosely around her neck while the older girl held onto the mermaid’s tail with her ribbons. They had tried continuing the bridal carry, but it had just gotten too awkward. Granted, this wasn’t much of an improvement, but they made do with what they had.

It had taken some coaxing, but Candeloro had finally been persuaded to take along the silver musket. She heavily disliked the feel of it, especially with the memory of how its barrel had been stabbed into her chest time and time again, but now was not the time to throw away any possible advantage. She just hoped that the damn thing was actually loaded.

“Jeez, would you look at that?” Oktavia said, craning her neck to peer at their surroundings. “It’s like something out of, I don’t know, a circus or something.”

“Mmmm,” Candeloro said.

“A festival, or some kind of crazy amusement park. Like some idiot thought that making a hospital attraction was a good idea.”

“Ah.”

“Hey kids, ever wanted to visit a hospital made out candy? Well, now you can! Why a hospital? Because why not a hospital?” Oktavia giggled loudly.

Candeloro paused. “Stop talking, please. You’re too loud.”

“Oh. My bad.”

A few moments went by, and then Candeloro said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s cool.”

“It’s just I am very…” Candeloro swallowed. “Very scared right now.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, it’s great that you two have gotten all chummy,” Ophelia called back over her shoulder. “But how about you keep the noise down, okay?”

“I thought you said there wasn’t anything to be worried about?” Oktavia said.

“As far as we know.” They were now coming up on the double doors. “But why take the risk? Wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to pull a-”

Then a shrill scream sounded from beyond the doors, and the girl’s voice cried wordlessly. It sounded muffled, like she was speaking through a gag, but the fear and pain were evident.

Everyone stiffened for a moment, and then Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. She rushed forward and kicked the door open.

Beyond was a surgical observation room, a square hallway encircling inward leaning windows. Staring down through the windows were even more dummies, all of them with painted clownish faces and wearing pink or blue doctor’s scrubs. However, rather than being done up to look like that doll, these were made to resemble that caterpillar monster.

However, beyond the windows was not a surgical room. There was no surgery table, no tables of sharp instruments, no IV drips, no beeping monitors. Instead, inside was a blazing inferno, a huge firepit like a doorway straight to Hell. It filled the observation corridor with dancing reds and yellows, while the windows seemed to shimmer with the heat.

And suspended above the flames just under the window was a long metal pole, extending from wall to wall. And tied to that pole was the fourth girl.

She was bound at her ankles, waist, under her armpits, and around her wrists, which were stretched out over her head. The pole was rotating slowly, exposing every bit of her to the heat. What was more, another pole, this one about a meter and a half in length, was laid crosswise across the pole just past her head, through the space between her elbows and the main pole. It was forced into her mouth, stuck between her teeth like an apple thrust in between the jaws of a roast pig. However, she was still alive and screaming, her cries being broadcasted over speakers set high in the corners of the room.

A cooking spit, Ophelia thought as her heart started beating faster. They’re cooking her alive, like a piece of meat. This whole time we were here, she’s been-

“Holy cra-” Oktavia started to say, but about that moment Candeloro’s ribbons instinctively went to her mouth as she gasped in shock, causing Oktavia to suddenly drop to the floor with a startled yelp.

Ophelia barely noticed. Teeth bared, she charged right at the window, swiping the dummies aside with the pole of her spear.

“Ophelia, wait!” Candeloro called. “It’s too hot, you won’t be able to-”

Ophelia smashed the counterweight on her spear into the glass. The window was tough, but cracks still spiderwebbed out from the impact point. Another thrust and it shattered.

The heat hit her like a solid wave. She flinched in anticipation of the pain and readied her will to fight through it like she had the nails.

It never came.

Confused, she opened her eyes. The heat was there, yes. And it was incredibly strong, definitely. She could feel it flowing over her skin, could see it shimmering in front of her eyes. But for some reason it wasn’t bothering her. There was no pain at all.

“Ophelia!” Oktavia called. Ignoring her, Ophelia moved in closer to the smashed window. She hesitated for a moment, and then stuck her arm into the room.

“Ophelia, don’t!”

Nothing. Well, not nothing. Again, she felt the heat sure enough, but it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt kind of comfortable.

Furthermore, while the heat was rolling off of her in waves, she didn’t feel fatigued. Her energy wasn’t being sapped away like she had expected. If anything, it was pumping her up.

