When An Ex Tries To Get Back With His Pregnant Wife (Mafia AU, Requested)
You and Namjoon took a stroll through Seoul, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. It wasn’t often he could publicly go out with you for fear of someone harming you. With both of you dressed in masks and hats, adding sunglasses for extra measure, you took a morning walk to fetch baby supplies.
Namjoon hated when you hid your bump even if it wasn’t on purpose. So when you shrugged on the long black rain coat, he pouted in an adorable fashion.
Your thoughts fled you when you spotted an adorable pair of bright pink VANS made for newborns. You tugged on Namjoon’s long sleeve like a child yourself.
“Hang on, I’ll go in and buy them. Why don’t you look at the clothes while you wait?” You squealed and gave him a peck on the cheek before you scanned through the children’s clothes while Namjoon checked out.
“Y/n?” That voice made you freeze. You looked over your shoulder to the man with the wide grin. It was your ex. Your first real relationship. “I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?” He moved in for a hug but a strong hand caught the collar of his jacket.
“Can I help you?” Namjoon’s voice was rough and cold, the same one used with interrogating. Your husband fitted himself tightly between you and your ex.
“It’s alright Joonie. He’s an old friend.” Namjoon relaxed under your soft touch. Before he could open his mouth to apologize, the other man had scurried off to hide. Namjoon chuckled and handed you the small bag with the shoes.
“You do realize I know that was your ex, right?”
Jin was overprotective of you during your pregnancy. Always keeping a hand on your stomach or keeping you no further than arms distance. So when you went out for an evening walk to catch some fresh air, Jin was right there. You were dressed in only his t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.
Jin begged you to at least put on a coat but you shook your head and exited onto the street. Your penthouse apartment was in the center of the city, courtesy of Jin himself. So the street was damn near packed even at this time of night.
You had a bag of your favorite chips stuffed in one hand and shoved them in your mouth. Jin was leaning against the doorway, secretly admiring you from afar. That was until a man continually stared at you from the other side of the street.
“Y/n? Y/n L/n?” The man approached you with a warm smile: you nearly chocked on your chips. Jin knew not to be hasty, but his anger boiled. “How’s life? You look as beautiful as ever!” That’s when his gaze dropped to your stomach. “Deadbeat dad?”
Before you could answer your ex had raised his hand. “No need to explain. Why don’t I take you out for dinner. We could catch up.”
“She won’t be needing your company. Hi, I’m the deadbeat dad!” Jin wrapped his arm around you shoulder and stuck out his hand in a threatening manner. Your ex stuttered, and when Jin leaned in closer, he took off into the crowd of people.
You rolled your eyes at Jin’s behavior and kissed his throat. “Cmon “Deadbeat” let’s go back inside.“
“Yoongi, I just want some Ice Cream!” Nobody in their right mind would wake up Yoongi while he was sleeping. He was scary as hell when disturbed. But you were even scarier when you didn’t get what you wanted. It was 2am and Yoongi wouldn’t budge. Even if you knew how dangerous it was to go out alone, you were having bad cravings.
You flipped on the closet light and fished out a sweatshirt and stretchy pants. When you tried to tip-toe across the bedroom, Yoongi groaned.
“Where do you think your going?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Three words. Ice cream run.”
“Give me 5 minutes.” Five minutes it was on the dot. You were at the 24 hour supermarket and was loading the buggy with ice cream. Pickles sounded good right about now. So when Yoongi kneeled down to grab a gallon of Cookies and Cream, you snuck off to the pickles.
Of course the world had damned you and put them on the highest shelf. With one hand over your stomach, you stood on your yippie toes to reach them. A longer arm however plucked them up first. You turned to see your ex, dressed in an apron that the employees wore.
“Here you go mi- Y/n? Damn you look as fine as ever!” You clenched your teeth at his comment. His immature behavior is why you left him in the first place. He was a sleazy dog and he knew it. “You put on a few pounds but that’s alright. Why don’t you meet me after work?” He started to approach you with a wicked grin on his face.
“Back off!” Yoongi forced himself in front of you and stood at attention. You could practically see the hair on the back of his neck stand up much like a dog. “If you touch her, I’ll make sure you lose every last one of your fingers. Now give me the damn pickles.” Your ex hastily handed Yoongi the pickles and ran off in the opposite direction.
You frowned and grabbed the jar. “He got Bread and Butter…” you pouted. Yoongi just chuckled at your behavior and nuzzled the skin behind your ear.
Hoseok and you were having a lazy day. Namjoon had insisted Hoseok work from home to spend extra time with you and his unborn child. You were lazily drawing circles on your belly button, feeling the soft flutter of hiccups from your precious baby boy. Hoseok placed his hand in the same exact spot where the movement happened, and smiled with delight when a little foot pressed against his hand.
“He’s fussy today.” You groaned and placed a hand on your lower back, rolling a little to wrap a leg around Hoseok’s waist. He ha show laptop on the arm of the couch and used his other hand to rub your arm soothingly.
Your phone buzzed for the millionth time that day. You weren’t even going to look at it but Hoseok saw how your eyebrows knotted together in annoyance. “Who keeps messaging you?”
“Just one of my old exes. Don’t worry about it. I’m trying to ignore him.” Your voice grew heavy and the next time Hoseok turned to speak to you, sleep had taken over. Another ding from your phone had him narrowing his eyes. He clicked on your screen so he could view your messages. He knew you would never be unfaithful but he also knew this guy was annoying you to no end.
Rows upon rows of this guy confession to you, saying how he wanted to be with you again. Hoseok smirked to himself and opened a new tab on his computer. He’d make sure this guy never bothered you again.
An hour later, you emerged from your nap. Hoseok had placed a pillow to replace him and gave you a fuzzy blanket. The T.V remote was placed by your swollen stomach. Hoseok was most likely having a meeting with the rest of the Bangtan Members. You turned on the nightly news out of boredom and narrowed your eyes at screen.
