throw trucks

food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

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Steve Rogers and his confused mind

Steve: “Don’t question our orders, just follow them, Tony!” - Avengers

Also Steve: “I disagree with the 117 countries and so have decided to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Thanks.” - CW

Steve: “My teammates don’t tell me things” - AOU

Also Steve: “I knew about Bucky and your parents but decided to not say anything or tell you ever” -CW

Steve: “Wanda’s just a child!!” (yes, let’s pretend she’s not like 25) 

Also Steve: “I’m from Brooklyn lol” he says as he tries to throw a truck at Peter, who he can see is a young child (a real CHILD this time)

STEVE: DOESN’T know that the first dead guy Tony saw in his PTSD hallucination that his lil daughter Wanda gave Tony was HIM, and she was the reason Ultron was created btw -_-


And Then We Were Chasing Comets

That same, elusive shrug. “It’s a secret, princess.” He says pointedly, snagging the book from her before throwing the truck into park, “But you’ll be the first to read it once it’s done, okay?”

“Wow,” she says, nodding. “I’m honored.”

 A beat as he sizes her up, his brows furrowing together in exasperation before he says, weary, “You’re going to ask me what it’s about again, aren’t you?”

 “Bellamy,” she says obediently, grinning, “what’s your book about?”

 If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her.

 (Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.)

Read on AO3//

In his address to Congress last week, President Trump said this about the kinds of people his immigration agents are singling out for deportation:

“We are removing gang members, drug dealers and criminals that threaten our communities and prey on our very innocent citizens. Bad ones are going out as I speak.”

Then why, some Houstonians are asking, did immigration agents target Piro Garcia, the owner of two popular taco trucks on the city’s south side?

“Hi friends, good afternoon! I’m Piro, making fresh gorditas for you,” says the grinning taco king of South Post Oak Road, on an old Facebook video. He’s wearing a red ball cap, standing inside his taco truck, throwing dough on the grill.

Piro is Armando Garcia Mendez, 41 years old. He was born in Guatemala and fled to the United States in 1994 to avoid conscription by the armed forces in the midst of a civil war. He was caught by the Border Patrol and deported the first time. Then he tried again, and made it to Houston.

Garcia has spent the last 23 years living out the immigrant success story. He started as a restaurant cook and went on to own two taco trucks.

But last month, his life changed abruptly.

Piro’s Taco Trucks Are Beloved. Now He’s Facing Deportation

Photo: John Burnett/NPR

Airport Battle CACW

I rewatched the airport battle scene and counted up total damages Team Cap did to the Leipzig Airport (in chronological order because I’m cool!! XD). And an additional note, THAT WAS ALL GERMAN PROPERTY! Team Cap came in and trashed an international airport probably resulting in billions of damage costs! Tony came to negotiate and this is what Team Cap did (TO A FUCKING AIRPORT). And I actually care about laws, unlike Steve.

- Wanda dropped at least 15 civilians’ cars onto solid asphalt from about 7 stories high and those cars crashed through the steel bar/gate barriers

- Sam destroyed a help desk inside the terminal

- Steve and Scott helped each other enlarge that “water truck” and it smashed against the concrete and exploded

- Wanda used her magic to throw 2 trucks and something else (it looked like a concrete block or a ramp thing) at Peter

- Wanda used her magic to throw T’Challa into a jetway (severely denting it)

- Steve dropped an entire jetway onto Peter and used his shied to break a support pole

- Scott kicked a bus at T’Challa and Vision (the bus smashed into another truck and a car, also destroying them)

- Scott tore of the wing of an airplane

- Scott kicked two carts full of wooden boxes (probably cargo)

- Scott stepped on a truck

- Scott slapped Rhodey onto a jetway (denting it)

- Scott picked up the entire jetway and swung it at Rhodey, crushing it in the process

- Scott stepped on another truck

- Scott threw Peter onto a pile of wooden boxes (more cargo?)

- Steve and Bucky stole the jet thing and escaped (THAT IS AIRPORT PROPERTY)

- Scott smashed his arm onto the partly destroyed airplane

There’s way more, but that was all I got for now.

Now lets calculate this shit out.

15 cars Wanda dropped- The average cost of a car in 2016 is about $33,560. Now $33,560 times 15 is $503,400 (note that Wanda might have dropped more than 15 cars.

Airport help desk that Sam smashed (including merchandise in the desk)-I dunno how much a help desk is worth but I’ll add $1100 more onto the total costs (I’m being generous, do you have any idea how much window repairs cost)

2 trucks that Wanda thew at Peter-  average cost of a truck in 2016? About $39,000 or so. $39,000 times 2 is $78,000.

Truck Scott and Steve enlarged and exploded- Add $39,000 to damage costs.

Jetway that Wanda threw T’Challa in- This is the same jetway that Scott destroys later so it won’t be counted here.

Jetway Steve dropped on Peter plus the support pole he snapped- One jetway costs about $300,000. Support pole damage add $1000.

Bus that Scott kicked at T’Challa and Vision (the bus smashed into another truck and a car, also destroying them)- Buses costs about from $300,000 to $600,000 each so we’ll just add $500,000. Plus another $33,560 and $39,000 for the car and truck.

Airplane Scott pretty much irreplaceably damaged- One standard commercial  airplane costs between $51,000,000 to $87,000,000. Lets add $70,000,000 to the total damage costs. 

Wooden boxes of cargo- Who knows whats in there? Could be expensive stuff or vegetables. I’m gonna add another $2000 for cargo and box damage. (again, being generous. There were at least 20 wooden boxes)

Truck Scott steps on- add $39,000.

Jetway Scott swung at Rhodey- add $300,000

Another truck Scott steps on- add $39,000.

More cargo- less boxes were destroyed this time though, so we’ll add $1000 more 

Jet that Steve and Bucky stole- technically it wasn’t destroyed so we won’t add any damage costs, but for your information, that’s a felony. 

Scott add more damage to already destroyed plane- It’s destroyed already.


$503,400 + $1100 + $78,000 + $39,000 + $300,000 + $1000 +$500,000 + $33,560 + $39,000 + $70,000,000 + $2000 + $39,000 + $1000

$71,537,060 give or take several million bucks (because I was generous) 

Now let’s think a little more. Team Cap has literally no way of paying for all this damage. They are fugitives and if the pool up all their bank savings can maybe cover a third of the costs. 