Almost in a trance, she then lifted her hand to the flame on her head. She passed her fingers through the tongues of fires a few times before letting her arm drop.

She was fireproof.

Hot damn, she was fucking fireproof!

The girl’s muffled cries redoubled. She thrashed her head back and forth, trying to free herself from the pole stuck in her mouth to see. Her butt was toward the party, so she couldn’t see them, but presumably she had heard the window shatter.

Snapping out of her reverie, Ophelia leaned in through the window and looked down and where the turning spit joined the wall. She moved in her spear, made a few mental calculations, and slashed.

The spear parted through the steel like butter, that was the good news. The bad news that that as soon as the connection was severed, the spit started to slip down, tilting into the inferno below.

Without thinking Ophelia reached down to grab it and hold it in place. Generally, this would be a very stupid move, firstly because the spit was so hot that it would literally slough her flesh off, and secondly, considering how long the pole was and with the weight and leverage against her, she couldn’t hope to hold it in place for long.

However, her immunity to heat remained, and the touch of the burning pole didn’t hurt one bit. Secondly, the strength that had allowed her to force the nails off the cross had not deserted her, and she was able to hold the pole in place with one hand.

She grinned. Cool!

Then her smile disappeared. As awesome as that might be, she now had a problem, mainly that since the pole was still attached to the other end, she had no way of actually rescuing the girl without letting go. And if she did that, she risk having the girl slip down into the fire.

Crap, crap, crap, what now? How was she going to pull this off? The poor girl was being barbequed right before her eyes, and she could do nothing but watch it happen.

Then she heard Oktavia call out, “Wait, where are you going?”

Ophelia glanced to her side. To her surprise, Candeloro was rushing through the corridor to the other side, both sword and gun in hand. Ophelia watched her through the windows as she made her way all the way around the room.

The roasting girl noticed her. She made a strangled-sounding cry of surprise, followed by what could only be a desperate plea for help.

As Ophelia watched, Candeloro peered through the window first at where Ophelia was stuck holding the pole in place, and then down at where the roasting girl was suffering. She grimaced, and then drove the butt of the musket into the glass.

Unfortunately, she was not uniquely suited to withstand heat like Ophelia was, and as soon as the window shattered she lurched back with a cry. “Candeloro?” Ophelia called. “What are you doing?”

Through the shattered window, she saw Candeloro stand up. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and lunged forward.

The sword swiped down, slicing right through the pole.

Candeloro fell back with a cry of pain, but she had done it. The pole started to dip, and the roasting girl screamed, this time in terror.

However, Ophelia had already made her move. As soon as the pole was free, she yanked it up. The girl started to slide as feared, so she braced both hands under it, stuck it under her armpit, and pulled up and in.

Her strength was certainly impressive, but the angle was completely against her, and the pole continued to tilt. Desperate, Ophelia hauled it in faster, but the girl was still slipping.

Suddenly the pole started to right itself, as if a new pair of hands had joined her. Looking back, Ophelia saw that Oktavia had somehow pulled the scrubs off of a couple of dummies, wrapped them together, and thrown them over the pole where it was passing over her head. She was yanking down as hard as she could, and though her makeshift rope was starting to sizzle, it was holding.

Invigorated by this, Ophelia managed to bring the pole up so that the girl was no longer slipping. Then she hauled it in, meter by meter, until at last the girl’s body finally reached the window. The pole stuck in her mouth banged against the sides of the window, stopping her from going further. Gritting her teeth, Ophelia wiggled the cooking spit and pushed it to the right until she managed to make it fit.

Bringing the girl in, Ophelia snatched up her spear from where it had dropped and slashed away the girl’s bonds. She dropped to the floor and lay there, her whole body shivering. That done, Ophelia then grabbed the pole in her mouth with one hand, grabbed her by the jaw with the other, and forced it out from between her teeth. It came free, and she let out a gasping moan before collapsing.

Her time being roasted had not been good for her. Her body was bright red, her hair crisped black and falling out in clumps. Hideous blisters covered her back and wherever the metal pole had touched, and her lips were all but destroyed thanks to the one that had been in her mouth. But she was alive. It didn’t make sense, but she was alive.

Sighing, Ophelia sat down next to her. She supposed that she should feel victorious, but all she felt was tired. Her eyes drifted to the smaller pole, the one she had yanked out of the poor girl’s mouth.

