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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked:

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

“You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

“Is what mine?”

“The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

“You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

“It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

“I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

“Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

“Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

“Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

“Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

“Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

“Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

“I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

“Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

“Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

“Nice try.”

He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

“I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

“Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

“Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

“No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

“Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

“You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

“Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

“Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

“Hey, could you—” you start.

“Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

“Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

“I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

“Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

“If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

“Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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hale-13 · 3 years

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Febrile

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 23 - Sick

“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.

Words: 2101, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter,” Ned’s voice is exasperated and he looks irritated. MJ’s face is still (mostly) an indifferent mask but he can see her eyes brows pulling in the way they do when she’s concerned. “This has been going on for three days now,” he complains. “you have got to tell May.”

“Sure don’t,” Peter says, drying his hands off on a scratchy paper towel and trying to surreptitiously blot at his sweaty face before tossing it in the trash.

“You’re an idiot,” MJ tells him with an eye roll and a soft shove of her shoulder. It completely throws off Peter’s limited equilibrium and makes him sway into the wall. Ned’s glare becomes even sharper.

“I’m fine,” Peter tries and even he can hear the lie in his words now. He totally isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all actually. He’s had a fever, vomiting and stomach cramps for going on three days now and he’s just not used to getting and staying sick this long since he got bitten by the spider. A cold or a twenty-four hour hell flu? Sure. Consistent nausea and a low to mid grade fever for seventy-two hours? Unheard of.

“This is pointless,” MJ’s voice is monotone as she tosses Peter his phone which he fumbles, just barely catching it with the tips of sticky fingers.

“When did you take my phone?” He asks confused.

MJ guides him out the door and towards the front office – the exact opposite direction he needs to be going if he’s going to make it to his chemistry class. “I took it from your pocket when you were re-enacting the exorcism. Happy should be here in like ten minutes.”

“MJ,” Peter whines, not putting up a fight when Ned grabs his other arm to help with the pulling and directing. “I don’t need to go home.”

“Yes you do,” Ned’s tone is firm. “No one wants your flu Peter.”

“Alright that’s… fair,” he admits. “But my homework-,”

“We’ll get it for you,” MJ reassures as the office comes into view. She pushes him into one of the chairs sat outside and marches in to speak to the secretary. Peter pouts and crosses his arms. Yeah he feels like shit and he really just wants to sleep and, sure, his lower abdomen is really cramping and hurting but he got shot two weeks ago and the pain isn’t that bad. He can totally handle it. “You’re signed out,” Michelle tells him when she comes back, offering Ned a note to excuse his tardiness. “Let us know that you didn’t die okay loser?”

“Bye Peter!” Ned says brightly, back to his normal self now that he knows Peter is actually going home.

His friends finally gone, Peter drops all pretense and lets his face rest against the cool wall next to him, letting his eyes slip shut in relief – his forehead was burning. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and shivers. Maybe it is good that he goes home. He can take a nap and recuperate and be back at school tomorrow completely better.

Yeah. He just needs to nap.

“Well your scary girlfriend wasn’t kidding,” Mr. Stark’s voice rips Peter out of his near-sleep and has him blotting out of the chair, nearly falling over if he hadn’t caught himself on the way. “You look like shit kiddo.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaks, surprised at seeing his mentor at his freaking school what the hell. “What uh… what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Tony asks with good humor, looking at Peter over the top of his AR glasses with a concerned smile, eyes scraping over him in a clinical way. “I’m here to get you.”

“Uh no offense, but why?” Peter asks, tripping over his book bag on the floor and falling back into the chair. Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Because I’m one of your emergency contacts,” he answers like this is the most obvious thing ever and Peter blinks a little in confusion. Mr. Stark is one of his emergency contacts? Since when? He opens his mouth to ask this very question when a sudden bout of nausea rolls over him and he, instead, scrambles to his feet and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

He barely makes it to the sink before he starts gagging and dry heaving, nothing coming up but leaving him feeling dizzy and light-headed. Peter leans his head against the porcelain of the sink with a low moan, gagging again on the end and leaning his face back over the sink to drool out the excess saliva in his mouth.

“Yikes,” he hears Mr. Stark mutter behind him and then a calloused hand is running carefully through his hair and resting on his forehead. Peter pushes his face into the cool palm subconsciously and keeps his eyes closed as he tries to push the nausea down. “Yeah you’re definitely coming back to the MedBay with me.”

Peter lets out a wordless whine but doesn’t protest beyond that. It has been three days of this after all – maybe it is a good idea to consult with a professional?

“Come on buddy,” Tony says as he slings Peter’s arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him out of the bathroom and towards the entrance to the school. “You have a date with Dr. Cho and your aunt is waiting to hear the results of her exam.”

Happy actually looks concerned when Peter sees him standing outside of one of the many town cars Mr. Stark owns and he doesn’t say anything when he takes Peter’s bag from Tony to put in the front seat. The leather of the back seats is cool and the interior is darkened by the tinted windows and Peter lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head against the window; already half asleep.

The drive is, thankfully, quick and Peter dozes through most of it – still nauseous but able to hold it down for the most part. Soon enough they pull into the underground garage of the Tower and Tony is hustling him into the elevator which rockets them up to the MedBay floor without either of them having to say anything.

“May wants you to call her once you get settles,” Tony says, rapidly texting on his phone.

Peter squints his eyes at his mentor. “I’m not sure how I feel about you two texting,” he says.

“Oh we’re besties,” Tony teases, pocketing the phone with a shit eating grin. “We have coffee every other Wednesday.”

“I… don’t know if you’re serious,” Peter says, concerned. He probably doesn’t want to know to be honest. The doors of the elevator trundle open and Tony steers Peter into an empty exam room, directing him to sit on the exam bed. It only takes a second before Dr. Cho bustles in.

“Hey Peter,” she says with a smile as she rubs hand sanitizer into her hands and grabs a set of gloves from the box on the wall. “Tony said you were sick. Want to tell me about what’s going on?

“Nausea mostly,” he says as she runs a thermometer across his forehead and frowns at the readout. “My stomach hurts.”

“Well you have a fever of just over one hundred and two,” she says as she clips a pulse ox reader to his finger and wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm and lets it run. “And your blood pressure is a little low,” she narrows her eyes at the reading and unhooks the machines. “Lay back for me?”

Peter does and stares at the ceiling as she starts to palpate his abdomen. He could probably fall asleep here actually if he – “OW!” He exclaims, curling away from Dr. Cho’s hands and wrapping his arms around his stomach to protect it.

“Well I have a tentative diagnosis,” she says snapping off her gloves. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm but, congratulations, Peter you have appendicitis.”

Peter and Tony both blink and then look at each other and then back. “For three days?” Tony questions, scooting Peter over to sit next to him on the bed and run a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain in his abdomen but it helps.

“His healing factor is probably slowing down the progression, preventing it from rupturing as quickly as it could or should have,” she says, typing something into Peter’s chart on her StarkPad. “I’ll have a tech confirm with ultrasound and get a surgeon out to do the surgery. It’s pretty quick – one hour tops and then a few days recovery and you’ll be good as new.”

“Surgery?” Peter asks hoarsely, feeling his heart rate speed up. He’s never had surgery before.

Dr. Cho looks up at him and her face softens a little. “It’s an easy procedure,” she promises. “You won’t even realize that you’ve had it really and. Once you wake up, you’ll feel immediately better. Everything will be fine,” she promises and Peter nods with a gulp. He can feel stomach acid rising in his throat again and lunges for the emesis basin sitting on the bedside table, gagging into it.

“Let it all out Webs,” Tony says, rubbing his back sympathetically. “Got anything to help with this doc?”

“I’ll have the nurses start and IV and give him an anti-emetic,” she said, passing a new basin to Tony and taking the one from Peter’s slack grasp. “Just try to relax okay Peter?”

“This sucks,” he grumbles, letting his head fall over to rest on his mentor’s shoulder and relaxing when he feels Tony’s finger scrub though his hair to massage his aching head.

“Sure does kiddo,” Tony agrees, pulling the blanket up to Peter’s chest. “But at least its an easy fix.”

“I don’t want surgery,” Peter tells him quietly. Even with all of his many Spider-Man injuries he’s never had to be put under for anything. “Is May on her way?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promises him. “And surgery seems really scary but its not I promise. It’s like taking a really good nap and May and I will both be there alright? It’ll be fine Underoos.”

“Okay,” Peter says quietly, feeling slightly better but still a little concerned. But he would have May and Tony with him. It would be fine.

————————————————

“Guess we still need to tweak the anesthetic formula for you just a bit,” Mr. Stark says apologetically as he mops up the sweat on Peter’s brow with a damp cloth and supports him as he retches again. The surgery had gone well and had been quick. Waking up however?

Not so much.

“Just let it out baby,” May croons as she rubs his back, sweaty and making the thin hospital gown stick to his skin uncomfortably. Peter just gasps a little and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose to quell his nausea.

“I’m good,” Peter croaks a minute later, letting his aunt settle him back into the bed and fuss over him. He had barely woken up after the surgery before the vomiting started again. It had alarmed Tony but May and Dr. Cho had both determined that it was just a poor reaction to the anesthesia they used. With how fast him metabolism was, it should move through his system quickly.

“Can I get you anything sweetie?” May asked him, brushing his damp hair out of his face and sitting on the edge of the bed facing him.

“I’m okay,” Peter said, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Tony squeezed his hand and tucked his blanket in a little tighter around him warming Peter up from the inside a little. He was so glad and thankful that he had the chance to get closer with Tony over the last couple months since the incident with the Vulture. The man was still a little awkward and learning how to be a mentor but he was trying and that’s all Peter could ask for. “Just want to sleep,” he said softly, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Okay baby,” he heard May whisper, running her fingers through his hair and Peter felt the ghost of a smile on his face. Yeah, he could probably handle this recovery.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump23 #Prompt: Sick #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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thedumbguywithaheart43 · 2 years

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Boomlords weird adventure

Chapter 38 hello doctor

The group of ponies turned their attention to a portal that opened up in BoomLord's home space. The familiar form of Boom walking out followed by a rather panic Twilight."WAIT YOUR WHAT!"this caught everyone's attention."I said my daughter do you need your hearing checked why I know a good doctor?"Twilight glared At him."you didn't think until now to inform me that you had a child!"immediately everyone in the room either dropped what they were holding or their jaw. Everyone was dumbfounded by the news. Boom perhaps the strangest creature they have ever had the chance to come across had a child."what are you all looking at it's not that surprising?"Deadpool immediately walked up an grabbed him by the shoulders."WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN!"once again Boom looked rather confused."uh 400 years ago something like that?"boom Lord seemed unsure before his eyes widened."oh wait a second you guys thought oh no it's not a biological daughter it's an artificial one."once again everyone looked confused."I made a synthetic living robot to put it simply I just never had a chance to activate it."immediately everyone took a deep breath in relief."now if you're all done panicking we need to see a doctor."Twilight folded her arms."why are we seeing a doctor if this was a robot?"there was skepticism in her voice leading her to believe that she wasn't so sure if boom was being truthful."he's the only one with the key to access her I left it that way so Lily couldn't turn her on."this only raised more questions."okay whatever so who is this doctor."he smiled at her question."the doctor."she looked puzzle."Doctor who?"his smile only got wider enjoying the fact that she so easily stumbled into this joke."exactly"

2 As so many times before boom Drew another circle. This time the words ,°Doctor who 10°is what he wrote in the center of it. Upon stepping through he was quickly joined by spike and an Twilight. The area they entered was a metal room with lights and a central large object in the center of the room. Apparently it was some sort of control console as far as any of them could tell. However boom knew exactly where he was."is the doctor in!?"his yell echoed through the chamber bouncing off the walls. There was no verbal response however the sound of footsteps could now be heard. A well-dressed man with brown hair walked into the room. The look of displeasure was prominent. He said nothing upon seeing boom only folding his arms looking dead at him with disappoinment. Twilight could feel tension between the two. Luckily it seemed to be less aggressive than the tension between Deadpool and boom."well lookie here 'Mr wanna be God of destruction' have you come to ruin another one of my days."his voice was clearly full of annoyance."you could say that I came to collect on one of the favors you owe me."the doctor rolls his eyes. Specifically this was the 10th version of the doctor."wait a bloody minute is that a dragon?"the voice of the doctor suddenly filled with excitement at seeing Spike"'uh yeah ? I guess I'm not common on this world?"the doctor's eyes widened again."holy hell you can talk! marvelous!"the doctor quickly walked past boom and went to shake spikes hand. Spike seemed to enjoy this enthusiasm given by the doctor."are you from another world? Well if you came with boom you most certainly are no dragons here on this Earth at least not now."Twilight took a step back from the doctor fairly confused by his words."don't mind the doctor he's a time traveler so he's seen just about everything there is to see including multiple dimensions."the doctor straightened his jacket noticing Twilight after boom spoke."and a pleasure to meet you ma'am."Twilight shook his hand but still kept her distance All things considered he was still an unknown."I hate to rush things doc but I'm going to need the sonic screwdriver."the doctor frowned at him."of all the things in the world you need that? Fine but after this consider us done and settled."boom shook his head."nice try doc you still owe me one more favor. Three destroyed daleks for three favors this is only the second one."the doctor then dropped his friendly attitude getting right into boom's face."you should know better than the play games with me boom. Off all creatures you know what I'm capable you know what I've done. And you should know better than to temp my patience."the doctor's voice was cold. But boom just smiled."I know exactly what you are doc. I know you are the last of the time Lords I've known you've stopped threats to the entire multiverse. To the very fabric of time and space.yet you know just as well not to test mine. Because even with your TARDIS ,even with your screwdriver,and even with your time and experience the infallible knowledge that you know.... You still don't understand me because I have lived a long time as well and for every unthinkable thing you've seen I have seen twice as much in half the time."the two stood there glaring daggers into each other. But the doctor just nodded his head and pulled out a small device handing it to Boom."until next time Boom."

With that final statement boom drew a portal not even saying goodbye to the doctor. Twilight and Spike followed giving the doctor a wave which he happily returned. The back of twilight's mind she began to think. 'did I just witness The clash of Titans.' the thought lingered in her mind as they stepped through a portal this time they were on a field and not the HQ. A tall building stood ahead of them with two double doors facing them. Above them the only words present were. *Welcome to aperture science where we do what we must because we can* film stud for a long moment looking at the device in his hand a screwdriver shaped object with blue tip."in case you're wondering why that was another person who I fucked up with.... I'd rather not talk about it if that's okay."his tone had turned somber."okay let's just meet your daughter."

#spike the dragon #mlp fandom #twilight sparkle #fanfic #writing #dramatic #deadpool #comedy

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writteninkat · 3 years

Text

xiii - hypocrite

w/c - 3,299

"god, it's brutal out here"

index

You squint your eyes open, blinking a few times to allow your eyes to adjust to the blinding lights. You look around you, feeling a sense of deja vu as you take in the white walls and white ceilings. Your father stands just a few feet away from you talking with someone who seems like the doctor.

“Unless she gets proper training on how to use her quirk, she’ll be fainting every time she uses at least fifty percent-“ The doctor’s eyes shift to you, noticing that you’ve awakened. H clears his throat, furrowing his brows at your father, lowering his voice into a more ushered tone. “Her quirk is too powerful for her body. I don’t know what that child had gone through, but all I can guess is that it must have been very painful for her quirk to enhance this much. You hav two options here, Mr. Kawamata; you either get her to stop using her quirk like that for the rest of her life or you get someone to teach her how to control it.”

The doctor leaves with a heavy ambience in the room and you watch as your father’s shoulders physically drop. “Are you finally regretting all the bullshit you did to me back when I was a child?” You ask, pushing yourself to sit up. Your father quickly turns around, smile stretching across your face to see you’ve awakened.

He steps towards you and you quickly hold up a hand to stop him in his tracks, not wanting a hug from him nor do you want him to be closer than three feet from you. “How long was I out?” You ask.

“About three hours. The doc says you will be discharged tomorrow-“

“If I can be discharged tomorrow then I can be discharged right now. There’s only a few hours difference.” You begin to pull at you IV tube only for your father’s much bigger hands to stop you. “Didn’t I tell you to-“

“You can deny me and reject me as much as you want, Y/n. But I am still your father and I’m worrying about your health.” He speaks in an assertive, dominating voice which pulls out the childhood fear you have in you. He’s always spoken to you like this back then, especially back then. You have no idea where this sudden change of heart came from but you don’t want anything to do with it, or him.

“I’ll contact a close friend of mine to be in charge of your quirk training. This way you will be able to control your quirk better and-“

“No way.”

Your father raises a questioning brow at you.

“I came to Japan because I knew you were here. Not because I wanted to be close to you but because I want to prove to you that I can become a respected and powerful hero without your help.” You grit your teeth, “when I was still a child, I expressed to you multiple times how much I wanted to be a hero and you turned that down every single time.”

You stand up, ripping the IV tube out of your skin, feeling the warmth of your blood slowly drop down your knuckles and fingers. “Well now you don’t get to meddle with my goals and dreams anymore, considering how much you’ve stomped on them my whole childhood.”

You quickly grab your phone, dialing a number you’ve memorized before you went home. It rings once, twice- “Hello this is The Endeavor Agency, how may I help you?”

You raise your brow, not expecting them to pick up since it was an hour past midnight. “Hello, it’s Y/n L/n. I’m calling to accept the recruitment offer you guys sent?”

“Of course miss L/n! We’ll send an email over to you in a bit regarding the schedules and information about the week long interning with Pro-Hero Endeavor. Thank you for choosing us!“

“Oh, and I’m sorry for calling this late. Something came ups and I didn’t have enough time to call.”

“it’s quite alright miss. then.“

You end the call, waving your hand up to get the attention of a taxi cab. You quickly get in, blinking your drowsiness away. You turn on your cellphone, feeling a wave of guilt hit you at the numerous missed calls you have on discord- presumably from Shinsou.

You: hey, sorry I didn’t play with you. Stress did me dirty and I passed out lol

You: I promise we’ll play soon, not now though, we’ll both be busy with interning

Shiin_s0u: u alright?

You: why aren’t you asleep?

You: yeah I am, just rlly tired

shiin_s0u: kinda fucked up my sleep schedule this week lmao

shiin_s0u: it’s ok we’ll have free schedules after the interning I think

You: fingers crossed

shiin_s0u: I’ll leave you to sleep

shiin_s0u: night lol

You: night

You look up from your phone, virtually paying the driver before getting off the car. By the time you reach your apartment, you barely have enough energy to walk towards your room, so you drop yourself onto the couch instead, allowing the heavy feeling of languor encase you in its arms.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own? You. Know, no matter how much we both loath that man he’s rich enough to have multiple cars that offer a comfortable ride to-“

“Mom. Please.” Your mother grows quiet as you sigh, “I’ve ridden a train on my own before.”

“I just wanna make sure you’ll be safe.“

“Yes, I know, thanks but I’ll be able to handle myself. Now I gotta go, I should have started walking to the train station half an hour ago.”

You bid farewell to your mother before ending the call, as you make your way down the building, your eye catches as black car with the windows tinted all over.

“Excuse me, miss Y/n L/n, we’re here to pick you up. We are-“ The man in the black suit starts, only for you to cut him off by bringing your hand up. “If you’re here on Mr. Kawamata’s orders, I would like you send him a message from me. Tell him to suck a dick.” You nod before you start walking away, taking out your headphones from your pocket proving to be a real struggle as you hold onto your stroller with your other hand.

“No, Miss L/n, we’re here because Pro-Hero Endeavor sent us.” You stop walking, turning at the balls of your feet and pushing the luggage towards him. “Well why didn’t you say so!” You chirp, stepping in the car.

You plugged in your earphones, allowing music to consume you as you leaned your head back on the seat, closing your eyes as you allow yourself to be lost in the cage of music. you stir awake not that long after, rubbing your eyes when you notice the car had stopped moving. You step out of the vehicle, whistling lowly as you took in the luxurious sky scraper in front of you with the front entrance decorated with a stylized flaming E for Endeavor.

You step in, allowing the man in the suit to carry your luggage for you as well as lead you to where you can only assume is the direction to the hero’s office. You’re greeted by a secretary right outside huge wooden double doors before she speaks into a telephone saying you’ve arrived. A stoic and deep voice tells her to let you in, it’s similar to how your father sounds, which causes a shiver to run up your spine.

You walk in the office, unable to quickly process just how large it is before your gaze lay on a certain two-toned boy. “Shoto?” You call out, making the boy turn around to face you. “Y/n? What are you doing at my father’s agency?” He ask, your jaw almost touch the floor with how big your mouth opened. ��Your father own this?” You ask motioning around to the gigantic office.

You make your way towards him, feeling your stomach drop at the same large man that stood beside your father back at the sports festival. He opens his mouth to speak only for you to raise your hands in surrender.

“Nope, nope. I already know where this is going-“

“L/n your father has instructed me to teach you to control your quirk.” He starts only for you to clench your jaw. “I despise that man with all my heart. why the hell are you taking orders from him?”

“That man is the president of the hero association. He’s also a dear friend to me who I owe something to. To pay him back, he says I’ll have to take you under my wing. It’ll be beneficial to you; you’ll be able to fight better and control your power more.”

You huff and cross your arms at the idea, not wanting to argue with someone who made correct points. The help won’t be from your father anyways, it’s Endeavor who’s teaching you. Right?

“Well then, the two of you get ready. I’ll show you what a hero is.”

You quickly put on your hero suit, putting on your mask before meeting with the two guys outside the agency. the sun had already set and the winds are getting colder by the minute.

You and Shoto walk side by side, looking around the city as Endeavor continues to babble about being a hero and such.

Your heads snap towards the direction of the loud explosion near by, not having to think twice before all three of you start running towards the direction. You stop at your tracks at the sight of the same experiment you encountered back in UA, the walking biohazard named Nomu.

You look around you, noticing you’ve lost Endeavor and Shoto. You grit your teeth at the sight of the disgusting thing in front of you. You deploy your claymore as citizens begin screaming and running for their lives.

“Hey, kid! Get out of there! It’s not safe!” An officer yells at you as he helps an old granny back up to her feet. You look to your side, the blue neon lines on your mask glowing in the dark. “You continue helping granny away from here.” You put more power onto your claymore, allowing blue flames to start appearing on the thick blade. “I’ll handle this.”

You jump towards the monster, swinging your blade at it. It holds its hands up, blocking your attack as it moves its leg up to kick you in the stomach. You grunt, using your sword to push yourself off of it and back onto the ground.

It keeps its eyes you, charging the second it sees you staying still. You use your speed quirk, running around and towards its back, slashing your blade successfully at it. You smile, finally being able to drop an attack on it. Your smile a second later at the sight of the wound healing immediately, watching in disgust as the muscles patch themselves together.

It turns around, causing you to get on fighting stance. As it charges at you and as you ready yourself, large flames begin to surround its body, causing it to screech in pain. It falls to the ground moments later, showing you an irritated Shoto.

“Midoriya just texted me, they need help!” He yells, running towards an alley to which you follow immediately right after. Shoto looks down at his phone screen as you follow right behind him, coming to a halt at the loud of things crashing and Izuku yelling.

At the sight of a man in wrapped in shredded bandages with two katanas in hand, along with Tenya, a hero and Izuku unable to move close to him, Shoto uses his fire to force the villain back and away from the guys.

You run over towards them, pointing your claymore at the villain who tilts his head to the side. You hear Shoto scolding Izuku for not explaining the urgency of the situation because he could have gotten here sooner if he didn’t need to decode the green-haired boy’s message since he only sent his location.

Shoto sends his ice at the killer once more who continues to evade the boy’s attacks, standing on store signs instead as he looks down at you all, presumably trying to read the situation.

“Don’t let him ingest your blood! It will paralyze you!” Izuku yells, your head whipping back at the villain’s direction who looks like he’s about to lick on something on his blade. You those your claymore at him, causing him to let go of his katana and fall back.

You use your quirk to quickly run over to him, kicking him back onto the ground even before he can touch it, adding more pressure to his fall.

“Stop it, you guys! I inherited Ingenium’s name, I should be the one to stop the hero killer-“

“Quit yer yapping, Tenya!” You growl, deploying a scythe. “You say that but do you think your brother would have wanted you to do this?! We may not be close at all, hell, I only know your name but if your brother is as great of a hero as you say he is, he would want you to be a hero without such dark intentions in your heart!” You yell, your heart clenching as you feel your stomach twist at how hypocritical you sound right now.

Shoto creates a wall of ice, but Stain slashes through it. You jump towards the villain, swinging your scythe at him as he uses two daggers to repel your weapon. The two of you exchange blows before he suddenly lets go of his daggers, grabbing onto the handle of your scythe as he pulls you towards him, lifting you up by the weapon as he throws you upwards, causing you to lose your balance as you are thrown behind him.

Stain runs over to Shoto, stabbing him with throwing knives before moving over him. Before he can stab the boy from above, Izuku unexpectedly grabs him and tackles him away.

“Midoriya! I’ll support you-“

“Not so fast you two-toned bastard.” You growl, walking past him with the your trusty claymore in your hands. “You’re injured. Izuku and I will be able to fight him. Just stay up and watch over Iida and that hero.” You say, pointing your thumb back to where the two were as you point your blade towards the villain.