Now guess who would feel responsible and pay off the the damage even though HE CAME TO NEGOTIATE AND NOT FIGHT?

That’s right, Tony Stark. 

He doesn’t even have to, but Tony would shoulder all the costs for his SHITTY TEAMMATES THAT DON’T GIVE TWO FUCKS ABOUT HIM. 

(note: I may have gotten some of the costs wrong but you get the point)

(another note: This is just the Leipzig airport. I’m not gonna even think of the damage costs in Bucharest when Steve purposely collapsed a tunnel, hijacked a car, and endangered dozens of civilians. Or in Berlin when Steve had attacked and severely injured several of members of the German police and military and illegally trespassed in German territory. Or in Johannesburg when Wanda purposely used her magic to manipulated Bruce and set the Hulk onto heavily populated city streets. Or the disaster in Lagos. Or Wanda’s involvement in the creation of Ultron that lead the the tragedy in Sokovia.) 

Peace out Tumblrers!

The one with all the sass

Summary: You want to learn how to drive a manual vehicle, and Bucky offers to teach. Things don’t go smoothly.

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 1,620

Warnings: Language (reader is a potty-mouth)

A/N:  Much of this is done conversation style, hopefully it’s easy to follow along.

Originally posted by anne-the-nerd

Number 3: Learn how to drive a manual vehicle.

It was on your resolutions list, one of those goals that stubbornly remained in the top three, year after year after year. Every January, you dutifully copied it onto the fresh handwritten note you posted on the mirror in your bedroom, underlining it three times because dammit, this was it, this was the year you would finally succeed.

Six years later, you were once again within sight of the year’s end, having made no progress, except for drawing angry little stick-figures on the offending post-it note (you swore it was mocking you). After overhearing you complain about your inability to tackle this particular task, Bucky had surprisingly volunteered to teach you the basics. Admittedly, you questioned whether this was a good idea. The two of you were well known among…well, everyone…for a disturbing lack of patience with each other. However, if he was willing to lend a hand, who were you to say no.

So here you were, on a bright, cold November morning, sitting in a faded blue ‘68 Ford pick-up Bucky had nostalgically purchased from an estate sale. A massive (and blessedly empty) parking lot stretched in front of you, leaving plenty of open room for mistakes.

Bucky had driven you out, and after swapping places, he now he sat in the passenger seat, you in the drivers. Bouncing a little on the dusty cloth seats, the rusted springs squeaking indignantly, you got yourself comfortable and turned expectantly toward him.

“Alright, what do you do first?” he asked, sounding irritatingly similar to the older brother you never actually had, but always felt certain you would throat punch if he existed.

“First, I push in the clutch to start – ” your confident recitation was immediately cut off.

“Wrong. First you put your seatbelt on.” Bucky said flatly, eyebrows raised.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Alright yes, first I put my seat belt on.” You pulled the shoulder belt down, the lap belt across, and snapped both into place with a sharp click. “Okay, now I push in the clutch –“

“Wrong. Next you check all your mirrors.”

You stared at him. Well this was going to be interesting.

“Seriously? Is this how this lesson is going to work?”

“Yes, because the basics are still important. If you don’t follow the rules, you could die.”

“And we don’t think that’s just the teeniest bit dramatic?”

“No. We don’t.”

You sighed. Bucky Barnes was stubborn as hell, so if this was his approach to teaching, clearly it would be simpler to humour him. But really, when did you ever make things simple?

“Alright fine, safety first. I brought my safety glasses along, so hang on and let me grab those, and should I get out my kneepads and helmet too, or…?”

“Your sass is not appreciated. Fix the mirrors.”

With a dramatic flourish, you checked each side mirror four times, and wiggled the rear-view mirror back and forth for a full 30 seconds, until you were happy. Bucky watched patiently from the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap, a smirk twisting his lips.

Finally you were settled. “Okay. My seatbelt is on, and I can see for miles in every direction. No possibility for sneak attacks from a rogue Prius. Now – I push the clutch in all the way, and start the truck.” You turned the key, the truck spluttering to life, as you turned to him with a grin. “By the way, you never told me I’d be learning on a truck born before the invention of electricity.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. “If you’re gonna mock her, we can stop this lesson right now.”

“Kidding, kidding, she’s remarkable. A beauty. A testament to the ingenuity of the historic American manufacturing machine.”

“I’m sorry, remind me what I said about sass?”

“That you love it and I’m adorable? No? Sorry. Anyway, so now I put it into first.” You grasped the stick and maneuverer from neutral into first gear, Bucky visibly flinching at the grinding squeal the gears make as they catch.

“When you’re done stripping the gears, slowly let out the clutch and gently press the gas at the same time.”

Tossing an annoyed glance in his direction, you gripped the wheel tightly and slowly swapped the pressure, left leg to right, lightly toeing the gas pedal. With an almighty lurch, the truck leapt forward and died.

Christ. You could feel your earlier confidence rapidly leaving the building. Bucky just grinned, shaking his head. “It’s okay, common mistake. Try again.”

Dropping back into neutral, it took another three attempts to get the truck into first gear and actually moving forward.

Whooping excitedly, you gave a little wiggle in the seat as you rolled forward, picking up speed. “Fuck yeah, I’ve totally got this.”

“Alright speed racer, simmer down.” Bucky noted dryly. “You’ve gone 15 feet. Give it a little more gas, so you can switch into second.”

The excitement of momentary success briefly overshadowed perspective, and your foot stomped down on the gas pedal, throwing the truck forward and forcing your seatbelt to bite into your shoulder. Mercifully, you managed to keep it from stalling again, but suddenly you’re going faster. Your heart jumped, hammering in your ears and you felt sweat prickle on your forehead.

“Alright, I can smell the clutch burning, stop riding it.”

“You stop riding it!”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense!


“Shit, I don’t fucking know, I’m panicking! How do I not ride the clutch?” You took your hands off the wheel briefly, putting air-quotes around the phrase “ride the clutch” and Bucky’s voice rose several octaves as he shot a hand out to take the wheel.