Its shaft was black with pink polka-dots, like the body of the clown caterpillar. At its head was a pink gem with a swirl design and tiny wings stuck to either side, making it look like a wrapped piece of candy. Ophelia’s brow furrowed. This was the new girl’s weapon, that much was certain. But it was a weird one.

Candeloro came limping over to them, the tips of her ribbons wrinkled from the heat. “Hey,” Ophelia said with a weary smile. “Good job, hero. You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Candeloro said. “How is she?”

“Alive, believe it or not.” Ophelia craned her neck to look at Oktavia, who had flopped onto her stomach and was now crawling toward them on her elbows. “And same goes for you. Nice thinking with the rope idea.”

“Hey, you did the hard part,” Oktavia said. “But can we please get out of here?”

“Yup.” Ophelia grunted as she stood back up. Taking a deep breath, she knelt down and gently picked the burnt girl up. The poor girl inhaled sharply at the touch, but that was it.

“Come on, let’s get the hell out of here,” Ophelia said. She kicked the doors open and left the room of dummies and fire behind. Soon after Candeloro followed, Oktavia riding on her back.

…

Wait, you’re telling me that a wish could have cured her? I could have saved her?

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me waste my wish like that?

No! Don’t give me that crap! You could’ve said something! You could’ve told me, but you didn’t! Get out of here!

Oh God, what have done? I had one chance, and I wasted it. I should’ve known better. Why was I so stupid? It’s all my fault, it’s all my…

…

Full consciousness was slow to return, and for a moment she almost didn’t notice that she had woken up. After all, there was no pain.

The first time she had woken up, she had been in agony, strapped to a burning hot metal pole and slowly being turned over a hellish inferno while shadowy figures stared at her through windows.

How long she had been suspended there she had no idea. She just remembered screaming for help, praying that it would before she died, and when it didn’t she started praying for death, anything to stop the pain. But that too had been denied her. For some reason her body had refused to die or even pass out, leaving her in perpetual torment.

And then things got a little weird in her memory. She remembered someone breaking the glass, remembered the pole being severed and tilting into the fire. She remembered the sheer terror as she had started to slip down, her flesh burning away as it slid across that superhot metal, the hungry flames coming closer and closer.

She didn’t remember much after that.

But now the heat was gone, and there was no more pain. As her awareness returned she became aware of the cool air on her skin, almost too cold in fact. The air she breathed was no longer hot and choking, but almost icy.

I died, she thought woozily. The fire swallowed me, and now I’m buried in the ground. That’s why it’s so cold. It’s over, thank God.

And then:

“Hey, I think she’s coming around.”

She blinked her eyes. Wait, she still had eyes. Everything was all blurry and the light almost painfully bright, but she could see. Furthermore, she wasn’t staring at the interior of a grave or even a burial urn, but black-and-white checkered linoleum.

“Anyone else think it’s a little freaky how fast her hair grew back?”

“Hush, Oktavia. She can hear you.”

“I’m not insulting her, I’m just saying that it’s weird.”

Still lying on her side, she reached up with one trembling hand as if to conform that she still had hands. She did, and though her sight was still unfocused she could tell that the skin was whole and healthy, albeit extremely pale. That made her frown. Was she some kind of albino?

She then reached up to touch her head. Sure enough, she felt normal, healthy hair, long enough to brush her shoulders. She then reached over her shoulder to touch her back, where her skin had practically melted into the pole.

Nothing. No burns, no blisters. Her back felt fine.

That should have been a relief, but instead it just scared her more.

“You okay there, champ?”

Swallowing, she pushed herself up on her palms and sat up. Wincing, she blinked and rubbed her eyes until the shadows around her solidified into clear shapes.

She was in a round room, one dominated by a weird marble sculpture of four bizarre looking monsters fused together at their backs, each one looking out in a different direction, while a fifth monster rose up where they were joined together. Set in the wall closest to her was what looked like a hospital door.

All of that was weird enough, but her attention was instantly grabbed by those in the room with her.

There were three young girls, all looking to be around middle or high school age, and all of them completely naked. That was…disconcerting enough, but even that was secondary to her concerns as the fact that they were all monsters.

The tallest was a skinny girl with bright scarlet eyes whose head was somehow on fire, an open flame burning where her hair ought to be and yet didn’t seem to be hurting her. The other was a curvy blonde with heavy-lidded golden eyes who had a pair of yellow ribbons for arms. And the third was a perky short-haired blunette with bright blue eyes who just so happened to also be an honest-to-God mermaid, her entire lower half consisting of a large, multi-colored fish’s tail.