Stain runs over to Izuku, catching the boy off guard as you use your speed to run in between them, shielding Izuku from the villain with your sword. “I got your back!” You yell, pushing the villain away from you with your sword as Izuku runs over to his back, about to throw one of his ridiculously strong punches. Right before he can throw a blow at the villain, Stain jumps away, evading the attack as it hits you instead.

You quickly use your sword to block the gust of wind and power punched towards you as Izuku yells an apology. You click your tongue, “Couldn’t you stop being a klutz for just one minute?!” You yells, running over to Stain, swinging your sword towards him. He evades the attack once more, watching as your slice creates a large and deep slash on the cemented ground as well as the buildings behind him.

“What strong power locked inside a small body. I don’t think any of that belongs to you.” The villain smiles to which you frown at. “It was given and forcefully put inside me without my consent. But now it’s part of me, and I’m now naming it mine.” Your voice sounds powerful as you transfer more of your power onto your claymore, blue flames once again appearing on the blade.

“Come on, little villain.” You smile sinisterly, neon blue lines begin appearing all over your body, catching Izuku off guard. I shouldn’t be doing this, I might pass out again. But as my mother always said, there’s no gain without a little pain. You thought to yourself, once again leaving an after image of yourself in front of the villain as you strike him a scorching blow from behind.

“How the hell did you get behind me-“ Your claymore disappears from your grasp as fingerless gloves wrap themselves around your fists. You grab him by the face, slamming him onto the ground as your grip tightens around his head. “You’re supposed to be the infamous hero killer! Don’t tell me you’ll let a sixteen year-old child break you like this!” You yell, stepping onto his arms as you pull his head up only to smash it back down to the ground.

Smash his head open

No, no, make it so that he won’t be able to walk even after he heals up!

He’s killed many people, hasn’t he? So doesn’t he deserve death a thousand times over?

“That’s right! He does deserve death a thousand times over!” You yell, your hand never stopping as you continue bashing his head onto the ground. “Y/n, stop! We have to bring him over to the heroes alive for interrogation!” Iida yells as you feel arms wrap around from under your shoulders, pulling you away from the bloody villain. “Stop, stop! Y/n! Stain’s unconscious now!” Izuku snaps you out of your daze as the blue lines begin to disappear from your face. You look around, feeling your heart about to jump right out of your chest as you look at your palm, feeling a shudder pass down your spine at the sight of blood all over it.

You let the boys tie the villain up with some rope they found in the dumpster. All of you begin to walk towards the Main Street, Iida walking right beside you. “What was that back there?” He asks, his eyes staying up front.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You shrug your shoulders, not wanting to talk about this anymore. “Okay, let me rephrase my question. /Who/ was that back there?” You stop at your tracks, keeping your eyes on the ground as you clench your fists together. “Her name is Y/n L/n but she’s also none of your business.” You say before you continue walking straight.

When you finally step out of the alley way, the hero that had been injured with Iida offers to carry Izuku on his back, claiming its the least he can do after being saved by you all. A short yellow man comes kicking Izuku on his face, as he gives Izuku an angry lecture.

You hear a group of heroes begin running your way, “Endeavor told us there was request for help here but… children?”

“Those injuries look bad, I’ll call an ambulance right away.”

“Hey, look!” One motions at Stain as another gasps, “Is that… the hero killer?”

As the adults begin contacting for help, Iida walks over to the three of you, bowing. “You guys, got hurt because of me. I’m truly sorry. I was just so angry I couldn’t… see anything else.” Your heart ached for Iida as you watched his tears drop to the ground, staining them wet. You sigh, walking over to him, propping him to stand up straight. You pull him into a hug, allowing him to sob harder on your shoulder.

You whisper calming hushes onto his ear as you stroked his head- something your mother would do to you whenever you felt negative about yourself. “It’s okay, Tenya. From now on, just remember to be good always. Always have kindness in your heart no matter what.”

Hypocrite. You’re the personification of the word hypocrite.

I know. You sigh to yourself, I know.

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #bakugou bios #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fluff #my hero fanfic #my hero fluff #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fluff

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

I got a request, maybe sniper and spy decide to go on a double date with heavy and medic?

Here we go! It starts as a double date but turns into just Sniper and Spy (sorry I can’t write other ships, it just feels weird to me! ^^). But, to compensate, I tried to have a bit of an emotional one here so I hope you’ll get the “feels” as the cool kids say!

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

"Are you ready - ah, yes, you are." Heavy entered Spy's suite. He found him putting on his coat.

"So are you, I see."

They both eyed each other and noticed how different they looked from when they wore their Mann Co. uniforms. Spy had put on a dark red suit with an assorted bowtie and white varnished shoes. He looked like a fish in a pond next to Heavy who had put on a tuxedo for the occasion but was visibly not as comfortable as his colleague.

"Do I have my car keys…? Oui, right, let us go." And they exited the flat to soon find themselves in Spy's bright red Italian car.

Of course, the Frenchman was driving. He put the key in and made the engine roar a sound that was only produced on dream cars, a rumbling worth more money than Heavy had ever spent.

"C'mon doc', we'll be late!"

"Ja, just a minute!"

And Medic proved to hold his word as a minute later, he emerged from his quarters, wearing a suit with a bowtie too. However, Sniper had just changed for non-Mann Co. clothing.

"Bugger… Do I need to put on a suit for that?" He asked.

"As you wish, although I'm sure Spy will show up with one." Medic answered.

"Right…" Sniper winced. "Come to my van. You climb at the front, I'll get a change at the back…"

They did as Sniper said and when the Aussie re-appeared behind the steering wheel, Medic didn't manage to hold a gasp.

"What?" He shot an almost aggressive glance at the doctor. Sniper was clearly embarrassed.

"Y-you look… Uh…"

"Eyes on the map, in the glovebox, and tell me where that place is."

Medic understood the message clearly enough and didn't discuss anything further.

The trip took the mercenaries about an hour, a bit less and they arrived in town.

Spy looked quickly at his colleague. How he managed to fit in his car was beyond him.

"I wish you good luck, Heavy."

"Thank you. I wish the same to you, Spy, though I know you won't need it."

Spy raised an eyebrow and Heavy went on.

"Sniper looks at you like the best thing that ever happened in his life. His eyes shine in a special way. Even Medic noticed it."

"I like to believe that Sniper is very obvious when it comes to his feelings."

"Da, but you are too, in your own way."

"I am not." Spy coldly answered.

"Hm." Heavy did not insist to avoid embarrassing his friend. They were tense enough as it was.

Meanwhile, in Sniper's van, the atmosphere was different.

"So, uh…" Sniper scratched his cheek. "Ever been on a… a…"

"A date?" Medic asked. "I was once married, so yes, I've had lots of them by the past."

"Ah, yeah."

"Haven't you?" Medic asked back.

"Not in a long time."

The German doctor noticed that Sniper's fingers were drumming on the steering wheel nervously. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be too nervous. I am sure it will go well."

"I don't know, mate. Spy's a difficult bloke. I never know what he thinks or what he wants and he's got experience in those things, so much experience… It's like I'm a little boy next to him."

"Look at the good side of things."

"Which is?" Sniper asked.

"He was either the one to suggest this date, or the one to accept it."

Sniper looked at Medic. He was surprised to see that the crazy scientist could sometimes speak sense.

"Bien." Spy stopped the car in front of the restaurant. "Here we are."

[Well.]

Both him and Heavy exited the car and waited in front of the restaurant as they didn't see Sniper's iconic van.

"They will arrive soon I hope." Heavy said.

"No doubt." Spy was more confident in his ability to attract Sniper than Heavy was with Medic. "You will do just fine, Heavy. The only moments I have seen Medic behave almost like a human being are when he is in your company."

Heavy looked down at his colleague who lit up a cigarette and puffed on it. Soon, the campervan arrived and parked a few metres away. The sun had set a long while ago so the only lights were shed by the lamp posts. Two silhouettes got out of the van, one taller than the other and with a hat.

Heavy wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers while Spy crushed his cigarette and adjusted his tie. With a last look and a nod, they parted ways and Spy reconvened with Sniper.

"I see you have found the place." He said.

"Y-yeah, Medic helped. He uh, he had the map, I just had to follow the instructions."

Spy smiled at how nervous Sniper seemed even though he couldn't see him clearly in the dimness of the night.

"Shall we?" Spy offered his arm.

"Uh…" Sniper's head shook left and right. He wasn't sure if he should take Spy's arm, publicly, like that. It was all a bit too much, or too fast. Spy understood and just extended his hand in the direction of the restaurant's entrance instead.

"After you, Sniper."

"Right…" Sniper looked but couldn't see Medic and Heavy anymore, thus concluding they were already inside.

As soon as he entered, Sniper gasped silently as his jaw dropped and his lips parted visibly. He hadn't set foot in any similar place in his life so far. The restaurant had a very high ceiling, the floor was tiled and the chandeliers' shy yellow lights reflected on the floor. As Sniper looked down, he realised he could always see himself perfectly, despite the tiles being dark blue. The walls had magnificent paintings that were framed with gold painted wood and the walls themselves were Burgundy red with golden motifs.

"Gosh…"

Spy said something to a waiter and next thing he knew, Sniper was sitting in front of him, on a table lit by a single candle, sitting at the center of the small round table. Before he did sit down, Sniper removed his coat and hat and it was Spy's turn to drop his jaw.

"Mon Dieu…"

[My God…]

Hearing Spy's voice made Sniper zone back to reality brutally and face his gaze. He saw the very light blue eyes open wide and the pupils retracted to a dot. But it only flashed for a fleeting moment because Spy didn't let the surprise invade him.

They sat down and were handed the menu. The light in the room was quite low, which was quite pleasant for the eyes. It helped them focus on what was important. Sniper hid behind the leather-bound menu and sometimes took a peek above it. Spy looked absolutely magnificent. His dark red jacket had a slight sheen to it which recalled the sparks that Sniper saw in his eyes, each time their gazes would cross.

"So, have you made your choice?"

"Uh, yeah, I think I did." Sniper answered, still shielding himself behind the menu.

"You can put the menu down then."

"I-I could, yeah…"

But somehow, Sniper didn't want to and he clung to the thing like a young boy would to his mum's skirt.

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"You may put the menu down." Spy repeated and this time, Sniper yielded.

"Oh, Gosh…" Sniper's eyes opened as wide as planets and his pupils shrank. Between his last glance at Spy and now, the Frenchman had freed his face and hair from the last layer of cloth that covered them, taking Sniper utterly by surprise.

"We are now even." Spy said.

"Y-I-uh… I-I guess… Now I can see you and uh, you can see me."

They took a moment to observe each other. One was confident in his looks and knew he could make any heart fall with just a flash of his pearly white teeth, while the other was red beyond his ears, awkward and uncomfortable as if he was naked.

"That was not what I meant." Spy said while Sniper was still devouring him with his eyes. The Frenchman's eyes were bewitching, that, Sniper knew, but his hair was absolute poetry! It was elegantly combed back with a cinder lock at the front and grey temples. He also had a rebel front tuft that refused to follow the rest of his hair to fall between his eyes. Spy took great care of his hair, it shone beautifully under the chandeliers and candle light.

"W-what?" Sniper snapped back to reality. "Sorry, what d'you mean?"

"I did not mean that we're even because I removed my balaclava."

"Why then?"

"Look at you." Spy started. "You made the effort to wear a suit, although you clearly aren't used to it. It's a shame you don't wear one to work, they make you more handsome."

Sniper felt the wave of heat change into sweat on his entire body, but Spy continued.

"You also combed your hair back, added a bit of product to make it stay in place, you shaved and I can smell your perfume from here, a bit too strong for my liking, but that's only because you are nervous. Non Sniper, I meant that we are even because you made all these efforts for me while I made some for you too, although they do not appear as blatantly."

Their meals appeared on the table and they started digging in. Sniper didn't know what to answer so he just fell silent. That's when he realised that there was some music in the background. He raised his head and saw far from them, at the side of the dining area, a group of musicians. Hell that place was fancy…

"You are remarkably handsome tonight is what I meant and I thank you for your efforts. They mean the world to me."

Sniper tried to at least smile and nod but his shyness paralysed him and he just managed to pull his lips and lower his head. He was extremely tense and of course Spy noticed it.

"Is it too much?" He asked.

"What?"

"What I said, did I go too far? Was it things that you don't want to hear?"

"N-no."

Spy lowered his head with a sigh. He hadn't touched his meal and Sniper was pushing the food left and right, but couldn't eat either.

"I had doubts this would be a bad idea. Now, I am sure." He concluded and simply left the table, leaving Sniper alone.

The poor Aussie was not only confused but ashamed. It was because of him, again, that he lost a date. He lowered his head to the food in his plate. It didn't make sense, it was grey and bland. Sniper left the table too. He went to pay what he owed but was told Spy had already done so, and so he left the restaurant.

He dragged his feet to his van, in the silence of the night, before unlocking it and climbing on the driver's seat. Sniper sighed. He was used to screwing up dates, forgetting them, being stood up, or making them go awfully bad. But this particular instance was hurting in a bitter way. He put his hands on the steering wheel and started the van.

"You are leaving?"

A voice said from next to him that made him jump on his seat and put a hand on his chest. In the darkness of the night, he didn't see that Spy was sitting where Medic had been half an hour before.

"I… I thought you left." Sniper answered.

"Non." Spy said as he retrieved a cigarette and lit it.

[No.]

"So uh… What do we do?"

"Go ahead and continue what you were doing. Pretend I am not here." Spy said and turned to look through the window.

Sniper felt the pain inside. He had screwed it up so much. There wasn't much left but to drive back to the base and sleep through the next day. So he exited the parking lot in front of the restaurant and drove away.

The ride was dead silent and only the gentle rumble of the van's engine was audible, although it had melted in the background.

"Stop the van." Spy said.

"What?" Sniper's head turned to him in a flash.

"Stop the van." He repeated.

"Here? In the middle of the desert?" Sniper asked but Spy's eyes riveted on his were more than clear and Sniper obeyed, parking the car on the dusty ground of the desert, a few meters away from the asphalt.

As the van's noise stopped, the tension grew louder. Spy opened the door and slipped out. Sniper thought that he had needed a quick "pit stop" as they called them for formula 1 cars, but soon, he heard some noise coming from above his head.

Utter confusion. What the hell was Spy doing on his van's rooftop? Why would he go there? Nah, it surely was nothing. Sniper shook his head and waited for Spy to come back. But after ten minutes, he still hadn't. Sniper sighed and decided to investigate. He got out of the van and looked around. Spy was nowhere to be found.

"Up here, if you are looking for me."

Sniper looked up and indeed Spy was sitting cross-legged on the van's rooftop. Sniper went to the ladder at the back and climbed up.

"What are you doing here? I thought you asked me to stop to take a p-"

"To fill one of your filthy jars?" Spy cut him. "Non. I needed guidance."

[No.]

Sniper sat down next to him.

"You prayin'?" He asked, seeing how Spy's eyes were riveted on the sky.

"Almost." He answered. "I am asking for help, but not from God. If he did exist, why did I live such a miserable life? How was that part of the plan? To give me a lady that would be my wife and a son, only to take them away from me. But still, to keep him so close to me that it hurts every day of this life, having to see him and remember better, sweeter times. Having to see him and knowing that things could have been much different, things could have gone splendidly better. But non, apparently the plan wasn't that, non, the plan was to make me suffer every day I cross his gaze because I see her and I see the life I could have led."

Sniper's jaw dropped.

"And then they did something."

"Who?" Sniper asked.

"Them." Spy pointed up. "They broke the curse, they took me out of that infernal spiral and saved me. But they didn't do that in a snap of their fingers. Non. They sent someone. A wingless angel. Someone whose sight takes off all the burdens I've ever carried on my shoulders. His mere presence brings peace to my tormented soul. He graces me with the gift of joy, and brings back feelings that had died in me. The flutters of the heart, the blush on my cheeks, even though hidden behind my mask. He is a godsent to me, only I know it wasn't God who sent it to me, it can't be. Why would he make me suffer so hard to then just simply flip it all over with the presence of that man, hm?"

"Maybe God just wants you to think less harshly about yourself."

Spy turned his eyes to Sniper.

"I mean, it's like you had a curse or something, but you seem to say that it's going better, right?"

"Oui. That tall, handsome man has lifted the curse. Each time he gathers the courage to look into my eyes, I can feel all sorts of things in my chest that no other feeling but love can produce. I breathe more heavily, my heart beats faster but my eyes blink slower, because I want time to stretch, I want this to last. It is selfish, but I want his attention on me for as long as possible. Not only do I like the way he looks at me, as if I could bring him any fragment of happiness, but he blesses me with the peace I have yearned for without even knowing it. And he's the only one able to calm the waves of my torment here, inside." Spy tapped his chest. "Thank you, Sniper."

Sniper choked on his own saliva and cleared his throat. He froze when Spy took his arm between his and leaned on his shoulder.

"Y-you think all that… about me?" He asked.

"Oui." Spy closed his eyes as the proximity with the body he had dreamt of was overwhelming. "But please." He parted from Sniper and looked up at him. "Please tell me that you feel the same. Please tell me that your shyness only tries to hide how you too feel this way for me, and not how repulsive you find me. Please tell me that… That I am not putting all my hopes for peace somewhere where they would be wasted and thrown away. At my age, I don't think I will ever find someone with whom I could share my days and my worries."

Spy pleaded with his eyes, implored with his voice but nothing came out of Sniper's lips. And the silence spoke louder than anything else around them in the darkness of the night.

"I… I realise how pathetic I sound, how both desperate and done I am with life. I do apologise if I wasted your time, if I forced you to do anything you didn't want to. Forgive me. It was only an old, tired man thinking he had found a bit of solace. I shall not bother you more."

Spy looked up at the stars and addressed them.

"Thank you and damn you. Thank you for making me feel those tremors everywhere, that magic spell inside that makes one forget his worries ever existed. And damn you. To hell with you and the false hopes you gave me. I hope you are laughing at the miseries you put me through and how badly they break me. You would be the only ones laughing, I don't have the strength for self pity or laughing at myself anymore."

Spy stood up and turned to get down off the van's rooftop. Sniper stood up in a flash and held him back from his sleeve, awkwardly.

"W-wait."

"What? You too want to laugh? Be quick about it. I would like to get back home with a bit of dignity left in me."

"Shut up." Sniper pulled him more strongly than Spy had anticipated he could and the Frenchman crashed against Sniper's chest, his arms wrapping him tight and close. "You talk too much."

Tears went to Spy's eyes as his body was against the one man he had wanted for weeks now. His solace, his ray of light through his dark life. Sniper's hand went behind Spy's head, through the silk of his hair and his other one on his lower back, clinging to him, almost clawing.

Spy buried his head on Sniper's chest and let the tears do what they wanted. If they wanted to roll down and cover him in disgrace, so be it. He closed his eyes.

"You talk too much and I can't talk as much. It's… I'm… I'm sorry I can't. I'm sorry I'm bad with words. But no, of course I won't laugh at you, you idiot." Sniper's hand clenched harder on Spy's hair. "I won't laugh at you. I… Bugger! I can't speak."

Spy's hands laced around Sniper's sides and clawed on his back.

"I love you, Sniper."

Sniper looked down between his arms and Spy was looking up at him, his eyes more than glistening.

"I love you like the desperate man I am."

"Don't say that. You're not desperate okay? Oh, Gosh…" And Sniper tightened the hug again because it was what both of them needed. Spy's tears finally won over as Sniper rested his cheek on top of Spy's head. "You're not desperate. I'm… I'm here, ok? I'm here now. I'm… I love you too, bloody hell."

Spy's breath broke out of sync as he started sobbing against Sniper's shirt. Sniper stayed there, immobile, for long minutes, absorbing all the waters of his lover's liberation. Spy needed to cry. He needed to mark the end of the curse, he needed to celebrate it and rather than jumping out of joy, his body had chosen to wash the bitterness away in tears. So be it. Sniper massaged Spy's scalp. The Frenchman was mumbling through his sobs and the Aussie didn't know if it was French, English or complete gibberish. He just took it all away from Spy. And when the Frenchman had drenched Sniper's shirt to the point where he could feel the cold wetness on his very skin, Spy raised his head.

"Je t'aime, I love you. I love you so much, I am so sorry."

[I love you.]

And Sniper understood that for the past minutes, Spy had been just repeating those words on loop, like a broken disc. He looked down straight in his eyes and gathered enough courage to face the man who was literally breaking down because he loved him that much. Sniper answered.

"I love you too, I love you too, don't be sorry, I love you."

Spy's lips pursed in a smile. He was crying what were maybe the happiest tears of his life.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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notquitecanon · 4 years

Text

Reunions and the F word. Marvel / Criminal Minds crossover pt.3 (reader insert)

Part One Part Two

January 2011

You stood in front of the BAU for the first time in almost a year. Utilizing some of SHIELD’s computer access, you’d been keeping up with their cases- and through their reports (and tidbits of information that the bureau kept) with them. You knew they were in at the moment.

Aside from the usual overwhelming number of cases, you were surprised by how uneventful things had been in the BAU, but grateful at the same time. Uneventful meant safe. The biggest thing that happened was that JJ had gotten a job offer from the Pentagon, and had been forced to take it.

You made a mental note to drop by her house later in the week- depending on how the Team reacting to your sudden reappearance. Would they be happy to see you? Angry that you left? Angry that you came back? Maybe they wouldn’t care?

But there was no turning back now, you had already entered the building and were waiting outside those glass doors (you were shocked at how far you could get just flashing your SHIELD badge). Hell, you could see Derek teasing Spencer at the Doctor’s desk- his hair was much shorter now. Prentiss was laughing with them, and Garcia was making (what was probably) her third cup of coffee in a TARDIS patterned mug.

No, they won’t want me to see me- They’re busy. You decided, turning on your heel back towards the elevators. But your escape was halted by someone’s chest, your eyes flicked up to find-

“(Y/N)?” David Rossi’s voice was astonished, but not angry. Your eyes quickly observed all of his behavior, but all you picked up was curiosity and shock. “What are you doing here?”

Well, at least he’s not angry. You decided as you softly smiled back at him, “Hey Rossi, I thought I was overdue for a visit. Think the team has a minute?”

When Rossi walked you into the Bullpen, heads were on a swivel. You watched your former team, just trying to get an accurate read of their feelings before you spoke to anyone. You caught Prentiss’ eyes first, as everyone in the room: shock, fondness, confusion- no anger. Then you moved on to Spencer: he was smiling, but eyebrows read confusion, slight betrayal, but overall no hostility. Hotch had come out of his office, as usual, his expression was unreadable, except for the glimmer of confusion and disapproval. Garcia was smiling widely, excitement written all over her face. But Morgan... Derek looked like he was barely hiding the anger and masking it with overall disapproval. You sucked in a breath, thinking to yourself, This is going to be fun.

Just as quickly, you were ushered into the briefing room- giving you a sense of deja vu from all the times JJ had called you and the team in. They all took their prospective seats except for Derek who stood behind his- clear sign of hostility. None of them spoke, just all waited for you to start.

You’d made up your mind to come here, but you never figured out what to say once you got there. Awkwardly you smiled, clasping your hands in front of you as you met each of their eyes. “Uh, hi guys, it’s been a while. Just under a year.”

“Not to be rude, but is there something you want to say? If not, we’ve got cases to work. We-” Derek started, arms crossed angrily over his chest. He reminded you a lot of Clint, both now and just your memories of him. Hotch interrupted him before he could continue with a quiet ‘Morgan.’

“No, he’s right.” You assured, glancing down to the floor, pausing as you thought to yourself I’ve never noticed how blue this carpet is... not important right now, “I haven’t been allowed contact until now. But that’s not an excuse is it.”

You took another moment collecting your thoughts, looking into Spencer’s eyes- it was that same “I’m sympathetic but you kind of deserve it smile” he’d given you almost a year ago, this time you smiled back.

“I wasn’t allowed contact until they could be sure I wasn’t a security risk. And then they set me to work, I’ve been working up behavioral profiles ever since.” You explained.

“Them being SHIELD,” Rossi remarked, it wasn’t a question but you nodded regardless. You picked your words carefully, making sure you weren’t telling something you weren’t supposed to.

“They’d been watching the BAU for a while- it was actually the Anthrax case that attracted their attention. You remember General Thaddeus Ross? He works closely with SHIELD. They determined that I was the most likely to actually leave the Bureau, and my sanction provided a clean break, but that’s not the reason I left.” You offered, hoping the information would appease them. “I’ve been, uh, keeping up with your cases. You’ve been doing good work.”

“We’ve been shorthanded.” Morgan remarked, but it was masked by Reid’s question. You couldn’t help the look of hurt that flashed across your face, but you also caught the warning glare that Hotch sent him and look of sadness from Penelope.

“What did they need a profiler for?” Spencer asked, directing attention back to you. You hated having to lie, but you knew telling them it was ‘classified’ would provoke Morgan more.

“You know, they didn’t actually tell me. I’ve been drawing up profiles on agents, scientists, and other people on their radar.” You lied, you knew exactly what they were doing with your profiles.