There was your ex on the nightly news being interviewed. He was swearing up and down that his bank account was full moments ago, and that it was completely empty the next second. The headline was stated as following: “Mysterious String of Empty Bank Accounts Rising”.
You picked up your phone and sent your husband a quick text.
Jimin and you were setting on a park bench, enjoying each other’s company. The jungle gym in front of you was filled to the brim with kids. That would be your little girl some day, swinging from the handlebars while Jimin held her up so she could reach.
Jimin rubbed your belly softly. Little kicks followed the path of his hand much to his amusement, and your discomfort.
“She’s a daddy’s girl already.” Jimin kissed your lips sweetly. The chime of a bell tore your attention to the wagon filled with frozen treats.
“Jimieeee!” You pointed to the ice cream cart. Jimin shook his head with a laugh and fished out money from his pocket.
“Wait here. Chocolate right?” You nodded excitedly and watched him approach the wagon. Another figure took his seat, a man you recognized all too well.
“Chocolate Ice cream for a Y/n?” Your ex was a smug bastard, able to have his way with almost anyone. With a deep frown you tried to ignore him completely as he held out the one to you. He yelled however, when a flying stone cracked against his fingers, the ice cream splattering on the bench.
“She stopped liking your ice cream a long time ago.” Jimin grabbed your elbow and helped you to your feet. He handed you the ice cream a shot your ex a look that could kill. “As you can tell, she’s yet to have her fill of mine though.” He laid a hand on your swollen stomach and pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth.
When you parted for air your ex was gone, and Jimin was now the smug one.
“You are so dirty! Now go get my sprinkles.”
Taehyung and you were visiting the local mall to shop. Cribs of a bassinet were on today’s agenda. You ran your fingers across the fine oak of a crib, marveling at the craftsmanship. Taehyung came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.
“Do you like this one?” His voice was deep yet soft. You nodded anxiously. He chuckled and lifted the box in his own two arms. “Why don’t you pick out some blankets?”
Taehyung didn’t have a budget when it came to you and his unborn baby. He’d buy you the sun and moon if it would make you happy. You had been raised with little to nothing like Tae, that’s one reason you connected.
Tae went to pay for the crib while you picked through the mint green blankets. You had yet to find out the sex of the baby, wanting to wait to be surprised. “Y/n is that you?”
Your ex stood there with an armful of children’s clothes in his arms. He was clearly a worker here. That surprised you, seeing how arrogant he was. You had expected him to be a CEO, not a worker at a baby store.
“I have nothing to say to you.” The last time you had seen your ex, he was being towed away in a cop car. He was highly abusive, verbally and physically.
“Give me one more chance-” he peered over the rack to see your stomach, 7 months full with child. “Knocked up?”
“Watch your mouth.” Taehyung dropped the box he was carrying at your feet and squared up to the man. He towered a few inches above him and his strong jaw was set.
“C'mon Tae, we don’t have time for filth like him.” You grabbed his hand and motioned for him to pick up the box and leave. Taehyung did so unwillingly. When you both made it to the car, you grabbed Tae’s cheeks and kissed him with full force of passion.
“I love you.”
Jungkook had invited you to one of his underground matches. Some might say that this was no place for a woman who was 5 months pregnant, but you loved the adrenaline. Jungkook was up next to fight and you had a front row seat.
You scanned his opponent, broad shoulders and all. He turned around to put his mouth piece in and you recognized him immediately. That was the ex.
You knew he had been a fighter, but not for underground matches like this. He must have fallen low. Unfortunately, he noticed you as well. He stripped out of his shirt and kneeled in front of you.
“Hey pretty girl. Remember me? Why don’t you congratulate the winner afterwards?” He made a V shape with his fingers and slid his thick tongue between them. You cringed at the sight and gagged. Little did he know, Jungkook was standing behind him with nostrils flares and fist clenched.
The ref called action with a blow of his whistle and you had never seen a faster fight. Jungkook threw a single punch to your ex’s skull and he was out like a light. Your husband continued to beat the bastard senseless. Blood finally spurred from his mouth and two burly men had to drag him away.
He hopped the rope and collected you in his arms. Jungkook lifted the front of your shirt and placed a sloppy kiss on your belly button. The crowd cheered on the champion and his affection towards you.
“I like his idea Y/n. Why don’t you come congratulate me in the locker room?”
“Bartender,” Dan calls down the sleek resort bar, “Another, please. Make it a double this time.”
The bartender looks like she’s only just too professional to roll her eyes at him. Instead she nods and sets about making him another drink.
He sighs loudly and asks her, “Do you ever just…drink to forget?”
She makes an attentive listening noise, the same one he’d heard last night when there were a bunch of drunk French guys trying to get her number. Dan sighs again.
“I still hear his voice sometimes,” Dan says distantly, looking out onto the beach, “My boyfriend. We were so close to ten years, y’know. Before he got stolen by a married Olympic diver.”
He directs the last part over his shoulder, where Phil is leaning against Bryony, gone pink with laughter, sun and alcohol.
“Dan,” Phil says, still laughing.
“I can still hear his voice sometime,” Dan says wistfully, and nods his thanks to the bartender who hands him his drink, complete with a tiny pink umbrella. “Oh Dan, I loved you, until Tom Daley and all his abs winked at me.”
“How does an ab wink?” Phil asks, coming closer to wrap a damp arm around Dan’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t know!” Dan says, perhaps a little shrill, “I don’t have any experience with abs! Or winking!”
“Dan,” Phil says fondly. It’s possible he’s the only person on earth this fond of Dan’s dramatics. “C’mon, come back to swim.”
Dan grumbles but allows himself to be towed away from the bar, muttering that, “Tom Daley could probably buy you more of those.” when Phil plucks the umbrella from his drink and gently places it in his curls.