The fiery girl must have seen the look in her eyes, as she immediately held up her hands and said, “Okay, just calm down. I know it’s weird, but-”

The burnt girl screamed. She screamed and screamed while hastily scrambling backward away from the trio until her back hit the wall. Pressing back as far as she could go with her hands splayed out against the wall to either side, she wildly looked around with wide, terrified eyes.

“Get away from me!” she cried.

“Oof,” the mermaid winced. “She’s got it bad.”

“Well, it is a hard thing to process all at once,” said the ribbon girl.

“Okay, okay, just chill,” said the fiery girl. “Calm down, all right? We’re not going to hurt you.”

The burnt girl wasn’t interested in their lies. She glanced to her right to where the hospital door was.

“Yeah, you don’t want to go in there,” the fiery girl said. “That’s where-”

The burnt girl bolted for the door on all fours. Knocking it open with her shoulder, she found herself in a hallway of brightly colored confections and sterile hospital trappings.

“What?” she said as she looked around. “What is this? Where am I?”

She staggered to her feet and took off at a run. Across from her was another door. Zeroing in on that, she ran as fast as she could, passing past both pastries and gurneys alike to ram her way through.

The heat hit her like a solid wall. There, right in front of her, was a row of windows, one of them broken. And through that window she saw the same horrific inferno that she had been trapped in.

Her jaw dropped out. “No,” she said as she turned away. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

She fled back into the hallway, desperate to put as much distance between her and fire as possible. However, in fleeing that flame, she ended up bumping right into another. The fiery girl was there, and the burnt girl ended up running into her. The burnt girl screamed and tried to attack her with her fists.

“Take it easy!” the fiery girl said, grabbing her by the wrists. “Just calm down, nobody’s going to hurt you!”

“Liar!” the burnt girl cried as she struggled against the other’s grip. “You’re lying! You just want to hurt me, to kill me! Why? Who are you? What did I ever do to you? Why?”

The ribbon girl arrived and wrapped said ribbons around the burnt girl’s shoulders, helping keep her still. The burnt girl try to keep fighting, but they were too strong.

Finally her strength left her completely and she sank to her knees, sobbing. The other two knelt down with her, still holding her in place but gently, letting her cry.

“Please,” she wept. “Tell me what’s going on? What happened to me?”

…

Explaining things to the burnt girl was…difficult. She agreed to go back to the statue room with them, and from there sat sullenly in place while Ophelia, Oktavia, and Candeloro each relayed their experiences to her. Judging by the look on her face, she was still distrustful of them and was having a hard time swallowing the fantastical story they were telling her, but at least she wasn’t calling them liars anymore. All the evidence staring into her face probably made that difficult.

“…and from there, we brought you into here and waited for you to wake up,” Ophelia finished. “Which you eventually did. After that, well, you know the rest.”

The burnt girl slowly breathed out. “And I was healed.”

“Yup.”

“It was pretty neat to watch, actually,” Oktavia chimed in. “All your burns just went away and your skin turned back to normal. The hair growing back was the weirdest though. Like, after your skin got better it just started slithering out of your head like-”

“Hey, swordfish,” Ophelia snapped. “Chill out. You’re freaking her out.”

“Oops,” Oktavia said, finally noticing the horrified look on the burnt girl’s face. “Sorry.”

The burnt girl’s hands had started to shake. She clasped them tightly together and held them to her chest. Closing her eyes, she slowly breathed in deep through her nose, held it, and let it out threw her mouth. In and out, in and out, until she had retaken control.

When she had calmed down again, she opened her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’m good.”

“But you do believe us now, right?” Oktavia said. “That we want to help you, not hurt you. We’re all in this together, after all.”

The burnt girl swallowed noisily, but she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I believe you.”

“Great!” Oktavia grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

“One thing though,” said the burnt girl, her eyes flitting back and forth between the three of them. “Those…changes you guys have…”

“Told you,” Ophelia said. “We don’t know why or how. They just are.”

“Okay. But you said that you’re the same as me. Does that mean that I also…”

Ophelia had anticipated this. She picked up a large piece of glass she had recovered from the observation room and passed it to the burnt girl. “Careful,” she said. “The edges are sharp.”