“Scientists, anyone I would know?” Reid asked, leaning in. You playfully winked at him. Garcia speaking before you could answer.

“Any SHIELD agents you could put on my radar?” She asked, playfully wiggling her eyebrows with a ‘sexy’ smirk on her lips. You and Prentiss laughed out loud, while Hotch and Rossi hid a smile. Reid, as usual, looked confused. Morgan even cracked a smile before regaining composure.

“I’ll see what I can do, Garcia.” You winked. Garcia giggled and Prentiss was still laughing, and for a brief moment, you could imagine that you never left. But you had left, and you didn’t regret it, but you knew they had work to do.

“I’m on leave for a week, and I’d love to catch up with you all. But I know you have cases to go through.” You paused, fishing a card out of your jacket pocket. “This has my new phone number on it, if any of y’all would like to catch up. If your busy or don’t want to, I understand.”

Hotch nodded, motioning for the team to get going. They all started bustling as they filed out, Derek caught your eyes again before leaving. Hotch and Rossi were the last ones out, walking with you.

“It was good to see you.” Rossi nodded, holding the door open. You smiled.

“Figured I owed an explanation, at least what I was allowed to tell you.” You sighed, as he patted you on the back.

“I’m sorry about Derek. I’ll speak to him later.” He promised. You shook your head.

“No need, I know exactly what it looks like. It looks like I’m climbing the latter.” You admitted, looking over the bullpen at Derek who was working through paperwork while the rest of the team was chatting amongst themselves. You knew how he felt about latter-climbers, he basically refused to take promotions himself- he hated having to take over for Hotch. “You think he’ll forgive me?”

They shared a look, but didn’t answer you.

__________

Garcia was the first to reach out, later that day- which wasn’t really all that surprising. She’d already organized a girl’s night- even got JJ and Prentiss involved. You smiled as she rambled over the phone, how some bar was having themed drinks and she was so excited to get the gang back together. Before you knew it, you were sitting on a barstool laughing as Prentiss made a fool of some guy. Now that all the questions were out of the way, it was like old times again.

You turned to JJ, “So how’s Henry? god, I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

JJ laughed a bit more before answering, “Henry, oh he’s great! He’s learning words. Getting into everything he shouldn’t. Me and Will have our hands full.”

Her voice was fond as she stirred her drink. You smiled softly as you sipped yours. Garcia bustled up between you, setting a tray down on the table, “Less sipping, more shots, ladies. Who knows when we’re going to get to do this again!”

You chuckled but knew better than to argue as she slung her arm around you and JJ. JJ shouted over her shoulder, “Prentiss, get over here and be irresponsible with us!”

And that’s the last thing you remembered before waking up on Garcia’s couch, covered in a blanket with a pounding headache and a desperate need for water.

“Good morning.” Garcia groaned as she shuffled past the couch. You waved to her as you propped yourself up, “I’ll drop you by your hotel on my way to work today.”

She then winced at the noise of her dropping her keys on the counter, “Oh, why do I always bring out the shots. It’s never a good idea.”

Slowly, fuzzy memories flooded back- the shots, the dancing, the laughs. You smiled fondly. “Bad ideas make good memories and bad headaches.”

_________

After Garcia dropped you back at your hotel, you immediately put your dead phone on the charger. Next, you opened your computer almost relieved to find no emails from Fury or Coulson. Your stomach growled, nothing in it but the remnants of cheap cocktails and the coffee Penelope made you. Fortunately, the hefty SHIELD paycheck could afford to have breakfast delivered to your door. So one hot meal, a shower, and two tylenol later, you checked your phone.

Two messages from Natasha, and two from an unknown number.

Natasha: You in DC?

Natasha: Heard you got leave. That’s impressive, new agents never get leave in their first year.

Unknown number: This is Reid, you free for lunch today?

Spencer: Morgan said he’d come with me- don’t know if that’s an encouragement or deterrent.

You texted Spencer back first, More than happy to. Just give me a time and place.

And then to Natasha, Quantico, only a short train ride to the city though.

Spencer: Quantico Grill / 12:15 ? You always liked their fries.

You: Sounds good, Doc.

Natasha: just checking up on you. Just got back from my mission & you weren’t in your office.

You: I’ll be back on Friday :)

Ever since Natasha had gotten off her mission with Stark, she’d been steadily hanging around with you more- occasionally even dragging Clint along with her. You’d even dare to call her a friend. She’d also been brushing up on your combat skills, getting you ready for your upcoming field test. SHIELD standards were a bit higher than the FBI’s.

You smiled at the thought as you went through your routine of getting ready, it was already 10:30 AM. Pleased with your appearance by 11, you were startled by a dinging from your laptop.

“[Level 6 Security Clearance] CLASSIFIED. As soon as you’re back, we’ve got work for you.” Was the subject line of an email form Coulson, but the digitized files were dated all in the 1940s. Great another wild goose chase.You thought as you opened the file, skimming them to pass the time.

Captain Steve Rogers.... Captain Effing America.

As much as you were interested in Captain America (always your favorite part of History class in school), you didn’t know why they’d want to profile a soldier that had long since been dead. You skimmed to the bottom, oh that’s why.

Captain Steve Rogers, found in ice, comatose, but Alive.

Under that was another note from Phil, “You’ve got your work cut out for you. You’ll need to build a preliminary with the attached files and then do an in-person interview when he wakes up. Report to the New York field office as soon as your leave is over.”

You scrolled back up to the top, reading over reports from several familiar names like Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. You certainly did have your work cut out for you. You tore your eyes up to the clock.

11:45.

But work could wait.

_________

When your taxi slid into a spot beside the Quantico Grill, you paid quickly already spotting Reid’s old blue Volvo. While you were happy to catch up with Spencer, anxiety was bubbling in your stomach from your last encounter with Derek. You shoved the negative thoughts out of your head as you slid through the tinted glass door.

You immediately spotted Spencer sitting by himself in a booth facing the door, so with a smile and a wave you slid across from him. As always, his relaxed state was incredibly awkward looking, but you were long since accustomed to it. “Hey, Spence. Derek back out?”

The Doctor smiled back, but shook his head, “No, you just missed him. He just went to the bathroom to take a call.”

You nodded, getting situated. Spencer continued on, smiling playfully as he teased, “Prentiss and Garcia looked pretty rough this morning. Long night?”

“It’s always a long night when Garcia serves shots.” You grinned, even though Spencer knew- (JJ had often either dragged him along on ‘girls night’ or called as a DD after said girls night.) A waitress across the way dropped a glass, startled both of you. You jumped slightly before glancing at Spencer who was wincing- one hand rubbing his eye and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Spence, you ok?” You asked in concern as the Doctor across from you slowly stopped rubbing his eye. He nodded, voice strained.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, fine.” He nodded, finally looking back to you. You simply quirked an eyebrow.

“You wanna lie more convincingly or just go ahead and tell me the truth?” You smiled. Even if he had lied more convincingly, you would have been able to tell- the two of you had always been close.

He opened his mouth, before closing it again, collecting his thoughts before admitting, “I’ve, uh, been having these headaches lately. Well, migraines really. But it’s not a big deal, I’m, uh, going to a specialist doctor, soon.”

“Oh, Well, I’m sure everything will work itself out. But keep me updated, yeah?” You nodded as a waiter approached the table. Both you and Spencer gave him your drink orders before he turned back to you.

“So, but, uh, what about your new job?” He asked, you ducked your head with a smile.

“Well, I’m doing the same profiling, just not with serial killers. Well, so far.” You nodded, “Oh, I forgot I wanted to ask, What do you know about Bruce Banner?”

His face lit up, beginning his monologue and not even bothering to stop when Derek slid into the booth, “Bruce Banner- the man has eight Ph. Ds- that’s my goal. His work in thermonuclear astrophysics is unparalleled. His theory about...”

You zoned him out for a second, smiling and nodding hello to Derek- who at least didn’t seem to want to shoot you on sight like he had yesterday. He nodded back to you flagging down a waitress to order his drink.

“... Not to mention his rumored involvement in the creation of the Hulk. It’s honestly fascinating. Honestly, who knows the halt on scientific advancement because he’s gone missing. I actually traveled to Culver University to attend a joint lecture of his with Dr. Erik Selvig about anti-electron collisions. It was fascinating! Why do you ask? Wait, did SHIELD find him?!”

You shook your head frantically, biting not only his location but also the fact that Dr. Banner was the Hulk on the tip of your tongue, laughing it off, “No, well, not that I know of- I’m not exactly high on the totem pole yet.”

He deflated a bit but didn’t lose his smile. You glanced at Derek who just watched you disinterestedly, you smiled awkwardly but continued your conversation, playfully whispering, “But, they did let me interview and profile Tony Stark.”

That spurred another long monologue about the technological advances made by Tony Stark, he only paused long enough to let the waiter take the table’s orders. Then restarted his soliloquy to touch on the responsibilities required for said technological advancements. You smiled as you watched him talk, the crazy motions he made with his hands and all the side stories he’d get into- just like he used to do on the jet. It wasn’t long before Morgan seemingly forgot your existence and was back to lightheartedly teasing Spencer, who was delightfully oblivious.

When the waiter brought out the food, your group quieted. Only exchanging short sentences between bites of greasy sandwiches. As you were finishing up, Spencer nudged Derek before loudly clearing his throat, “Lunch is on me guys. You guys can just wait here.”

With that, the resident genius squeezed past Derek quick enough to outrun protests as he left the two of you alone. You sighed with raised eyebrows, “Well, that was completely subtle.”

It was a veiled attempt to gauge the situation. Derek breathed a laugh through his nose, but made no attempt to continue the conversation. You nodded through the awkward silence, searching for something to continue the conversation.

“So, everything good? Seeing anyone?” Even you cringed at the awkward small talk, so you didn’t even give the chance to answer- not that he seemed to want to answer out loud anyway, “Actually, better question- how long am I going to get the famous Derek Morgan cold shoulder?”

“I’m not giving you the cold shoulder.” It was a simple statement, but the arms crossed over his chest said differently. You snorted a laugh.

“Mmmhm. What are you mad about Derek? That I left?” You asked, making sure you didn’t sound hostile, but some of it seeped out. You couldn’t help it, everyone else at least attempted to hear you out- but Morgan, who had been like an older brother to you, seemed to hate your guts now. He shook his head, holding up his hand to stop you.

“No, no, I’m not mad that you left-” He started, but you interrupted, catching his wording. Pointing a finger at his chest.

“But you are mad! If it’s not because I left... Is it because I jumped rank or because... Are you mad that they didn’t ask you?” You asked, the hostile tone slowly leaving your voice as it just became defeated. He sighed, hanging his head.

“No, no... well... I’m not mad about any of that.” He looked off, probably praying for Spencer to return to end the conversation. You sighed, raking a hand through your hair.

“I was mad because you just left. It took them ten minutes to erase your existence. It was like you died. And the jumping rank was just salt in the wound. (Y/L/N).” He paused, “Tell me right now you didn’t leave for the rank. And I’ll drop it.”

Derek was always an intense person, and the look he gave made it near impossible to lie. “There’s a lot of things I can’t tell you. But I joined the BAU to make a difference, to help save people. SHIELD gave me an opportunity to help save even more people, and that’s what it’s all about right? Saving people?”

You stopped for a moment, “Look, I’m sorry about the radio silence- it wasn’t my call. And it’s not like I didn’t miss y’all. But if someone looked at you, and told you that you had the chance to help save hundreds of people? You’re telling me you wouldn’t take it, Morgan? You would, and I know it, Derek, I know you. Saving people, that’s what we do.”

His arms uncrossed, and you counted it as a small victory. Finally, he nodded, body language untensed, “Just promise no more disappearing acts.”

You smiled slightly as Spencer reapproached the table, “I’ll do my best.”

“Ready?” Spence asked, and the two of you nodded, sliding out of the booth. Derek turned to you.

“You need a ride back to your hotel? We got twenty minutes-” He was cut off by both of their phones chiming,

“Oh, I know that sound.” You smiled, waiting as they read the message.

“Yep, we’ve got a case. You want a ride to the BAU, we can call you a cab from there.” He offered. You could tell the friendship wasn’t completely repaired, but it was a start.

“You worried about me, Derek?” You smirked, collecting your coat and bag. You heard him chuckle. “But yeah, I’ll take that ride.”

___

Once inside the BAU, you took a seat at your old desk (which you were weirdly happy was still empty) as Derek and Spencer rushed to the briefing room. You were only there for a moment before Hotch popped his head out, “You want to take a look at this? ”

You smirked as you stood up, “I’d love to.”

“Alright my fine furry friends, you’re heading to Hindsburg, Connecticut,” Garcia started as she turned on the monitor, “These terribly disturbing pictures are of Mr. & Mrs. Montoya- *ahem* - or what’s left of them, found by their maid in their home this morning.”

“This is grisly, but besides the gore, why are we needed?” Morgan asked, pointing his pen to the monitor.

“Fourth couple found like this. The first one was over a year ago, then one last month, and then two this week. No DNA on scene, Hindsburg PD has invited us in.” She answers, flipping her finger across her tablet causing the images to switch. This time it showed happy photos of all the families smiling. One family was Asian with four children, another was Hispanic with one, and the last two were white families- one with two children and the other with none. You leaned over Prentiss’s shoulder to look at her files. All four families were of different socioeconomic backgrounds, different neighborhoods, with no discernible connections at first glance.

“Not to state the obvious but the amount of overkill is ridiculous, but suggests they symbolize something for him. And the crossings of race and gender indicates there’s no sexual component to these crimes.” You thought aloud. Spencer built off your thoughts.

“The dismemberment could be symbolic of destroying them. Death wasn’t enough so he literally rips their life apart.” He offered, Rossi nodded.

“Garcia, what about the children?” He asked, his file open to the Asian family, the Zhangs. Garcia nodded

“The families with children in the house, the children were unharmed. The ten-year-old from the Smith’s- the, Uhm, first white family. Told the police that the killer promised not to hurt them if they stayed in bed all night. That the killer, uh, tucked her in.” Garcia explained

“Says here, police found the Zhangs’ four-year-old tucked into a wet bed crying for his parents. Stayed there for two days before his grandparents came to visit.” Prentiss remarked, frowning. “Tucking the children in, keeping them away from the sight of their parents? That reads remorse.”

You had an epiphany.

“Garcia, did the ME report say if dismemberment was pre- or postmortem?” You asked, fingers tracing over the picture of the smiling child. Jackson Zhang, it was labeled.

She flipped through her tablet, wincing when she found the answer, “It was before they died, well most of it. The weapon was a hacksaw. ME’s official call was blood loss, except on Mrs. Montoya- she had a stroke, his notes say she was epileptic and the trauma caused a seizure... And subsequently.”

“Any drugs present?” You asked again. Hotch rose his eyebrows, answering your question.

“No, none. Where are you going with this?” He asked. You nodded.

“I have a point, I promise I’m not that rusty. So if there are no drugs in their system, and hacksaw dismemberment,” You paused at Garcia’s flinch, “Sorry, I have apparently lost my bedside manner. But that’s a brutal way to go. What if the unsub locks them in their room to make them listen?”

“Well, that makes them sadistic.” Morgan nodded, but then his eyes narrowed, “Or what if he sees himself in the children? Needs them to feel their pain. Dismemberment was the first part of the signature, and then the children were additional victims.”

“Ok, but if the connection is children, why kill the Montoya’s if they didn’t have children?” Reid prodded. Prentiss answered him, flipping the page.

“The Montoya’s were last seen in public with their neice who they were watching for the day. The unsub most likely thought she was their child.” She answered. Hotch looked past the group, at the monitor.

“Or he’s devolving. Wheels up in an hour.” Hotch decided, and the team immediately sprung to action. Derek clapped your shoulder on his way by, and Rossi stopped to tell you it was good to have you back, even for a little while.

“If protocol allowed I’d ask you to come with us, but-” He started, and you finished for him.

“But you already bent protocol letting me sit in on the briefing. It was nostalgic.” You nodded, understanding as you followed him out. He nodded.

“We miss having you around. Between you and JJ, we’re down two good profilers.” Hotch nodded to you, stopping in front of his office. You just smiled.

“How’s Jack?” You asked, this time Hotch actually smiled.

“He gets better every day. Right now, he’s obsessed with Ironman. He’s already talking about being Ironman for Halloween.” Hotch answered, talking about Jack was one of the few times Hotch was ever fully open. You smiled and nodded.

“I’m more of a Captain America fan myself.” You laughed, imagining Jack in an Ironman costume- even though it was the last thing Tony Stark’s ego needed. Rossi passed by.

“Captain America, now that’s old school.” He laughed, winking at you as he slipped out of his office.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Good luck on the case.” You nodded, smiling at the two of them. Rossi patted your arm, and Hotch simply nodded to you. So with one last smile, you descended into the bullpen. You first stopped by Prentiss and Derek’s desks, receiving two tight hugs. Both making you promise to actually call this time. Next was Reid, who hugs were always just a bit looser but just as comforting- you always thought it was his smell, as he tended to smell like a mix of aftershave and new books.

“You know, I’ve been keeping up with your reading lists.” You smiled, tapping the latest hardback on his desk, “I’ll be calling more, we can have book club. And you can answer all my questions about all these scientists that I’ve never heard of.”

He smiled that awkward grin, nodding, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Be careful on this case!” You called over your shoulder as you moved onto Garcia who was waiting impatiently at your old desk, “What did you think I’d forget?”

“Just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t getting away without a goodbye.” She grinned, already wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing. You accepted it gratefully, letting her rock back and forth. Finally, you patted her gently on the back, gasping out.

“Garcia, I need to breathe, babes.”

She quickly let go, “Sorry, sorry.”

“You know now that I’m not ‘missing’ anymore, you’re gonna have to stop hacking my computer. My SA is getting suspicious.” You rose your eyebrows as she used her purple painted pinky finger to wipe a tear out from under her eye. She nodded, smiling, the matching purple lipstick accentuating white teeth.

“I’ll stop hacking, but your gonna have to answer your phone- or at the very least my emails.” She demanded, poking your arm. You chuckled, it was your turn to nod. Without any warning, she threw herself on you again, squeezing you tightly. “Just so you know, you don’t have to wait another year to visit again.”

“I know, I know.” You assured, squeezing her back. It was a tender moment, only interrupted by a sudden voice behind you.

“Agent (Y/L/N), I need you to come with me.” You whipped around, jaw dropped to find Natasha waiting patiently, the smallest smirk on her lips at your shock. “Leave’s been cut short.”

“Oh, hey, Natasha.” You smiled, eyebrows crinkling at her sudden appearance, then noticing your old team gathering around. “Morgan, I won’t be needing that cab now.”

“This is my co-worker, Natasha. Apparently, I’m getting called in as well.” You nodded. Watching them all shake her hands.

“I’m sorry to steal her away from her. But we need her sooner than we thought we would.” The spy apologized, smiling at each team member. The rest of the team nodded, watching her apprehensively- like you they all knew how to spot a dangerous person.

“Stay safe guys!” You called, giving Penelope one last squeeze as you followed Natasha out. You patted Spencer’s arm as you walked past him. Right before you exited the BAU, you turned back around giving them each one more smile and nod. They all returned them as the glass door shut behind you. And once again, you were an agent of SHIELD.

Natasha was already strutting away, a playful smile on her lips as she teased, “Co-worker?”

You rolled your eyes, catching up to her, “Well, I know how you feel about the f-word. Now, lets get to work.”

________

wow people actually asked to be tagged in this so

taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers

#marvel x criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mcu x reader #spencer reid x reader #captain america x reader

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ask-marcus-cally-and-ari · 4 years

Text

Only Human

Chapter 8: Licking Their Wounds

"What do you think happened to them?"

“I don’t know. Are they dead?”

“I don’t know. Check the boy’s pulse.”

The first thing Marcus felt upon regaining consciousness was a cold hand on his neck, and given the events of the previous day, one could hardly blame him for freaking out. And opening his eyes to see someone in an oddly dressed face mask and a Sniper outfit? That just worsened his mood. He drove a foot into the man’s gut, rolled away, and drew his gun, pointing it at the man, who also had a very large companion wearing a pot.

“My friends and I had a very bad day yesterday. If you don’t want me to take it out on you, you’ll tell me who you are, what you’re doing here, and why you were touching me,” he hissed, glaring.

“Gah-!” The masked figure grunted, falling on his back. “F_cking OW! I was just checking your pulse, kid!”

“Like hell you were!” came the reply. “You with them? You here to kill us, too?!”

“What? No! We just stumbled across you a few minutes ago!” The man with a pot on his head exclaimed.

Marcus looked at him. “Who are you two?”

“I’m Spyper,” The masked man grunted, stumbling to his feet. “This is my friend, Intelligent Heavy.”

“Let me guess. Freaks?” Marcus asked, keeping the gun trained on Spyper.

“Yeah, we’re Freaks. Why?”

Marcus took a step to the side, shielding Cally and Ari’s sleeping forms. “Wanna guess why we had a bad day yesterday?”

“I can guess. Run in with hostile Freaks?”

“Yeah. Tried to kill us and gassed a room full of choir girls. And apparently all this is over something that someone wrote or said would happen in the future.”

Spyper and Intelligent Heavy glanced at each other, then back at the trio.

“Ok, that just sounds bad. But look, we’re not here to hurt you,” Spyper said, raising his hands.

Marcus opened his mouth to respond, but a quiet groan interrupted him. “Marcus? Who are you talking to? Where are we?”

Marcus tensed. “Don’t worry about it, Ar.”

Spyper frowned and leaned to look past Marcus to Cally and Ari, and then winced. “Your friend doesn’t look too good,” He grimaced, pointing out the wound on Callys head.

“We fell off that,” Marcus replied, indicating the ledge.

“I have bandages in my van,” Spyper said carefully. “I’m just going to get them. You stay here.”

Marcus moved to shield Cally, then nodded, equally cautious.

Ari, not cautious at all, approached Intelligent Heavy. “Hi! I’m Ari! What’s your name?”

“I’m Intelligent Heavy,” The big Freak replied.

“Nice to meet you!” Ari smiled and stuck their hand out.

“Sounds like you three had a rough day yesterday,” Intelligent said, shaking his hand.

“Oh, yeah. I got really bad superpowers that let me feel other people’s emotions, and the first time it was used, that Australian guy and his French buddy were putting gas in a room of choir girls to turn them into Freaks,” Ari whined, her eyes shimmering blue. “It hurt so much.”

“That sounds awful - Wait, an Australian and a French man?”

“Yeah. The Australian guy tricked me into telling him where we were, and then he tried to kill us. And the weird thing is, apparently Marcus killed him earlier! Tricked him into lowering his guard and shot him twice.”

Marcus nodded, grumbling. “And I’d do it again.”

Intelligent turned pale, looking over the Trio with a sort of sickly concern. “Oh no...You three were attacked by Christian Brutal Sniper and Gentlespy, two of the most infamous Freaks around.”

Ari hesitated. “Wait, he’s a Christian? But Cally is a Christian, and she’s a good person! She’d never try to kill one of us!”

Marcus swore under his breath. “Most infamous Freaks, huh? I guess we really do have to be important if they came after us.”

Intelligent rubbed his neck. “I don’t know why Brutal calls himself Christian. None of us do, actually. We think he just picked the name at random. Either that or he did it to mock one of our friends, Christian Pure Spy.”

“Sounds like that kinda @sshole,” Marcus bit out. “So do you know anything about the turning people into Freaks deal?”

“A little. We know Brutal’s been out with Freaks like Doc Jarate to create something that could do that, but we didn’t realize that he’d already started the process.”

“Any idea why?” Marcus asked. “And how the three of us are supposed to make that not happen?”

“I’m not entirely sure why. All Brutal ever said was that it was for payback or something.”

“Payback? Did someone else, like, torture him to make him a Freak? I’d gladly help him find that guy if that was the case,” Marcus said, leaning back. “No need to take out three teenagers.”

“Well...I mean his team left him to die in a fire before he became a Freak, but he never really showed any interest in getting revenge against them. I think he wants payback against all of humanity for… something.”

Ari whimpered. “Aw. Whatever happened to him, it must have been real bad for him to hate the world over it.”

“Team?” Marcus asked. “He play sports?”

“No, he was a mercenary before becoming a Freak. His team was made up of other mercenaries.”

“Mercenary? Like Deadpool?” Ari asked.

“What? No, a contract killer.”

A third voice joined the conversation. “Oh, great. A hitman. I- Augh, my head is killing me.”

“Cally’s awake!” Ari exclaimed. He ran over and knelt down beside Cally. “You ok?”

“We ran in a magic hamster ball off a cliff. I don’t think I’m- OH MY GOSH WHO ARE YOU?!” Cally jumped upon seeing Intelligent.

“Don’t freak out! I’m not here to hurt you!”

Ari giggled. “Heh, freak out.”

“My friend Spyper went to get bandages for you. Just take it easy,” Intelligent said.

“Spyper…” Cally thought. “Another Freak. You’re another one?”

“I am, but we’re not here to cause trouble.”

“That’s good. We could use a breather.” Cally sat up, hissing in pain, then put her hand to her forehead. The moment she felt the sticky, wet gash on her face, she gagged. “WHEN?!”