“Tom Daley’s abs could probably make you tiny drink umbrellas,” Dan tells Phil, sullenly taking sips from his drink.
“Probably so,” Phil says, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Its why we’re getting married as soon as polygamy is legal back home. But I was planning to bring you with me.”
Dan watches Phil suspiciously for a moment, then brightens. “Well, that’s alright. D’you think he can make his abs wink at me next?”
So I have a headcanon that lance use to help his mother out around the house, mostly with the cleaning. And I somehow got this, so I hope you enjoy. This is mostly lance being buddies with the lions.
It was his mother that got him started.
She would always need help with it, not that she was fragile, she’s anything but. But that doesn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the help, especially with the cabinets and bookshelves. And Lance didn’t mind at all. He loved helping his mom, and cleaning up the house was just one of the things they could do together. Sure, everyone helped out, but it was always Lance who didn’t it without being asked.
And after a while, it became sort of a coping mechanism. Whenever Lance felt overwhelmed, or if his anxiety got to be too much. You would always find him doing dishes or vacuuming. It was therapeutic in a way. It was something that he can control, that got him out of his head. His mom always told him “a clean house is a happy house.”
It may be overused, but to Lance it always made sense. If the house is clean, then everyone inside the house is happy. Even him.
Lance never realized how much he relied on his family. Always making something to clean up. Always keeping him busy. But now that he’s out in space, on a giant castle ship, with only six other people. Lance can’t help but miss it.
at first Lance worked on his room. Mostly dusting, and rearranging his drawers. But after the tenth time rearranging everything, Lance realized that he couldn’t clean his room more if he tried. So he moved on to other rooms. Within two weeks, every room in the castle had been dusted, vacuumed, mopped, swept and picked up as need be. The castle was spotless. And Lance felt better. He always did after a good cleaning session, albeit a long one. But it was nice. It reminded him of home; of some normalcy in what is now his life.
But soon the anxiety and the homesickness came back. But there wasn’t really anything to clean anymore. It wasn’t like there were hyperactive kids that will knock things over anymore. There wasn’t anyone constantly making a mess. There wasn’t anyone constantly cooking up a storm , sure,Hunk is always cooking, but his moms taught him well on keeping a kitchen clean, so Lance didn’t really have dishes to clean. He’ll, even their laundry is done by the castle, no help needed there. He remembers when he use to get pretty mad at his family whenever they would create a mess. But now…..now he just wishes he had something to clean. To remind him of home.
Lance was climbing out of blue, feeling a bit down for the count after a nasty fight with the Galra, that unfortunately when through some kind of space mucus ozone that surrounded a moon they were fighting nearby that got all over the lions, gunking up a lot of their movements. Thankfully it did the same to the Galra fleets, so it wasn’t that hard to beat them after that. But Lance could practically feel the stuff, and he wasn’t even the one covered in it. After taking a good look at Blue, Lance knew that he had to get all that mucus off of her. If it was messing with her movements now, he didn’t even want to know how bad it would get once it hardened. After hijacking Pidge’s latest project(a set of goggles that can translate written Altean into English, he has to give her props, this is some of her best work.) he found the right soap to use and even some wax that he can use afterwards. Blue was going to be the best looking Lion around. And he got to work. He scrubbed every inch of her till he was sure that all the hunk was off, and even asked her multiple times if he missed a spot. Who told him about every missed spot or hard to reach place. Once he had finished washing off all the mucus, he gave her a much needed waxing. No one could deny that happiness that Blue felt all throughout it and afterwards. And Lance finally had something that he could clean when everything got to be too much. They were both very happy.
It became a regular thing, after that. Whenever he had too much on his mind, Lance would go down and work on Blue. Whether it was the outside or in the cockpit. There have even been a few times where he would work on her maintenance system, but only if it needed fixing and Blue has to walk him through it. And he would talk to her, about everything and anything. About things on Earth or his family. About the others and planets that they have saved. And Blue would listen to it all, very story about when he was little and every worry that plagued his mind. She would send him support, and love and tell him that she was so glad that he was her pilot. They were both happy.
But then things started to get kinda weird. It seems that while Blue was flying just as smooth as ever, some of the other lions were having problems with certain maneuvers and actions. Which definitely slowed down their progress of freeing the galaxy. But the weirdest thing is that the other Lions started to show up in Blue’s hangar whenever Lance went down there to talk with Blue and clean up whatever was left on her from the last battle. At first they would just sit outside of her hangar, not really pushing but definitely making he know that they were there. But it was the Red Lion who got sick of sitting around, she had butted her way into Blue’s hangar and sat next to her. And That was when Lance saw it. Dried Mucus. But that battle was months ago. Lance couldn’t help but get mad. He went to check the other lions, and sure enough, there was still dried mucus and other markings from past battles littering the Lions. No wonder the other lions couldn’t do maneuvers anymore. There was still gunk clogging up their joints and maybe even in their hydrologics. Lance patted Blue on the nose and apologized, saying that he might not be able to clean her today, because there is no way he’s going to let the others stay like that. She sent him warm understanding and told him that the other lions were very grateful that he was doing this for them.
It took him two days of no sleep and barely eating to get all the lions completely cleaned and gave each of them a waxing that had them shining like stars. All the while, no one had gone to check up on him. While that did sting, it was probably for the best. If he had seen any of the others, he would have gone off on them for leaving their lions in such a state.
Soon, the other lions became part of his routine as well. Cleaning the cockpits, washing and waxing the exterior. He was really surprised and honored when Blue told him that Black asked if he could help with his control panel.( it seems that Shiro and Black Had taken a nasty hit during one of their recent battles and Shiro got thrown against the panel.hard.) It was confusing at first, and the damage was more serious than he thought, but thanks to Blue relaying everything Between Lance and Black, he was able to fix him up without much trouble. Without even realizing it, Lance had started talking to the other Lions as well. It started off as complaining about how the others don’t clean them like they should, if ever. But soon enough he was talking to them like he does with Blue. And while he doesn’t hear them respond, Blue does relay any messages back to him.