“What the hell are you doing, always keep your hands on the wheel! Ten and two at all times!”

Huffing loudly you slapped his hand away and took back control, his panic causing your nerves to snap, and your voice sharpened in response. “Bucky, it’s an empty parking lot, what the hell do you think will happen?”

Bucky looked nervously around – true, it was huge and empty, although there was a row of parking curbs and a couple shopping carts strewn about, all which suddenly became rather ominous targets. “I don’t know, a fiery crash and a slow burning death maybe?”

You roll your eyes, the sarcasm flooding your voice as the conversation between you both escalated. “Oh look, you’re hilarious. Could you maybe try to be a bigger drama queen?”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being realistic. Statistically the odds of dying in a car crash are higher – ”

“For fuck’s sake, please stop speaking, unless you can pull – out of your ass please – the statistics for total number of people who died of boredom waiting for the world’s oldest truck to go faster than a speeding snail.”

Neither of you are paying attention to the landscape at this point, although the truck continued to move along at a decent pace, choosing instead to sling colourful insults at each other, growing more and more childish with each turn of phrase. With an exasperated groan (following your standard ‘that’s what she said’ response), Bucky glanced out the window and in the next moment, threw out a metal hand to your left leg, gripping your knee and yanking it toward him, effectively sweeping both feet away from the pedals. The truck jerked to an immediate stop, shuddering before falling silent.

In the silence you freeze, panting slightly, before whipping around angrily. “What the actual fuck Bucky Barnes?! I had it under control, it was a god damn parking curb, what did you think would –” your rant is just starting to build up steam, but doesn’t get any further.

With a thoroughly frustrated growl, Bucky lunged forward, smashing his lips into yours. A smart way to shut you up, you had to admit. Your response was immediate and enthusiastic, heart racing for a new reason entirely, shivering slightly as Bucky’s beard scrapes along your cheek when he turns toward you. With a tangle of hands and tongues, you fought each other for control, before he pulled back to take a breath, resting his forehead against yours, and leaving you both slightly shocked at the turn of events.

“About fucking time,” you whisper. “I swear to god, you’ve been pushing my buttons for far too long without delivering. If I had known I needed to crash your truck to get a response, I would have tried that sooner,” your fingers twisted in his hair, holding him a breath away. “Did you see your life flash before your eyes?”

Bucky snorts, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I swear to god woman, your fucking mouth,” he mutters with a grin, his hand still holding tight to your knee. “I can think of fifty better uses for it, beyond the ridiculous amount of sass and swearing you seem to have on autopilot. Maybe we head back and agree a few alternatives.”

You’re inclined to agree, it seems like the only logical solution considering you nearly died today, but there’s one minor issue. “I still can’t drive a manual. What the hell happens if I go somewhere and this is the only thing available? What am I supposed to do then?”

Bucky reaches to release your seat-belt and wraps an arm around you, easily dragging you across his lap (pausing a moment to give you a suggestive look), before depositing you in the passenger seat and sliding himself behind the wheel. Effortlessly, he starts the truck, flicks the stick into first, and smoothly takes off, before throwing you a cheeky grin. “I’ll teach you how to ride a bicycle.”

You glare at him.

“By the way baby – put your seat-belt on.”

(Peter Parker x Reader): Criminal

Summary: You were on Team Cap for the fight in Germany, but it turns out you had a connection to a certain spiderling on the other side. With you in prison and then hiding Peter doesn’t know what to do.

A/N: Gets a bit angsty so be prepared. Still debating if I’ll continue this.

 “Wanda, please,” You begged, pleading with the other girl as you ran up to where she was laying in Vision’s arms, ‘We need to go - now.” You were losing, badly, Wanda had collapsed, and you’d lost sight of your other teammates.

“No. We stay with the team. We will lose this battle.” Wanda replied as you helped her stand up as Vision slowly moved away.

“But-” You start, trying to protest. You’d already found an easy escape route to take.

“Steve got away.” Wanda says, cutting you off, “We completed the mission. That’s how we do things around here. We’re a team so we stick together.” 

Before you could argue back you were surrounded by guards. It was too late for hiding now.

“Wanda, what should I do?” You asked, panicked as you looked around nervously. You’d never seen someone point a gun at someone else before, let alone at you.

“We surrender.” She replied, pulling herself to her feet shakily, placing her hands on her head.

You glanced around again, scanning the rest of the airport, hoping for someone else from your team to help you out. You looked around only to see all of the others already in handcuffs being shoved into a heavily armed truck.

You made eye contact with Clint for a fleeting moment. You could tell that this man, the man who had asked you to come fight this war could see the fear in your eyes and all you could see in his own eyes was regret.

You reluctantly placed your hands on your head and allowed them to restrain you before throwing you into the truck with the others, each of you in your own personal cage.

Despite your insistence that you would come willingly you were forced onto a cot and strapped down. At times you could hear the others so you knew that they were in cells close by. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

“-Tony Stark.” You hear Clint say loudly, and judging by the bitterness in his tone the man himself was actually here, “You better watch your back on this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it.” You heard as you forced yourself out of the daze you’d been in. 

“How dare you-”

“Are you kidding me, Tony? They’re kids and you’re treating them like animals.” Clint replies angrily, his paternal instincts coming out as he argues about the two teen girls.

“With no suit, wings or arrows, you’re nothing.” Tony says, “Those girls are fully armed and dangerous.”

“Mr. Stark?” You called out straining to lift your head off the cot with your arms still chained down, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who was responsible for you being here, “Huge honor by the way, is there any chance of you letting us go? Because I have a massive Physics test on Wednesday and my teacher is going to kill me if I don’t show up.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” He taunts as you see him saunter over.

“Oh come on, I know you’re reading my file on that watch of yours.” You reply, rolling your eyes, “(Y/N) (L/N),  Midtown School of Science and Technology, Sophomore, honor roll, super speed. It’s all there.”

“Along with a series of behavior reports from your foster parents,” Tony Stark adds.

“See? I may be chained down but I’m not an idiot.” You reply with a slight smirk, “If you’re not going to let us go, can you tell Parker that I’m going to miss the robotics competition?”