Marcus shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Ari waved at Spyper as he came back. “Hi! I’m Ari!”

“Hey, I’m Spyper,” he waved. He crouched down next to Cally and unpacked the medkit he had. “Now just hold still, this may sting a little.”

***

Meanwhile, at the hotel, Gentlespy was on the phone, looking very uneasy. “Uh, yes, they got away, sir.”

“How? You are a trained assassin, how did three teenagers with no grasp on their powers get away from you?” A demonic voice hissed on the other end of the line.

Gentle hesitated. “Would you believe me if I said the boy formed a magic hamster ball around him and his friends?”

“...You cannot be serious.”

“I know that sounds crazy, but that’s what happened. And given his reaction, I believe his powers did that on their own.” Gentle sighed. “I’m as confused as you are. Brutal is just angry.”

There was a moment of silence, and painful screams echoed somewhere in the background on the other end for several minutes before the archdemon was finally back on the line.

“Did you at least convert the choir?”

“That we did. Brutal says he can tell it hurt by both the screams and how the Heart reacted. They’re probably going to wake up in a few minutes.”

“Find the three. Get the choir acquainted with their situation, and then find the three. Get help if you have to.”

“Understood.”

The person hung up, leaving Gentle to get up and head to see how the choir girls were doing.

Passing the lobby, the Freak allowed his mouth to twitch into an amused smile upon seeing the receptionist with his eyes gouged out, a smile carved into his face, and his heart cut out, chains and hooks coming out of the hole. “Brutal clearly didn’t take losing well, did he? Eh, you’ll wake up soon anyway.”

Coming to the room the choir girls had been locked in, Gentle was greeted with a rather disturbing sight. Each of the girls were still unconscious, and their bodies were twisted and mangled into insectoid-like forms. Gentle came up to one of the girls and dragged her to her feet before attempting to shake her awake.

“Wake up, you have work to do,” He ordered sharply.

The girl opened her eyes, which now looked like insect eyes. Panicked, she moved so she was crouched and a fair distance away from him. “Who are you? Where am I?” her now-monstrous voice came out in a blend of horror and rage.

“Now just calm down, no good in freaking out,” Gentle said smoothly, raising his hands. “Me and my friend just...Made a few tweaks to you are your little choir group here.”

The girl looked at her friends and gagged. “You did this to them? To me?! They look like... they look horrible!”

“You actually look quite normal. For Freaks, at least.”

“Freaks? What are those?”

“...Of course, the people we infect don’t even know what a Freak is,” Gentle sighed, throwing up his hands.

Another voice came in from above them. “We’re superbeings, kid.”

“Wait, who are you?!” the girl shouted, jumping back as Brutal dropped from the ceiling.

“Christian Brutal Sniper. You?” The Australian asked, cracking his neck.

“...Alicia. What did you do to us?”

“Turned you all into Freaks. I thought that was obvious,” Brutal said, looking over the choir girls, who were now coming to.

“Wh-” Alicia blinked, holding her head and stumbling back as the other girls sat up, groaning. “What am I hearing?”

“What am I seeing?” another girl asked, speaking in unison with her.

“What happened to us?!” a third joined in.

Brutal peered at the girls, a glint of creepily gleeful curiosity flickering in his eyes. “A hivemind. That’s the best Freak development yet.”

“Hive mind?!” the girls managed, blinking as their vision and senses returned. “What are you talking about? How did- why- when-” Questions rushed out of the girls’ mouths as they looked at themselves and each other.

“We could use this,” Gentle said pointedly, pulling Brutal aside.

“You think that I don’t know that? Give Doc Jarate a call. He’ll know how to put these girls to use.”

Gentle grabbed his phone. “Where’s the adult that came with them?”

“Not sure. She must have ran out before we got here.”

Gentle shrugged. “She’s probably gonna end up causing trouble. We can bring her in then.”

Suddenly, a horrified scream reached everyone’s ears.

“The chains were overkill, you know,” Gentle commented.

“Just had to be safe. Bring him here.”

There was the sound of crashing and fighting, and then the receptionist was pulled in by the chains coming from his chest, snarling like a vicious animal.

“Seems like an intense little bugger. What do you think his powers are?” Brutal asked, looking the mangled receptionist over.

“I don’t know. You’ve never gouged out someone’s eyes before.”

The receptionist moved to bite Brutal’s hand, hissing as black slime dripped from the holes where his eyes had been, falling to the floor and burning through it.

“Never seen that before…” Brutal mused, peering at the black ooze.

“Neither have I. He attacked with these things,” Gentle informed, holding up the chains. “And if you get his mouth open the whole way, there are so many teeth in there. Ugh.”

“Different forms of torture lead to different results...I like this new development,” Brutal chuckled, giving a wry, unhinged grin.

The receptionist growled, then pulled at the chains as if asking to be let go.

“Hurry up and give Doc Jarate a call. He’ll want to hear about this.”

At Spyper’s van, Marcus, Cally, and Ari were eating scrambled eggs.

Marcus was still watching Spyper and Intelligent like a hawk, his sharp gaze warning them away. Ari was sewing some clothes Spyper had torn, whistling cheerfully. Cally was playing chess with Intelligent. “I still can’t believe you’re so good at chess. You know how many people there are at my school who can play?”

“How many?” The pot wearing Freak asked, moving his Rook.

“One,” Cally grumbled. “Just one. Her name is Cally.”

“Must suck not having anyone to play with,” Intelligent chuckled.

“Absolutely. I had to play with a computer. Marcus keeps promising to learn, but never does.”

“Because it’s boring,” Marcus quipped.

"It is not!" Cally shot back.

“It’s an acquired hobby,” Intelligent shrugged.

“I don’t see why you don’t just change out of this,” Ari complained after poking Spyper again. “Don’t you have another outfit?”

“Why? I look good in this!” Spyper protested.

“I’ve poked you 4 times.”

“I can handle it,” Spyper replied.

“And it smells like pee.”

“That’s one of my weapons.”

“You use pee as a weapon?”

Spyper grinned. “I’ll explain on the way to… where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” Marcus replied. “Anywhere we can get help.”

“You got it,” Spyper replied, heading to the wheel once Ari was finished.

The receptionist watched with nonexistent eyes as the girls asked Brutal and Gentle, “So you want to do this to everyone else?” All of them looked at the two with an intrigued, uneasy look. It was as if it was one person.

“Yes. When everyone’s like this, it means you can do whatever you want without consequences,” Gentle grinned, looking over the new Freaks with sadistic glee.

“Like, go out late at night?” One asked, and they all tilted their heads.

“You poor, sweet, innocent souls,” Brutal laughed, shaking his head. “No. We Freaks have had our fun ruined by organizations like HECU for too long. It's time we got rid of them and make this world a sandbox for Freaks like us to run amuck in.”

“Fun?”

“Like what?”

The girls, as one, leaned in, curious.

“Doing what we used to do. Destroy and maim whatever and whoever we want. To have that rush of adrenaline whenever we want!” Gentle grinned crazily.

“You kill people?” the girls asked, matching looks of worry crossing their faces.

The receptionist scoffed decisively, indicating himself.

“Yes. But afterwards, they’ll wake up with their own superpowers. It’s a win-win situation.”

The receptionist grabbed a Sharpie and drew an eyeroll on a wall.

The girls tensed. “So we’re dead?”

The receptionist growled and stormed out of the room.

“Basically,” Gentle shrugged.

The girls paused and closed their eyes, as if talking amongst each other mentally, then decided, “You know what? This isn’t too bad. We’re in.”

Gentle grinned. “Good. Now, here’s what you have to do…”

As he talked, Brutal went out to get the receptionist and found him in another room sitting in a corner in silence.

He growled lowly when he heard Brutal approach, and the chains slowly rose in warning.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Brutal leered. “It’s not all bad. You’ve got powers now. That’s gotta count for something.”

The receptionist indicated the hole in his chest and his mouth, hissing. Then he stood up, angrily pointing to himself and out a window, at the town.

“Now just calm down. Think about this for a second. You won’t be accepted by them anymore, but you’re perfectly welcome with us Freaks.”

The receptionist tilted his head, snarling, then went back to looking outside. The chains formed the words: I belong out there.

“Not anymore you don’t,” Brutal said sternly. “You belong here. With us Freaks.”

You did this to me. How am I supposed to just go with you?

“Where else are you supposed to go? The people out there will fear you, and they’ll run the moment they see you. Us Freaks are just about the only place you can go.”

Why do you want to do this? What did I ever do to you? What do you want?

“Didn’t you hear my friend out there? We want to turn everyone into a Freak, because when everyone’s a Freak, no one will be able to stop us from doing what we used to do. I don’t have to worry about my fun being ruined by HECU or some other organization that decides to pop up.”

So, anarchy? And you expect me to not only be okay with this, but help you?

“It is your only option now,” Brutal grinned.

The receptionist growled, but bowed his head in a silent admission that the Freak who had stripped him of his humanity and turned him into this… thing was right.

“It’s not all bad. You’ve got powers now,” Brutal assured slyly. “Come on. Let's get you acquainted with some of the Freaks that are helping me with this plan.”

The receptionist nodded and approached, handing Brutal the chains like a dog handing his owner his leash.

“Doc Jarate will find a job for you. Trust me, you’ll come to love this life.”

The receptionist nodded.

Outside a window, a hooded figure watched the scene with a scowl, then stormed away. “Son of a b@#$h,” she muttered as she headed to a motorcycle. With a pin and scissors, she hotwired it and started it up before driving away.

#tf2 freaks #freak fortress #christian brutal sniper #gentlespy #spyper #intelligent heavy #Marcus #Cally #Ari #TF2 #only human

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thetriggeredhappy · 5 years

Note

19 “This is going to hurt.” Blunt Trauma please!

im just gonna assume you meant 17 because that’s the sentence you tagged on it. here’s some medic/scout content yo (warnings for just so many needles and other various pain-related stuff, as well as drug mention in passing)

17.) “This is going to hurt.”

“This is going to hurt.”

“Ow!”

“I said it was going to hurt.”

“Yeah, and it fuckin’ hurt, so I said ‘ow’. That’s how things hurting works, Doc.”

Medic sighed, eyeing the remaining two dozen needles on the tray, then Scout’s bare back. “Herr Scout, if you are going to complain the entire time, I can go and get a different volunteer,” he said begrudgingly.

“Oh, don’t even worry, I’m gonna complain the entire time,” Scout said, voice slightly muffled from him being facedown on the operating table. “But also I’m pretty sure nobody else is gonna agree and I’m a last resort, so, you’re just gonna have to deal, Doc.”

Medic only considered that for a few moments before picking up another needle.

“So what’d you say this was called, again?” Scout asked, head turning just slightly. “Acu-picture?”

“Acupuncture.”

“And—ow—why do people do this? Because so far this sucks.”

“Oh, plenty of reasons,” Medic said, eyeing the chart he had before him for a few moments before picking up the next needle. “Performing it on this area of the back is supposedly good for…” He squinted, pushing his glasses up a bit. “…Dizziness. Which I understand has been a problem?”

“Uh, yeah, I—ow. Yeah, I think I just need to like, drink more water.”

“Hydration is not the problem, nor blood loss,” Medic said, picking up another needle. “It is something I could feasibly give you medication for, but it is not often I get the chance to practice attempting alternative therapies.”

“What, like what Sniper does on the weekends?”

“Don’t tell me what Herr Sniper may or may not do on the weekends. I would rather continue pretending I don’t know for plausible deniability.”

“Apparently Miss P visited for a bit and did some with him.”

“Please do not tell me what Miss Pauling and Sniper may or may not participate in recreationally so that I can please have plausible deniability,” Medic said, pushing the needle in a bit faster than he’d done previously.

“Ow.”

“Regardless. While that may be a sort of… remedy, for certain problems, that is not what I mean. I was talking about treatments that are not necessarily condoned by the scientific community due only to lack of research despite a consistent trail of evidence pointing to it being effective in certain patients when done correctly, mainly because the treatments stood long before research was nearly as standard and often don’t have single individuals to credit and the community is wildly biased against older remedies. Mainly they’re things that seem strange but are often extremely effective for reasons unknown.”

“Isn’t that like, everything you do?”

Medic paused. “Herr Scout, my experimentation is research,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s all kinda weird, and painful, and doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it still works anyways. So it’s basically just like architecture.”

“…Acupuncture,” Medic said when he realized what Scout was talking about.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“To be fair, it is not intended to hurt,” Medic said, ignoring the little ‘ow’ Scout said as he pushed in another needle. “There are often interesting sensations, but very little actual pain. The gauges of my needles should be the correct size, I believe I just need more practice.”

“Is that why you cut people open all the time too? For practice?” Scout asked sarcastically, and yelped when Medic flicked one of the needles.

“No. That is research.” Silence between them for a few moments, broken only by Scout mumbling more ‘ow’s. “How has your other treatment been working?”

“My what?”

“The… Koffein, caffeine, the, er, energy drinks.”

“Y’know, it’s—ow—it’s weird,” Scout said. “Because the guys drink coffee, and you European guys drink tea, and it’s always a thing that I hear, like, it’s supposed to wake you up? But it doesn’t wake me up at all. Coffee just makes me kinda wanna throw up and makes my hands shake a lot more, and tea tastes fuckin’ gross because you people have wrong mouths or something—ow! Hey!”

“Hmm?” Medic asked, feigning innocence.

“That one was on purpose!” Scout accused.

“No, no, of course not,” Medic said lightly. “Continue.”

“…Uh, but yeah, I don’t like tea. But the caffeine in a can, that stuff works great. All the making my brain shut up from coffee but none’a the nausea. Keeps me focused, makes me… notice stuff that matters, and not just, like, everything all the time always. And less of the zoning out.” A pause. “Does make my head hurt, though, when I back off of it again on weekends an’ stuff. And makes me sick when I don’t drink it for a while.”

“Hmm. Perhaps easing in and out of drinking it…” Medic mused quietly. “Regardless. Thank you, Herr Scout. This is important research.”

“You don’t gotta call me that, y’know,” Scout said, tilting his head down obligingly when Medic moved it.

“Was?” Medic asked, picking up the chart to look more closely at it.

“Herr Scout. Isn’t that kinda like saying ‘Mister’ or somethin’?”

Medic hesitated for a second. “…Not perfectly, but essentially, yes,” he replied.

“Well, you don’t gotta call me that,” Scout said, wincing hard at the next needle, pushed in carefully near his hair line. “Fuckin’ ow. You can just call me Scout.”

“Why do you say that?” Medic asked, frowning, and consulted the chart again.

“I mean, we’re teammates more than just co-workers. And, hell, I kinda figured some of us guys were… y’know, buddies,” he said, voice getting quiet towards the end. “And you know my real name anyways, it’s in my file. And probably a bunch more stuff about me that none of the guys know. Maybe that anyone knows. So… I dunno. Seems kinda weird to keep being all formal about stuff. Even Spy’s calmed down about it at this point, and that dude’s a total dick.”

Medic considered for a moment. “Perhaps I simply prefer to remain professional,” he said, a little stiffly.

Scout barked a laugh. “What are you, Sniper?” he asked, a little disbelieving. “And even that guy smokes weed on the weekends.”

Medic smacked Scout on the lower back where there were no needles, huffing. “I told you not to tell me about that!” he said, not a little irritated. “Now I will need to address it!”

“Or you can pretend I didn’t say anything,” Scout suggested.

“That would require me trusting you not to tell anyone that I know about it.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Scout said, lightly and easily in a way that made Medic have to pause for a few seconds.

“And why should I believe you?” Medic asked next.

“Dude, I literally just said we’re friends maybe two minutes ago,” Scout scoffed, and Medic could practically hear his eyes rolling. “Seriously, are you sure you aren’t the one with the memory problems? Or the attention issues?”

Medic set his jaw, and had to fight hard to keep emotions from welling up in his chest. “My memory is fine,” he said a little stiffly. One more wince from Scout, and his tray was empty. “There. Should be done.”

“Hey, by the way, one more question,” Scout said, trying not to move too much.

“Yes?”

“How come you didn’t ask to do this to the big guy?”

“Higher pain tolerance. I would not know if I was doing things incorrectly,” Medic answered. A pause. To be fair, Scout had been very nice, had had the courage to be almost alarmingly open and honest. He could afford to drop the professionalism, at least for a moment. “And I’ll admit that I find you occasionally entertaining, and enjoy our conversations. Your enthusiasm in what I have to say is admittedly refreshing.”

“Aww,” Scout teased. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Hmm. Clench your teeth, it is time to take these back out.”

“Aw, man.”

#blunt trauma #medicscout #tf2 #team fortress 2 #more bro content than romance content honestly #shut up me #my fanfiction #my writing

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whoisbxcky · 5 years

Text

I Was Here

summary: After your untimely passing, Bucky begins to learn how to carry on without you.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: death, mourning, depression, alcoholism, therapy, more angst than I know what to do with, positive reinforcement and a happy change in outlook towards the end, MASSIVELY fluffy in the middle which almost makes up for the heartache overtone.

author’s note: I got very deep in my feelings writing this one. No big dramatic twists and turns, I just wanted some happy fluff flashbacks and hope in the face of tragedy for Bucky for a change.

Another entry for @the–sad–hatter ‘s #hattersficparty .

Prompt used: “I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.“

Bucky sat, arms folded, jaw clenched, staring at the antique clock on the wall ahead of him. He had been sat like this for the past thirty minutes, studiously ignoring every question his therapist had aimed at him.

This was his tenth session with Dr. Sanchez, and it didn’t take an expert to tell that little progress had been made.

Five months. Five months since Y/N had passed. It may as well have been five minutes ago for all the hurt Bucky still held in his heart in the face of her death.

In the beginning, he had handled his emotions how any semi-stable, one-hundred-year-old man would. He had ordered Thor to fetch him cask upon cask of Asgardian mead, and he had drunk his way through the pain. It wasn’t a perfect system, but if Bucky was being entirely honest, he didn’t care.

However, three weeks ago Steve had staged an intervention after Bucky had landed himself in the medical bay, after almost asphyxiating on his own vomit due to a particularly heavy binge.

Under duress from his best friend, Bucky had reluctantly agreed to attend therapy sessions with the on-site counsellor three times a week, and in return Steve would refrain from monitoring Bucky’s movements twenty-four hours of the day.

So, true to his word, here Bucky was. Attending his therapy session. Fortunately, he had made no promises to actually engage in any therapeutic exercises, so he wasn’t technically breaking their deal by maintaining his silent protest.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of Dr. Sanchez’s patient tone, asking him yet another irrelevant question to try and get him to communicate. Bucky relented, his irritation reaching a fever pitch, and he snapped back at the older woman with more venom in his tone than he would have liked.

“Look, I get you’re being paid to pick my brain. But I’m fine, Doc. So quit wasting your time. There’s nothing to tell.”

Dr. Sanchez simply responded with an encouraging smile, leaning forward in her chair, and she scribbled something on the clipboard resting in her lap. When she spoke again, her voice had not lost an ounce of it’s warmth. Bucky scowled.

“Tell me something, Bucky. Would Y/N have believed you just now? When you said you were fine?”

Bucky shuddered at the mentioning of her name, his eyes darkening as his gaze dropped from the wall to his trembling hands. God, if Y/N could see him now. He closed his eyes, taking a measured breath before responding in a strained whisper.

“No. No, she wouldn’t.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Bucky gritted his teeth, Y/N’s face flashed in his mind.

“She always knew when I was lying. Sometimes I think she knew me better than I knew myself.”

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as his mind wandered back to a moment in the spring of last year, the memory causing his eyes to glaze over as he lost himself in it.

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The crisp Spring air danced through Bucky’s hair, causing it to brush against his cheeks and flutter in front of his eyes. He stared out at the twinkling lights of the city beneath him and let out a resigned sigh.

He had stormed up to the roof of the Avengers tower immediately after disembarking from the Quinjet, not even bothering to lose his tactical gear as he fled the company of his teammates.

Bucky was furious with himself. He had hesitated to take out an enemy sniper during today’s mission, as it had reminded him of an assassination he carried out as the Winter Soldier decades before. That in itself was bad enough, but his blunder had almost jeopardised the whole assignment, and put his teammates’ lives at risk.

He had been replaying his screw up in his mind, over and over again when Y/N had found him and had sat down wordlessly beside him. She was nonchalantly eating ice-cream straight out of the carton, and with an air of indifference she had handed him a spoon, her gaze never shifting from the skyline in front of her.

“What’s this?” Bucky raised a quizzical brow, rolling the spoon through his fingers once or twice as he admired the way Y/N’s hair fluttered like rose petals in the breeze around her face. When she responded, her voice was so soothing, almost as if a beam of sunshine had been melted into the sound.

“Whenever I’m bummed out about life, I turn to my two best friends, Ben and Jerry, for comfort. Figured it may help you too.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek to suppress a grin, trying to maintain his sombre expression.

“I’m not-“

Y/N cut him off, her face entirely deadpan as she gently shoved a spoonful of ice-cream into his open mouth.

Bucky paused for a minute, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion, before inexplicably he broke out into a fit of laughter. He felt his entire body go light as he continued to chuckle, wresting the spoon from Y/N’s grip with a smirk.

Y/N grinned ear to ear, letting out a shrill scream as Bucky grabbed a spoonful of the dessert, flicking it at her head. She responded with a handful of mint chocolate slapped against his jaw as the pair continued launching ice-cream at one another, both laughing and yelling until they could no longer draw breath.

When Bucky’s giggling finally subsided, he lent back on his hands, wiping ice-cream from his face as he shared a conspirator’s grin with Y/N. Gazing with whole-hearted admiration at the woman beside him, his voice was light and melodic as he spoke.

“Hey, you were right, that really did help.”

Y/N grinned once more, running her hands through her hair to try and rid it of as much frozen dessert as she could.

“I knew that it would.”

“How did you- “

“I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.”

She stood up with an elated sigh and held out a hand for him to take, her grin softening to a warm smile as he tentatively entwined his metal fingers in her flesh ones and she pulled him to his feet, her gaze never leaving his. For a moment he simply stared in adoration down at the angel before him, confused as to how the universe could be kind enough to bring such light into his world of darkness.

Y/N tenderly placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb delicately brushing over the contour of his cheekbone. Her eyes shimmered brightly as she whispered a promise to him under the star-lit sky.

“Things will get better, Bucky. I promise you. It may be rough right now, but just remember, if you’re going through hell, keep going.”

He beamed down at her, his eyes practically alight with emotion. Y/N pulled her hand away from his face, wrapping it around his metal arm instead and guiding him to the elevator door as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You know what I’m in the mood for? Chick flicks. Let’s do a chick flick movie marathon…”

“Y/N… Nooo…”

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The sound of Y/N’s mischievous giggle reverberated throughout the darkest corner of Bucky’s memory, fading into nothingness as another, unfamiliar voice broke through his train of thought.

“Bucky?” Dr. Sanchez looked at him apprehensively.

“Sorry, what?”

She offered him a sympathetic smile, and lent back in her chair, abandoning her clipboard and notes on the table beside her.

“If Y/N could see that you were hurting right now, do you think she’d want you to suffer in silence?”

“I… No, I guess not.”

“Then don’t you think we owe it to her to at least try and talk it over?”

Bucky paused, sucking in a breath. Sanchez was right, Y/N would be furious if she knew he’d given up like this. Deep down, in his heart of hearts, he knew she’d tell him to fight through the pain. To keep going, for her if not for himself.

His gaze snapped up to meet the Doctor’s eyes, and he nodded slowly, a new-found resolve coursing through his veins as he did.

Dr. Sanchez practically beamed at him, nodding in encouragement as she folded her hands in her lap.

“We’ll take this slow; anything comes up you don’t feel comfortable addressing, we’ll put it aside for another day. For now, I just want you to express whatever it is that’s eating you up inside right this moment, if you can, Bucky?”

Bucky sighed, but nodded curtly before leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. He took in a deep, shaky breath, wringing his hands together and bouncing his foot as he allowed his innermost thoughts to fill the air around him, which has suddenly become a lot thicker. His voice was hoarse and raw with emotion as he spoke.

“I’m lost without her. Every time I turn around and realise she’s not there, it’s like a knife to the gut. When I’m alone on that damn roof and realise she’s not coming to pull me out of the darkness, it’s like I can’t even breath.”

“She was an important part of your life, it’s only natural to feel lost in the face of her absence.”

“It’s more than just that though, it’s like she took all the light from my life when she… passed. Right now, it’s just a dark, bottomless pit that I can’t see a way out of.”

Bucky stared at his hands, furiously blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over his lashes as he worked his bottom lip through his teeth roughly.

Dr. Sanchez lent forward in her chair, when she spoke her tone was soft, so soft Bucky almost missed what she said.

“It’s at our lowest points that we’re most open to change, Bucky. Acknowledging that you are struggling to cope with Y/N’s passing is the first step to helping yourself to heal from it. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that the pain will go away one day, because chances are, it never will. But, over time, we can work together to help you find a way to make room for it, if that’s something you might be interested in?”

Bucky let out a tired breath, the clammy palm of his flesh hand rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided the therapist’s gaze.

“I mean… What if I can’t make room for it? What if it’s bad now and just… hell later on?”