Lance never realized how close he had gotten to the other Lions until after a pretty nasty battle against some sort of squid Robeast. Blue and Red had taken a lot of hits to keep the Galra off of Green who had taken a nasty blow, making them power down. In the end they were able to beat the robeast, but Lance knew that he was going to have to buff out some dents on Blue and Red. Lance had just gotten done with buffing out a pretty nasty dent in Red’s armor, that Keith came into Red’s hangar. And it seems that Keith was not happy to see Lance there.
“What are you doing?”
“Get off of Red. Now.”
“But I’m not do-”
“She’s not your Lion. Get off her. NOW.”
That was when Red put up her barrier. Keeping Keith out. Lance couldn’t help but snicker. Because now Keith was yelling at Red to let him in. And apparently he was losing the argument, because the barrier didn’t go down at all. It didn’t even waver when Keith decided that hitting it would get his point across. That was when Lance felt Red give off a kind of purr, at least he thought it was Red. It was probably thanks to Blue, telling him that Red wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. So Lance went on to the next one, and next one even with Keith telling him to go away. Even after Keith left the hangar. And even when Keith came back with Shiro and Allura in tow.
“Lance?” Lance looked away from his work and looked at Shiro, who looked just as confused as Allura. All the while Keith is behind them, just as mad as when he came in.
“What are you doing?”
“Buffing out dents. I saw that Red and Blue had some pretty nasty one after the battle.”
“Ok……and why are buffing out the dents of the Red Lion?”
“Why don’t you go and do that on Blue then!” Ah, and there is Keith. Lance was wondering when he would butt-in.
“I already did Blue’s.” Ha, suck on that, Keith.
“But why are you doing Red’s, Keith could have-”
“No. he wouldn’t.”
Lance climbs down from his spot on the Red lion and heads over to Shiro and Allura. He stopped just at the edge of the barrier. Now he could really see that Keith did not like being called out.
“You don’t know that!!!”
“Yes. I do.”
Wow, Keith REALLY didn’t like being called out on this. But this was going to happen sooner or later, lance is just surprised that it took them this long to realize it.
“Lance, you can’t just clean another Paladin’s Lion.”
“Why not. I do it for all the lions.”
“I take care of all the lions. I buff out dents, I wash off gunk, I even clean the cockpits.”
They all look at Lance like he just talked in an unknown language. the fact that Lance has been doing this for all the lions seems to come as a surprise to them. Even Keith lost his anger and is looking at Lance like he’s the 8th wonder of the world.
Allura is the first to get back some sense of her voice, quietly asking lance “and they let you? Do all of this?”
“Let me? They almost shoved themselves into Blue’s hangar hoping I would see how much work they needed. Red actually did!” Lance points back to the Red Lion, who still keeps the barrier up, if only to tell Lance that there are still some dents that need to be buffed out.
“How…how long have you been doing this?” Shiro’s stutters out, still trying to get a grip on the situation.
“I don’t know……maybe a few months? At least two months.” Lance said, trying to recall how long he’s been cleaning all the lions.
“You’ve been doing this for that long and never asked us to help? Lance, while the gesture is nice, we can clean our own Lions.”
“Apparently not. You guys didn’t even clean off the mucus gunk from MONTHS ago! How did you guys not realize that the reason the lions were slower to respond than usual was because they could barely even bend their joints! If you guys won’t even clean them when they OBVIOUSLY need it, then how can they trust you guys to buff out a few dents!”
Lance said to much. He realized it as soon as it was out of his mouth. He just called out, not just Keith, but ALL of them. That was not how he wanted the conversation to go. Wow, was the that floor panel always so interesting, because there’s no way Lance is going to look them in the face after that outburst.
Well that definitely got lance to look up at Keith, who actually looked sincere. Lance can’t remember any time Keith has been sincere, well yes he can, but never to Lance.
“I haven’t really been the best when it comes to taking care of Red. But you don’t have to do it anymore. I’ll-”
“Woah! Woah, Keith you don’t have to apologize to me about it. Maybe Red, but not me. I love cleaning the Lions. And while it would be nice it you guys helped out once in awhile, I don’t want to stop cleaning them.”
“Wait, so you actually like cleaning them?”
“Yeah! It reminds me…..it reminds me of home. I use to help my mom with all the cleaning, so being able to do this, it…it helps with the homesickness.”
Lance couldn’t help but get a bit flustered saying it out loud, but he needs to let them know that he enjoys doing this for the lions. He enjoys being able to do this for them. He doesn’t want to stop doing this. He can hear Blue purring in the back of his mind, letting him know that the other lions enjoy it just as much as he does.
“Still, You shouldn’t have to do this….. At least not by yourself. They are our lions. But if it means that much to you, I guess we can’t really complain. Especially with all that you’ve done for them.”
Shiro gestures up to Red.
“But, you shouldn’t have to do all of the work, Lance. It’s not fair to you, or the lions.”
Lance nods. He knows that Shiro is right, but he also knows that the lions can be kind of picky about how they get cleaned. For a bunch of robot lions, they are really vocal about what they like and don’t like. And this just means that Lance is going to have to teach the others about each lions quirks when it comes to keeping them clean.
“How about I finish up here and everyone can meet up in the break lounge, then we can talk more about it.”
“Why not go now?”
“I’m pretty sure Red isn’t going to lower the barrier until I’m done.” Lance stares up at Red, as if staring at her long enough will make her put down the shield. It does not. So win a wave to the others, Lance goes back to buffing out Red, with a much brighter smile than he’s had in awhile.
