#I wanted to climb through it so bad but there were so many broken bricks and glass in the way smh

[the-magnus-protocol]

Got the chance to explore the local state theater after hours for a film project, including their creepy no-access basement that was built in the early 1900

[hannahssimblr]

“Clóda,” one stone. 

“Clóda,” another. 

“Fuck sake,” I murmur to myself, then throw a third, bigger one, which smacks off her window so loudly that I’m briefly paralysed with fear that it has broken the glass. Thankfully it hasn’t. She comes out onto the balcony.

“There you are,” she says quietly, peering down at me in her garden as I drop my handful of stones and wipe the dirt on my thighs. 

“Yeah, here I am. This is a bit Shakespearean isn’t it?” 

“Huh?”

“Like, you know, 'but soft, what light through yonder window breaks…. Defy thy father, refuse thy name', et cetera,” I pause before clarifying, “Romeo and Juliet, no?”

“Oh, I did The Merchant of Venice for my Junior Cert.”

“I thought you’d have still gotten the reference.”

She leans over the balcony to point to a precarious looking trellis against the wall, “If you climb up that thing you’ll be able to reach me.”

“Right,” I say, and press my foot against the flimsy timber to test my weight, “You know I’m like, nearly thirteen stone?” 

“You can try.”

“And if I break it?”

“Hmm, try not to,” she suggests. 

“Right,” I brace myself by slotting my fingers into a gap between some brick facade on the side of the house and I haul myself onto the trellis, and it groans but doesn’t give. “I’m good, I think I’m good.”

From there it’s not so bad. I nimbly move up the wall, grab hold of the sun room gutters and grab a hold of the balcony railings, where I find myself thrilled in the way a child is, having climbed somewhere he is not supposed to climb, the king of the castle overlooking his vast land, though I can’t really see much in the dark countryside, save a few car headlights in the distance, the lighthouse flashing over the bay. 

“Um, here,” Clóda hisses, and I realise I have briefly forgotten my objective, but the rest is easy, I just swing myself over the railing and I’m up. 

“Nice that you’ve a balcony,” I comment, “I don't know many other people who have one of these.”

“We built this house a few years ago, and for some reason I wanted a balcony in my room, I don’t know, I was like, ten, and it was a stupid idea because it’s mostly too cold out here to even make use of.” 

“Useful now though, huh?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ears and bats her eyelashes at me, “yeah I suppose it is.”

She pushes the door open and we creep into her room where the only light is from the glow of the television screen in the corner. It’s clean, very clean with no clutter or clothes lying around, which always freaks me out for reasons that I cannot explain. The idea that a person would have the interest or discipline to keep their bedroom clean is odd. If a person's bedroom is a mirror to the inside of their mind, then the lack of chaos in hers is foreign and unrelatable. 

While she switches on a pink fringed bedside light I throw myself down on the neatly tucked duvet just so that I can mess it up a little bit, to mark my territory like some kind of wild dog let loose in a palace. I peer at her CD collection and mess that up too by pulling one out and showing it to her, “Jesse McCartney, huh? You a fan?”

She goes pink and grabs it out of my hand, “Yeah I used to be, I dunno, not so much anymore, I don’t know why I still have that.”

I grab another, “Who are the Jonas Brothers?” 

“Oh, they’re-”

“That guy in the middle has a pretty wild haircut, would you fancy me with that?”

“No,” she giggles and takes that CD off me too, then slots them carefully back where they were, “I have some silly stuff, I probably shouldn’t have it all out.”

“Nah, well, look, you have some great stuff here, how ‘bout this? Black Holes and Revelations? I love this album, you know I saw Muse live last year.”

The mattress sinks as she sits next to me, “Really? Was it when they came to Ireland?”

“Nah it was in the states.”

Her eyes flash with intrigue, “like, America?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, that you just, like, go to America and stuff. I don’t know anybody who’s gone to America yet, and I want to go so badly.”

I shrug, “well you should, then.”

“How often do you go?”

“Not often, I was there last year and then before that…” I try to remember, “I think I was maybe twelve. It takes a long time to get to where I’m going, you know, from here you can only get to New York and then you have to get a connecting flight and all of that,” thinking about the ordeal of it exhausts me, but Clóda is leaning forward in fascination, as hearing the words ‘New York’ come out of my mouth has sent a thrill through her. 

“What do you go for?”

“Just to visit family and stuff.”

“You’ve family there?”

“Of course, did you not know that my dad is American?”

She frowns, “Well you sound a little bit American but I thought… I don’t know, really, I thought you were putting it on or something.”

“What, like, for attention?”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, impatient, “where do you go?”

“Well… I’ve some family in California and some in New Mexico, which is like, a state in the southwest, kinda wedged between Texas and California, if you can imagine that on a map,” I leave out poor Arizona just to make it easier on her, because nobody here knows what the hell a New Mexico, (‘no, no not Mexico, New Mexico’) is so it’s best to keep it concise. 

Clóda is nodding vigorously, “California, like, LA.”