“Parker-how do you know about him?” He asks quickly, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and surprise causing you to grin, glad that you have his attention.

“Don’t worry, I just snuck a peek under the mask during the fight, his voice sounded familiar.” You explain, “We’re friends, we go to school together -I’d be surprised if he didn’t figure out who I am too- but that’s not the point, the point is that I’m on the drive team for robotics so they need to find somebody to replace me.” You told him, thinking of the scrappy geek of a friend that with no doubt was back at school already and hopefully wondering where you were.

 But Tony Stark was already walking away and you let your head fall back onto the cot, “Well, fuck you,” You muttered, realizing that no one would even know where you were.

“She’s where?!” Peter practically yelled into his phone, confused and angry, “Doesn’t she have to get a trial or something?”

“They’re considering them weapons of mass destruction. Those don’t get trials.” Tony’s detached voice told him.

“But she’s just a kid!” Peter protested.

“And so are you, but you two have abilities, those abilities make you different and hold you to a higher level of responsibility, you accepted that responsibility and so has (Y/N), now she has to face those consequences.” Tony explained.

“But-” Peter started to say before getting cut off.

“This wasn’t a game Peter, this was an all out war, and it makes her a criminal, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about it.” Tony said before hanging up, leaving Peter dumbfounded, confused, and just generally unsure of what to do. How could he help her? It so painful to think of (Y/N) being held in some sort of insane prison when there were actual criminals being allowed to run free. Not to mention the fact that Peter had been developing a bit of a crush on you, he felt like he had to save her.

You were restless, all of the pent up energy you had meant that you couldn’t sleep or even think clearly. You didn’t realize you were being broken out until the cuffs around your wrists and legs that you’d grown so accustomed to were suddenly opened.

Before you could mentally respond your body was sitting up right, “Oh thank god,” I cried as you launched yourself out of the door to your cell and into the open where you wrapped your arms around Steve, enveloping him in a tight hug before running to Wanda’s side, helping her out of her own cell and the straightjacket they’d put her in.

Minutes later you were sitting in the Quinjet with the rest of the team, Wanda was sitting quietly next to you (she still hadn’t said anything to anyone so you were just waiting it out), Clint was standing a ways away talking on a burner phone to his wife and kids, Scott was sleeping on a row of seats, and Sam was up front with Steve and Bucky.

“What do you mean they broke out? What’s going to happen to her? Is she going to be safe?” Peter asked, each question rapidly succeeding the other as he stood with Tony outside of Rhodey’s rehabilitation center.

“We’re not sure where they are or how exactly they got out, but she’s with Cap so she’s safe. Steve mentioned her specifically in his letter with specific hopes that you would know that she was okay.” Tony told the young man.

“What should I do? What can I do?” Peter asked, looking to his mentor for advice.

Tony sighed, unsure of what to say, “For now? Replace her on the robotics team, I’ll see if I can’t find a way for her to get back.”

You were wandering T’Challa’s mansion (it was the only place you were allowed to go freely since you and the rest of the team were still wanted criminals and with your powers you couldn’t handle sitting still for more than an hour) when you came across Steve.

“Captain Rogers,” You greeted him, “I really appreciate the whole breaking me out of maximum security prison thing, but when do I get to go home?” You asked. You obviously didn’t want to go back to The Raft, but you were feeling really cooped up and just wanted to get back to some semblance of your old life.

“(Y/N)…You can’t, they’re looking for you, for all of us. If you go back they’ll find you and throw you back in prison.” Steve told you.

“I have a life, school, friends back in Queens. What will they think if I just disappear like this?” You asked, surely people were still confused as to where you had disappeared to.

“We got some intel on that, when you were arrested they told your foster parents and school you were arrested on drug charges.” Steve told you, giving you that look of pity that people who felt bad about your situation always gave you.

“So no one cares that I’m gone.” You replied with sigh, you’d only been at this last home a few months, of course they wouldn’t care to look into what happened to you, you were just another troubled kid to them.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), with your record it seems like everyone accepted it would happen. I know it’s not fair. Considering the fact that you know that spiderman kid, there’s no way you can go back to your old life and pretend none of this happened.” He said before pulling you into an awkward hug before walking away.

You knew Steve was right, you’re not stupid. But it didn’t change the fact that you were standing in Wacanda with no hope of freedom. Would you ever see Peter again?

L&E 05 - T E A S E R

hey guys so some of you might know that today was the 1 year anniversary since i last updated l&e and as shitty as that makes me feel, i really wanted to post something l&e related for you guys. unfortunately i couldn’t finish the actual chapter since i literally haven’t had the down time to do so, but i thought maybe a little teaser would be better than nothing. it’s really short and is grossly unedited (and will probably be changed a bit in the final cut) but it’s something! love yall <3

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Feel Better (M)

Originally posted by mixedangel

a/n: tumblr hates me

warning(s): Just a lotta smut, but what’s new

theme: After you get a little jealous and miss Jaebum’s performance, you feel bad for missing it, and decide you should make it your mission to lift his spirits.

word count: 2k

“I know, I just want to make sure everyone knows just who you belong to.”

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One Saved Message

Summary: A Supernatural AU. Dean is in love with his best friend, the Reader. He confesses his love for the Reader to his mother, only to realize at the last minute that he’s butt-dialed the Reader and his entire confession has been recorded and sent to the Reader in a voicemail.

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Baker!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2,664

Warnings: None. Except a poorly edited chapter, and a writer’s first post of her work on tumblr.

Inspiration: Episode 2x02 of the television series Baby Daddy.

Gif Credit: [x]


Please do not post any of my work on any other websites. Thank you.

Feedback of any kind is welcome and highly encouraged.

Thank you for taking the time to read my writing.


Dean slides out from underneath the pickup truck he was working on, reaching for a dirty rag to wipe the grime and oil from his hands as he pushes himself from the concrete ground. Small pebbles crunch underneath his heavy work boots as he trudges towards his office, grumbling to himself as he begins to take notice of his appearance. His blue jumpsuit is soiled with oil stains, dirt, and sweat. His soft light brown hair is disheveled and matted with sweat, a few lone strands clinging to his damp forehead. His cheeks are flushed crimson and his face slack with exhaustion, both clear indicators of the strenuous labour he endured the entire morning.