The burnt girl held the glass out in front of her, trying to angle it to make her reflection as clear as possible. She frowned as she saw what the rest of them did: a tall girl, one at least half a head taller than Ophelia, with a slender, athletic build; bright blue eyes; and shoulder-length pink hair. She frowned at herself, but that was probably out of not recognizing her own reflection instead of noticing anything out of the ordinary.

“Look…down,” Ophelia said. “And behind.”

The burnt girl glanced at her. Then, after moment’s hesitation, she did as instructed.

After a long moment she carefully put the glass down and then turned to look at Ophelia with haunted eyes.

“I have a tail,” she said.

That she did indeed, one that hung from just above her buttocks almost all the way to her ankles. It was slim and black and splattered with red polka dots.

“Yup,” Ophelia said with a nod.

“Count your blessings,” Oktavia grumbled. “At least you still have legs.”

The burnt girl reached behind her to wrap her fingers around her tail. She pulled it around and stared down at it. After several seconds of consideration, her grip on it tightened, and Ophelia was suddenly worried that she was going to try to tear it off.

Instead, she just sank back down with a sigh and leaned back against the wall. “Well,” she said, her voice hollow. “We’re a merry band of freaks. All for one and one for all.”

Okay, Ophelia could work with that. “Looks to be that way,” she said. “By the by, we never got around to proper introductions. I’m Ophelia, the blonde’s Candeloro, and the mouthy mermaid’s Oktavia. What’s yours?”

The burnt girl’s nose wrinkled. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then said, “Charlotte?”

“Charlotte? Hey, that works for me. No family name though?”

“No.”

Ophelia turned to Oktavia. “Hey, fish. How come you’re the only one with a family name?”

“How the heck would I know?”

Candeloro cleared her throat. “Well, now that we’ve saved everyone, maybe we should start talking about our next move.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlotte muttered.

Everyone turned to her. “What do you mean?” Candeloro asked.

“It doesn’t matter what we do,” Charlotte repeated. She hugged her legs closer. “It doesn’t matter where we go. I mean, you’ve figured it out, right? Where we are?”

Ophelia opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again. She exchanged uneasy looks with the other three. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Look, we don’t know for certain-”

“We’re dead,” Charlotte said. “That’s why we can’t die. It’s because we’re already dead. Dead and in Hell.” She let out a manic sounding giggle. “Don’t lie, you were all thinking the same thing.”

“That’s not true! We might be-”

“Ophelia, I think she’s right,” Candeloro said softly. “How else would you explain…any of this?”

Ophelia gritted her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that they were all suffering damnation in Hell, as that would destroy any and all hope of freedom, and they had fought too hard and come too far to just surrender now. But in the face of so much evidence, she was finding it hard to argue. “Well…maybe,” she allowed. “But until we come across a big, glowing ‘Welcome to Hell!’ sign, I’m gonna keep fighting for a way out. Anyone that wants to come with is more than welcome.”

“I’m in,” Oktavia said without hesitation.

“And me,” Candeloro said. “I don’t feel like giving up just yet.”

“Good to hear. And what about you, Charlotte?” Ophelia said, turning back to the newest member of their party. “Are you in or out?”

Charlotte shivered, but she eventually nodded.

“Right then. Well, uh, I guess this is yours.”

Ophelia picked up Charlotte’s pole (well, no. It wasn’t really a pole. More of a staff) and handed it to her. Charlotte looked at it in confusion.

“What’s this?” she said.

“Your weapon,” Ophelia said. She held up her spear. “We all had one when we woke up. This one’s yours.”

“My what?”

“Weapon,” Ophelia repeated. She wasn’t sure how much of her time on the cooking spit Charlotte remembered, but if she wasn’t going to ask then Ophelia wasn’t going to tell her. “Hang on to it. You never know when you’ll meet someone in need of a good bashing.”

Charlotte still looked completely bewildered. She glanced at Ophelia’s spear, then over to Oktavia’s cutlass, and finally her eyes settled on Candeloro’s musket. “Okay? Um, how come you guys get spears, swords, and guns, while I’m stuck with a silly looking stick?”

“I don’t know, bad luck?” Ophelia said with a shrug. “Better than nothing though.”

“Well, that’s all well and good,” Oktavia said. “But still, where the heck do we go next? The only doors are the ones leading to our torture rooms.”