“Kind of. Like, my dad comes from a place called San Bernardino, which is-” I take her wrist and trace a line on the soft skin of her inner arm, “-to the east of LA, say, an hour or two away, depending on the traffic, yeah? And then his family, like his aunts and uncles and their parents, who we used to visit sometimes, they’re living in a place way up north,” I run a gentle trail all the way up to the sleeve of her t-shirt, “to the very tip top of the Sacramento valley in this rugged, gold rush town…” I lift my eyes to her and she’s staring at my hand, following the motion of my finger as I skim the tip of it over her shoulder and across the taut skin of her collarbone. I prepare myself to say more sexy things about the Sacramento river and the rolling hills and the central valley and whatever else I usually bang on about whenever someone asks, but she looks into my eyes and says: “Is there an Abercrombie where you go?”

“Huh?”

“Abercrombie and Fitch.”

I frown, “Yeah?”

“Oh, wow.” She pushes me onto my back and lays on top of me, gazing down at me with fervid glitter in her eyes, “If you go back to America this year, could you buy me something from there?”

I search in her eyes for some sign that she’s joking and determine that she isn’t. She really wants me to do that. “Yep, sure,” I say.

“Ah, that’d be amazing. You know the way they have those bags too? The ones with the black and white pictures of the guys' bodies on them? Well there was a girl in my class who…”

And I zone out and I stop listening to her as she talks about laminating the bags and carrying school books in them, and I wonder if she will even notice the glazed over look in my eyes as I let my eyes unfocus and stare into the middle distance between her and her pastel pink walls and ask myself some serious questions. 

Do I like her?

She’s pretty though.

Sure, she’s pretty but is she fun? 

She likes Muse.

She’s not even very nice though, is she? She’s said a few weird things in the past.

Yeah but I’ve had sex with her now.

I can’t really stop talking to her or anything, can I? That’d mean I’m a dickhead. 

But would I rather be a dickhead or be miserable?

Maybe both outcomes will make me miserable. Maybe I’m just pre-programmed to be a miserable person. Or am I just cursed?

I zone back in for a moment, “...and then Mr. Brennan confiscated all of them, and there was this whole thing where the parents council…” What is happening? 

“Uh huh,” I say, “Uh huh… uh huh, what? That’s crazy,” God she is really pretty though, the kind of pretty that’s hard to find, and it’s not like there’s anyone else around, is there? It’d be awkward to stop seeing each other now with two whole weeks left of the summer. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 16

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: grief, past loss

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos   @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions

Masterlist

Day 185

As soon as her team made it back, Leah disappeared. She had jumped off the turret before Rohan had even slowed the humvee down to a full stop. By the time Sy had finished checking in with everyone else, no one had any idea where she had gone.

As her team leader, Ben had gone to her room to check in with her but he’d found it empty. When the guys had checked the chow hall and gym without success, Sy grew more concerned. He dismissed the four worried men with a promise to handle things himself.

There were only so many places one could be on base and none of them were so secluded that no one would stumble across you. It wasn’t until Sy patrolled the perimeter of the base that he remembered how Leah had been perched on the top of her bed when the whole fiasco with Nielsen had first gone down. It was the only time he’d seen the pressure get to her.

The roof had various heights and if she climbed up to the Western side, no one would be able to see her from the watchtower. How the hell she had managed to get up there—if she was up there—in full tactical gear was beyond his comprehension but there was nowhere else to look.

It took him pulling a humvee up flush against the side of the building to reach a broken off ladder. He could just barely reach the bottom rung and had to muscle his way up the last four feet. Once he heaved himself over the edge, he was happy to note that his efforts hadn’t been in vain.

Leah didn’t so much as spare a glance at him as he lowered himself next to her.

“What you did was reckless,” he stated, pulling his knees up and leaning his crossed arms on them.

“I don’t care,” she sniffed, wiping her cheek on the shoulder of her uniform jacket, “I’ll take the punishment for disobeying direct orders.”

The only thing Leah had ever seemed to care about was being good at her job. The fact that she was so quick to put everything at risk told Sy that Niki held a special place in her heart. That kind of loyalty couldn’t be bought. It was the kind you forged by walking through fire and helping each other through to the other side. Seeing him hurt was punishment enough.

“I’m not here to scold you. What you did saved his life. I expect he will make it out of this with minimal lasting injuries. I’m sorry you had to see your… friend like that.”

“What was that tone for?” Leah’s eyes found his for the first time, a suspicious frown on her face.

Sy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first girl to have a crush on her brother’s best friend. It’s not much of a stretch to think that the two of you might be involved.”

“What? No, it’s not like that. Niki was just…” She let out a frustrated groan, closing her eyes and slamming her head back against the brick. “Niki was a big part of my life from the time I started high school to when I joined the army. The thought of losing him hurts as bad as the thought of losing my brother.”

Tears fell down her cheeks and Sy had to lock his hands together to keep from wiping them away. The last thing she would want would be for him to draw attention to them and the last thing she needed was her superior getting too handsy. Again.

“I taught him how to shoot,” she added after a beat of silence. “When I was fifteen I told him that if he planned on making the military his career then he needed to learn.”

“Wait, why was a fifteen year old teaching a… ” Sy’s eyebrows pulled together as he did the math in his head. “Twenty-something year old how to shoot? Where were your parents in all this?”

Leah snorted, shaking her head. “How much time have you got?”

Sy knew it was a rhetorical question but he felt compelled to answer all the same. He had a feeling she wouldn’t actually tell him otherwise and he was dying to learn anything he could about her.

“For you? All the time in the world.”