“It may be hell for the next week, month, even year. It may not. But for every day you wake up feeling hopeless, Bucky. I want you to think about something Winston Churchill once said.”

Bucky paused, his eyes finally moving up to meet the steely gaze of the woman in front of him. When he blinked, Y/N’s face appeared, clear as day in his mind, her eyes bright and her smile as brilliant as the summer sun. The same smile that had given him hope that a better life would be attainable for him some day.

He suddenly felt the comfort of Y/N’s presence, even though he was painfully aware of her absence. Despite himself, he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope. Y/N may be gone, but the love and support she had brought to his life was still very much alive, and he could use that to lift himself up when his own resolve failed. That was the promise she had left him with on that rooftop.

Sanchez’s voice seemed to be drowned out by the echo of Y/N’s soothing tone, which resonated in the back of his mind, willing him to move forward. To fight.

“Bucky, if you’re going through hell, keep going.”

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Dark Side: Part 3

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, feels, fluff, smut, everything

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

LOLOLOLOL WHAT HAVE I DONE.

Well. This is longer than I expected but seeing as the challenge is over this week I thought I’d give it to y’all in one final beefy chapter filled with blood and emotions and smut and the bevy of human messiness that makes us all tick. The prompt is bolded. I need a drink. Aaaaand there is probs gonna be an epilogue because I have more ideas for these two.

Hope y’all like my angsty Cap!

Tags are open!

It takes two hours to clean up the mess.

He tells the police he had been here with a friend, who he told to leave as soon as the shot was heard, he saw the victim attacking a woman, she fired in self-defense, before he could question her she’d gotten lost in the crowd. As he conveyed his not entirely untrue story Natasha stared at him, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t believe him but she said nothing.

It didn’t matter. No one seemed too concerned with any of it. Almost to the point that it unnerved him. Both the DCPD and S.H.I.E.L.D. chalked it up to some random incident, bagged the body, took some statements and that was it.

“They’re not going to do anything more about this?” He asked Natasha as everyone dispersed.

She shrugged, “People die every day in this city. They’ll look into it but he’s likely just a thug who picked the wrong mark. Sucks to be him but if no one’s gonna miss him they’re not gonna waste the manpower on it.” He doesn’t like it. “Can’t save everyone all the time, Steve.”

That wasn’t what left a bad taste in his mouth but he couldn’t tell her that. With a cloud hovering over him he heads home, trying his best to push down the feeling in his gut that he’s missing something.

As he slips his key in the lock he hears water coming from the bathroom. His blood runs cold.

Quietly he opens the door. Slipping inside, he stands, hardly breathing as he assesses the situation. His shield isn’t where he usually leaves it, close to the door. However, he does see blood, drops trailing on the wood floor toward the bathroom. Even though he assumes it's you he cautiously makes his way through his apartment.

The door to the bathroom is just barely ajar. He shoulders it open and hears the click of a gun. You’re standing in the shower, shield raised, gun poised.

“Oh thank fuck,” you breathe out, shield dropping to your side revealing your muscular form clad in nothing but a pair of high waist lace underwear and a matching bra. He swallows hard, trying to pretend he doesn’t feel his cheeks heating.

“That thing is heavier than I thought it’d be.” You lean his shield against the wall beside the shower, setting your pistol beside it.

“They really just let you bring that home? I thought it’d be on lock up or something. Vibranium is worth a shit load.” He says nothing as he steps in, nothing the first aid kit, the blood in the bathtub, and discarded surgical thread in a pile.

“I’ll clean this up,” he’s surprised at the awkward tone in your voice. “I… uh… it’s hard to stitch up the back of your thigh yourself, in case you ever need to know.” Blood is still snaking down your leg, he can tell from the pool forming by your foot.

“I’d assume as much.” He has a million questions but for now, you need help. “Here,” he begins undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“You don’t have to-”

“I can’t just leave you bleeding in my shower. And I think I’m owed some answers. So, you’re gonna let me stitch you up and you’re going to answer my questions.”

“Authoritative. I’m into it.” He slides his gaze to you, as he tosses the shirt to his bed. That goddamn smirk on your lips. He’s got half a mind to turn you around in the shower and… No. You need help and he needs answers. That’s what this situation is. Nothing else.

He washes his hands and grabs a few rags, getting them wet. “Turn around, let me see.” Ignoring the blood he kneels behind you, setting the kit down beside him, to inspect the wound. It needs stitches but it’s not too bad.

“Am I gonna make it doc?” You look over your shoulder and down at him, voice dripping with mock concern.

“I think we can save the leg, just barely though.”

“Thank god. Though I could always replace it with a machine gun.”

“That may be the most ridiculous image I can imagine,” he laughs as he starts to clean the area around the wound.

You hiss just a bit before explaining, “It’s in a movie actually.”

“Well,” he pulls gauze from the kit to press to the wound, you brace yourself against the wall, “that sounds like a cinematic masterpiece.”

You laugh a little, “It’s so bad it’s almost good actually. Kind of a horror action combo.”

“Maybe I’ll watch it.” Gently he removes the blood-soaked pad before pressing another, the flow slows.

“I don’t know if it’ll be your taste.”

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to try new things?”

“Ok,” you laugh, “point.”

He threads a fresh needle, “Ready?”

“Can’t wait.” Your tone is flat, forehead pressed against the shower.

He’s impressed that you hardly flinch while he sutchures the wound. As he does so he can’t help but think about how quickly something like this would heal on him. He’d hardly bother to stitch it. He almost… envies you.

Once you’re stitched he tapes gauze over the wound and cleans the dried blood from the back of your leg. “You’re set, though I’d still maybe get it checked out.”

“Thanks, doctor Steve,” you turn and he’s eye level with those maddening lace underwear again.

Forcing his eyes away he stands, stepping out of the shower, heading to the sink, “Yeah, well I didn’t do it for free, Zelda. You owe me-”

“Y/N,” you say softly. He looks back at you as he soaps his hands. “My name… is Y/N.”

His face stretches into a smile. It’s pretty, suits you. Drying his hands he turns to you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

It’s not the smirk he’s grown to expect, the curling of your lips is genuine, soft, lighting your eyes. You nod, “I obviously owe you a new suit too,” you gesture to the bloodstained slacks. “Think I could add some other clothes to the tab? Unfortunately, my dress has seen better days.”

“Sure.” He heads into his room pulling sweats and a tee from a drawer. You’re rinsing the shower with the handheld head when he walks back in. He sets the clothes on the counter. “Don’t worry about the suit. Not like I bought it.”

“Still, thanks.”

“If I leave you in here are you gonna disappear again?”

“No promises,” the smirk back on your lips. He leans in the door, arms crossed. “I’m not going anywhere. I owe you, remember?”

He nods and leaves you. Grabbing fresh clothes himself he goes to the guest room to change too. When he opens the door, there you are. Before he can say anything your eyes fix on something behind him.

“Is that…?” You gesture to the almost finished canvas of St. Louis.

“Yeah…” He hasn’t felt this awkward in more than 70 years. “It… I…”

“You did this?!” You look awestruck.

He shrugs, “Yeah. I went to art school back in my day. It was kinda the only thing I was good at… well besides getting the shit kicked outta me.”

Your gaze has shifted from him back to the painting. “Steve… honestly… this is stunning.”

“Eh. I’m still not happy with the sky, it’s not the right kind of purple. The gradient is off too and my shadows need work.”

“Shut up. It’s beautiful. What the hell are you doing being a soldier?!”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You scoff, “Nah,” something dark flits over your features when you turn back. “There’s no spectacular hidden talent here.”

“I doubt that.” He gives you a warm smile, “You’re one hell of a dancer.”

Your head tilts back in a laugh, “That’s me bein’ a ho. Nothing particularly special there.” You pat his chest as you walk from the room. “Mind if I nab some of that whiskey I saw in there?”

“Not at all.” He follows you out, “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a glass.” His eyes follow you to the living room, unable to ignore the curve of your ass as you walk.

He pours you a hearty bit of whiskey, certain your leg has to be hurting and he doesn’t have any other pain killer. For posterity, he pours some for himself too. It does nothing for him but the smoky taste is comforting.

“Here,” he hands you the tumbler.

“Thanks,” you wrap your fingers around the glass. Suddenly you look tired, smaller somehow.

He pulls the armchair close to the couch, not wanting to crowd you. For a few minutes, silence hangs. As adamant as he was earlier about getting answers, looking at you now he just wants you to rest.

“So…” you break the silence.

He sighs, “Let’s start with why you asked me out tonight.”

One perfect brow raises, “Because I wanted to.”

“And someone trying to kill you had absolutely nothing to do with it?”

“Not… exactly.” He doesn’t honor that with an answer, just stares at you. Nervously your nails tap the glass of the tumbler. “A few weeks ago I got tapped for a gig. Blind hire. Usually, I don’t even entertain jobs like that unless the pay is very good. This was, but when they told me who…”

Ah… he sees now. “How much is Captain America’s head going for these days?”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not laughin,’ just curious.”

“Millions.” Not bad. At least he knew he was worth something to someone, even if it was dead. “Thing is,” your voice pulls him back, “I have a, uh, reputation of sorts…”

“I don’t doubt that,” he smiles up at you through his lashes and your features soften.

“Fuck you.” Playfully you toss a couch pillow at him. “See, if you hire me you had better be damn sure your hands are cleaner than the person you’re sending me after.”

“If they’re not?”

That smirk plays on your lips. “Well, most times I’ll flip the gig. Tell whoever you hired me to go after what you’re doing, offer my services, usually make more than I was gonna before. And if not it’s at least more satisfying.”

“Judge, jury, and executioner.” He can’t pretend he approves.

You shrug, “I don’t trick myself into thinking it’s justice. It’s a job. That’s all. I just sleep better knowing I didn’t go after someone innocent.” His brows rise. “Yeah. That’s kind of my niche. I’m who the underground sends after their own.”

“Seems like a fine line to walk.”

“I’m very, very good at what I do. So, I’m tolerated.”

“Guessing I’m not dirty enough to justify being your mark.”

“Well… I’m sure in some ways… but not enough for me to put a bullet in you.”

“So you turned ‘em down.”

“No.” He can’t help but look surprised, you laugh. “Told them I needed 48 hours. I knew they’d go underground once I said no, so I needed time. There wasn’t any trail I could find to figure out who was putting the hit out but I did find a tie to my Popov job.”

You slam back the rest of your whiskey, “It was also a blind hire, great pay, but I didn’t look too far into it because he was a fuckin’ monster. Hell, I would have don’t it for a smoke and a beer. But I think they wanted to see if I I could get to someone even with you there…”

“And you did.”

“Yup.” You roll the glass in your hands, “Realized I wasn’t getting anything else on my own so contacted them in 30 hours, they thought I was going to say yes so they were pretty willing to share what they wanted.”

“They wanted more than me dead?”

“No, more like how… They didn’t care about anything else other than it looking like you went out in the line of duty a-”

“Hero’s death.” Bitterness fills his mouth.

“Something like that. And it was to be local, close to DC.”

“We don’t do many jobs close to home…”

“Figured as much.”

He nods, “So they worked out you were going to tell me and came after you?”

You shrug, “That or they planned on taking me out once I turned them down, just finally had a good window.”

He doesn’t like this. Not because someone was gunning for him, that honestly didn’t phase him. He doesn’t like that you were in the crosshairs over it. You may have a questionable day job but… you weren’t a bad person.

“So,” you slowly stand and walk to the table where your clutch and shoes wait, “I was thinking you could cash in on some of those clearly unused vacation hours.” Picking up your things you turn to him smiling. “Maybe see St. Louis for real or Notre Dame, Greece is great this time of year, or-”

“I’m not running.” He’s sort of touched and a part of him would love to go to any of those places with you but… Steve Rogers didn’t stand down from a fight.

“Steve… if someone tried to hire me they aren’t fucking around. They will find someone and-”

He stands, “I’ll be fine.” His hand rests on your shoulder, you lean into it a bit, taking weight off your leg.

Looking up at him your face is hard, “You won’t be.”

“And if I’m not America can have her martyr back, plus someone gets a great payday. Why does it matter to you?”

“Why doesn’t it matter to you?”

He holds your gaze, meaning every word, “Who’s gonna miss Steve Rogers?”

“Me.” He honestly wasn’t expecting that. A sad smile lifts your full lips, “I think I’d miss Steve Rogers… a lot.”

Something in him snaps at that. He’d felt so numb for so long and now he’s suddenly burning. Cupping your face he leans down pressing his lips to yours.

Your things clatter to the floor as you return the kiss, arms curling around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, holding you close and lifts you just a touch as your tongue finds its way between his teeth. The taste of whiskey and desire fill his mouth.

Steve can’t remember wanting something, someone, in so long…

You break the kiss, eyes burning into his own. “Please don’t do something stupid… please.”

“Promise I won’t if you stay.” Hope flickers in his chest for just a moment.

“I can’t…” It flickers out. “I’m sorry.” You release him and he makes sure you’re steady on your feet before he bends to retrieve your things. When he looks back he swears that’s disappointment on your face…

“Even just for tonight? Your leg…”

“Too risky,” your index finger traces his jaw, bottom lip catching in your teeth.

“Can I at least get you home?”

“I can manage, Cap.” You sigh heavily, “I should go…”

His eyes glue to the wood grain of the floor. “Ok.”

“I’ll see you around…” He looks up, then, the soft smile on your features telling him this is a request.

“Maybe.” You nod, darkness flickering behind your eyes. He won’t make promises he can’t keep. Holding your things he turns to walk you out, now just wanting this to be over.

At the door, you both stand awkwardly. “Here,” he hands you your things.

“Thanks.” you take them. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for the warning.”

You nod. “Steve…” Your hand rests over his heart before your pleading eyes catch his, “Please be safe.”

He wraps your hand in his lifting it to his lips, “You too.”

You nod when he releases your hand, no doubt noting his avoidance. “Well, until next time.”

He opens the door, “Next time.” And then you’re gone.

The next few months crawl by. Anytime you’re not working is always miserably boring but you needed to lay low unless you wanted to end up in a shallow grave somewhere.

Your new found free time had left room for you to keep digging into Steve’s hit. What you were finding was… well, nothing short of a national crisis so wild and far-reaching that if you hadn’t been doing the research yourself you’d think it was bullshit. Honestly, discovering that the government was run by lizard people would have been more believable.

More than once you try to convince yourself to meet up with Steve, share all this. But… he wasn’t in a good place, that had been clear. You were pretty sure he wasn’t much better since you left him if your mostly unanswered texts were any indication. If you were to tell him you had evidence that Hydra, the organization he’d given his life to see destroyed, was still functioning… And that it was very possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved… What would he do?

One morning you’re on your third cup of coffee, wondering how you’ll fill your day when your phone rings. The little hand drawn picture of a dick on a napkin that pops up tells you who it is.

“The fuck you want, Wade?” You hear Vanessa laugh in the background and can’t help but smile. “Am I on speaker?!”

“Of course. I only conduct sensitive business in the loudest way possible you know that. Oh and also, rude.”

You laugh, “What’s going on.”

Crunching echos on the other end before he answers. “You asked me to tell you if I heard any chatter about someone getting tapped for that Captain America gig you turned down?”

“Yeah?”

“Well. I heard something.” He says nothing else.

“Wilson. I know you love foreplay but now is not the time.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.”

“She prefers me anyway,” Vanessa quips.

“She’s not wrong.”

He laughs, “Why am I friends with you again? You’re rude to me, prefer my girlfriend, you never come slap me around anymore, I mean honestly, Y/N.”

“Wade, I swear I’ll do more than slap you around next time if you just stop dicking around and tell me what you got.”

“Ooooh, see that’s what I’m talking about.” More crunching, “But in all seriousness, that’s not the promise I want from you. I tell you this, you tell him if you have to, but don’t get involved, this shit is way too risky.”

“Aww, you care.”

“Fuck you.” He sighs, “Private airport, DC, supposedly some child-smuggling ring, links to human experimentation. That’s at least the story on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s books. Don’t have an exact date but it’s likely going to be within a week.”

Bold of them to stick with that structure even after telling you… but it was a good enough cover, and if it worked… Fuck.

“Y/N… don’t be a dumbass. Why you give a fuck I don’t know but if you need to tell him, do it. That’s it though. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, promise.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Wade, seriously.”

“Anytime.”

“Love ya, Y/N!” Vanessa calls out.

“You too boo! Fuck ‘em up for me.” She laughs and the call ends.

For the next ten minutes, you just stare at your phone. Your fingers trace the shape of your lips, remembering the way he tasted, how warm his body felt… Suddenly you realize you may actually miss him.

Finally, you pick up the phone and tap out a text:

Y/N: Hey. We need to talk ASAP. Call me?

Hours come and go. You run, work out, clean, anything to try to keep yourself distracted but it doesn’t help. Every minute he doesn’t respond fills you with dread.

When you can’t stand it any longer you call him. It rings and rings until his voicemail picks up. You don’t leave one.

Two days later you feel physically sick from the stress. What if you were too late? What if he…

The phone rings, and you practically drop it in your haste to pull the thing from your pocket.

“Steve!?” You hate how desperate you sound.

“It’s the job with the kids isn’t it?” His tone stings a little… still…

“Yeah, it is. Don’t know who took it but it’s a safe bet it’s not someone to fuck around with.”

“Right. Well, thanks for the heads up.”

“Steve?!”

“What.”

“I… uh…” You don’t know what you expected… this wasn’t it. “Just… ya know, don’t die.”

“No promises.” With that, he hangs up.

It hurts more than you want to admit. Angry you storm to the garage and begin beating your punching bag until your knuckles bleed and tears run down your face.

You had made peace that the life you chose was a fairly solitary one. It was better that way. For some reason, though he made you wish that wasn’t the case… it didn’t matter. You couldn’t have him, he didn’t want you… And he’d likely be in a flag covered casket by the end of the week.

That thought makes you freeze mid punch.

No. You can’t let that happen. Rushing through the house you gear up, wrap your knuckles, and in less than an hour, your bike is thundering down the highway.

You’d been living in Pittsburg so it doesn’t take you long to get to DC. The sun had just set when you stand at his door, banging, heart threatening to burst from your chest.

As soon as it’s clear that he’s not going to answer you go outside and work your way up the fire escape, prying the window open like you did the last time you were here.

“Steve?” You call out, begging that if nothing else you’ll see his shield… There’s no Steve and no shield. “Fuck.”

Wade didn’t tell you what private airport. You wrack your brain, there were two that were legit just outside the city but you knew there were a couple more exclusive ones that wouldn’t be found through a simple Google search. You don’t hesitate to call in some contacts to find out where this may be going down. If someone wanted to rat you out so be it.

Favors called in, promises given, you finally have it narrowed down to two places. One on the books one off. The first one is the obvious choice, used mainly by wealthy dignitaries looking to avoid customs and it’s closer. It’s also a dead end. Cursing yourself you pray you’re not too late as you rush to the other private airport near College Park.

The place is dead… as is the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent near the front of the small check-in area. It reminds you how easily this could go wrong. You slip your phone out and text Wade.

Y/N: Look. If I eat it tonight this isn’t on you. Idk why he matters but he does and I couldn’t stay out of it. You know where my stash is, take Vanessa somewhere nice if I don’t come out of this. Love ya.

If you did live he’d likely kick your ass after this. You’d welcome it. Taking a deep breath you stalk slowly deeper into the airport.

The silence eats at you making your anxiety rise. If there was still a fight going on you’d hear something… if he was…

You hear glass breaking from down the small terminal. Immediately you take cover. Unable to see you let your ears do the work. Two, maybe three, a groan and a snap echos in the space. Well… two people. A shot goes off and you flinch but you have to look.

The merc isn’t someone you know but he’s big, a mountain of a man who’s bulk rivals Steve’s. Brass knuckles on his massive hand, in the other a gun.

“Honestly,” he speaks, clearly American, “I thought this would be harder.” A sinister grin fills his face, “But who am I to complain?”

He rushes Steve, landing a blow to his solar plexus. Steve gasps and the shield clatters to the ground. Before you know it your gun is in your hand and you shoot, not to kill but to distract.

“What the fuck?!” He takes cover as you let loose another shot.

“You scare easy for a big fucker!” You taunt more to let Steve know who’s here.

The glint of the metal on his knuckles tips you off before he can take his shot and you tumble toward Steve who’s still getting his breath. Pushing him to the side you fire.

“What the hell are you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You growl at him. From your belt, you pull a flash bomb and hurl it toward the merc. In a second it goes off and you pull Steve to his feet. “Come on.”

You head toward the front of the terminal, previously abandoned but you can hear the shuffle of people. Steve pulls you against him and against the wall, shield in front of you.

“Not yours?” You ask looking up at his bloody face partly covered by the cowl.

“No.”

“Great.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says low in your ear.

“Neither should you.” You push away from him, “This way.” Hopefully, you could get out the back of the terminal before the merc got his vision back.

Holding close to the wall you manage to make it to a side door. Relief begins to tickle at you. You just may get out of this alive. With no assailants near, you turn to him.

“So, I warn you that someone is trying to kill you and all you can do is run straight for the reaper!? I mean I get you don’t like me or approve or whatever but come on you could have at least-”

Unblinking he flings his shield behind you with a swish. You turn in time to see it slam into someone's neck, snapping it.

“-listened to me,” you finish your statement voice flat with restrained surprise.

“Never said I didn’t like you,” he pushes past you to retrieve the shield. “We should aim for the back.” You nod and follow him.

You cover one another as you slowly make your way to the gated back portion of the airstrip. The shrubbery would provide just enough cover once you got there and-

A bullet grazes Steve’s shoulder causing his shield arm to go slack.

“Shit,” he hisses. The shot came from the single-engine plane you had just cleared.

Whirling you take aim at the assailant and catch them in the chest as they try to take cover off the wing. With a clatter they tumble to the ground, head making a sick crack on the asphalt.

“They must have sent a team,” you say kneeling to look at his wound.

“Ya think?” He sets the shield against his calf for a moment while he tries to move his arm.

“You’re making me regret showing up to save your ass.” He huffs out a little laugh.

It happens so fast you can’t think. A shot rings to your left and you both look. He must have seen or heard something you didn’t because he’s got you by the shoulders pulling you to the ground and under him. You can feel the moment the bullet hits his body. He groans and goes heavy on top of you.

“Steve!” He says nothing and you manage to push him off gently. Blood stains the navy of his suit a darker shade and you can see the tip of the bullet glinting against the fabric. Through and through.

You grab the shield and deflect another volley of bullets from the two of you. Glancing over you see the big man from before. Great.

“Just go,” Steve groans.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up earlier?” You rip your shirt off and toss it to him to press to his wound. “Don’t bleed out on me.”

Thinking fast you rise to your feet, shield before you and you fire at the man. One in the head, two in the chest. He’s only part of your problem. You can see movement toward the terminal…

The two of you need cover and a very loud distraction. You pull two smoke grenades and toss them toward the plane the shooter had been on. In just a minute there’s enough of a screen to shield you both for a moment.

“Ok,” you turn to him. “Cover your ears, it’s gonna get loud and then we’re gonna have to run like hell. Can you manage?”

He grimaces, blood suffusing his side. “Sure, why not.”

There’s no other choice. You pull the two concussion grenades you keep for special occasions from their holster. Flicking the pins and hoping for the best you hurl them one after the other in two directions before covering you both with the shield as best you can.

The one that lands by the plane has the desired effect, it blows close by and will only cause a bigger hazard as the fire you can see through the smoke spreads. The other doesn’t hit much but is loud enough to distract. Good.

“Time to go old man.” You help him up, shield on your free arm and you make your way to the fence. The link is easy to cut and you’re quickly through it into the brush.

“Where are we even going, Y/N? Just leave me here, my people will come and-”

“I’m not fucking leaving you.” Your tone is sharp. “We aren’t in the wilderness. There’s a strip mall not far. I’ll jump a car and get you…” Where?

“Just get me home.” You stare at him trying to gauge just how much he wanted to die. “If you take me to a hospital they’re gonna look for me and innocent people may get hurt. I’m not bleeding enough for this to be life-threatening-”

“You don’t-”

“You can stitch me up.” His smile is crooked.

“I’m not a fucking medic, Rogers.” If he died… You were wasting time. “Whatever fine. Come on.”

You manage to get him back to his apartment alive.

His massive form leans against you heavily. “Don’t fucking pass out on me now, Rogers.”

He grunts in response. “Table.”

Hastily you clear the mail and books from the table top. The heavy wooden furniture groans under him as he sits on it, shaking fingers fumbling to undo his tactical suit.

“Here,” you push his hands away. There are an annoying amount of zippers and connection points but you eventually get it loose to his waist.

Moving behind him you lean across the table to help slide the suit down his arms. At first, your breath catches at the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper back ripple, a fucking Grecian statue of a man. When your eyes trail down though…

Blood stains his side, leaking slowly from the bullet hole. Bruising, deep and painful, already blossoms around the wound. His arm is nowhere near as bad but still needs attention. You swallow hard, trying to calm the panic in your chest.

A clink on the table draws your eye away. The bullet, intact and bloody lies there.