Sure, Lance loves being able to take care of the lions. It reminds him of his mom and his family. It reminds him of home. But the one thing that makes it even better is when others are doing it with you. It helps bring people together, to talk and bond with each other. And if Lance was being honest, he missed that most of all.
Do you guys ever wonder what happened to the Pig that Ronan wrecked? Like did Gansey get a call from the Henrietta police at some point? “Hey, your car is wrecked, abandoned, and covered in monster blood and claw marks. What the fuck, kid.” Or do you think they just looked at it and thought “I don’t get paid enough for this shit” and towed it away to rust in the depths of the junkyard without another word.
Hubby - When did you start up with the other man? Wife - On our wedding day. Hubby - How? Where? Wife - At home, during the wedding reception. There were a lot of people, remember? At a certain point… the porter came up to tell you that the police were towing away some of the guests’ cars. You went downstairs with him, and I went into our bedroom. I looked out the window, you were arguing with the police. Suddenly he came into the room. He came at me… from behind, he grabbed me by the neck so I couldn’t move or turn around or defend myself. He did it to me, just like you wanted to do a little while ago.
From The Voyeur (L’ Uomo che guarda) - directed by Tinto Brass
1.5k of pre-canon trans Jack fic for Paulina, who’s a tireless advocate of trans fic in fandom. Brief misgendering; may paint a rosy view of women’s hockey culture in Canada, but let’s have some wish fulfillment.
An idea I could get behind is if where Angels go when they die would be like “The Fog of Lost Souls” in Legend of Korra, where people are doomed to wander aimlessly around until they get mad and/or forget their own name?
And in order to save Cas, Dean and Sam have to follow him into this dimension, find him, remind him who he is and lead him out of there
Can you do Yullen +30? I can just see Allen awkwardly telling Kanda his feelings this way ☺️
Late, but this was so nice to do!! Thanks for the request hun ♥
Too quick, mumbled into his scarf
Allen breathed what little warm air was left in him out, exhaling hot on his red tinged fingertips. He drew his knees up to his chest, feet flat on the car seat, and felt Kanda’s side-eyed glare.
It was too cold, Allen thought defiantly. Kanda’s heater had broken and it was chilled enough the windows were iced over. Let him say something.
But Kanda didn’t, merely decelerating as they approached a red light. The car idled, and Allen wondered why, when his car stalled at four in the morning it had been this grumpy asshole Allen had thought of and not, say, friendly cheery Lavi, or understanding Lenalee?
Well. He knew. Knew it as sure as he did the bill the wrecker was going to be sending him as they towed his car away.
“Rotten luck,” Allen grumbled, and Kanda scoffed.
“No, not rotten luck,” he corrected sharply, driving forward as the light cast green rays on falling snow flakes. “I told you to get your engine checked.”
“Just because the light is on doesn’t mean you have to,” Allen said, the proud owner of a dime a dozen used cars that always proclaimed to have something wrong with them. “It was just bad timing!”
There was another humph and they fell silent. Allen wound his scarf tighter and drew his knees closer, wrapping his arms around them. He hadn’t been prepared to sit in an ice box for forty five minutes and he was paying for it with violent shaking.
“Oh Jesus, just, here-” still driving, Kanda reached back with one arm and hauled something huge, cloth, and bulky from his backseat. Allen squawked indignantly as it landed on him in heaps, hastily rearranging it so he could breath.
“What is this?” Allen asked, finally peering over the edge and bringing it to just under his chin. It smelled like crisp winter chill, Kanda’s cologne a few days old, and the comfort of Kanda’s home. Warm. He huddled under it, tucking himself in every where he could. Without thinking he ducked his nose back under and closed his eyes, inhaling.
“The blanket Lena made me bring,” Kanda said waspishly, and Allen laughed lightly. This was from the unseasonably warm weather they’d had a few weeks ago - nice enough to picnic in, even. It had smelled nice then, too, lulling Allen into a light nap under the bright sun.
He settled and looked back through the windshield. It wasn’t snowing hard enough to warrant the wipers, but occasionally Kanda flicked them on to brush away what snow clung over intervals of time. The road still stretched long and dark, empty, and Allen hunched over.
He’d been the first person Allen had thought of, and despite the hour, the distance, the cold, his own broken car, Kanda had come.
He laughed at his own stupid tears that sprung up, because he wasn’t used to mattering enough to warrant such kindness.
“Are you crying?” Kanda demanded in disbelief. Well. As much kindness as Kanda could give.
Spades more than Allen deserved, really. “It’s just,” he sniffed, rubbed his nose, “I don’t know. It’s late and it’s cold and your car and it was so sudden but here you are and I didn’t expect you to or anyone really but here I’m sitting and you gave me your blanket and it smells like you and it’s warm, and-”
His breath hitched on a hiccup and he pulled the blanket high enough to cover his eyes. “And I just kind of realized I love you.”
He was a bit disappointed the car didn’t swerve a single iota. It remained horribly still, and Allen wondered if he’d been obvious and Kanda had already known, or if Kanda simply had nerves of steel.
He was so lost in his own self-doubt he didn’t notice the car pulling to the side and stopping until Kanda was harshly yanking the blanket down, forcing Allen to meet his eyes. They were an alarming blue, vivid against his chill-nipped cheeks and nose, against all the gray of the winter storm outside.
“What did you say?” Kanda felt impossibly close, sounded horribly loud. Allen shied away, not ashamed, no, but suddenly terrified of Kanda’s possible response.
“Nothing!” Allen said hurriedly, glancing out the passenger window, darting to all the spaces between the clinging snowflakes. “It’s cold! Don’t stop,” he added, feebly.
“No,” Kanda said, turning fully in his seat. “What did you say?”