Leah’s eyes grew wide as she looked up at him. Her face was covered in dust except for where her tears had left trails down to her chin. She unzipped her jacket, having already removed her helmet and her plates, and shrugged it off. Sy mirrored her action, getting more comfortable in the late afternoon heat.

“I never knew my mother. She was only eighteen when she got pregnant with Caleb. Her family disowned her for the whole having sex out of wedlock thing and Dad was a newly enlisted corpsman who was always away. When he was finally close to coming home for good, the war happened.”

Sy already knew that she’d lost her father but the fact that she’d never known her mother was news to him.

“At some point my mother got it in her head that maybe if she just had another baby, she could convince him to come back so she got pregnant with me on purpose while Dad was on leave but all that did was leave her more miserable. For the second time before she’d even turned twenty-five, she had to go through a pregnancy basically alone, only that time she had a toddler to care for as well.

“One morning about a year after I was born, my mom dropped Caleb off at school then took me next door to the retired couple who used to babysit us. She got in her car and drove away. No one has heard from her since.”

Leah could feel Sy’s full attention on her. She had never had to lay out her life story before, only ever going so far as to say her father was dead. For some reason she didn’t understand, she wanted Sy to know this about her. She wanted to show him that she trusted him and that she wasn’t hiding anything when it came to Niki.

“Dad was granted a compassionate discharge and my mother lost all her parental rights. He made sure that she could never come back and take us away from him after abandoning us. He may not have been there in Caleb’s early days but he always did as much as he could for us even if he was an ocean away. Caleb always knew his dad loved him…”

Leah covered her face with both hands and, for a moment, Sy thought that maybe she’d decided that was enough story-telling for a day, but she choked down a sob and lifted her head again.

“What we didn’t know was that before he was discharged, Dad was injured in an explosion. We didn’t know he’d been living with shrapnel still stuck in his body—shrapnel that shifted and caused an embolism when I was fourteen. At nineteen our mother had Caleb. When Caleb was nineteen and in his first year of pre-med, he was given custody of me.”

“Fuck, Leah, I’m so sorry.”

He really was. She lost the only parent she’d ever known, someone she obviously cared for deeply. No one deserved that.

“Niki and a few of Caleb’s other friends took it upon themselves to help look out for me. They would come over most nights and study together. They would take turns making dinner so we didn’t always have to. Everyone knew Caleb was born to be a doctor and they didn’t want him to get behind because of what happened, myself included. I kept to myself, I tried harder in school to make sure none of the teachers would question how well Caleb took care of me, I got a job.”

Sy shifted, cursing his dick for the inappropriately timed interest. The first time she’d mentioned her job had been when she’d drawn that moth on his chest. Just the memory of their closeness was enough to send his imagination running wild.

“Niki was the only one who noticed that all of that was just for the sake of appearances. He was the only one who noticed how much losing Dad had destroyed something inside me. Dad and I used to do everything together. Caleb was the smart kid, he was into books and that kind of thing so as soon as he was old enough to be home alone he stopped tagging along to our hunting trips or to the shooting range. He still came camping with us but he’d just read by the lake while Dad and I took the paddleboards out. Each of us is one perfect half of Dad. Caleb got his smarts and I got his inability to sit still.

“About a year after he died, Niki found me in the kitchen, crying my eyes out as I cleaned my father’s gun collection. Until then, I hadn’t even been able to set foot in dad’s office. Niki didn’t say anything. He just pulled his laptop out of his book bag and started typing up an essay. I hadn’t realized until he did that how good it felt to not have to hide. He didn’t make me talk or anything, he was just… there. And that was enough, you know?

“That’s when Niki started taking me to the range once a month. He let me teach him how to shoot. He helped me cope and by the time he got into OCS, I didn’t feel like my grief was going to swallow me up whole anymore. I’d started letting myself live again. I’d found a new hobby that I could do on my own. I opened up to Caleb and stopped feeling like I was a burden in his life.”

Sy had no idea that Leah hid so much pain behind her tough exterior but he felt like he should have guessed. He was no stranger to difficult family dynamics but at least they were still around. He might have once felt like his parents neglected him in order to care for his younger brothers but that didn’t mean he didn’t also know he was loved. Leah grew up knowing her mom had attempted to use her birth to manipulate her father and ran away when it didn’t work. It was no wonder having Niki around elicited such a strong reaction from her.

“Sounds to me like Niki is a really stand up guy.”

“Yeah. He was.”

“Is,” Sy corrected. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on ya since he got here.” He let out a deep sigh, feeling like an asshole for letting his jealousy affect his job. “I asked him about you… When he first got here and ya jumped on him. I just assumed you guys had some sort of romantic relationship or at least that it had been once. He said it wasn’t like that but something in his tone made me think I wasn’t gettin’ the full story. I thought that if anyone picked up on how close you were that they would assume you were sleeping with him.”

Then there was the fact that, even if he’d initiated their kiss, she’d kissed him back. Of course some little part of him had been all too quick to believe she’d only been interested in him to get ahead. That same part of him that seemed to always compel him to make stupid decisions in his youth rather than asking anyone for help. The part of him that needed to be knocked down to his knees before allowing him to dedicate his efforts to constructive endeavors.

There was a beat of silence before Sy spoke again.

“I hope ya know that ya never have to hide. Not from me.” He was referring to her earlier words but also to the way in which she’d climbed up the fucking building just to be alone. He still hadn’t bothered asking how she’d managed that. “I need to know what’s goin’ on with you as your CO but I… I would want to know regardless.”