“Jesus, Steve…” Your fingers barely touch the unbruised skin close to the wound. He shivers.

“Not to be an ass but-”

“Shit! Yeah, sorry.” Hurridly you run to the bathroom and tug out the first aid kit, in the same place it was before, and soak rags in warm water. When you come back in you notice Steve sway.

You slam everything down on the table. “Steve,” you grab him by the shoulders, “hey,” your hands move to cup his face. “Look at me.” Those cool blue eyes meet yours, hazy and distant, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His hands catch your wrists, strong fingers digging in. “No,” his voice is stern, eyes seeming to clear.

“Ok,” you don’t want to waste time fighting him. You wash your hands in scalding water, slip glovers over them, and pray to a god you had long since given up on that you don’t kill this man.

When you’re finally wrapping a bandage around him you feel like you’ve just sprinted 10 miles. Your hands are shaking, your nerves are fried, you want to throw up and pass out and have 40 drinks but… you did the fucking thing. So far, so good. He hadn’t fainted, bled out, or died.

You take a shaky breath as you secure the bandage and he catches your hands in his bloodstained paws. Slowly you drag your eyes to meet his, barely breathing.

“Thank you,” his features are so soft.

A dry laugh slips from you, “Thanks for not dying.” He squeezes your hands a bit.

“Come on,” you pull back to help him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“You don’t hav-”

“Consider it me protecting my hard work. I’m not about to have gone through that for you to fuck it up.”

“Fair,” he groans as he stands.

You guide him to the bathroom and he hesitates, “Seriously I-”

“Don’t blush Rogers, you’ve lost too much blood to send it running in places it shouldn’t be.” The look on his face is slightly shocked. You can’t help but laugh, “Look, do you really think you can get out of the rest of this gear on your own?” He shrugs. “No. You can’t. Don’t be a baby.”

Gently you push him toward the bathroom. “Sit.” He does so on the edge of the tub.

Steve watches you kneel before him, sure fingers untying the laces on his boots.

There was a time in his life he was used to being cared for. Honestly, it felt both like yesterday and an age ago… Unsurprisingly he still absolutely hates it.

You were right though. He wasn’t in the shape to do it himself.

“Stand for a sec, we need to get this suit off.”

He swallows hard. It wasn’t that he was particularly shy… but…

“I can’t let you hang around in bloody clothes, man.”

All he can manage is a nod. His legs shake as he stands and his head swims a bit from blood loss and lack of sleep. When was the last time he had a solid night’s sleep…

“Stay with me,” you reach out steadying him.

“Tryin’,” his tongue is thick in his mouth.

“Just a bit longer.” You give him a gentle reassuring smile.

He feels almost drunk. “You have a beautiful smile.” The words just fall from his lips. Some part of him is mortified until your smile brightens even more before you look away. “Now who’s blushing?” He teases.

“Ya know I was gonna let you keep some of your dignity and give you a towel to cover up with. Now I’m not so sure.” You look back at him and wink.

“I got nothin’ to hide.”

“I bet.” That spark in your eyes makes the muscles in his abdomen clench painfully.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend he’d never wondered what you’d look like on your knees. However, in none of his imaginings were you working a blood-soaked tac suit off him while he fought to stay conscious. But since when had anything in his life gone to plan?

“Boxers?”

He blinks at you, “What?”

“Your boxers. You need some that don’t look like evidence.”

He looks down, the ones he’s wearing are half grey and half crimson. “Top drawer.” You disappear and return with boxers and sweats.

You hand him a towel, “Thought I’d be nice.”

Wordlessly he takes it, holding it loosely in front of himself. When your fingers hook around the elastic of his boxers, your body lowering slowly down with the garment, eyes locked on his, he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hangin’ in there, Cap?” Mischief glints in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he nods his head. You turn to wet a rag and, despite his best efforts, his mind fills with images of tearing your tac pants off your body and fucking you over the sink until you can’t stand.

His throat goes dry as you turn back. Unsuccessfully he tries holding the towel out a touch further to hide how hard he is.

The corner of your mouth ticks up, your warm hand on his chest causing his heart to beat a little faster. “What’d I say about keeping blood where it belongs?” Your voice is a purr.

Steve huffs out a small laugh, grimacing at the movement. You drop to your knees, gently washing the blood off his thigh. Bullet wound be damned. His fingers release his grip on the towel.

“Steve…” Your eyes lift up to his, the tip of your tongue flitting out to touch your bottom lip. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just got shot… I don’t want to hur-“

“Please.” He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that his knees feel week, that his head is filled with fog, or that he could have died tonight. He didn’t die. And he wants you… it’s the first time he’s wanted anything… anyone, in so long…

He won’t force you but his eyes are begging, he knows. As you stand disappointment feels heavy in his gut. But…

The bloodstained rag lands with a thwack in the tub. Your calloused palm rubs the stubble on his cheek before pulling his face to yours. It’s a soft kiss, your mouth warm and inviting. He groans as your hand wraps around his cock.

“Sit,” you whisper against his lips. He lowers to the edge of the tub and you settle between his thighs.

Your fingers trail feather light touches down his chest, your lips following close behind. Lust and adrenaline clear his mind. Even so, there’s nothing but you right now.

Those eyes of yours look up at him, smirk on your full lips. Your tongue languidly runs up the length of him, catching the bead of moisture gathering at his head. His breath stutters and you hesitate.

“Please don’t stop.” He needs this… maybe more than he wants it.

Without hesitation your tongue traces his head before taking the length of him, your eyes never wavering. He hit’s the back of your throat and a growl rumbles in his chest. One hand grips the tub’s edge his other cupping the back of your head.

Lifting up, your hand wraps around his shaft, twisting a touch as your mouth applies the faintest suction to his head. The fingers of your free hand run over his balls and down…

His head falls back. Deft fingers massage the tender flesh just behind his sack while your palm cups his balls, pressing up ever so slightly. After only a few minutes the steady motion… the sound… his exhaustion… everything comes to a peak.

“Y/N… I… I…” The words won’t form. He can’t…

Fingers tangle in your thick hair, his body tenses, and the sound that tears through him is not quite a scream but it’s more than a moan. It reverberates against the tile walls. His body shakes.

When his vision clears he sees you, eye level, brushing a drop of cum from the edge of your grinning mouth. His eyes flutter.

“If you faint on me I swear…”

“No, I… I’m good.” With a shaking hand, he pulls your face to his, kissing you softly. “I am afraid I won’t be able to repay the favor tonight I-”

“Don’t. Consider it a thank you for taking a bullet for me.”

“I didn-”

“Yes, you did.” Your gaze is stern and he knows he can’t argue. He did. He knows he did.

Cleaned up, dressed, and thoroughly spent he lets you lead him to his bed. He winces, as his back meets the mattress.

You sit next to him on the bed, “Do you have anything you can take for pain?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing really works. Perk of being a super soldier…”

“That’s some shit.” He nods. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your gaze shifts away.

Sighing you stand. For reasons he’s too exhausted to identify, panic grips his chest and his hand shoots out for yours.

“Don’t go… please… I… I don’t…” Want to be alone. Are the words his pride just won’t let him say, even now.

Your fingers lace between his, “I wasn’t gonna leave you, Steve. Not like this.” Relief floods his body. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

He tightens his grip. “You don’t have to sleep out there… it’s a big bed.” A hopeful, crooked smile lifts his lips.

“Ok… but I’m stealing a shirt.” Your smile makes your eyes flash and his heart leap.

“Fine by me.”

He drifts off once you disappear into the bathroom only waking when he feels you slide into the bed next to him. Eyes at half mast he reaches out to you. Carefully you let him pull you close.

This… the feeling of you next to him, your hand over his heart, cheek on his chest… he didn’t know how desperately he needed this. Despite the wound in his side and everything in his head, he sleeps hard through the night.

Morning’s light slowly wakes him. Already the serum in his veins has worked overtime, the pain far less than it was last night.

A rustling next to him draws his gaze and warmth fills his chest. He expected you to be gone by morning… Instead, you’re sound asleep, back pressed to his side.

His smile is so wide it makes his cheeks ache a bit. Worried that he’ll wake you if he moves he contentedly dozes, opening his eyes here and there to watch the steady rise and fall of your breath or study the colors of your hair in the sunlight.

He wants to paint you… just like this… He closes his eyes, imagining the canvas.

“Good morning,” your voice sounds petal soft. His eyes open to see your face in the warm light, a soft smile on your lips.

“Morning.” Neither of you says more. Somehow you’re content to study the other… Until your phone begins to blare a song from your pants pocket.

“Shit!” Frantically you scramble up and fish the phone from your pants.

“Hey!” Your tone is forced. Someone screams something on the other end, he can’t quite make out the words though. “Not dead. Sorry… I… I know… I… Wade… Just…” He sees your features shift, “Yeah… Yeah, I got it. Love you too.”

You toss the phone on the end of the bed and rub your hands over your face. The last bit of that conversation had him burning though…

“Boyfriend?”

“What?” Your brows knit. “Oh! Fuck no.” You laugh a little and he feels himself cool. “Best friend. He tipped me off about last night, told me not to get involved…”

“And he’s pissed you didn’t listen.”

“Something like that…” You look at him, eyes… sad.

“Y/N?”

“I have to go…” You catch your bottom lip in your teeth.

He shoots up from the bed, wincing at the pain but not stopped by it. “Why? Do they know you-”

“No,” you hold your hands up, resting them against his chest when he stops in front of you. “They suspect though so it’s best I get the hell outta dodge before they can confirm anything.”

“You don’t have to go…” His voice holds a twinge of desperation. “I can get you S.H.I.E.L.D. protection,” something darkens your features at this but he keeps going, “and I would… look out for you.” He rests his hands on your shoulders.

Your eyes fix to the floor, “I can’t, Steve. It’s too risky for both of us.” The twinge in his chest is alleviated a touch by the look of longing on your face when he tilts your chin up.

“I need you to promise me something.” Your somber tone chills him.

“Ok…”

“Look out for yourself, watch your back. Don’t trust anyone, even S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect you…”

“Y/N… I’ve got good people, you don’t have to-”

“Promise me, Steve. Even good people can be bought.”

“They couldn’t buy you,” he traces the curve of your brow down to your soft, rose-colored lips.

That smirk again, “I’m not good people.”

“Yes, you are.” Pulling you to him he kisses you, hard this time, hungry. A few steps back and he has you pinned against the wall, he can feel your heart thundering in your chest.

“You could stay and have my back,” his lips graze the tender flesh under your ear.

“I can’t,” your voice is thick with emotion. When he looks at you tears shimmer in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Please…” A trembling hand cups his face, “Please, promise me you’ll be smart… don’t-” Your voice cracks but you fight to keep your composure. “Don’t run toward death…”

He’s not certain it’s a promise he can keep but… “I promise, Y/N.” One tear escapes the corner of your eye, he thumbs it away. “But you have to promise the same.”

A bitter laugh pops out, “I’m not the one to worry about here but… yeah. I promise.”

He kisses you again, wanting to hold on to the way it makes his chest burn, the movement of your lips on his the… Feeling of being alive, not just angry, for the first time in a long time.

The two of you say nothing else, each seemingly not trusting what may come from your mouth, as you change. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you, dreading the moment he has to let you go.

“You should definitely get that looked at,” you gesture to the bandage.

“What? Don’t trust your tabletop nursing skills?”

“Absolutely not.”

He slowly stands, “I will.”

Without prompting, you wrap your arms around him, taking care to avoid his injury, and tuck your face in his neck. The two of you stand like that for a while.

There are so many things he wants to say but he doesn’t. He just contents himself with burying his nose in your hair, allowing the warm intimacy of the moment to wash over him.

A heavy sigh tickles over his skin and he knows it’s time to let go.

At the door you turn back to him, eyes glassy once more. “Remember, don’t trust anyone… not with everything.”

“I got it.” One final time his lips press to yours, slow and longing.

Your forehead rests against his, your eyes speaking volumes, as you whisper, “I’ll miss you, Steve Rogers.”

Those three words hit him harder than that bullet had. His mouth hangs slack just a touch.

You smile, “Gonna catch a fly.” Playfully you lift up his chin. “Be safe.”

“You too, Y/N.”

One more kiss… and again… you’re gone.

True to form. Steve Rogers surprises you. This time by wheedling his way into your heart and mind so deep you cannot fucking shake him.

To protect you both you don’t call or text, the risk too high. You do, however, send him a letter. There’s no return address and no long written missives. The papers contain numbers, coordinates for a house in Buffalo New York and two words. Love, Zelda With a red lip print over them.

You don’t expect him to come here. All you wanted was for him to know you were safe and that if he needed a place to go he had it.

A few jobs came and went. Winter faded into spring. You began to wonder if maybe you could meet up now if things had quieted enough. Because despite trying desperately to convince yourself otherwise… you desperately missed him.

Then all hell broke loose.

Glued in front of your TV you watch in horror as S.H.I.E.L.D., quite literally falls. You’re blowing up with information from all your contacts. Inbox, dark web forums, everything.

Hours pass that feel like days… No one had reported on Steve’s condition, just that Captain America had been spotted in the fight. A curious numb sensation creeps over you at the thought that he may be gone.

Finally, someone comes through. This time it’s not your usual sources but an old military friend. Rogers was in his hospital, injured but not at risk of death, and no, he wasn’t alone. Someone, a male friend, was with him. Had been the whole time. You nearly sob from relief.

As media attention on the fiasco rises you know there’s no way for you to get close without being spotted. The last thing he needs is to be seen with someone like you. So you allow yourself to be thankful that he’s still here, letting that be enough.

Several weeks later you pass out hard after a long, trying day.

The Hydra files Romanoff released had rocked your world. Nearly everyone you knew had been pinged by those bastards at some point. Including you. This meant everyone was reevaluating their loyalties, cutting ties, and more than a few had already been put down… The fear and paranoia were real and exhausting.

When a sound from your kitchen hits your ears in the middle of the night you shoot up. Hand already wrapped around the pistol under your pillow. Apparently, this was the day.

Not bothering with formalities like pants, you quietly creep to your cracked bedroom door and nudge it open just enough. Without a sound you stalk down the short hall, breath bated.

All you can see in the dim light is the intruder’s back. Wide, shoulders move as they finish a bottle of whiskey and set it down, not even trying to be quiet. A car passes and illuminates familiar golden hair. Steve…

You lower your gun, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at three in the morning?”

He turns slowly, the shadows making his features almost sinister. “Did you know?” Voice barely above a whisper.

“Know what?” You set the gun on a side table and move to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “About S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Almost too fast for your eyes to follow, he rounds the counter, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you hard against the wall. Your breath is heavy from a mix of fear and maybe a touch of excitement.

“Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Ok,” your voice breathy as you try to regain composure. “Well for what it’s worth, no, I suspected S.H.I.E.L.D. but I didn’t have anything concrete. Hydra…” Your eyes dart away, “That I did know about…”

“No,” his fingers dig into your upper arms, his breath scented with whiskey. “The Winter Soldier,” he spits the title out, “did you know who he was?!”

You look back to him, brows knit. “Uh… until a few weeks ago I thought he was the bogeyman of criminals… so… no. Should I know him?”

Some of the rage seeps from Steve’s features, “Steve?” You place your hand against his unshaven cheek.

In an instant, his mouth covers yours, warm and whiskey flavored. You almost groan in satisfaction. His massive form presses into you and you savor the sensation.

He runs his hands down your sides as your arms curl around his neck. When he slips his hand in the front of your boy shorts you make a small sound, you already know what he’ll find.

When he feels your moisture, those strong fingers sliding just over your damp folds a grin fills his face but he doesn’t make a move.

“Please,” you echo his request from months before.

That's all it takes. His lips crash against yours, teeth knocking slightly, and two of his fingers slip in, stretching you open. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking, your body hungry for him.

Wanting to touch him your hands move under his shirt, holding his sides as he works your cunt. When his fingers curl up just enough your nails dig into his skin. You feel the tension gather in your abdomen. Wordlessly you beg him not to stop.

“Steve…” Your breath hitches.

His thumb rolls lightly over your clit. Your head would have thudded against the wall had he not cupped it, forcing your gaze to stay on him. His blue eyes burn into you, he picks up the pace, thumb making steady circles over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck… fuck…”

“Come for me,” he growls.

You do. In earth-shattering fashion. Crying out, electricity pulses through your body, your legs tremble, your knees give way. He pulls his hand out of your underwear and catches you, holding your trembling body close.

This lasts only until you feel the length of him move through his denim. That was incredible but you want all of him.

Your unsteady hands reach for his belt. Fingers, that can’t quite obey orders yet try to convince the offending garment to give up its prize. His hands grasp yours, stopping their work.

He kisses you, the distraction enough that you don’t resist him as he spins you toward the island. Strong hands turn you, pressing your back to his chest.

Lips trail down your neck, goosebumps cover your skin. He catches the hem of your tee and pulls it over your head. Not trusting your legs to hold you, your hands brace against the counter and his teeth bite at the soft flesh where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Steve,” you breathe out.

The tinkling of his belt buckle hits your ears and fuck, a zipper going down had never sounded so promising.

His hand wraps lightly around your throat, tilting your head back just under his chin. “How do you want it?” His voice burning velvet.

Your eyes flit to his, “Give me everything. Don’t hold back.” Lust sparks in his eyes and he kisses you breathless.

Moving your underwear to the side with one hand and pressing your chest to the counter with the other he slams the full length of his cock into you. You gasp raggedly, body pressing back to him. This is the best kind of hurt.

Steel fingers dig into your hips holding you steady as he fucks you so hard you forget anything else. Your moans and cries mingle with his low sounds. Everything is this.

His hands release you but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Vaguely, you’re aware of something falling to your side. When he grabs a fistful of your hair pulling you up against him you realize it was his shirt, his burning flesh pressed to your own.

The other hand dips into your sopping boy shorts and effortlessly locates your clit once more, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Look at me,” he says in a gravel tone. You do as he asks and a whimper slips from you, his fingers and cock driving you mad. “You like that, baby?”

Words are lost. He fills your parted lips with a kiss and you fill his mouth with your cries of pleasure as you come once more.

You can hardly breathe now, much less stand. With a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, he lifts you into his arms. Your hungry mouth kisses and nibbles the salty skin of his neck as he carries you back to your room.

Tossing you on the bed he slips out of his jeans and you free yourself of your underwear. For a moment he just stares at you, on your back in the dim space, legs spread, waiting for him to take you.

Moving with the fluidity of a big cat he hovers over you. Your hands trail over the solid muscles of his back, fascinated at the power housed in this body.

This time he enters you slowly. Your legs wrap around him and a low rumble vibrates through his chest.

“Y/N,” he hums next to your ear.

You grab his face, bringing it up so you can see him. His breath is ragged. Intentionally you tighten your walls against him his lids flutter and a soft moan falls from his lips.

His pace quickens and your body responds, hips rising to meet him, demanding evermore.

“Fuck,” he breathes out grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand. The other lifts your head to more easily kiss you.

“C-can I,” he stutters between kisses.

“Yes,” your legs tighten around him, “god yes.”

He roars, your back arches up, moan raw tearing from some hidden place in you. Then there’s nothing but the soft sounds of your panting breaths.

Steve’s body shakes, the weight of it on you strangely comforting. When he looks at you all the rage and fire are gone, replaced with a mournful sadness. The past few weeks had been hard on you… they had to be hell on earth for him.

Tenderly you kiss him. “Stay here.”

His brows knit, “You sure…? I… I… don’t…”

“Hush,” your fingers try to coax the lines of his forehead into relaxing. “I want you to stay.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t protest more. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything. He does let you hold him. At times you think he may be crying but his cheeks are dry despite his labored breathing.

You’re drifting off, for now resting your head on his chest, when he asks, “Do you like your bed?”

“Huh?” You aren’t sure your groggy brain understood.

“Your bed. Do you… like it?”

You consider for a minute. “It’s ok. Kinda soft.” Honestly, you could never find the right firmness.

He laughs a little, “Apparently it’s a complaint a lot of Vets have. Bed’s being too soft.”

Leaning up on an elbow you look down at him, “Ya know… You’re right. Friend’s of mine complained about that too. Sometimes…” You shake your head a bit at yourself, “Sometimes I even sleep on the floor if I can’t fall asleep in my bed.”

Steve softly caresses the side of your face, a weak smile on his lips, “Me too.”

“Do you want to?” Hopping off the bed you pull the comforter off, not giving him time to answer. “Grab the pillows. No need to deny ourselves that small comfort.”

“We don’t… I wasn’t…”

You’re already laying the comforter on the ground. “I want to. Now come on.”

He brings the pillows over and arranges them while you grab another blanket for you both to cover up with. Quickly the two of you settle down.

After a while, Steve whispers into your hair, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for, Rogers.”

“Yeah, I do.” You look up at him, his eyes glassy in the dim light. “You saw all of me… the darkest parts… from the beginning and you didn’t run away.”

“Technically…” You tease.

“Shut up,” he smiles but a tear finally works it’s way free. You brush it away.

“You’re not alone, Steve. We all have our dark sides. I’m right there with you.”

He nods, chewing on his bottom lip.

Now the tears come. Silent at first and he doesn’t let you brush them away or offer him comfort of any kind. He just hides his face, one knee pulled up. When the sobs start you don’t let him push you away.

You can’t fathom the depth of his grief. Everything and everyone he lost… now he had the one thing that gave him stability ripped from under his feet… You don’t have to truly understand it to anchor him though.

Captain America may look out for everyone else. He may be the beacon and hero the country, hell the world, needs right now… But you, you would look out for Steve Rogers. No matter what.

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #LDMWC

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darkloverlost · 5 years

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I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU: CHAPTER 2 w/@DelicateDeviant

Whicked:

The bar had emptied out about an hour ago, I was on the close shift so it was up to me to check the banking was ready to drop off to the bank on my way home. The cleaning crew wouldn’t be in for a few more hours, so I had the place to myself and I enjoyed these solitary hours before I headed home to the apartment I shared with my housemate Alanna, to sleep away the daylight hours.

I took a quick inventory by eye of the bar stock levels and made my way through to the storeroom at the back of the bar to begin restocking the shelves and fridges and put the dishwasher on to begin on the glasses. I pushed my way through into the storeroom and grabbed a crate of beer and put it onto the barrow cart that lay next to the door. I went back and fore loading up the barrow until it was as full as I could handle and wheeled it back to the bar. I reached under the bar and grabbed the remote for my bluetooth speaker which was connected to my phone and pressed play. A smile crossed my face as one of my old favourites came on. Guns N Roses “Sweet Child of Mine” blasted out of the speakers and I sang along as I began to stock up the fridges and shelves with what I had taken through already.

Singing along to the music that pealed out of the speakers, my nimble fingers snatching up the bottles and stacking the fridges, I was almost knocked off my feet by an ear splitting explosion which rocked through the bar, the very walls shaking. Various bottles of alcohol falling from the shelves, crashing to the floor, smashing into hundreds of pieces. I pushed myself to my feet, shock etched onto my features as I looked toward the source of the din.

A hole! A huge hole wreathed with flame had appeared where the rear exit of the bar once stood. I skirted around the bar, my eyes never leaving the gaping hole.

“What the fuck?”

Wrath:

Moments seemed to drag on as I waited for those doors I’d heard so much about to appear in front of me, instead I got a whole lot of nothing. No motion, no sound, no scents, and it was if I were floating in the middle of an abyss. All my senses were failing me. I had hoped that once I had arrived, my sight and everything I’d lost would come slamming back. Apparently, I had been wrong. There was nothing here for me, just like there was nothing back there. It was as if everything were just taken away. I had no future, no more past, and my present was an endless void.

Where was my Queen?! All these years, from everything I had been taught, I was promised The Fade. Now, it was as if I had never existed. Life was gone, as was the afterlife. Had I done everything all wrong? I didn’t take my own life. I had fought hard and been taken down. Sure, I welcomed it, but I didn’t self-inflict. I was owed! I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

Then motion came back and I began to spin.

Whicked:

*I reached under the bar next to one of the tills and retrieved the Glock that was hidden just behind the cash drawer. My fingers circled around the grip and I drew it out, I double checked it was loaded and flicked off the safety before I started to make my way carefully down toward the back of the bar, wary of whatever had caused the hole to appear.

As I came up to the gaping hole, I paused momentarily before peering out into the alleyway beyond. My mouth dropped at the sight in front of me. There were body parts everywhere or at least that is how it seemed to me. Arms and legs drenched with a slick oily black substance. Lesser blood. Or at least this is how it had been described to be in the past. And now that I saw the blood, the sickly sweet scent that had filled my childhood home, the night those bastards came into my life and took everything I had ever loved from me, clogged up my nose and I felt a wave of nausea sweep over me.

I was utterly dumbfounded at what lay at my feet. What the hell was I going to do? I am pretty sure the bar’s insurance policy did not cover explosions caused by baby powder smelling assholes. As my eyes darted around the dimly lit alleyway, something caught my eye. A familiar pair of wraparound shades. Ones very much like what the King had worn the night I had met him in the Audience House when I requested funds from my trust. But surely the King, the Blind King, wouldn’t be out in the field….right? I stepped carefully around the bodies and blood and crouched down, reaching out to snag the glasses from the ground. In my new lowered position I glanced around, hoping that I was wrong about the glasses. And my panic abatted just a little until….!