“Rough morning?” Benny, Dean’s newest employee, asks as he leans under the hood of a Chevrolet.

“You have no idea,” Dean answers with the shake of his head. “The truck’s taking a lot longer to finish than I expected.”

Benny shrugs, pursing his lips. “I hate to say it, but I warned you to not take the job, boss.”

A heavy sigh tumbles from Dean’s lips. “I know, I know,” he brushes his fingers through his soft blonde locks, tugging lightly at the strands in frustration. “But I couldn’t exactly say no, Benny. You know that.”

“You were reluctant to take the job, boss.” Benny replies, bracing his elbows against the hood of the car. “That was the case until Y/N came in and asked if you’d be willing to take a look at her new boyfriend’s truck.”

“She’s my best friend, Benny,” Dean argues. “Has been since we were five.”

“I understand, boss,” Benny answers, grabbing his wrench and leaning under the hood of the car again, as he wraps the tool around a bolt in the engine and begins flicking his wrist to loosen it. “But whether she is your best friend or not, you are under no obligation to work on her boyfriend’s truck, especially one that has been looked at by half the mechanics in town and is better off being thrown in a salvage yard.”

“I know you’re in love with her, boss,” Benny continues, removing the wrench from the loosened bolt and stepping back from the hood, wrench in hand. “Anyone with a pair of eyes can see it.” He walks to the table where wide arrangements of tools are spread out, placing the wrench on it and grabbing a set of small pliers. “But that doesn’t mean you have to slow your business down and turn down potential clients you can’t take on because you’re too busy working on her boyfriend’s truck.”

“Well, it’s too late to back out now, isn’t it?”

“It’s not too late, boss,” Benny shrugs a shoulder, eying the pair of pliers in his hands, in an attempt to avoid meeting Dean’s gaze. “You could always tell her the truth, that the truck can’t be fixed and it would do her boyfriend some good if he got rid of it and started looking for a new car.”

“But what if I can find a way to fix it?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, boss,” Benny replies. “You’ve been at this truck for two weeks now and haven’t made any progress. It would do you and the business some good if you told her the truth and began accepting new clients again.”

Dean nods his head, lips pursing into a thin line. “I know. I just hate disappointing her.”

“Sometimes you have to do what’s best for you,” Benny murmurs, a sympathetic smile grazing his lips. “Even if it means disappointing the people you love once in a while.”

“You’re right,” Dean concedes with a sigh, resting one hand on his hip, as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger with his other hand. “I’ll give her a call tonight after my shift ends. Can’t afford to lose any more clients than I already have.”

“You do that,” Benny mutters, absentmindedly fiddling with the pair of pliers in his hands. “By the way, Y/N came by a while ago. Said she was looking for you. I told her she could wait for you in your office until it was time for your lunch break.”

Dean nods his head, spinning around on his heel and heading towards his office. He twists the doorknob, opening the door and steps into his office before shutting the door after himself. Just as Benny had told him, Dean finds you in his office, patiently waiting for him.

You are sitting behind his desk, reclining back in his chair; legs clad in faded skin-tight denim are crossed at the ankles and propped on his desk. His vivid green eyes, which are often speckled with small flecks of gold within the iris due to the light reflecting in them, slide up the length of your body, drinking in every inch of it. From the curve of your denim clad butt, to the swell of your ample breasts straining against your low-neck shirt, until his gaze settles on your face.

“Y/N/N, to what do I owe you the pleasure?” Dean asks, as he begins to unbutton the buttons of his blue jumpsuit.

“What, I have to have a valid reason to visit my best friend at work?” you retort, a playful smile curling at your lips. You uncross your ankles, sliding your feet from Dean’s desk, and straighten your posture, leaning forward in his chair, and brace your elbows on his desk, clasping your hands together. “I just wanted to check in with you,” you answer. “To see how you were doing with Jake’s truck, and whether or not you managed to do what the other incompetent, and inexperienced mechanics in Lawrence failed to do.”

A grim smile tugs at Dean’s lips. “Y/N/N, look, you know me better than anyone else. And you know that I hate lying to you, so I’m gonna be honest with you. Jake’s truck can’t be fixed. The parts needed to fix it will cost him at least a couple thousand dollars.” Dean explains. “If you take my advice, your boyfriend would be better off throwing this truck at a salvage yard where its decent, usable parts can either be recycled or used to fix other cars. You should tell him to start looking for a new truck.”

“But you said you could fix the truck, Dee,” you respond.

“Well, it turns out that I can’t,” Dean answers with the shrug of his shoulders.

The smile on your lips falters, the light in your eyes dimming. “But I thought –”

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N, but there’s nothing I can do,” Dean replies, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips. His heart constricts within his ribcage, a twinge of pain gnawing at the delicate organ, at the mere sight of you. Ever since you had both been five, you unknowingly had Dean wrapped around your little finger, to the extent that he would do everything within his power to ensure a smile adorned your face at the end of the day.

“For the past two weeks, I’ve made Jake’s truck my main priority. I’ve declined many potential clients because I was trying to find a way to fix his truck, because you asked me if I could. But now, I have to look after my business. I can’t risk losing any more clients that I already have because I’m busy working on a truck that’s better being thrown in a salvage yard.”

A demoralizing sigh tumbles past your lips; as you stand from Dean’s chair, leaning down to retrieve a small white box and your purse from the floor. “Well, I appreciate the help, Dean,” you murmur, a ghost of a smile grazing your lips, although it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You settle the white box on his desk. “Here, I brought you one of my pies. Cherry.” You shoulder your purse, rounding Dean’s desk and heading for the door. “It’s fresh right out of the oven. Baked it myself this morning.”

“Thanks Y/N/N,”

You shake your head, the hint of a smile on your lips widening slightly. “I should be the one thanking you, Dee,” you spare a glance at Dean over your shoulder, your fingertips brushing against the brass doorknob. “You spent twice as long on Jake’s car than most of the other mechanics we went to. If anything, I should be grateful you didn’t turn down the job like all of them did. Hope you like the pie,”

Dean chuckles, winking at you. “You know I will,”

“Make sure to tell me what you think,” you murmur, a soft giggle tumbling from your lips at his blatant attempt to flirting with you. “It’s a new recipe.” You twist the doorknob, opening the door to reveal Dean’s mother, Mary.