Leah didn’t say anything in response but the way she leaned her head on his shoulder as she cried until she ran out of tears was answer enough.

Chapter 17

[whitepolaris]

Henryton Center

Glenn Dale isn’t the only abandoned medical facility in the state. Between 1923 and 1955, the state’s department of health and mental hygiene built twenty-two buildings, known as the Henryton Center, in Carroll County. The center was built to serve the state’s African American population as a tuberculosis hospital. In the time, TB vaccinations reduced the number of patients, and the center was repurposed as a home for the developmentally disabled of all races. Like many mental institutions, it was closed down in the 1980s, when the prevailing philosophy was to integrate the disabled into society at large. 

This has left a lawrge abandoned hospital off Marriotsville Road in Marriotsville, right next to Maryland’s historic railroad. The place is prominently marked as private property and is often patrolled by police, how not onnly arrest trespassers but ticket cars parked on the property. Beginning in 2005, the state began actively soliciting developers to redesign the buildings into something that would serve the community, but for now it’s just a big, empty complex of buildings that are beautiful by day and menacing by night. 

We do not encourage anybody to trespass on such properties, because it’s just not right to do so. But some people who wrote in to Weird have furnished us with some other reasons to avoid Henryton. Their stories follow, and if you’re still keen on visiting the place  . . . well . . . don’t say you weren’t warned. 

A Smashing Time at Henryton

One night, three of my friends and I went to explore the Henryton Center. One of my friends considers herself psychic. She constantly gets bad premonitions about things, and she is usually right. But, the whole time we were walking around, she didn’t have any. The largest building is a sort of “E” shaped and there are many lampposts so that everything is lit up around the building at night. 

My friends and I went around to the back of the building and stood looking up at the huge structure. It is about 4 or 5 stories tall and brick, with rows and rows of windows on each level. I made a comment about the dark windows: “Isn’t it funny how if someone were looking out on of those windows right now, they could see us, but we could not see them?” We laughed and proceeded into the building. Most every door and window is boarded up, but because this is a common place for thrill-seekers, one of the lower doors had been unboarded. 

We walked through a creepy kitchen and into a long hallway. On one side of the hallway were the long lines of windows we had seen from outside, and on the other side were doors to many small rooms. We walked to the end of this hallway, and there was a very large room and a stairwell. We walked up the stairwell to the next level, where the hallway was similar to the first floor. The whole time, my psychic friend had no commented on having any bad feelings. In fact, she led the way. We got to the end of the second hallway, and climbed the stairwell to the third floor hallway, which was similar to the first two. 

This time I spotted at one of the windows about halfway down the hallway, and peered down to the area where we had been standing outside looking up at the windows. Then said, “Isn’t it funny that now I could see someone if they were down there, and they can’t see me!” And I laughed. Right then, my psychic friend freaked out and said, “We have to leave now, I don’t want to be here!” She started running down the hallway, down the flights of stairs, through all the doors we came through, and back out to the parking lot we had been standing in. We tried our best to keep up with her, but she beat us outside. When we got out there, she was standing staring up at the rows of windows where we had been standing on the third floor. She had a horrible look of terror on her face. So we turned around to see what she was looking at, and almost right where we had been standing, the large window was completely shattered. It was not broken when we were up there. -Carly L.

Lights Go on at Henryton

Everyone who has been to the Henryton Center at night knows that when you go, you feel like you’re being watched. At night, you can see faint lights in the windows. Or perhaps that creeped-out feeling you get is because the place is a haven for beats. Maybe you can see them out of the corner of your eye and subconsciously register that they’re there without actually consciously seeing them. But whatever the explanation, there’s something about that place that just isn’t right! -FineTime

[ragingbookdragon]

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

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[free-pancakes]

here's part 2 to the levihan marvel au drabble! im HOOKED help it's not even funny the brainrot hello

part 1 here

“This feels wrong.”

Hange’s hands reached for another arrow.

“Do I... know these people?”

Voices yelled her name, but she didn’t recognize them. Her own ears couldn’t tell if they were familiar or not.

Hange watched her own arrows pierce the hearts of the people in her path, destruction—her mind told her she was winning, but her heart didn’t agree.

She walked away from the scene, a bad feeling lingering in her hand as she gripped her bow close. Unsure of where she was heading, her mind told her to continue, until she reached an unfamiliar location under the cover of night.

A van drove up, and a man with blonde hair and glasses emerged from it—she felt herself salute immediately.

“Agent Zoe, your next task—eliminate Agent Ackerman,” Zeke announced coldly.

Hange paused. It felt as though her soul was split in two—her mind ordered her to go, hopping into the van. But once again, at the same time, something didn’t feel right.

“Ackerman?”

——

Levi revved his motorcycle as he sped through the streets. He stared up, dusk’s blend of purple and orange reminding him of Hange, happy and bright—he choked back tears.

As he gripped the handlebars tighter, an aching pain tugged at the skin of his knuckles, reminding him of the mess he left Erwin and Moblit in. He had been so kind to gift them both a black eye before Petra and Oluo successfully managed to hold him back. And though he felt bad… he didn’t regret it—it has been 5 days since Hange has been gone. 5 whole days. And he knew it wouldn’t have happened if they were together. They had always been safer together.