Curling in, Allen laced his fingers beneath the blanket, chapped skin pulling at his knuckles. He’d just sighed when Kanda grasped his chin and forcibly turned him. He wondered if Kanda could feel the heat of his blush.
“I love you!” Allen snapped, almost irritably. “God, I do, even though you’re an asshole, and you curse a lot, and you’re impatient, but you’re here for me of all people and I. I’m.”
Don’t cry, he thought to himself fiercely. Don’t you dare cry!
But Kanda didn’t reject him, or shove him away, or even speak crass words.
He leaned in and covered Allen’s trembling mouth with his own, the first spot of warmth Allen had felt in ages.
Relief pooled from him and his entire countenance relaxed, and despite the cold snap Kanda’s lips were impossibly soft. Allen returned the kiss as if afraid, but the fear followed his tension and vanished into the winter air, replaced by warmth, relief, love.
When Kanda finally pulled away Allen couldn’t help smiling at the blush rising in his cheeks, too.
It was honestly getting out of hand. This is not what Tasha had in mind
when she had the airport evacuated. It was more to make sure Barnes doesn’t
accidentally hurt someone and maybe avoid people snapping pictures and tweeting
about Avengers arguing with each other. And what the fuck was Clint doing here?
Admittedly, she could have left a more detailed explanation with Vision as to
why Wanda was confined to the compound though she thought that Wanda was
intelligent enough to draw her own conclusions. Apparently she wasn’t.
“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked after Tasha helped her up.
“No, this definitely was not part of the plan. Damn Rogers and his ‘punch-the-way-out’
mindset. Want to switch it up?”
“Sure.” It was with practiced ease that Iron Woman had Black Widow in tight
but safe grip, flying short way across the landing strip in order to land in
the path of Cap’s team.
“Captain Rogers… I know you believe what
you’re doing is right. But for the collective good…you must surrender now.”
It pained her how incredibly like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision sounded sometimes. But
the good captain apparently was not listening if the advancing was anything to
go by. Well fuck.
“They are not stopping.” She could have
gone without kid’s comment. In a matter of seconds they were beating each other
again. It was insane. And she had run out of patience. “Vision, take out the
quinjet. It seems they won’t stop until they reach it.” Tasha instructed,
dodging the shield Rogers threw at her.
The android disengaged his fight with the
newcomer with the suit that could apparently enlarge as well as shrink; and
turned his attention to the open hangar where the powered down quinjet was
waiting. Iron Woman’s instruction was sound. Taking out a way to escape reduced
the probability of prolonged fighting. Checking yet again if there was someone
around the hangar, short beam of yellow energy burst from the gem on his
forehead and the quinjet was reduced to a smoking pile of scrap. It was a shame
really, for Tasha Stark took great pride in designing and building it. The
resulting explosion served as a short moment of pause as the realization of no
escape settled on Captain America’s team.
“I will say it one last time!” There was
no restraint in anger that boomed from Iron Woman. “Stand the fuck down!”
Spider-man used the distraction to shoot
copious amount of webbing at Hawkeye, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, effectively
pinning them to the ground. It was after all the reason why she brought him to
Germany in the first place. The close contact combat was not it. Black Panther
had Barnes pinned as well, Black Widow was eyeing the man in giant form with
all the suspicion of the world whilst War Machine was hovering near him as
well, ready to act at any sudden move. For the first time since this whole
shitty mess started, Captain America looked indecisive and unsure. It was more
than likely because his only effective way out was blown up. Looking at his now
subdued teammates, he let the shield he retrieved fall from his hand. “You’re
making a mistake Tasha.”
“Then it is mine to make. As it was your
mistake in deciding to not contact me before this fight went down or even to
listen to me back at the task force.” She turned to Black Widow. “Please inform
Everett Ross to send a transport for everyone.”
The giant man finally shrunk down to the
normal size, hands raised up in surrender. She would find out exactly what his
name was later. “Stay put Rogers.” Tasha ordered when he moved to follow her
approach to Barnes, reinforcing it with a raised gauntlet waiting to fire off
an energy blast. The helmet collapsed when she kneeled in front of Barnes. “Who
am I talking to right now?”
“Sergeant James Barnes, serial number
“It’s nice to meet you at last Barnes. I
believe I have something to help with your conditioning problem.”
“Steve didn’t mention that.”
Tasha snorted. “Yes, I am beginning to
learn how elective he is with words. We’ll discuss it later.”
Black Widow returned with small caravan
of SUV’s and prisoner transport trucks in tow, gear was taken away, handcuffs
were slapped on and everyone made their way back to Berlin. Tasha was already
having a headache just thinking about conversations that were to be had in
about two hours. Making sure Spider-man was safely on board her private jet
with Happy, Tasha slipped into the backseat of the black SUV; content to find
out that there was no one else in it. She just needed a quiet minute or two.
“You know you are not obligated to talk
to them any further. That is actually my job at this point.”
Why did she stop drinking? Because she
could fucking use one right now. “I like you much better than the other Ross.
So if you could just let me deal with this shit please? I promise you can hash
out all the details on them later because frankly I am just about done.”
The shorter man eyed her, finally
shrugging his shoulder and pointed to the heavily guarded conference room where
the rogue Avengers as media was already calling them were being kept. He made
it crystal clear that they should be in cells already but he was not going to
go against the higher ups. And seeing the plain exhaustion of her face, he
decided that the woman should have some sort of satisfaction out this entire
clusterfuck. “You look ready to keel over.” Nat commented bluntly, matching her
steps with Tasha’s.
“Let’s just get this over with, okay? I
really don’t want to talk about anything else.” Two women already found Rhodey,
Vision and T’Challa sitting at the same table, facing the other team with
expressions varying from unconcealed anger to pensive curiosity. “Are the
handcuffs really necessary?”
“I’m not here for chit chat, Rogers.”