One of her hands is raised, hand curled into a loose fist and knuckles facing towards the door, a few seconds away from knocking on the door. Braced in the crook of her elbow and on her forearm are a few containers piled one atop the other, the insides steamed from condensation, as you caught a faint whiff fresh off-the-pan bacon, and eggs. Clasped in between her fingers are the long necks of two, ice-cold bottles of beer. Their labels are damp and wrinkled from the droplets of condensation sliding down the exterior of the brown glass bottles.

“Y/N,” Mary greets you, eyes crinkling at the sides as a smile curls at her lips. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Well, I just stopped by to give Dean a sample of my new cherry pie,” you explain. “It’s a new recipe that I’m trying out and I wanted to have the expert’s opinion on it.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Mary answers. “No one in Lawrence knows their pie as well as Dean does.”

“How else do you think she’s been running a five-star bakery?” Dean pipes up lightheartedly.

“Well, I better head on back to the bakery,” you respond. “Can’t trust Charlie long enough to not burn the entire place down when she’s distracted with her phone.” You spare a glance at the mother and son, as you step out of Dean’s office. “It was nice to see you, Mrs. Winchester,” you address the woman, before directing your gaze to her son. “I’ll see you later, Dean,”

Dean nods his head in acknowledgement, as he watches your figure disappear from his eyesight as you round a corner. “See you,”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mary?” Mary reprimands, feigning an expression of irritation. She steps into Dean’s office, heading towards his desk, settling the containers and brown bottles of beer on its surface. “I brought you some food.” She peels open the lids of the containers to reveal his favourite meal – bacon cheeseburgers with a side of salted fries.

A grin spreads across Dean’s lips, green eyes brightening, and mouth watering at the sight of the food. “Food looks good,” he rounds his desk, settling himself in his chair; just his mother sits on a chair across from him. “Thanks Mom,” he reaches for a container of food, and a tall, brown bottle of cold beer.

“It was my pleasure, darling,” Mary replies, reaching for her own container of food, and bottle of beer. “Now would you like to tell me what just happened between you and Y/N?”

Dean’s smile wavers, as he glances at his mother. “What makes you think something happened between Y/N/N and I?” He asks, reaching into his container for his bacon cheeseburger.

Mary arched an eyebrow at her eldest son. “I overheard a part of your conversation, Dean,” she states, reaching into her container and retrieving a small, plastic cup containing ketchup. She places it on the desk, next to her container of food as she removes the lid. “And I could see it in both your eyes. The conversation the two of you had didn’t head in the right direction, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” Dean sighs heavily, his shoulders heaving with the effort.

“Well, what happened?” Mary inquires, snatching a lone fry from her container, before dipping the tip of it in ketchup, and taking a bite.

“I finally told her the truth that I couldn’t fix her boyfriend Jake’s truck,” Dean grumbles under his breath, while bitterly emphasizing the word ‘boyfriend’.

Mary nods in understanding, a sympathetic expression on her face. “You did the right thing, Dean. You couldn’t keep working on a dead project. You would be wasting your time, and losing profit for your business because you’re turning down potential clients to work on a truck of the boyfriend of the girl you’ve been in love with for years.”

“She’s my best friend, Mom,” Dean argues feebly.

“I know she is,” Mary answers. “And you know that I love her and treat her like the daughter I never had, but you have to face the facts, Dean. You can’t keep pining after a girl who only sees you as her best friend and a shoulder to lean on when her life crumbles around her.”

Dean sighs, his appetite suddenly lost, as he sets his untouched bacon cheeseburger back into his container. “She’s been in my life ever since I was five, Mom. Feelings like that don’t just go away,”

“The way I see it is that you have two options here, Dean,” Mary responds. “Either you swallow the bitter pill of truth, that Y/N is your best friend and that’s all she’s ever going to be, and start trying to move on from her. Or you can choose to follow through with the second option, which is to put your heart on the line and confess your feelings to her.”

“And how would I do that exactly, Mom?” Dean asks, his tone laced with an undertone of irritation. “Would I take her aside during one of our get-togethers – many of which her boyfriend attends as well – and tell her ‘Y/N/N, I’m in love with you. Have been since we were five when you scraped your hands and knees at the park the day we met and I carried you home.’ Is that what you want me to do?”

“Yes!” Mary exclaims. “For all you know she might have feelings for you too.”

Dean groans loudly, bracing his elbows on his desk as he runs his fingers through his hair, threading his fingers through the locks and tugging at them harshly, until a sharp pain begins to gnaw at his scalp. “Mom – ” he mutters, only to be interrupted by an audible beep.

If you are satisfied with the message you’ve recorded, please press one.” The familiar feminine voice of Dean’s answering machine spoke monotonously.

Dean’s heart leapt in his ribcage, thumping wildly as he stands from his chair, searching his blue jumpsuit for his phone, before he retrieves it from the rear pocket of the jumpsuit.

With trembling fingers, Dean swipes his thumb across the screen to find he’s pocket-dialed Y/N, only to have the call forwarded to her answering machine – which meant his entire confession had been recorded as well.

Mary stands from her chair, outstretching her arm towards Dean, her palm open. “Don’t panic, darling. Calm down. The voicemail hasn’t been sent yet.” She whispers calmly, as she attempts to soothe her eldest son’s nerves and impending panic attack. “Here, give me the phone, I’ll delete it myself.”

A shuddering breath escapes his lips as Dean hands his mother his mobile phone. Mary offers her son a sympathetic smile, as she presses the red, ‘end call’ button on his phone. “There, all gone,”

Message sent.”

Dean’s heart plummets to the pit of his stomach at the daunting words of his answering machine. His eyes widen in terror, lips parting in shock, stomach twisting into knots, and beads of cold sweat beading on his eyebrow, as he meets his mother’s gaze, whose expression mirrors his own.

Tags are still open.

Giant: Ch. 7

Make my messes matter.
Make this chaos count.
Let every little fracture in me
Shatter out loud.