But the lingering thought set up shop in his mind—Zeke had a powerful grip on her mind and he had her well-being riding on his shoulders.

News searches, and finding that fellow agents have fallen by Hange’s own arrows had been his only clues to her whereabouts. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find her, but he wouldn’t stop until he did. She saved him, and he’d only do the same for her.

——

Under the cover of night, Levi continued to ride his motorcycle throughout the city around locations Hange was recently seen in, when suddenly a loud backfire sounded from behind him.

“Hange??” He yelled in surprise as she sped in on a motorcycle right on his tail.

He didn’t expect Hange to be the one finding him.

An explosion blasted from his side.

And of course, she was heavily armed.

Levi ripped through the streets as Hange remained close behind him, the smell of burnt rubber lingering through the air every sharp turn he made. Another arrow flew by his head, blasting the road in front of him—luckily he was able to drive away just in time before concrete and asphalt could pummel him. It gave her time to catch up to him, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of her face.

In her eyes was a dark abyss, blank, unrecognizable. Devoid of all the light he ever knew her to be, no smile, no nothing.

It shook Levi to his core.

Distracted, he missed another arrow of hers shooting right at him, and had to jump off the motorcycle to dodge it safely. Levi fell and skidded onto the concrete, yelling out as his skin slid on the rocks.

He was thrown for a loop seeing Hange—relieved to see her again, but simultaneously pained. But, he shook himself out of it. Luckily it was late and no citizens were out and about, but he didn’t want to risk it. So, he made desperate moves to lead himself and Hange at least a little outside the city limits, and he knew just where to go. He ran swiftly back to his motorcycle, and sped down the road towards the docks. A few tears streamed down his face as he rode—whether it was from the road burn or seeing Hange, he wasn’t sure.

——

He led Hange to an abandoned facility just outside the city limits, hopping out to run inside—it’d prevent her from using the explosive arrows in the tight space.

Levi crept through the metal stairs, memories of one of their previous missions ending here on his mind. He hoped the location would stir some memories for her as well. As he searched for higher ground to gain vision for himself, he should have expected Hange to be this fast. There she was, standing on the other side of the metal grate walkway, hanging several floors above ground.

The silence was deafening—he stared at her dark, blank eyes again as they made eye contact—stirring something desperate in Levi.

“Hange, it’s me,” he stuttered, unsure of how to snap her out of it. She ignored his words and pointed her bow at him. Levi dodged as it flew towards him, sliding to swipe her off her feet with a kick.

But the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory dodging Levi’s go-to move.

She stepped down on his ankle with perfect timing, but he propelled his torso upwards to grab at her bow. He yanked down to bring her to the floor, the metal walkway they were on beginning to swing wildly. The two of them slid and rocked back and forth, tumbling over each other as each tried to gain the upper hand.

“Hange, it’s me, Levi!” He yelled as they struggled. Hange once again ignored his plea, and finally freed herself. To Levi’s surprise, she did the unexpected. He recognize her pulling an explosive arrow, and she aimed it right past him to blow the end of the walkway’s attachment to the ceiling. At this point Levi knew, Zeke had ordered her to kill him—she was not exactly being careful.

The two fell through the air, but Levi was able to ground himself on a platform, luckily catching Hange by the hand before she could fall and severely injure herself, her bow and bag of arrows falling a few stories below, landing with a crash. He took another hand and lifted her up onto the platform, and they began to fight once again. As always, their hand-to-hand combat was evenly matched, each blow matched with a block, every move countered. And like the first time they had ever fought, Levi found himself smiling, and he swore, he saw her smiling too.

It hit Levi like a ton of bricks—the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory earlier. The mind-wiping didn’t erase what lay in her heart.

And as though Hange was speaking to him, two words weirdly came to mind: “Cognitive recalibration—“

Levi almost laughed out loud as the phrase came to mind.

“Stupid four-eyes,” Levi let out as he remembered her bright voice telling him what that meant years and years ago:

“It means hitting someone really hard in the head, Levi!”

He blocked another punch from Hange, and swung towards her head, but she dodged too quickly. So Levi did the unexpected, tackling her, and her head hit the railing.

Hange yelled out, her hands reaching up to stabilize her head.

“L-Levi?” She said, making Levi’s gut wrench hearing her say his name once again.

Her eyes were still in a daze, not fully there. So Levi decided the safest move…

“Sorry, Hange,” he whispered as he elbowed her in the head, knocking her out cold.

Levi paused, breathing heavily, exhausted. With his sleeve, he wiped the blood dripping from his nose as he stood. He looked down at Hange, and tears of relief fell down his face. He pushed the hair from her face, and kissed her softly on the forehead. Safe.

Levi picked her up, balancing her on his back, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He let himself smile, and climbed down to collect her bow and arrows. He just hoped that it worked, and that her beautiful mind would return shortly.

——

Hange woke, her mind spinning, like she had been riding a crazy roller coaster for days. Her thoughts were cloudy, and she couldn’t hold her head up properly. She groaned, a prickly headache coming on. When she tried moving, she gradually realized her arms were bound to whatever she was sitting on—the word infirmary lit up at the door nearby her, and she tried to ground herself. But, screams of comrades sounded in her brain, broken images of destruction flashed before her eyes before she could focus.