“Oh no...sweet fuck no!” Under a pile of black blooded bastards there was familiar tangle of hair, a broad muscled forearm, covered with tattoos bearing his lineage. I rushed over, simultaneously putting the safety back to the gun and sliding into the waistband of my leather trousers and bending down to start pulling the bodies off of the downed King.

Panic tinged my voice. “Your Majesty? Hey….uhh Wrath can you hear me?” This could not be fucking happening! How the fuck was I going to help him?

Wrath: As I began to spin, pain started to flood my body. I could feel exactly where the bullets had pierced my skin and sunk into the different organs, one in my stomach and one in my heart. Both were fatal. The one that passed through my stomach created an opening where fluid and blood were leaking into my gut. It also ended up lodging into my spine, which I was sure was causing my paralysis. The one in my heart was jammed into the wall of one of my six chambers, but it was plugging the slow leak. Eventually, my heart will give way. I just had to push through this agony.

Suddenly, I could hear someone calling out my name. “Leelan?!” I croaked around a mouthful of blood. But, no response came.

Fuck! Why couldn’t that bullet just shift a little bit to the left? The only thing I’ve been sure of these past ten years was that I needed to find a way to my Queen. Now, I had that within my grasp and I was terrified that it was slipping away.

You often hear about people that have attempted suicide, where in those last moments their only thoughts were of wanting to live. I was not in that statistic. That was not me. The thought that I was so close to dying, could not have been more welcomed. The only thing I had been living for in these past ten years was my son, LW. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have done this a long time ago. But now, I was more convinced than ever that he would be better off without me. So, it was time.

As if my words rang in my fate, it was then I felt the bullet slide that final millimeter home.

Whicked:

My eyes ran over the lifeless body of the King, tangled up in Lessers and rubble from the explosion. I began pulling away the rubble as quick as I can, but he wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be hearing me talking to him. “Wrath…..can you hear me? Come on big guy, you cannot do this to me, you cannot fucking die right here, right now. Your boys will kick my ass!” I finally got the rubble off of him, my finger nails torn and bleeding but I ignored the pain and focussed on the Male in front of me. He was bleeding badly, a pool of blood lay below him. From what I could see he had been shot a coupla times, one in the stomach, the worst one was in his chest. It looked close to his heart, but I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, showing me he was still with me for now….!

I moved around to his head and hooked my arms under his armpits and dragged him back from the burning fires, worried that they would do more damage to him. I tugged him back as far as I could, groaning with the effort. I sagged to the ground on the seat of my ass and panicked. Who could I call? This was the King, not some random civilian. I couldn't just call the clinic and get an ambulance. Cell Phone! Surely the King had a cell phone, right? I leaned forward and starting ransacking the King’s pockets. “Come on….please have a damn cell phone Wrath!” I heard a slight murmur from him, something sounding like “Leelan” shit, did he think I was his Shellan? “Wrath…..Your Majesty….it is me uhhh Whicked...umm we met at the Audience House?” Whatever life that had been in him enough to call out to his Shellan was fading fast. I needed to call someone and I needed to feed him and soon.

I finally found his cell and thanked the Scribe Virgin that it wasn’t locked. I went into his contacts trying to find someone to help. As I scrolled the contacts I finally came across one that simply said “Doc”, I wasnt sure if this was one of the clinic’s doctors but at this point I wouldn't waste time searching for someone better. I hit dial and prayed that someone answered.

Wrath: The pain was gone and I could almost literally feel my soul slip out of my body. It was the most freeing sensation I had ever experienced. Before I knew it, I was standing, fully intact, including my eyesight, within the most beautiful, blinding, white light. It encompassed me like a warm bath, radiating comfort into my bones. I had finally come to the place I belonged. I was finally free. Free of all the Earthly pain and torment I had been going through for the past ten years. It was over, gone. There was nothing left but a soothing sense of peacefulness in its place. In that moment, I knew there was no going back and tears of joy dripped from my lids… and there wasn’t even shame in the tears. I was full on crying and it phased me not.

“Wrath?” a whisper pierced the moment.

Looking up, I could barely see a silhouette of a figure standing in the middle of the light. It took me a minute to clear the tears from my eyes, but I knew that voice anywhere! How much I had longed to hear it, again, all these years! Collapsing in front of her, one word slipped past my lips, “Beth.”

Whicked:

The phone was ringing, thank fuck the phone was ringing! A gruff voice flooded my ear “Wrath, you ok? Didn’t see you at First Meal, heard you headed out with Anara?” There was a pause as he waited for Wrath to respond. “Wrath, hello?” I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to clear the dryness. “Hello…..Yeah my name is Whicked….The King….the King uh...he..!” The voice was frantic on the other end as I tried to figure out what to say. “What do you mean the King? Whicked? Hello? Is the King alright? Can you talk to me Whicked?” I closed my eyes tight and just let the words flow. “The King is down, he is injured. Shot at least twice I think?” My eyes ran over the King checking for other wounds. “Looks like a bomb went off? Lots of Lessers down and the King got caught in the blast, he is in a bad way, a lot of shrapnel based penetrating injuries. I don’t..I don’t know what to do!”

The momentary silence was deafening before the Doc started barking orders down the phone, telling me I needed to make sure the King was out of the path of danger, that I needed to apply pressure to his wounds, that I needed to feed him to make sure he had a chance of living through the night, finally he was telling me they were tracing would trace the Kings phone and someone would be here soon. I didn’t even listen to whatever he was saying now. I dropped the phone from my ear and pulled my t-shirt over my head and ripped it up, using the fabric to help slow the flow of blood from the King’s stomach and chest.

The flow was slowing, I didn’t think that this was a good sign. I leant over the face of the King, my cheek flush with his lips trying to figure out if the Male was still breathing.

It was faint, but it was there, he was still breathing! I shouted over to the downed phone “Hurry the fuck up, he is still breathing barely!

Wrath: She knelt down beside me and wrapped me in her embrace. Falling forward, the sobs took over my body. My Beth was holding me in her arms, again. This was where I belonged. Nothing could ever tear me away from this female again. This was where the end of our journey began. We would live our lives out in The Fade, together, as it had always been meant to be. “I... missed you,” were the only words I could manage to speak between the tears.

“I missed you too, my love.” She responded, calmly, as she ran her fingers through my long, black hair.

There had never been a feeling so right in my world, than this one. Lifting my head to look in her eyes, they were just as I had remembered them, before I had lost my eyesight, bright and so incredibly blue. I had gotten lost in those eyes on so many occasions. Now, I was finally getting lost in them again.

Reaching forward, I brushed my hand ever so lightly against the skin of her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes. “Beth,” I whispered and pulled her close for a kiss.

Whicked:

Just as I thought the big bastard lying before me going to be ok, everything went wrong...very very wrong!

His chest stopped rising, I leaned over him again, he wasn’t breathing. Shit!! Seriously this could not be fucking happening to me!

I scrambled over and grabbed Wrath’s cell phone “Hello Doc guy? Yeah he stopped breathing...what the fuck do I do now?” Hello? Where the fuck are you people?”

Just as those words left my lips a female presence appeared to my left and I swear I could see right through her! “Whicked? Are you Whicked? I am Jane, I am a Doctor. I need to check him over, ok?” I just sat there, half my body covering his. Not moving, just starting at the apparition in front of me. As she moved to get in closer to us, I bared my fangs and growled at her. “Back the fuck off….! Let the King have some peace in the Fade!” She moved a little closer but more cautiously this time, her eyes never leaving my face as she bent down to take his pulse and inspect his wounds. I eyed her every move feeling oddly possessive of the body lain before me.

With a screech a SUV came tearing down the alley, it’s headlights pinning us in their glare. The driver slammed on the brakes and a huge figure clambered out and came dashing toward us, clambering over the rubble. Another figure, the Male from the Audience House dematerialised next to the Dr, Vishous I think his name was. I glared at the Males as they approached which was ridiculous as I was tiny compared to them, what the hell was I going to do to members of the Brotherhood? Scratch them to death? Whatever, these guys were going to have to peel me off of the King if they tried to get me to move.

The Male with the diamond eyes just glowered at me, as if this was all my fault, that I had killed the King.

Wrath: Beth entwined her fingers in my hair and deepened the kiss in return. This, right here, was everything! Everything I had been yearning for, for ten years. My Beth was finally back in my arms where she had been born to be. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

She pulled away and looked over her shoulder for a moment, then turned back. As her eyes rested on mine, a smile so enveloping grew across her features. “I love you so much, Wrath.”

“And I love you, Leelan.”

She leaned in and kissed me again. This time, it was a more hungry kiss, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. I happily gave myself over to her, to the moment, the first of many, many more. I would give this female the world from here on out, anything she asked of me would be hers, and we would never be separated again.

#IHateEverythingAboutYouChapter2 #EternallyBoundRPG

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sam-i-am-27 · 6 years

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Dive Right In

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Summary: Roman wants to know what in the hell happened last night with that strange half-mer, half-human. Fortunately, so does Patton. As does the halfling and his human friend. Unfortunately, one uninvited person wants to know more as well.

Word Count: 2550

Thank you to @pastel-and-gore for being a loverly editor as always and making this 100% better than it was when I first spewed it out onto a Google Doc!

Roman didn’t know what he should do but sit there in the cave. He didn’t know what was coming out of his mouth, random incoherent sounds or the actual Song. That was… impossible. He had just watched a mer save another human and then become one himself?! The scales literally melted off of him and he had legs! That didn’t just happen! It couldn’t have happened!

“AGH!” he yelled randomly, his voice echoing around the cave, the enchanting magic in his voice making his own mind go fuzzy with lust.

So he came in contact with… one and a half humans? One was unconscious, the other half was a mer a majority of the time Roman had been talking to him… so was it illegal? Nah, it wasn’t illegal. He was fine… but there was still that nagging at his subconsciousness. It wasn’t worry or fear, it was curiosity. He wanted to know more about that half-mer. How did a half-mer even exist if mers weren’t even allowed to talk to humans?! How was he able to resist the Song when neither mers nor humans could?!

There were so many questions that Roman wished he had a quill, some ink, and a few hundred feet of parchment. He could ask them to Thomas-

No, he couldn’t know. If Thomas knew, no matter how close the two of them were, he’d be forced to uphold the law and imprison Roman. Then he and the royal Alchemist would go hunting for Virgil to wipe his memory of the experience.

He had to talk to someone who could keep a secret for reasons like protecting him and someone else from the King’s laws.

The instant the sun rose over the horizon and Roman no longer felt the pull of the moon’s magic, he shot towards the kingdom as fast as his tail would carry him. The sea turned into a white blur of bubbles and sea foam as he sped past coral reefs, over deep trenches until he reached the entrance of the kingdom. He sped through the dark and once through the tunnel, sped through the kingdom as fast as possible without completely speeding.

Roman reached the front gate and slowed down in front of his father. He saw eyes with a burning rage and hate of a thousands suns shining through the helmet.

“Roman. What brings you here again so soon?” his father asked. “I hoped you’d be gone-”

“Save me the insults, father. I need to see Patton,” Roman croaked. Instantly, Roman knew he had come back just a bit too early. Although the moon had stopped its spell almost an hour ago, he could feel his vocal cords vibrating with the magic that drew that human to him. Not enough to be deadly, but definitely enough that his father’s eyes lost all sense of hatred and his body slackened.

“Go right ahead, don’t let me stop you, Jules,” he said in a dream-like voice. Roman grit his teeth at the name but swam on inside without second thought. Of course his father would call him that; the only Siren voice he had known was his mothers and since she passed, he hadn’t heard any others.

He swam through the castle silently, giving only nods to the guards who greeted him before he reached Patton’s room and knocked on the door.

“Mmm… who’s there?” Patton mumbled from the inside. Roman just continued to knock, unable to say anything without entrancing every mer in the very echoey hallway for the next ten minutes.

“Coming, coming.” The sound of shuffling came through the door and when it opened, Roman had to muffle any sound he made at the sight of Patton. A blanket haphazardly slung over his shoulders, his glasses on upside-down, and his hair floating around at odd angles. He smacked his lips and looked at Roman through bleary eyes.

“Oh hi, Roman. You’re home early,” he muttered, turning around when Roman was half-way in the room. He rummaged around the messy desk, around all of the toys from their childhood before finding an old scroll and pen. As he scribbled down his note, Patton groaned. “Aw, I liked that scroll.”

Roman shoved the scroll into Patton’s arms and quickly swam to close the door so Patton didn’t read the news to the entire castle. Patton sighed and pushed his glasses down and off his nose. He sighed, grabbed them and put them back on to read the scroll.

“I met a hu-” Suddenly Patton was wide awake, looking at Roman with wide, excited eyes. “Is it okay?!”

Roman nodded and took the scroll back, scribbling down another note.

Patton read it and scowled slightly. “He… he grew a… how did he grow a tail… what?!”

Roman nodded in agreement, pointing to his throat and mimicking singing.

“He survived your singing?! But even we can’t do that!” Patton exclaimed. “Oh, I wanna meet him!”

Roman mimed in a way that hopefully said, ‘I think we can!’

“We need to go back up there… tomorrow night. You need to rest but we NEED to see him!” Patton said, pacing the room slowly. Roman noticed that his face suddenly fell and he became a bit serious, the excited twinkle in his eyes dimming. “He can become a mer in the water but has legs out… I wonder if he’s like those illegal half-mers? If he is, you didn’t technically break the law since half-mers haven’t been seen in, what, hundred years or so?”

Roman shook his head, but then thought about the situation and shrugged. It was possible but they couldn’t be sure unless they went back up and talked to him.

“So we go back up there tonight and see if he’s there?” Patton asked, looking Roman in the eyes, the excited look returning again. Roman gave a cocky grin and gave his friend a thumbs up.

“I really wish we had a fire,” Logan said, wrapping his blanket around him even tighter.

“Well it’s illegal to burn at the moment and you wanted to come. I don’t blame you for being curious,” Virgil argued, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie.

“Yes, I am curious, Virgil. You grew fins in my bathtub. Your legs fused together and you grew gills, a tail, and fins,” Logan retorted. “If you had almost drowned and got mild hypothermia, you’d want to know the reason why. Plus on top of that, you’d want to know the reason why your best friend keeps saying that while he was saving you, he grew a tail and met a merman who spoke clear English. I’d say I came out of more than a little curiosity.”

“Alright, alright, just teasing,” Virgil said, inching towards the water slightly. “Want some jam?”

“Of course,” Logan said, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a jar of Crofters and spoon.

“Still don’t know how you eat that plain,” Virgil said, reaching over with a cracker and scooping some onto it.

“Ish delicioush,” Logan said through a mouthful of jam.

“You don’t say,” Virgil said, wiping cracker crumbs and jam off his face. He looked out at the ocean and sighed. The sun was nearly set, making the water turn a beautiful purple-blue-orange color. The waves were rolling up onto the sand slowly and the foam was lapping up closer and closer as the tide rose.

“I’m going to stick my feet in,” Virgil said. “I kinda wanna see how far in I have to go for there to be a reaction.”

Logan finished his last bite of jam and nodded. “Great idea.”

The two stripped down to their swim trunks, Virgil keeping his tank top on, and scooted to the water’s edge, not really wanting to walk the five feet.

“Alright… these are just my feet in the salt water.” Virgil took a breath and stuck his feet into the water, shivering at the low temperature. Instantly tingles shot through his toes and up to his ankles. The slime that had formed his tail last time formed around his feet, shaping into a large colorless mass of a half-formed fin. The tingles were still there, as if they knew he was in salt water and wanted to expand outwards and form the entire tail, but they stopped just below the ankle where the fin melded into skin.

“Fascinating. It seems that if you have the saltwater in one place, that’s the place that gets transformed. It’s like a sponge that’s absorbing water for the first time,” Logan said and splashed a little on Virgil’s upper thigh. A new set of tingles appeared there and wherever the water droplets hit, slim began to envelop his skin.

“I really don’t like the look of that,” he said. “I’m just gonna get in a bit more. Slowly though, it’s really cold.”

He crept in until the water was just below his knees. By this point, the slime had fused his calves together, formed the shape of his tail completely and created the outline of where his scales would appear. He could feel a slight pain in his neck as his gills began to open up.

“Do you think I have to be all the way in for color to appear?” he asked Logan.

“We have to test to find out for sure, but I say most likely,” Logan said, not taking his eyes off what was left of his legs.

Virgil nodded, took a deep breath, and slid his entire body under the next wave. The tingles shot up his legs faster than he could blink, the slime enveloping and fusing his legs instantly, tearing through his shorts and forming every individual scale. His gills opened up and took in as much salt water as they could, extracting the oxygen so Virgil could breathe. By the time the wave had passed over him, his tail had formed and he looked like a regular merman, color and all.

“Okay… so yeah. Figured out how all that works,” he muttered, flicking his tail fin and splashing Logan in the face.

“It appears that a single drop of water will not inconvenience you but diving in will,” Logan muttered, cleaning off his glasses with one hand and pulling out yet another one of his scales with the other.

“Ow! Dammit, Lo!” he complained, rubbing the spot. Logan ignored him and blew on the scale until it was dry, groaning a little as a small amount of slime fell off it, leaving only a bit of Virgil’s skin.

“Gross,” his friend muttered but than dunked the skin into the water. Instantly, the slime reformed and he was holding a purple scale again.

“It doesn't matter what part of you touches the water as long as it’s you,” Logan muttered. “Absolutely fascinating.”

Virgil shrugged and looked out at the water again. The sun had completely set, leaving only a dark ocean reflecting the few stars that had been revealed without sunlight. He sighed and scooted sand.

“Hey, Lo, I'll be right back, I'm going to go check something out,” Virgil said.

“Uh huh,” Logan said, drying off the scale again and sinking it into the water. Virgil smirked and dove in. The water froze his bones for a second before his body warmed up at an impossible speed. Probably another mer thing… better tell Logan when he got back.

Breathing was such a strange experience. He did it involuntarily but it was so… forced. He felt like there was a pillow over his face but he could breathe. His gills allowed him to take oxygen from the water and let him live but still… it felt strange, like breathing after eating a piece of minty gum. But more salty.

Virgil’s tail was a miracle of nature. Powerful and lithe, it sped him through the water faster than any boat could ever hope to go. Virgil felt like a living boat, the way he could turn and twist however he wanted without losing speed or sight of where he was. But he tried to not be theatrical and focused on finding the spot where Logan had swam to the night before.

He slowed down near the cliff and surfaced, his gills flapping uselessly in the air.

“Weird,” he muttered and looked around. Definitely the place where Logan had dove. He looked around him, not seeing anything interesting on the surface of the water, so he ducked under and swam deepe, keeping close to the cliff face. He must have been few dozen feet underwater but he didn’t feel a thing on his ears or his body. He could see clearer down here than he could on land… Even more mer stuff to jot down when he had a piece of dry paper.

The sandy bottom of the ocean appeared below him and with it a large cave. He swam in and asked, “Hello?” the words coming with a small stream of bubbles. There was no response though so he swam a little farther into the cave. “Roman? You there?”

“Over here.”

He turned and saw Roman sitting near the entrance of the cave with another mer, this one with a bright blue coloring with black stripes going up and down his tail. At the sight of Virgil, he squealed and swam forward. His blue eyes gleamed behind a pair of slightly cracked glasses that he had to constantly push up his nose as he smiled at Virgil. Although Virgil was slightly creeped out by the fact that a random mer was smiling at him, he was a little comforted by the fact that he was keeping himself at a comfortable distance and watching his body carefully for any signs of uncomfort.

“You’re Virgil! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! You’re half-human, right? Oh, the human world must be amazing and-”

“Patton, calm down,” Roman said, putting a hand on the other mer’s shoulder.

“What does he mean he knows a lot about me?” Virgil asked. “I said five words to you.”

“Well we may have done a little reading between the lines and figured out how your existence may be possible and all that,” Roman said with a shrug. “Half-mers are illegal to us, so you’re a criminal so we just-”

“You know what, I’d love to hear this story, but so would my friend on the beach,” Virgil interrupted. “Besides, I don’t like the feeling of breathing water.”

“Your friend is a human, isn’t he?” Patton asked.

“No, he’s a unicorn,” Virgil said in a monotone. “Come on. He’ll be thrilled to meet you guys.”

Deep below the sea, a figure stood floating around a single golden orb, watching as the two-and-a-half mers swam out of the cave towards the human on the beach. The mer smiled maliciously and held up a single glowing finger, tracing it around the orb. The one with the purple tail stopped for a moment, shook his head and continued towards the beach.

“Perfect…”

They swam away from the orb and began to pull ingredients off the shelf, preparing a potion. There wasn’t any doubt that he would need it. Now that the halfling had the idea, he’d be down here with one of the others soon… it was only a matter of time…

Yes, it’s been a while. Just lost motivation but it came running back at the speed of sound just two days ago and I got this chapter finished! So yeah, you guys can probably guess a few things now but I really hope that you don’t know what’s going to happen because this is a great story that I am really excited to finish.

But yeah, I’m continuing this!

Reblogs are amazing.

Taglist for general and Dive Right In are both open, so all you need to do is ask!

Have a great day!

Taglist: @octopushugs @ryuity @fandergecko @rileyfirstname @spectacled-renegade @ijustreallylovesanderssides @redqueen29 @fire-flies-and-pattons-eyes @teaspoonfulofpatton @beneath-the-ash @thesynysterunknown @nightmarejasmine @i-like-cookiez @savemefrompainfulagony @randomfanderfriend @kingbumbles @spaceacesam @anxietywolf @enderperson43 @collie7700 @sassyshoulderangel319 @abigail-kaulitz

#Sanders Sides #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Thomas Sanders #Fan Fiction #AU #Mermaid AU #Dive Right In #Rogue Writes

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sharyrazade · 5 years

Text

Day -320

I’m gonna do something a little different here; part writing practice, part shameless self-promotion, and part gauging interest in future projects I’m playing with, I’m gonna start posting previews- excerpts from projects of mine.

While technically a flashback in-story, here, we’ve got Makoto and Yuuki in marriage counseling in the Children of Men!verse; so you know how big a dumpster fire that relationship was.

Tapping his fingers against his tablet nervously, Kentaro Masamura, while never a religious man in the slightest, prayed silently for one half of the estranged couple to at least begin to speak. Even if their first instinct was to explode on each other- he’d seen that with more than his share of couples in his line of work and he was trained to defuse said situations. But this tension- this unspoken enmity between in the room was enough to (figuratively) choke an elephant.

Fuck it, I can’t take this anymore. “So, first things first.” Masamura began, his tone unnaturally cordial. “When did you first begin to notice problems in your marriage? Mrs. Mishima, why don’t we begin with you?”

“Ms. Niijima.” Makoto corrected sternly, only glancing at her estranged husband through the corner of her eye. “And I couldn’t tell you; probably the day after the wedding.”

Yuuki scoffed in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah, why don’t we ask Makoto?” he began frustratedly. “After all, she knows EVERYTHING. Something she just LOVES making you aware of.”

Makoto grasped the couch’s armrest in irritation. “Well, Mister Tech Billionaire, I don’t see how it’s any different than those fancy cars you insist on driving or that penthouse you insisted on.”

At this, Yuuki’s expression was more angered than annoyed. “Only because you wouldn’t stop going on about how much you loved it!”

“I WAS TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!”

The therapist rubbed his temples in exasperation. “I hear a lot of talking past one another, but no real communicating.” remarked Kentaro upon the obvious. “Mr. Mishima- since your wife already went, why don’t we get your thoughts on when the problems started?”

Somewhat cooled off, Yuuki exhaled in exasperation. “I’m going to say...about a couple of months in?” he said tentatively. “After the ‘honeymoon phase,’ appropriately enough. I guess I noticed Makoto putting in even more hours at work than usual- kinda like she was avoiding me.”

The brunette scoffed dismissively. “Please!” she remarked, a noticeable hint of defensive cruelty in her tone. “You knew my job wasn’t exactly a part-time thing when I started. If you were going to be such a baby about it, maybe you shouldn’t have married me.”

“Oh, THAT’S the understatement of my life!” Yuuki complained. “You know mom tried to warn me about you? I SHOULD have listened to her!”

“So even when she’s not here, you’re such a mama’s boy, you bring in your passive-aggressive cunt of a mother to fight your battles?”

“How fucking DARE you talk about her like that?! And that’s rich coming from the woman who spent the past ten years giving her ‘best friend’ the cold-bitch routine on a regular basis!”

Once again sensing an impasse (or rather an impeding cliff), Kentaro gave a series of exaggerated coughs to interrupt the couple. “This is getting us nowhere.” he said, again remarking on the obvious. “I’m just going to be blunt about this question- how are things between you two- you know, in the bedroom?”

Immediately, the therapist regretted breaching the topic; the cold, hostile glares shared by both husband and wife told him he’d just skipped gleefully into a goddamned minefield. “Okaayyyy...when did you first start having issues there?”

“The wedding night.” Makoto and Yuki said in reflexive unison.

The therapist was visibly taken aback by said candor. “Wow, okay. So what caused such a rocky start to your sex life?”