Ophelia hesitated. Going back into one of those was not a possibility she relished, but they weren’t left with a great many options. “Well, it’s not like we really explored those very thoroughly,” she said. “So maybe-”

“I’m not going back,” Charlotte said hollowly. “No way.”

“Okay, but-”

“Me neither,” Candeloro said with a shiver. “I’m sorry, Ophelia. But I can’t go back into that place.”

“Yeah, not exactly down with going back into that place,” Oktavia said as she rubbed her hands.

“Look, there’s four of us,” Ophelia snapped. “No one says that we gotta go back into our own personal torture chamber.”

“Wait, you mean split up?” Oktavia said, her face paling. “No!”

“Yeah, definitely no,” Charlotte said with a dry laugh. “No way am I staying anywhere alone.”

Ophelia threw her hands up. “All right! Well, if you’re just going to shoot down all my ideas, then you guys think of something!”

“What about yours?” Charlotte said.

“Huh?”

“Look, I’m not trying to start a fight here,” Charlotte said, holding up her palms. “You pretty much saved my ass back there, so I owe you big. But if you think that exploring those torture chambers is our best bet, then shouldn’t we start with yours? You know, since it was your idea?”

Ophelia sighed. “Okay, fine! Let’s do that then! Mine’s as good as any, so let’s go do it!”

She marched over to the oaken church doors that sat across from the candle-headed horror, mumbling to herself the whole way. Planting herself in front of them, she reached out to grab the handle.

Her hand stopped halfway.

After a few seconds, Charlotte said, “Well?”

Ophelia stared at the doors, then her gaze dropped down to her hand, focusing on the center of its back.

A long, ugly iron nail was thrust through her wrist, trapping it against the rough wood of the cross. She could feel it passing through her flesh, cold iron over red hot pain.

Her hand started to shake.

Every centimeter only added to the agony, but she had to free herself. So she pushed, and she screamed, and the harder she pushed the louder she screamed.

The fingers started to curl.

A single nail was driven through both her feet, pinning them both to the wood. She pushed up and up, praying that it worked, praying that the nail wouldn’t tear through her skin.

Her feet twitched.

The spear was driven into her side, the triangular head piercing all the way through. Screaming, she seized the pole and yanked, desperate to get it out of her.

“Ophelia?” Oktavia said. “Are you-”

“She can’t do it,” Charlotte said.

“Hey, don’t be a jerk! She had to free herself all on her own, and then she saved each and everyone one of us! Like you said, you owe her!”

“I’m not being a jerk, I’m just pointing out the truth. She can’t do it, none of us can! None of us wants to go back into-”

“No,” Ophelia said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“No,” Ophelia repeated. “I am…not going…to let the jackass that did this to us beat me. Not now, not today, not ever!”

And with that she thrust her hand forward, gripped the handle, and yanked the door open so hard that the topmost hinges were wrenched loose from the wall, causing it to sag against the ones that were left.

Ophelia took a deep breath. Then she turned to face her stunned companions. “So,” she said. “We doing this or not?”

#Walpurgis Nights

[fanficwriter013]

The Ties That Bind (Part 10 / 11)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Summary: Clint makes it his mission to win you over. He succeeds, but you don’t believe in marriage. Can the two of you stay together without the promise of wedding bells in the future? What about when the two of you are forced to go undercover as a married couple?

Word Count: 2092

Warnings: Civil War spoilers, sarcasm, it gets real dark and real angsty.

Author’s Note: One more part y’all.

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

Your phone made a squawking noise, and you answered it without looking at the screen. “Yeah, Steve. We’re already on it. No, you don’t. You didn’t have to ask, it’s alright.” You say, cutting Steve off several times. You finish mixing the chemicals in front of you and take off in the direction of the compound. There’s a loud explosion behind you.

“What was that?” Steve asks you, clearly worried. “My cue, I have to go.” You tell him quickly, shoving your phone into a pocket in your suit. You drop down into one of the secret tunnels into the compound and make your way to Pietro’s room. It takes you seconds to lockpick the door, and you turn the handle.

“Pietro, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” You say as you walk into his room. He picks his head up off the bed, looking at you for a moment before he is in front of you hugging you tightly.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N). You couldn’t have possibly predicted this when you left for a life of normalcy.” He says as you rub his back.

“Are you doing alright, otherwise?” You ask, and he gives you a subtle nod. “Then let’s go get your sister.” You tell him, and his answer is to pick you up and run you to the common living area. It’s not a feeling you're sure you could ever get used to.