“Are these memories or dreams?” She thought, but it’s like she knew deep down, she wouldn’t be waking up from a nightmare anytime soon. Tears streamed down her cheeks as memories from the past few days became clearer and clearer in her mind.

“Hange…”

Hange looked up, her eyes still dazed.

“You’re gonna be alright.”

Levi stood up, crouching down to look at into her eyes at her level. He almost smiled—she was coming back.

“How do you know I’ll be okay??” She yelled. “I’m still trying to get Zeke out,” she whispered, sweat hugging both sides of her face. Then, Hange continued to cry: “Levi, how… how many agents did I… did I—” “Hange, don’t.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hange. It was Zeke’s doing, not yours.”

She breathed heavily.

“It’ll take some time to level out, Hange. Rest.”

Still trying to find her mind again, she barked back—“Do you know how it feels to be separated from yourself, have your brain played with, unmade??”

Levi paused—she didn’t even know how strong her heart was, that it almost overcame Zeke’s mind wiping even without his help. She didn’t know how powerful she really was.

“…You know I do.”

Hange muttered regretfully, “Sorry.”

Levi shrugged it off, eliciting an understanding smile from Hange.

“You know where Zeke is now?”

“No. But we’ll find him again, won’t we?” A devious grin appeared on Hange’s face. “I’d love to put an arrow through his stupid looking glasses.”

Levi sat down on the bed next to Hange, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Now you’re sounding more like you.”

Hange smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him, Hange. Don’t worry.”

She turned upwards to face him from where her head lay—“What did Zeke do to you, Levi? I know you’re here for me, Erwin, Moblit… the rest of our close comrades. I have not doubt about that. But I never thought you’d ever really care to fight our war.”

Levi looked at his hands, bandages over the road burn from their fight, reminding him of the look of Hange’s eyes completely blank and unrecognizable in front of him. He couldn’t let Zeke walk around earth thinking he could get away with that.

Levi looked down at Hange, seeing only light and warmth dancing around her big brown eyes, a shy smile on her face making his heart happy.

“I guess… I’ve been compromised.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 28

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky looked around like a crazed maniac, looking for anyone, just anyone who could be responsible for the letter he was holding in his hands. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins just like they used to when they held him hostage in the Russian base. Those words were tattooed in his retina, as it dawned on him he had once again to keep her safe. His ears started ringing like they always did when they used to trigger him, the ring itself replacing any other environment sound, becoming so loud it fully overcame over his senses, rendering him particularly useless. Not that he was of use lately.

     - Bucky? - Y/N’s sister, Claire, called out to him. Almost mechanically, he stuffed the letter in his back pocket. - Are you okay? You look a bit shocked. Any naughty Christmas post cards?

     - Just a bit ... cold.

     - Yeah, Y/N said you were not very comfortable with it. Sorry about that, I was just trying to keep you away from Aunt Petunia. She’s too much.

     - Thanks, Claire. Hm ... do you have any landline? I need to make a call to the US and my plan is running out. 

     - Yeah, no worries. There’s one in the hall by Y/N’s bedroom. - she gave him a warm smile which was reminiscent of Y/N yet did little to nothing to calm him down. He handed her the rest of the mail before climbing up the stairs to the same hall which had doors on each side. Yet, despite it looking like a maze all he cared about was that small telephone on the table. 

Her picked the phone, leaning it against his ear as the rolled the dial to Steve’s number, the letter firmly mashed in his fist as he wanted nothing more than to burn it in the big fire place but he couldn’t. All he could think of was whoever had broken into Y/N’s flat back had followed them to London and once again he had been incapable of protecting her. He had let whoever was sending her those nasty messages, get to her in one of her most safe places. The other line rang like the passage of long times, until he heard the voice which had become synonymous with freedom and America together.

    - Steve Rogers.

    - Steve, they did it it again. - he snapped before he could even tell who it was on the phone. Yet, if his oldest friend couldn’t figure out his voice after so many years then maybe he needed new friends.

    - Buck?

    - Someone left a letter on her mail box calling her a whore again. You and Natasha were on it trying to figure out who did it in New York. - he continued on like an out of control mess. 

    - Buck, calm down. Was the handwriting similar? Maybe it’s a prank.

    - There’s no handwriting just magazine cut outs and it’s not a prank. 

Y/N stepped out of the car, walking over to the luggage holder to help her father take the shopping bags out while her mother walked up to the door to unlock it before they could climb up the stairs. Her father opened the truck of the small red car which they had had since she was a baby. She still remembered her father picking her up from ballet practice, the red colour bright through the cloudy skies. It always felt so safe to enter through those doors, almost if there was no harm whenever she was inside the old metal vehicle. Things were so simple back then and evil was so hardly defined and bordered away from her. She had had a good childhood, good parents, good family so why was she so scared whenever she was in New York? Why was she so intrinsically insecure and meek?

   - So, beanie, you and James. Does he treat you well? - he asked as he handed her some bags and christmas boxes.

   - He’s just perfect, dad. 

   - Then what is it? 

   - What do you mean? - she looked over her shoulder.

   -  Well, you’re my daughter, you’ve been my daughter for over 5 years now and I like to think I know you better than you think. What’s wrong, Y/N?

   - I’m just homesick, dad. - she faked a smile, pushing her hat further down her head, trying to fiddle with something else. - New York is different from here and well, stardom is different from here. It has nothing to do with Bucky. 