Yuuki shrugged. “Ah, you know, the usual- it was always ‘I’m too tired,’ ‘I have a headache,’ or ‘maybe on the weekend.’ Basically, she’s a frigid, unavailable bitch.”

Makoto crossed her arms across her chest. “Maybe if you could stop being a thirsty little twerp for ten minutes, you could learn to take a hint. I actually am tired most of the time- it’s not JUST because you’re about as sexually appealing as that plant over there.”

Yuuki, while suspecting it on some level for some time now, wore an expression of genuine hurt at having Makoto’s true feelings confirmed by the woman herself. Kentaro, on the other hand, was justifiably perplexed. “Wait,” he began, furrowing his brow. “you NEVER discussed this kind of thing with each other?”

Both halves of the quarreling couple gave each other an equally-perplexed look before responding in kind once again. “No, never.” they both confirmed.

Kentaro scribbling away at his notes and becoming increasingly pessimistic as he did so, Makoto was the next to speak. “Besides, it’s not like you were suffering SO much.” she said carelessly. “We BOTH know you got plenty from those golddigging sluts all over you.”

Genuinely wounded and offended by this accusation, by this point, Yuuki was now more angry than anything. “Never, not once!” he exclaimed.

“Really? You never cheated once?”

“No! And that’s REAL fucking rich coming from you- remember when we went to Patong back in the summer?! The first actual orgasm you had in this marriage, you called me Akira, for fuck’s sake! And that’s not even getting into why we’re here in the first place!”

“It was a slip of the tongue and you KNOW it, you tiny little man!”

As a marriage counselor, Kentaro was privy to quite a bit about the lives of his clients, but it was still at their own discretion- understandably, he was feeling quite lost now that other names were being dropped. “Wait, who’s Akira, again?” he inquired.

Yuuki was still quite offended by his wife’s casual assertions of his infidelity- as though it were a given. Particularly hypocritical given the situation with a certain lady friend of hers, he fumed. For all those romantic, chivalrous-sounding vows they shared, Yuuki could feel his blood boiling- after all the pain and insecurities he’d shared with his wife, only to have her blurt them back in an effort to consciously belittle him- No, he wanted to hurt this woman sitting next to him.

“A mutual friend of ours who Makoto spent the past fifteen years carrying a torch for.” he informed smugly. “Got involved with another mutual friend of ours about as long ago and married her- Makoto’s been a condescending, passive-aggressive bitch to her ‘best friend’ ever since.”

Her expression momentarily betraying her wound at this divulging of some of her dirtiest social laundry, Makoto quickly reverted to a couple of her tried-and-true responses, among them her rather aloof default expression.

“Well, it can’t be THAT great a marriage.” she remarked snidely, wanting to change the subject but feel some self-righteousness from her venting. “You know he- they bring other women into their bedroom sometimes, right? Doesn’t sound a man too happy in his marriage if you ask me.”

Yuuki scowled, not having nearly the emotional skin as his wife did in this game. “What makes you so sure it’s for him?” he barbed, glowering at Makoto. “She was pretty upfront about being bisexual with him- kinda important information to have going in, you think?”

“Wait, hold on-” interrupted Kentaro, holding a hand up. “We’re discussing YOUR marriage right now- not theirs.”

At this statement, Makoto lost her composure, shooting upright and looming over her husband angrily. “Oh, and here we go!” she complained. “Yes, I fucked my best girlfriend and left you for her! Yes, I admit it! And you know something, I’d do it again! And again! And again! Do you know why? Because you know something about Haru? She is kind, she’s loyal, she’s humble, she’s caring- all for the sake of it! Everything you’re not! And by the way, she’s more of a man and lover than you could EVER be!”

“If I’m so pathetic and disgusting to you,” Yuuki raged. “why did you even bother to show up today?!”

“I don’t know! I’ve made so many mistakes with you, that would just be the latest!”

“Then why don’t you just get the hell out?!”

“MAYBE I WILL!”

“GOOD! Go on back to your poor little rich girl and your snotty, pretentious cafes, and your weekends in Paris and- whatever it is the fuck you two do to each other every night!”

Even before Makoto stormed from the office, slamming the door behind her, as a therapist and professional in general, it was pretty clear to Kentaro Masamura that he’d lost control of the situation completely the second their friend Akira came up- it had been undeniable once the word “bisexual” entered into the conversation.

Having cooled down somewhat, Yuuki sighed tiredly. “Sorry about that, doc.” he said apologetically. “What do I owe you for all the sessions- I kinda think this was a wash.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Kentaro replied.

“Nah, I insist- I subjected you to the oil fire that is my marriage, I’m going to compensate you for it.”

Hmm, an “oil fire.” That was a pretty good way of describing that utter disaster, the therapist conceded to himself. Kentaro Masamura did this job because he genuinely did believe in trying to preserve relationships when possible. Trying to preserve this one however, was not so much rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic- it was more attempting to bail out the ship with a drinking glass- from the bottom of the Atlantic.

#catherine atlus #persona series #persona 5 #yuuki mishima #makoto niijima #post-canon #children of men!verse #my writing #preview

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ezilyamuzed · 6 years

Text

1996

Summary: A teenage reader discovers that there is a case nearby her hometown, she goes to investigate finding much more than what she expected.

Word count: 4600ish

Warnings: Language. Mentions of blood. Angst? Fluff? (I don't know what to really call...this)

Pairing: teenage!Dean x teenage! Reader

A/N: This was written for Rose’s 1k Follower Challenge ( @waywardrose13). The prompt was “P1: I like your knife. I’m keeping it.” P2: “That was my favorite knife.” This was my first challenge, but I kind of liked where it went. As always I thank you for reading...whatever this is, and appreciate any feedback!

Friday, September 13th, 1996.

The news of Tupac’s Las Vegas shooting and impending death had taken over the news media for the last week. They barely had mentioned anything about another young girl’s disappearance within Whispering Woods, a seemingly quiet and isolated area just an hour away from your hometown. She was not the first girl to disappear though, by now there was at least 6 since the end of spring when travelers went with their families to an innocent camp out for the weekend. Daughters missing into the night, mostly in their late teens. No sign of them again. No bodies ever recovered. No trace of foul play.

You had a pang of guilt in your stomach as you drove up to your friend’s family cabin that hid in the middle of the woods. You didn’t exactly lie to your parents, more like excluded 90% of the truth. You were going to Celeste’s cabin, but not to have a girl’s weekend. You had work to do. They were so oblivious to what was going on. They didn’t know what was out there. They were the lucky ones. They had been so excited that you had shown interest in actually spending time with another person that they waved you off happily, filling your gas tank and packing your camping supplies.

After stopping to grab other provisions, mostly jerky, water, and sugary snacks, you arrived at the cabin about 6 o’clock at night. While Celeste had questioned you intensely about why you wanted to use it, she gave in while handing you the key. She just shrugged it as one of the weird things that you typically do by yourself but begged you to not leave it destroyed, or her parents would kill her. You promised you would keep it the same way you found it, after all, whatever was out there never left a trace…

After throwing all your stuff into the cabin, you decided that you should start casing out the area. The sun was still out, but you grabbed a flashlight and the pocket knife you had stolen from your dad 2 years ago... just in case. Birds were chirping happily above in the trees as you made your way through what seemed to have been an old man-made path through the trees. The light hitting the ground as it peaked through the tall branches overhead. Wood chips and discarded branches snapping under your sneakers as you made your way through cautiously. It was beautiful here. Honestly, if you weren’t here to find a girl grabbing monster, you would have allowed yourself to sit and enjoy the peacefulness and tranquility that surrounded you.

The sound of a steady stream of water running hit your ears and made you turn toward it. After pushing branches out of your way and ducking underneath some of them, you found yourself at the edge of a small creek. You noted from the watch on your wrist that you had already walked for over an hour, so you decided to allow yourself to sit for a quick 10-minute break. You leaned back using your hands to steady yourself upright as you let your head to fall back to take in your surroundings. Your eyes closed as you felt at absolute peace for once in your life. No one was around to bother you. That was the way you liked it.

A loud snap of a branch behind you made you jump to your feet quickly. When you turned your body to attack whatever was there you were met with bright green eyes widened in shock. A teenage boy, probably about a year or two older then you standing a foot away.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned while stepping back from the boy.

“Camping,” he said calmly. “What are you doing out here alone? You know it’s not safe for little girls to be wandering alone into the woods. Haven’t you ever read Red Riding Hood?”

You rolled your eyes at his remarks. “I’m not a little girl, I can take care of myself.”

“Uh huh,” he grunted while noting that you were a petite girl almost a foot shorter than him. “Well, Red, it’s almost dark so you should probably head back to your family before you get lost out here alone. I don’t really feel like finding anyone dead later.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you moved past his side to get back to the path towards the cabin. What a jerk he was by calling you little girl and Red after the children’s story. You were not a child, you could take care of yourself. You have before on plenty occasions.

As you walked back to the cabin, your thoughts were still going over your encounter with the boy. He was handsome…well actually more like fucking gorgeous. He had amazing bright green eyes with long lashes surrounding them. Little freckles subtly spread along his nose and cheeks. Tussled short light brown with hints of blonde hair. Wearing rugged dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt that was covered by an old leather jacket that was obviously too big for him. If you had met him anywhere else you would have wanted him to grab your number, maybe even take you on a date. You had met him in the middle of the woods though, where girls were missing. It also kind of creeped you out that he mentioned it wasn’t safe out here alone. Did he know something was going on? Was he somehow at the root?

As the cabin appeared in the distance, the weather shifted above sending little raindrops to fall down your shoulders. You cursed the weather, hoping that it didn’t continue or turn worse. It would be even harder to tell if something was out there, out to get you if the sound of rain overtook the area. When you finally stepped inside the cabin a crack of lightning startled you, causing you to slam the door behind you while securely fastening the locks. Great. Fucking great.

You changed your now wet clothes into an oversized tee and plaid pajama pants. The fireplace in the living room lit relatively quickly, allowing you to sit back into the old couch to rest and wait. It was going to be a long night of waiting. Maybe nothing would happen to you? Perhaps you had imagined that there was a case here in the first place? Your thoughts of all the articles that you were able to find at the library had given you a reason to at least investigate, but what if you were just trying to find trouble? The thoughts continued as you laid back your head, slowly falling into a deep sleep.

BOOM!

The loud sound of thunder made your eyes snap open out of your sleep. Your eyes focused on your watch stating it had been about 2 hours since you had gotten back. You turned your body to face the back of the couch as the sleepiness still fell over you. The creak of the wooden floorboard behind you made your body tensed up, almost frozen as you slowly reached into your pocket for the knife. As you quickly turned around lunging up you were able to snap it open and hit something hard in the darkness.

“Ow, God Dammit,” you heard a deep voice rasp. He stepped into the light of the fire that was slowly burning down, revealing the same boy you had seen earlier, now soaking wet, while observing the inch long cut across his forearm. “You got me good there sweetheart.”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” you yelled while still grasping the knife in your hand.

“There’s a storm out there.” He said while pointing to the door. “I got a bit lost and found the cabin. I was hoping to at least dry off and wait out the storm. Didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“The door was locked,” you stammered.

“Yeah, but the window to the bedroom wasn’t. You should really be more careful. You don’t want any crazies coming in,” he said with a little grin.

“Yeah, I think they already got in,” you sassed back. “I want you out now. My family is on there way here, and I will not be explaining a creep stalking me.”

“I’ll be out of here in a minute Red,” he said while sitting himself down by the fire. Tiny drops of blood started making their way out if the cut on his arm. “Well he can bleed, must at least be human,” you thought to yourself.

You got up and turned on the lantern that you had brought that barely illuminated the room. After rummaging through your bags for a moment, you found the little first aid kit your mom insisted that you brought with you. You sat down next to him and positioned his arm along your thighs so you could see if it was deep enough to need a stitch or if a Band-Aid would do the trick. His eyes watching you as you opened up an alcohol pad to clean it.

“Ow, that stung,” he cried.

“Oh shut up you big baby. You are lucky this was all you got,” you said while attending to his wound. “There all better.”

He glanced down at your work and flashed you a little half-smile. “Thanks, Doc.”

You nodded your head as you put picked up the little wrappers to throw them away. Another boom of thunder shook you as you walked towards the kitchen area. The storm was not letting down anytime soon, and you felt a bit guilt-ridden for wanting to throw this strange boy out into it. Your stomach was rumbling that you were hungry. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while either, so you went into the grocery bags to grab both of you something to eat. As you walked back, you tossed him a bottle of water along with a Slim Jim then reseated yourself on the couch away from him as you opened yours.

“Thanks,” he whispered while waiting for you to open yours.

“Welcome,” you said as you took a huge bite. He followed your lead and ate his within three bites.

“So what’s your name Red?” he asked while the fire glare bounced along his face.

“Now you're getting too personal there dude,” you said blatantly. “So why were you out in the woods, lost and alone during this crap storm?”

“I’m not alone…my dad and I split up to cover more…to look for wood,” he said sheepishly. He was definitely lying.

“Uh huh,” you replied sarcastically. “So you went out in the woods in search of wood, and got lost? All while looking like James Dean in your oversized leather jacket. What are you? The rebel without a clue?”

“I was out there for a job,” he stated. “My dad and I, well there is something out there bothering people, and we were just trying to find out what it was. Maybe stop it.”

Something out there. Those words rang in your ears. Who was this guy?

“So what do you think is out there?” you inquired while raising an eyebrow at him.

He started to look nervous as his pupils dilated. He recomposed himself by shifting his weight on the floor. “Probably just a bear sweetheart.”

“Hunting bears huh?” you said with a scoff. You turned your head to look out the window. The raindrops hitting it and trickling down fast. “I guess you can stay a while. Just keep your distance over there.”

He nodded and took off his boots that were heavy with water. The fireplace was slow to dry him off. You hesitated a minute before getting up to find some towels in the bathroom and pulling out an oversized pair of sweatpants and t-shit you brought just in case you needed it. As you handed him the items his face lite up in gratefulness while thanking you.

He pulled off his soaked t-shirt to reveal his bare chest that was well toned and defined. His muscles rippling along with his movements. Damn, he was built. He stood up to unbutton his jeans but looked over at you shyly while stopping himself. You rolled your eyes and went into the back bedroom while he finished changing. The windows all securely locked in there. You grabbed the little portable radio that sat on a dresser and brought it out with you. You stumbled through the static stations until one came in clear. You bobbed your head along to the beat as the song started up. He watching you intensely as you found yourself singing along.

Did you see the sky? I think it means that we've been lost Maybe one last time is all we need I can't really help it If my tongue's all tied in knots Jumping off a bridge is just the farthest That I've ever been Anywhere you go, I'll follow you down Anyplace but those I know by heart Anywhere you go, I'll follow you down I'll follow you down, but not that far

You stopped yourself as you noticed he was smiling while watching you sing and dance along.

“Don’t stop because of me Red, you looked like you were having fun there.”

You rolled your eyes as you plopped yourself back down on to the couch.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. You watched him as he was warming himself along the fire's flames, slowly bobbing his head along to the beat. He was a typical teenager alone in the woods just like you. Who would just leave their child to fend for themselves in these woods? Your parents would kill you if they knew you had been alone. They would straight up murder you if they knew you were now shacked up with a strange guy for the night.

How you gonna ever find your place Running in an artificial pace Are they gonna find us lying face down in the sand So what the hell now we've already been forever damned.

“So you from around here?” you found yourself asking.

“Nah, just passing through. From Kansas originally, but we move around a lot,” he said while turning his attention to you.

“Hunting bears huh?” you chuckled. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as a drop of water from his hair fell down his face. He quickly brushed it away with the towel you had given him. His eyes shined with the light of the fire as he watched you watching him. He gave a little shrug while gently folding it back up and placing it beside him.

“So you’re not a crazy psycho murderer right?” He gave you a look of surprise while chuckling out a no. “Just making sure,” you shrugged.

“Are you a crazy psycho murderer who leers young guys into your cabin?”

You shrugged up your shoulders quickly. “Maybe,” you smiled back.

He shook his head while laughing. “I don’t think I have to worry about you with that little pocket knife ya got. Although I do have to say it still stings.”

“Serves ya right! Breaking into someone’s home at night.”

“I did try to knock first, but the thunder was pretty loud. You must not have heard it.”

“Yeah, well with being unconscious and all…”

“Sorry again,” he replied while looking down in guilt while playing with his hands. He pulled on the bottom of the shirt that you gave him to examine the picture and writing. “So a Green Day fan huh?”

“Yeah of course,” you scoffed in surprise. “They have been around forever. Honestly more people should listen to them. I bet in like twenty years they will still be relevant.”

“They are alright,” he said with a little shrug. “Billie Joe is no Robert Plant.”

“Led Zeppelin fan huh?”

He looked at you in surprise while a grin widened on his face. He gave you an approving nod as he stood up and stretched up his arms while walking past you. The t-shirt revealing the bare lower half of his abdomen that met your eyes as he walked toward the window on the opposite side of the room. He played with it for a second making sure it was securely locked. He turned to you while leaning up against the wall.

“So what exactly is a girl like you doing out here anyway?”

“Meeting my family for a little vacation,” you lied.

“They just let you drive up here alone?”

“Yes.” Another lie.

He shook his head in disbelief. “You're like what 16 and hiding out in the woods by yourself?”

“Don’t be all sexist there Rebel. You are like my age, and your dad sent you off by yourself.”

“Touché.”

“Anyways, it’s not like I don’t know how to take care of myself. I’m not a child.”

“Yeah okay,” he said while rolling his eyes and turning his eyes back to look out the window. His body tensed up as he stood frozen in place. You didn’t notice as you had gotten up to yell at him.

“Where do you get off…”

“Ssshhh,” he motioned to you while his eyes stayed widened.

You slowly moved closer to see what exactly had this tall and muscular guy so scared. He moved over for you to look out into woods. Bright glowing eyes in the bushes in the distance.

“What in the hell…”

“That Red, is trouble,” he said while walking back towards the fire to grab a silver switchblade from his jacket pocket. He nodded over to you to turn off the radio, which you quickly did in response. What the hell was that out there? Glowing eyes…shifter…wolf…maybe a demon? As he rushed through the cabin quietly ensuring everything was securely locked you stood in the middle of the room puzzling over what was going to happen next. Honestly, you found yourself wondering if he had any clue that it probably wasn’t a typical creature out there, As he finished, he walked back to you standing in front of you with his arms crossed and seriousness on his face.

“Look I’m gonna be frank here, that is NOT a bear out there, hell it isn’t even really an animal. It’s here because you are here.”

“Me?” you stuttered as you looked at him in confusion. You knew damn well that the monster you were hunting was after teenage girls…but how could he of known that? Unless he was…

“You’re a god damn hunter aren’t you?” you gasped.

Your words surprised him. He furrowed his eyebrows at you causing crinkles within his forehead.

“You know?” he yelled. “You knew there was something out there grabbing up teenage girls and you came out here knowing it would be after you? Are you suicidal?”

His green eyes had filled with rage that someone would purposely put themselves in danger. “That was his job. How could a young girl do this to herself? Why would she do it?” He thought to himself.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a powerful shot of a gun outside made you jump into his chest that was followed by a horrible cry. He pushed you back behind him as he opened up the switchblade waiting for whatever would come through the door in front of him. The loud noises were muffled by the sound of the rain outside, but it sounded like a fight.

What was going on out there? Was that his dad out there with it? Was it coming in here? The thoughts all fled through your mind as you found yourself pulling closer into his back while he positioned himself in an attack stance. The noises of the fight had died down. It was quiet. Too quiet. He went to open the door, but you pulled his arm back.

“Don’t leave,” you whispered.

You knew he wanted to go. To see what had happened. To see if it was safe. He let out a deep sigh and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You let yourself fall into him, wrapping your arms around his back. He felt safe.

“I won’t go anywhere sweetheart,” he said while tilting his head to listen towards the door for any indication of presences outside. There was none. It was now silent. The only sounds were the fire cracking, your deep breathing, and his steady heartbeat. He pulled you away and led you toward the couch to sit. He stood above you watching if you were alright for the moment before he went to grab blankets from the bedroom. He threw a blanket over you and sat on the opposite side while throwing one over himself. You moved closer to him, leaning on his shoulder making him wrap his strong arm around you.

“Thank you,” you said calmly, feeling your nerves settling down. You looked up to his eyes that were still staying focused on the door. “What was that?”

“Leshy,” he replied while keeping his focus.

“What the hell is a Leshy?”

“Woodland spirit that likes to mess with people, get them lost…take young girls…” he said while looking back down to your eyes. “They are just one of many assholes in the wilderness Red.”

His eyes stayed with yours as you nodded to show that you understood. The gaze between the two of you started to make your heart beat faster again, causing your breath to slow down. You bite the upper part of your lip when as he looked away, biting the bottom of his. You couldn’t help yourself in being attracted to him, even when it was possible your life was in danger right at this moment. Hell if you were going to die any second, why shouldn’t you at least feel…something?

“I feel so stupid,” you muttered under your breath. His eyes glanced back to yours in confusion. “I should be out there. I’m supposed to be out there. I came here for it, and now I am cowering on the couch like a helpless little girl.”

He slowly shook his head to you. “You are not stupid for protecting yourself Red. You acted stupidly by coming up here in the first place looking for trouble. Don’t worry in the morning your family will be here with you.”

“Yeah, about that…that was a total lie. I mean do you really think I would have told you that it was only going to be me here?”

He shook his head again. “So why are you here then, alone? Why were you going to hunt down a thing you knew nothing about?”

You took a deep breath to pause before replying. “I don’t really know I guess. There is like a pull in me to help people. I’ve seen…other things before and have come out alive, but this…it’s new.”

“You are still young. Honestly, I say get out now while you can. This is no life to lead especially for a beautiful girl like you,” he said while gazing back to your eyes and pushing a strand of hair back behind your ear. He gave a little cough while turning his head towards the fire.

His comment made you feel your cheeks starting to blush along with your heart beating faster. Beautiful. A word you never heard from anyone else but your parents, and here was a stranger, a boy who made your heart race saying it. You cupped the side of his face with your hand and turned him back to yours. You took a deep breath and paused waiting to see if he was going to stop you. Instead, you felt his strong hand grab the back of your neck, pushing your lips onto his. It was slow and steady, both of you parting your lips gently as you fell into one another, allowing your tongues to explore. You felt yourself slowly falling on your back as his hands guided you down. He moved his body over yours while still embracing you slowly. When your back hit the seat fully, he stopped and placed his forehead onto yours while breathing hard.

“I’m sorry…” he started to whisper.

You leaned up to him and gave him a quick kiss again on his swollen lips.

“It’s okay. I wanted that. If something is going to happen, I didn’t want to go without…knowing,” you quietly said.

He sat up on his knees, while you rolled to the edge of the couch to allow him to lay himself beside you. He moved his arm around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. Even with wearing your t-shirt, you could smell his subtle cologne that made you bury your head deeper into him. He was intoxicating. You couldn’t help but think if after this you would ever see him again? The notion of the possibility was filled with happiness, which was quickly followed by the dread of the unlikelihood. The two of you laid in silence until both falling into a blissful sleep.

The sounds of birds chirping happily outside woke you out of your sleep. It woke him up as well as he started to rub the sleep out of his eyes while adjusting to the brightness of the sun entering through the windows.

“Is it over?” you asked while propping yourself up on your hand and looking towards the door. He moved you over and got up to go and investigate. He opened the door and walked out still barefoot. He stepped back in and nodded to you. You pulled on your sneakers while he grabbed his things that were now dried by the fire. He went to pull off the shirt, but you told him to keep it.

“Keep it huh?”

“Yeah, take it as a token of my gratitude for protecting me last night.”

“I feel like I should give you something in return still.”

You pursed your lips to the side while thinking about all he has already given you. Protection, warmth, kindness and that kiss. You looked around him at the ground and saw his knife lying next to his feet.

“I like your knife. I’m keeping it,” you said while motioning to it with a grin on your face.

He hesitated before picking it up and walking it over to your hands. “That was my favorite knife.”

“And now it will be mine,” you replied while holding it steady in your hand.

“It’s for the best,” he shrugged. “If you run into any more trouble it will definitely help you a lot more then that little pocket knife.”

There was a rumble of an engine in the distance that he directed his eyes to. His head hung down in disappointment that this was it. The job was done.

“You're leaving now huh?” you said while staring down at the knife.

He pushed himself closer to you, gently raising your chin up to look at his face. He leaned in and gave you a slow but passionate kiss. He pulled himself away from your lips and moved past you towards the door.

“Stay safe Red. I’ll see ya around…someday” he replied while walking out the door.

You slowly walked to the window to see him get into an old black car that was mostly hidden by the trees and bushes. There goes your protector. The strange boy you had fallen for. The boy whose name you never even knew.

You would often think about that night, that Friday the 13th that was a part of your beginning. The start of the hunts that went on for many more years. You no longer found yourself afraid as you always carried around the silver switchblade in your pocket. Because with it, he was always with you.

#rose1kchallange #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #fanfic #young dean winchester #monster hunting #friday the 13th #leshy #gin blossoms #anywhere you go #1996

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