“Dammit, Kara,” Lena growled from the living room as she tripped over something.

The culprit smiled to herself before taking a sip of her coffee and resumed her amused appraisal of the absolute wrath to which she’d exacted upon Lena’s poor refrigerator. She cocked her head and tried to figure out how she did, and even more impressively, how Lena survived it.

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Sunny Days-Chapter 10

Sunny Day Masterlist

Summary- Sunny is introduced to Sherry. Sherry has some words for Negan. Sunny and Negan make their way to the Sanctuary.

Warnings- Um….language, maybe some angst, and explicit smut.

Word count- 3.8kish

Author’s Note- Okay so filler chapter. The plot should really start moving forward from here on out. I have no idea how many chapters this is going to be. Originally I thought 10 and here were are. Lol. I’m going to be bouncing between this and my The Resident Fic “Favorite Things” for updates. I really want to finish these things. If you need something to read while waiting for Sunny Days go read Favorite Things…it has some pretty good smut too. Lol

Tag List-@aalexandra2712 @adreamemporium @ali-pennell @alyisdead @andrealind24 @artemisxeros @ashzombie13 @blondesouthsquad @breemacen24 @negans-opheliac @coolgh0st @daintyunicorn @ericuhlorain @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @flissworld @ladylorelitany @loliftingg @melodicdolls @memphisgirl1977 @miiraal @narcoleptic-moose-winchester @natjm13 @negans-dirty-girl @negansbby @negansxlucille @negans-network @ninjacuddlepile @peachtickler69 @rune-skyjumper @sassyfiedscribbles @shinydixon @starshinesupergirl @superanonymousreader @suzumebailey @thatwriterizzy @thealphaofmultifandoms @vendekk @vivalafuckingpluto @xomissi @thumbsupbirdsout @xdaddy-neganx @ask-kakashihatake @mcnegan @hotfornegan @myheart4ever47 @fiftypercentmoreintoyou @yellatthetopofyourlungs @negansmainwife @jeffreydeanneganstrash

 Not all the tags worked. I’ll try to message all of you later.

If you like it reblog and leave me a comment, I live for it!

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Sunny could feel her mouth hanging open as she stared at the woman standing next to Negan. She knew she should get up and introduce herself, but all she could do at this moment was sit frozen, a caricature of every cartoon character she ever saw as a child, jaw on the ground, eyes bulging out.

Oh my god! She’s so—so beautiful. What the hell is a freaking glamazon doing in the apocalypse? How is she still here? Of course, she’s tall, fit…. Look at how long her legs are! Short, soft girls like me were probably the first to go. Survival of the fittest. I can’t out run anyone with these stumps. I’m just a fun sized walker treat. Is she wearing makeup? I should’ve put on makeup. I need to learn how to do a smoky eye. Are all the women at The Sanctuary like this? I can’t do this. I need to stay in my little pond where I am winner of every superlative.

Negan set Lucille down by the door, walked over to her, and pulled her to standing. He gripped her chin and tilted her head giving her a slow kiss. He grinned as she gently pushed him away her cheeks flushing a bright pink. “Not an exhibitionist?” he whispered into her ear. “Sunny, this is Sherry. She has fucking graciously volunteered to watch your house and take care of shit.”

“All by yourself?” Sunny asked. “I mean, hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand and shook Sherry’s. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.” She groaned. She could hear how lame she sounded. She watched Sherry walked to the couch and sit down gracefully.

This is it. This is when Negan realizes I’m a total whackado, so completely crazy, and leaves me here to go shack up with super sexy Sherry. What if they’ve already shacked up? Holy shit. Is this what I am being compared to? It’s not fair. My only basis for comparison was a dumb high school boy. You need to calm down. No…freaking out is appropriate. Look at her!

“Oh, I’ll enjoy the solitude,” Sherry said, smiling warmly. “It’ll be so nice not having to share everything with roommates,” she continued, her eyes flicking to Negan sending him a wink. “But eventually, someone else will join me when I get tired of being alone.”

Negan shot Sherry a stern look. “Sherry, honey, the kitchen’s right there. Why don’t ya get yourself a fucking drink?”

“Sure thing, Neg.” She stood, her long legs mocking Sunny’s existence as their long strides passed her, curvy hips swaying enticingly.

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flame | steve rogers

Title: Flame

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Y/N is pyrokinetic and keeps running into Steve on missions before they officially meet (Part I ???)

Warnings: light swearing

Word Count: 1426


Your name: submit What is this?

Steve threw a punch at the Chitauri warrior that was headed towards him before throwing his shield through the chest of another. It fell to the ground dead before he pulled the shield from its body.

All around him, chaos ensued as more Chitaurian warriors rained down from the sky. The team was doing their best at handling it, but at the rate they were coming out of the hole in the sky it seemed practically impossible to keep up. They were entirely outnumbered and could use all the help they could get.

Which is exactly why he didn’t investigate too much into it when he saw you fighting by their side as if you were part of the team. Impressively, you could take on almost twenty to thirty Chitauri at once causing almost as much damage to their forces as the Hulk. All it took was a simple flick of your wrist and flames engulfed their bodies, killing them instantly.

Steve continued to glance over at you as the two of you fought side by side. The time in which you were taking out the Chitauri was incredible and he’d never seen powers like yours before. You had taken down a number of three hundred warriors in the last thirty minutes. He was beyond ready to recruit you for the team.

However it wasn’t long until Tony had successfully directed the missile into their mother ship killing them all instantly. You had been a little down the street from Steve and when it happened, but before he could ask you your name, you had disappeared.

He slung his shield onto his back staring at where you had once been before heading to Tony’s side.


The second time you saw him, he ruined any chances you had at finding out more about your powers.

You ascended the stairs two at a time before meeting an agent at the top step. Within seconds however he was on the ground after you landed a good punch to his jaw. You were at a Hydra base in Sokovia run by Baron Strucker. You had finally tracked him down after realizing he had been doing experimentation similar to the stuff you went through as a kid.

You quickly hurried into the next room, sending throwing stars towards the necks of the agents inside. Their bodies dropped to the ground with a thud as you shut the door and slid in front of the computer screen.