   - He makes you happy?

   - He does. 

    - Then I’m happy for you, beanie. - her father kissed the top of her head, carrying half the shopping bags and gifts onto the home while Y/N stood back looking at the neighbourhood she’d grown up in. It wasn’t perfect, no place in the world is perfect but it had a much more emotional connection to her than her place in SoHo. Of course, maybe it was just her own rose coloured glasses of being away from such a structured, planned 3 year ahead career. 

She smiled softly at the houses in exposed brick shades and the coloured blue and red doors with big gold number. Rows and rows of houses which seemed never ending when she was younger yet now seemed so quickly fading from view. Nothing is everlasting and she remembered so well thinking everything was but maybe it was for the best. Good things end to give way to better ones and bad things end become they no longer suit you.

Y/N looked over her shoulder one last time before entering the house. She put the bags near the other ones neatly stacked by the staircase before pulling her coat and jacket off. The house was always filled with noise, it was never quiet. Always abundant with laughter or discussions about the silly topics. This time, they were discussing some weird plot on the television. However, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. 

   -  Did you not invite Bucky? - she crossed her arms, giving her siblings the dirtiest look she could muster. - Guys, I asked you to include him.

   -  We did but your boyfriend has been on an international call for the last hour. It’s gonna add up. - Colin retorted.

   - I’m gonna go check on him. - she reminded herself to tell Colin off for that backhanded comment but she was much more preoccupied with Bucky. Sure, he did enjoy his loneliness but Y/N didn’t want him to feel alienated. She did not want him to feel lonely or like a stranger in her home. Climbing up the stairwell, she noticed him at the end of the hall, old telephone she used to toy around with when she was a kid pretending to call her family yet, unlike her past childhood self, Bucky had the phone firmly pressed against his ears, lips tight, one hand holding himself against the table. 

She noticed his indisposition, his muscles so tight she wondered how come he hadn’t had a cramp and like any empath she approached him with her characteristic sunny attitude, wrapping her arms around his waist, putting herself on her tip toes to kiss him. Bucky, however, moved his head to the side, mumbling something over on the phone in Russian, switching languages as if he did not want her to hear his conversation. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, her overthinking nature picking at her brain as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Bucky turned around slightly to kiss her on top of her head like one does to a child or a friend. 

    - I’m on a call now, princess. - he held her arm up to wrap it from his waist.

    - Okay. I’ll just go ... go have a shower.

She delayed her exit, almost waiting for him to kiss her like he always did whenever she left. However, Bucky quickly returned to his call, in Russian, and she got the message loud and clear. She tried not to think much about it, after all Bucky was still related to the Avengers and despite being his girlfriend, she was not expect to be into that sort of information. She tried to convince herself of that fact as she stepped onto the cold porcelain of her shower floor. The water fell from her head onto her shoulder as she scrubbed the dirt off her body, constantly telling her inner anxiety, Bucky was merely busy. If she were busy she wouldn’t have liked her partner being clingy. He was busy. 

She turned off the shower, wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe she probably had had since she was 18, hair still damp as she slide her feet into fluffy slippers and walked into her bedroom. Bucky was sat in her bed, laptop on his lap as he typed the keyboard so harshly one would think he’d break the keys. She smiled to herself as she took the side near him, head laying on top his cozy black jumper, probably dampening the fabric but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seen to mind her presence, merely ignoring it. She looked up at him, moving to kiss his jaw with an innocence type of request which was anything but innocent. 

  - Buck. - she said in a sing song type of voice, almost like a mermaid calling out for a sailor. - Why don’t we finish what we started in the airplane?

  - Not today, princess. - he kissed the top of her head once again. - I’m not in the mood for it.

  - Oh ... hum ... okay. - she almost retracted back into her shell at those words. Had she done something this morning? Something to upset him? Maybe he didn’t enjoy her leaving him alone with her family. - Do you wanna go out for dinner?

  - I don’t think it’s wise, princess. They might ... pap us or someth’ng. 

Did he not want to be papped with her? Maybe he was still upset over the pap photos she had willingly given away. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know. Instead, she decided to turn around in the bed, still naked under her bathroom and stare at the wall until she felt sleep weigh on her eyelids. Bucky, on the other side, had his wild eyes glued to the screen, watching the security tape of her apartment over and over again. It had been cut, he knew it had from the time changing sharply, however, he couldn’t see anything which would be of any aid. All he knew was that not only had he failed his job as an Avenger, he failed his job as her bodyguard and failed to protect her like any boyfriend would do. Would it be in a club he could’ve just punched the daylights out of whoever dared to call her that but right now he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to make it stop. 

Bucky closed the laptop, putting it on the floor as he looked through his mind about who could want to hurt her, who cold do anything to want her to suffer. He could no figure it out and all he wanted was to figure it out. He leaned against the bars of her bedpost, looking over to his side to see her sleeping on her side, hand under her face and hair drying in front of his face. He carefully pushed the hair away from her face, tucking her into her large duvet before kissing her cheekbone. He couldn’t bring it upon himself to say anything, to tell her the letter came in. Bucky still remembered how she had reacted last time and he did not want it to happen again, he did not want her to feel unsafe in her own home. Instead, he let himself fast asleep next to her.