Rhodey snorted loudly and Tasha rolled
her eyes. “You have unbelievably single track mind, it’s amazing. You people
collectively broke more international laws than most terrorists do and you keep
yapping about your best friend. He’s fine; I negotiated with Ross to have him transferred
to one of my facilities under heavy guard just in case the other Ross had any
bright ideas. We-” she motioned to her team. “Are here to talk about the
supposed Winter Soldiers.”
“Oh, so now you care?” Clint shot out,
not even attempting to hide his discontent.
“Mr. Barton.” T’Challa cut in before Tasha
could speak again. “The entire defense of your team sits on this supposed
threat. Make no mistake; your position is very precarious.”
“Barnes already gave us some intel, we
just want to corroborate that he told you the same thing.”
“And then what?”
Vision leaned forward in his seat. “And
then captain Rogers, we are going to go and investigate the validity of those
claims. I believe they will be taken into account when joint counter terrorism
centre brings up the charges. I believe Mr. Ross has far more detailed
explanation of how things will proceed from here.”
“And the Russians are just going to let
you waltz in their backyard?” Sam sounded guarded and doubtful.
“Considering they have to deal with
public backlash of Barnes being used as KGB’s assassin and likelihood that they
have been storing several more on ice all this time after everything that
happened, yes, they will let us just waltz into their backyard.” Rhodey ground
“Look, we will check this either way
Rogers. You cooperating might do you some good. Time to start using that head
of yours for something other than punching and thinking about your war buddy.”
“You mean compromise?”
Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not
this again Rogers. I am not talking about this with someone who has not even
read the Accords. None of you did, I bet.”
“You owe it -” “Enough Captain.” T’Challa
was on his feet now. This was not how they discussed making their marriage
public knowledge but he could not stand to watch any longer to his wife’s
former team mate look at her like she was ultimate disappointment in his life. “My
wife does not owe you or anyone here anything beyond the common curtsey of
One could hear a needle fall in the room
that is how silent it was. Steve noticed that aside from Rhodes, everyone was
sporting various degrees of surprise on their faces. And Tasha looked uncharacteristically
pleased with it. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“I assure you Mr. Barton; I would never
joke on the matter of our marriage. You have never inquired if Tasha was seeing
anyone, you just made assumptions. Besides, we preferred our privacy.”
“So it was another secret.” At best, he
sounded like it was something he believed to be completely in character with
her and was therefore disappointed that she did not learn from past
Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Rogers…my marriage
is of absolutely no importance to the events that have transpired in last few
days. So fuck you for trying to use it as some sort of springboard for your
moral crusade. I’m done.” T’Challa wasted no time in following after her.
“Tasha slow down.” It was not that he
could not catch up with her but it was the way she was gripping her left arm
while she was marching away that had him concerned. “I am sorry for blurting it
out like that but I could not watch him step on you any longer.”
“It’s fine, really.” Her breathing
“What injuries did you sustain in the
fight?” His eyes tried to asses her condition but aside from the black eye, she
had no visible injuries.
“None. But uh, my left arm is kind of
numb. Is that normal?”
No, it was not normal at all and the panic
he experienced seconds before the bomb went off returned with full force. “You
need to see a doctor straight away.”
“What? No, I’m good.”
“Please, intanda, do not argue with me.
Not now.” Her acquiescence after his plea was short lived because not ten steps
later; she collapsed and would have kissed the floor face first were it not for
his fast reflexes. With relative ease, he scooped her up and called for help. He
lost his father; he would not lose her too.
@queenyavengers So you wanted a secretly married IronPanther, yes? Here’s a short thing plus angst.
Either the Rowdy 3’s van gets impounded by the CIA for evidence, or it gets left by the side of the road and eventually towed away for scrap metal after the local authorities assume that it’s been abandoned. But then they steal another van during the breakout and it’s not the same, it’s not their baby, but it’s a fresh new start. It’s their home sweet home and the newest member of their little family, and they can’t wait to get back on the road once they’ve finished laying low in the deserted cabin that Farah organized.
They come out one morning, yawning and bleary-eyed, only to find that there’s no longer an intimidating black CIA van parked outside.
There’s Dirk Gently with a pile of empty spray cans at his feet, looking proudly at their new Mystery Machine.
“Sam, just- can we table this crap for like twenty minutes, please? I’m starving,” Dean begged as he searched for a parking spot on the busy main street. His stomach was growling so loudly he could barely hear Sam’s rambling about the case.
“You’re always starving,” Sam said, rolling his eyes and closing the case file in his lap.
“I think I saw a diner over here… Aha!” Dean spotted the tiny restaurant, barely a hole in the wall in the middle of the crowded street. Even better, there was a spot right in front.
“How did you even see that?”
“My burger senses were tingling, Sammy,” he joked as he pulled headfirst into the parking space and cut the engine, not noticing the fire hydrant smack in the middle.
“I don’t think you can park here,” Sam announced, looking out his window.
“What are you talking about? It’s a spot. Baby fits. I’m parking.”
Chat paced back and forth on Marinette’s balcony, contemplating whether he should knock or just leave.
Adrien had awoken with a start from a nightmare. It had started out quite fine. He was with Marinette and the others at the park having a nice picnic. The sky was bright and sunny, fluffy white clouds dotted the sky, and the birds flew by, singing their tune. They four relaxed under the shade of a tree, playing card games and laughing. Then all of a sudden things began to change. The birds became silent, not a single creature stirred. The sun was still high in the sky but the shadows grew darker, taking on an opaque black. Alya and Nino had vanished. Slowly the inky black tendrils seep through the cracks of the now dry dirt, reaching for him and Marinette. The blond grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her to her feet. He began running with the petite designer in tow, trying to get away from the tendrils.