The two of you make it into the room in time to see Clint slipping from Vision’s grasp and falling to the floor. You’re at his side in an instant, your hand on the small of his back as he looks up at Wanda, as she causes Vision to fall to his knees. She stands over top of him and then he’s falling through the floor and several of the floors below it.

“Hey, kiddo.” You say, giving Wanda a hug. Clint nods at Pietro. “Come on, we’ve got another stop to make.” He says.

You’d had to stop to pick up one Scott Lang, the actual embodiment of a puppy. He and Pietro sat and talked a thousand miles a minute, from the time you picked up the man. Clint had taken out his hearing aides after twenty minutes, and you wished that you could turn off your ears. But you were driving and that would have been a hazard.

Steve had asked you to meet him in an isolated parking garage, and you’d been sitting and waiting for a good twenty minutes before a teeny little beetle pulled up. To say that it was a bit like watching clowns spill out of a car at the circus would have been making it an understatement.

“So, that’s the beefcake boyfriend Steve was hung up on. No wonder why he wanted to find him.” You signed to Clint, and he chuckled. What you weren’t expecting was for the flesh and metal hands to start signing back to you.

“I prefer Bucky, thank you.” He signs finger spelling out Bucky. He holds out his flesh hand to you. You give him a sheepish smile and shook it.

“Sorry, should have known better. Been out of the game for a minute. Made me a little rusty.” You say, and Bucky shakes his head. Clint pulls open the door to the van, and Scott tumbles out still talking a mile a minute.

“What time zone is this?” He asks, giving you a look. You glance around for a moment. “I’d wager a bet that this is about the UTC time zone, so it’s GMT +1.” He looks from you around the people and pales as he sees Steve. He has an awkward fanboy moment, and you talk for a moment before an alarm goes off.

“Suit up,” Steve says, quickly going over a plan A and B for what’s about to happen. Basically outlining, that he’s going to draw out Tony and whoever else he roped into his side.

It started with Tony shooting the helicopter with an EMP of some kind. You’d been preparing for that inevitability, as the Iron Man suit swooped down with War Machine close behind him. Then the Black Panther jumped in over the helicopter. Stark’s team was just coming out of the woodwork, as Natasha joined in. For the moment, they were just trying to talk sense. But you could see the expression in Tony’s eyes from where you were waiting.

“Underoos,” Tony calls out, and there’s a red and blue blur that you hadn’t been expecting. From your intel, the Spiderkid was just that. A kid, a fifteen-year-old who had no business being here in the middle of this mess. Tony just kept getting more worked up, and if you ever got the chance to talk to him again. You were going to beat some sense into him. It seemed the only thing working on your side was the numbers.

Steve and Pietro went after the Black Panther, Cap throwing his shield. Pietro running past him and knocking him off balance. War Machine tried to take them over, and you lost track of them as you went to help Scott with Nat.

“Thought you were retired.” She says as she lands a kick to your ribs. You shrug as you sweep her feet out from under her. “We got tired of playing golf. You know how it is.” You say, as Pietro runs past and takes you with him.

You’ve all gathered back up to try and get to the quinjet when Vision makes his big entrance. Searing a literal line in the asphalt in front of the eight of you. It’s a general mess. There’s fighting everywhere, several times you lose track of Clint. Sometimes you wind up with him, fighting almost back to back. It’s clear that most of you will be caught, but you need to be able to get someone. Steve, and Bucky at the very least to take down this bigger threat.

Scott winds up reversing the tech on his suit and sizing up instead of down. You try your best to help out where needed, but you’re struggling. The fight is only getting worse, ramping up. Spiderling, Iron Man and War Machine are able to knock down Scott. Who knocks down, and out the Spiderkid. It’s looking better for your side, and the quinjet is taking off. But the fight isn’t over yet.

You’re forced to watch as Vision aims for Sam’s wings, and hits War Machine instead. He plummets, and you can hear through the comms the chaos going on. You quickly pull your phone, using it to tap into Tony’s helmet, just before War Machine hits the ground.

“Don’t touch him, Tony. I know you want to but listen to me. Don’t do it.” You plead, and Tony touches down seconds after him. “Remember what I went through. Don’t move him.” You say as Pietro runs you over to them. You hear Tony asking FRIDAY for his vitals, as Sam touches down with you. Tony is on his feet in an instant, aiming his repulsors as Sam, before turning them on you. Neither shot lands because of Pietro.