You plugged your flash drive in and started pulling up information on the human trials they had been doing here. It took only a minute to get past their password protected files, but once you had you started copying them, an alarm rang out.

“Shit.” You grumbled, willing the files to copy faster. You must’ve been sloppy, someone must have been alerted of your presence. Before you could silently curse yourself, you heard the sound of guns being fired outside. You stood up from your spot and looked out the huge window that overlooked the base.

Down below in the snowy forces, punches were being thrown left and right, shots fired off in different directions. It all became clear as a familiar team came into view, taking down guards with ease. You watched as the captain sped in on a motorcycle before grabbing the handles, flipping and throwing it at a truck firing off shots. It hit it, forcing it to overturn, only two of the guards actually making it out. You smirked, it was actually kind of hot.

Further back in the woods, you could clearly see Hawkeye, hiding behind a tree, ready to fire an arrow. Before he could however, a blue streak zoomed past knocking him onto his back. He hit the snowy ground as Blue Streaks stopped long enough to reveal himself as one of Strucker’s prized possessions you had read about a few days before.

He whooshed past Steve, who flipped once more and landed on his feet again as if it were nothing. Steve was seriously kicking ass out there, it all seemed so natural to him. None of his movements were hesitant – they were all precise, deliberate, and heavily practiced as if they were second hand.

Tony Stark taking down the shield around the base knocked you from your thoughts. You checked the computer screen once more, only ten more percent. If the Avengers were here, you knew you didn’t have long, Strucker would most likely want his data secure and safe from their hands. It won’t be long before one of his goons–

“What the hell?” you mumbled, watching as it stopped suddenly.

File does not exist.

“Fuck.” you cursed, clicking around. Everything had vanished, disappeared, it was gone. Deleted. “Cowards.” you grumbled, ripping your flash drive out the plug. You shoved it in your bra, whatever was on it would have to do for the time being. Besides, you had to escape lest you wanted to be taken in for questioning by the Avengers.

Slipping into the hallway, you could hear Captain Rogers confronting Strucker further down the hall. The two were blocking the immediate exit forcing you to find another way out. To your right was a window that was next to an evergreen. If you climbed out, you could easily hijack one of their trucks and get your ass out of there.

Before you act on your plan, you heard a soft “Miss?” You turned. There he was. You hadn’t seen him in almost three years, he hadn’t changed much. The only difference was the obvious suit upgrade, “Captain.” You acknowledged, nodding your head curtly.

“May I ask what you’re doing here?” He spoke making you chuckle, “Same as you, Captain – collecting things.” You pulled the flash drive out of your bra and showed it to him before quickly stuffing it back in.

You glanced back at the window, “I’ll be going now. Don’t want to ruin your mission.” Rushing to the window, you didn’t second guess before disappearing into the evergreen tree. You climbed down swiftly getting to the ground with no trouble.

A running start, a guard slowing down on his motorcycle in order not to hit you, and a landing punch to the jaw secured you a ride. You zoomed past Clint, who shouted into what you figured was a comms unit, “Who the hell was that?” You didn’t stop to answer his question, but rather sped off into the woods.


The third time he saw you was only three weeks later, you were still in Sokovia. You were enjoying a bit of vacation after receiving a bit of information (nothing that would help your search) that you were after from Strucker’s base. You had hit it up before the Avengers had, taking anything you could find with you.

After getting the job done, you decided to vacation for a bit before going home. Sokovia was a country like no other, it was beautiful but plagued with disaster. The locals seemed relatively nice, selling fruit for whatever they could get, saying hello to you as you passed. There were innocent, good hearted people stuck in this country.

That’s why you decided to help when you realized Ultron was going to blow it to hell.

You helped evacuate as many citizens as possible before the entire city began to take flight. When the ground started shaking and more bots started arriving, you knew you had to fight. It had been two years since you had last used your powers on a large scale. After an accident in Germany, you decided to lay low for awhile.

Yet when bots started hitting the ground left and right, you pulled out your old tricks. You were more precise this time, calculating how to take them out with the most efficiency.

You were going hand to hand with one when you saw that familiar red, white, and blue shield. It hit one in the air in the chest, sending it tumbling down to the ground at your feet.

A hand reached out to pick it up and you followed it up to blue eyes and a warm smile. “Nice to see you again.” Steve commented making you smile back at him.

Suddenly, a metallic fist shot out to punch you, but you grabbed it and pushed the bot backwards. It stumbled and you took that moment to kick it hard in its chest. It hit a building with such force that it possibly jumbled its wires rendering it useless, “Always a pleasure, Captain.”


“Brains? Brawn? I’m the whole package.”
“Always do your research.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
“Ask me anything. I know the answer.”
“Who wants tacos?”
“I feel like throwing a truck.”
“I admit nothing.”
“Hulk smash!”
“I’m the credible Hulk. Get it?”
“Being smart isn’t everything.”
“I need to do more.”
“I once jumped to the moon.”
“What’s up?”

Voiced by: Nicholas Andrew Louie @whoisnal

anonymous asked:

Pls imagine wondercoldwave and their strange courting. Two thieves attempting to woo her with stolen artifacts and good food. Because jewelry is kid of useless but old relics? Or Weapons? Ah yes perfect gifts. (And also a little bit of jewelry.)

I love this pairing. I love this pairing SO MUCH words don’t even. Like, I have a million other things to be writing but I dropped everything to write this. 



It was Lisa’s fault.

Well, okay, that’s a lie. Lisa wasn’t even there.

But she had finally graduated high school, turned eighteen and gone off to college with a handful of scholarships and all the money Len and Mick had stolen for her in a giant fuck-up of a job, which had encouraged them both to head for more forgiving climes for a while. They’d gone to the Caribbean, first, but then Len had played a few too many card games with some Family guys down there and now he might or might not own an island but he certainly wouldn’t last long if he stayed there.

So they go to Europe.

Nice, proper European tour. Why not?

Because Leonard fucking Snart, that’s why not.

“It’s the Louvre,” that’s what he said. “We have to!”

“We won’t be able to fence anything we get,” Mick pointed out.

“But it’s the Louvre!”

And so they’d broken in there. Mostly just for kicks.

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