Suddenly Marinette let’s out a piercing shriek as she jerks her hand out of his as if Adrien had somehow burned her with his touch. And burn her he did. Marinette’s wrist was an angry red, blistery in some places and charred in others, exactly where his hand had been. With wide eyes, Adrien looks to his own hands only to be met with the sight of his gloved hands, a faint black glow fading away.
When the emerald-eyed cat boy looks back up, Marinette was gone. But he could still hear her shrieks ringing in his ears clear as day. He looks to the sky and find the bright blue sky replaced by darkness. He shouts for his blue bell eyed designer but gets no response. The cat boy starts running aimlessly, shouting her name time and time again. He runs for what feels like miles but gets nowhere.
Chat Noir comes to a stop. His heart was pumping, his thighs were burning, and he was struggling to get enough air into his lungs. That’s when he heard her again. Chat tries to look into the darkness surrounding him but can’t make out anything even with the night vision granted to him by his suit. He calls out to her again but the ground beneath him begins to rumble and before the blond hero can react, he’s falling. Falling deeper and deeper until he wakes, clutching his chest as beads of sweat roll down his back.
The panting young boy calls out to his kwami, calling upon his transformation without hesitation and jumping out his window into the night. Chat runs and leaps across the rooftops, his body taking where it pleases. He stumbles but does not slow down. He can’t slow down, not until he get’s to his destination.
Chat clambers onto Marinette’s balcony with very little grace. He pauses to catch his breath and looks around. This is when his mind catches up to his body. The blond hero begins to panic as he paces the balcony. He shouldn’t have come here without thinking. What was he to say when he sees Marinette?
“Chat?” Marinette’s sleepy voice broke him out of his thoughts and abruptly halted his pacing.
Turning around, the cat boy saw Marinette rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, her head the only visible part of her body. Chat didn’t speak as he took in this image, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.
Apparently he didn’t speak for longer than was socially accepted because Marinette had called his name once more as she started climbing out of the skylight to join him on the balcony.
“Chat? Are you okay?” Marinette’s blue bell eyes shined with worry for her partner.
Chat appeared to be in a daze as he lifted a clawed hand and gently ran his knuckles against the side of her face before pulling away quickly, almost as if he was afraid to break her. The designer’s brows knit with a mix of confusion and worry. She was about to speak up when the cat boy cupped her cheeks and leaned his forehead against hers.
“You’re okay,” he whispers softly, more to reassure himself rather than Marinette.
The dark haired girl simply slides her hands to his waist and pulls him closer. She didn’t know the reasoning behind why her partner was so visibly shaken but she did know that it hurt to see him like this.
Chat slides one hand down from her cheek and pulls her into a hug, clutching her petite frame against his as he repeated those two words under his breath. He tucks the smaller girl’s head under his chin and sighs, tightening his hold just a fraction as she does the same.
The two don’t speak for some time, not until a chill runs through Marinette’s body as she was still wearing nothing but her pajama’s and the night’s chill was getting to her despite being wrapped in Chat’s warm embrace.
“Let’s go inside,” the blue-eyed girl says softly as she takes his hand in hers. Chat flinches as the memory from his nightmare resurfaces, but he takes a deep breath and nods, following her down to her loft.
Marinette sits by the head of her bed, leaning against the white tiger she keeps there. Chat settles down by her side and pulls the blanket over their figures, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek to her abdomen. Marinette smiles at his very cat-like demeanor and cards her fingers through his hair in what she hopes is a calming motion.
Another moment of comfortable silence passes by before Marinette speaks up again. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked softly, tilting her head to get a better look at the boy nuzzling against her stomach.
Chat didn’t want to relive the nightmare but he hoped that by talking to his friend about it would help to lift the heavy feeling still weighing down on his chest. And so he retold the tale from start to finish.
“I’m sorry. Sorry for waking you and troubling you so late at night,” Chat finishes softly, pressing his face closer to Marinette’s stomach.
“Oh mon chaton,” She cooed softly as he apologizes. She pulls the blond into her arms and hugs him tightly. She rocks back and forth ever so slightly. “You know you can always come to me when you’re troubled, even if it’s four in the morning. I’ll always have time for my kitty.”
“No buts. You can come to me,” Marinette says firmly as she looks into his green eyes. She smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead before ushering him to lay down as she does the same. She pulls the covers up to their shoulders and gets comfortable just as a yawn slips past her lips and she closes her eyes. “Sleep kitty, we’ve got just a few more hours before school.”
A flash of green lights up the loft as Chat’s transformation falls and a sleepy Adrien is left in his place. Adrien shifts closer to the petite girl and takes her hand to place a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you,” he whispers looking into her beautiful blue bell eyes.
Marinette simply smiles before letting her eyes slip shut once more. Adrien takes a moment to look at her features, committing them to memory just before his own lids droop and he drifts off with her.
Pairing: dad!Tony x daughter!reader, Nat, Sam, Steve
Warnings: Angst, anxiety tw
Word count: 1,901
A/N: My encounter with the rude creep who forced me to go park somewhere else and opened the door to my car after I had already gotten in and the subsequent panic attacks inspired this. Don’t read this if you get upset by reading about stuff like this!
You hated driving in New York. The traffic was fucking insane, people ran across the streets without even bothering to look left and right and the parking situation was the worst of it all. Just finding a parking spot took forever. It had taken you a solid half an hour until you had finally found one - there was no sign declaring that it was a private parking spot, so without giving it another thought, you got out of the car and rushed into the hair salon.
The HMS Dreadnought was a 98 gun second rate ship of the line in Nelson’s Navy.
Dreadnought was present at the Battle of Trafalgar, the eighth ship in the lee division to enter battle. She began firing at two o'clock, and forced the surrender of the San Juan Nepomuceno after her Commodore was killed.
During the battle, Dreadnought lost seven seaman and a further 26 suffered wounds.
She was a quarantine ship until 1857, when she was towed away and broken up.