“Hey, the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask him, stomping over in front of him. “Did you forget that I shattered my L1 in Sokovia. These things happen in our line of work. It was an accident, and Sam tried to catch him, the same as you. Don’t take your fear out on us. Call Dr. Cho.” You say the last part to Vision, who’s now landed with the rest of your group.

You knew that you were in trouble, but you hadn’t been expecting to get the Ritz treatment of villains. They’d separated you from Clint and had taken his hearing aides so you couldn’t even talk to him. They had also made it abundantly clear that you were pretty much confined to your bed. When you had woken up in a straight jacket, with your legs tied down. You weren’t able to see much of anything except for the incredibly boring gray ceiling of your cell.

“You had a life outside of this Barton, with (Y/N). Why didn’t you think of that before you chose the wrong side?” Tony spits, and you let out a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, (Y/N) who they won’t let walk now. Threatened several times to take out the artificial L1 vertebra. Said it was government property, and criminals don’t get those kinda resources. You ever think about that Tony.” Clint hisses, saving you from having to do any talking yourself. They hadn’t removed it, but they certainly wanted to. You were the bottom of the barrel now, scum that didn’t deserve the multi-million dollar piece of equipment keeping your spine intact.

“Clint. It’s alright. He’s not worth it.” You say even though you know he can't hear you, as you hear footfalls making their way over to where you think your cell is positioned. “How’s Rhodey doing?” You ask, as there’s a buzzing noise, and then some scraping. The bed dips by one of your legs and Tony leans into your field of view.

“They’re moving him to Columbia Medical tomorrow.” He says before he leans down. “I’m going to try and talk them down from this. It seems a little over the top. Dr. Cho said that his injuries are more severe than your’s were.” He whispers into your ear.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I know what it feels like.” You tell him, and he moves his hands in a deliberate fashion. Showing you that he’s messing with their surveillance footage. Then he shows you a picture of a body in a bathtub.

“That’s the real doctor, and let me say this. I was wrong. Tell me where he is.” Tony says, and you shake your head, as you hear a snort.

“Go to Hell, Stark. That’s where you’ll find him.” Pietro growls, and Tony clicks around on his watch again. This time shutting down the surveillance altogether. He unhooks your feet, and you circle them. Trying not to show any emotions.

“Go as a friend, or not at all.” You say, bending your knees and sitting up, now that he’s unstrapped your jacket from the bed as well. “Go ahead Sam, tell him.” You say as you take some time to stretch our your limbs. You know that he’ll have to strap you back down before he leaves, and you need to savor this while it lasts.

“I’m really sorry about this. But you know, when the system kicks back in.” Tony says, and you nod lying back down as he straps you back in. Sam tells Tony where to find them, and that’s the end of the visit.

Nothing happens, you’re still in restraints that are overkill for the fact that you’re just a mere mortal. They still have to feed you and make you feel like you’re just a blob of a human being. You can feel that darkness from before start to creep back in, you start to sleep more. There’s nothing that you can do when you’re physically unable to move. The waking world, the gray ceiling, too harsh for you.

“It’s time to get up now. I’m getting you guys out of here.” It’s Steve’s voice, but he sounds different. Tired almost. There’s another beat before a clattering noise. Then you see Clint’s face over yours, as he works with a desperate need to get you out of your restraints. The second you’re free, you throw yourself into his arms. Burying your face in his neck.

“Come on guys, we gotta get out of here,” Steve says, as Clint helps you to your feet.

“Where are we going to go, Cap?” You ask, as you survey the twins, Scott, and Sam. “Because, I need to say something that’s going to sound stupid. And you’re not allowed to judge me because you speak fluent idiot. I need to go speak with Tony.” You both say and sign, although your signing is slower than it used to be. Because your hands aren’t used to moving anymore.

“T’Challa has granted us sanctuary on Wakanda. We’ll drop you outside the compound on the way there. Then circle back to get you at a rendezvous point. Play this smart, (Y/N).” Steve says, his voice in full Captain America mode.

“Don’t worry, Cap. If this goes the way I want it too, we won’t need Wakanda.” You tell him, and Steve gives you one of the Captain’s curt nods.

#marvel #avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #reader x clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #reader x clint #clint barton #hawkeye #reader x hawkeye #hawkeye x reader