The morning woke Y/N up, the strange brightness of a sunny winter day hurting her eyes. She groaned, raising her torso from the bed, eyes blurry as she opened them. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes she extended her arm to notice Bucky’s spot was empty. She furrowed her brows, jumping off bed and walking outside and down the stairs onto the living room where most of her siblings and their partners were.

    - Wow, Y/N. Clothes under the bathrobe, much? - Eloise teased. 

    - Where’s Bucky? - she ignored her sister.

    - He went out. - Claire added, handing her a cup of tea. - Said he had to grab some stuff. 

    - Oh ... okay. He didn’t say anything.

    - He probably didn’t want to wake you up. - Claire patted her shoulder, kind smile on her lips. 

     - Or maybe he’s cheating on you. - Colin added, only to be slapped over the head by Eloise. - Hey, what was that for? I was joking.

     - He’s not cheating on you. - Claire reassured her. - Colin is just being an ass. 

     - What? I was joking!  

     - Not with Y/N, you idiot. - Eloise muttered under her breathe. - Maybe you should go put your clothes on, Y/N. Bucky is probably just Christmas gift shopping.

     - Or maybe he got lost? He is like 200 years old. Did you give him a pager? He might be lost in Piccadilly Circus or maybe he can’t get out the underground. 

     - Fuck off, Colin. - Y/N snapped at him before returning up to her bedroom.

He knew her brother was just trying to get under her skin. Bucky was not cheating on her, when did he even have time to find someone in London to cheat her with? Maybe he had some contacts in London from when he used to come to missions with the Avengers. Maybe he had someone in London for him. No. No, Bucky did not. Bucky wouldn’t cheat on her, Bucky liked her but he was acting out of style to him. She sat on her bed, hand in the middle of her legs as she tried to stop herself from overthinking things that were absolutely ridiculous. Since she was no good at doing such thing, she called the only person who normally could push her back to reality. 

    - Chuck? I have a problem. 

    - Jesus, Y/N. Have you forgotten time zones? - Chuck groaned on the other side of the line. - You better be dying.

    - Bucky is acting weird. 

    - Bucky always acts weird. What’s your point?

    - I don’t know, Chuck. It feels weird. I even tried ... initiating IT and he said no. Do you think he’s not attracted to me anymore? He didn’t even want to kiss me

    - Maybe he was not in the mood, Y/N. Also, why are you so freaked out about saying sex? Are you sexually repressed? Did you try to initiate some kinky sex with Bucky and maybe his old man penis wasn’t okay with it?

    - Can we not discuss my boyfriend’s penis, please?

    - What? He’s old, maybe it hasn’t been getting up. Did you ask him? Maybe he forgot to pack Viagra and he’s ashamed. 

    - Chuck. It is not that.

    - I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe spice it up. Dress up like Princess Leia in Empire Strikes Back. Every man is into it.

    - Bucky hasn’t seen Star Wars.

    - I don’t know what was sexually appealing in the 40s, Y/N. Don’t you have that lingerie set they made you wear for Rocky Horror? Use that. Maybe he really just wasn’t in the mood.

    - Okay ... yeah. Uhm, maybe it will work. 

    - Great. Now, I need to sleep because it is too late and there’s a girl in my bed and I don’t want her to think I have you on the side.

    - Oh, is she a nice girl?

    - Y/N ever since you lost your virginity you get very boring when you don’t get a dick appointment. Go on and do it with Bucky and we’ll talk later.

    - Okay, thank you.

    - Bye, bye. 

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. She never really saw herself a sexual being or a sexual girl at all. After all, she was the one who got told by three guys at her university freshers party she had the sexual charisma of a toaster. Now the metaphor did not make any sense but all she knew was that it probably did not make any sense. It wasn’t that she wasn’t comfortable with her own sexuality, she just didn’t think about it outside of work. Maybe Bucky was used to girls who put a bit more effort and wasn’t very attracted to her very old bathrobe and her Marks and Spencers cotton underwear. She shrugged it off, opening her wardrobe to skim through some of the costumes she had worn until she found the white lacy set. It was better than her regular cotton underwear. She put her robe back on looking at herself in the mirror as she gave herself a pep talk. He’s not cheating on her. She knows he would never do that.

She sat down in her bed, going over some scripts sent over by the agency until midday when Bucky came into the bedroom, on the phone with someone else, still speaking Russian. She waited for him to finish his call before she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

    - Sorry for not telling you, Y/N. I had to make some calls with the team.

    - It’s okay. - she smiled at him. - I was just thinking maybe ... maybe we could have some us time. My parents went to do the groceries and my siblings won’t bother us, besides I have something I want to show you.

    - Sorry, not in the mood. I need to call Steve. - he took his jacket off, putting it on the edge of her bed. - It’s urgent, princess.

    - Oh, okay. 

    - Can I use the landline? Pretty sure I still haven’t figured out  how to make international calls. 

    - Yeah. - he kissed the top of her head once more. 

She sat on her bed defeated. Her mind going through everything she could’ve possibly done wrong the morning she left with her parents. Maybe he really wasn’t in the mood, however he did seem pretty eager that morning. She sighed. Damned Colin and his stupid backside comment. She sighed, rolling in her bed, the movement making his jacket fall to the ground. Great Y/N, now you’re wrinkling his clothes. She got up from her bed to grab the jacket for a letter to fall on the ground. She looked to the side, leaning down to pick the letter only to drop it once she saw the writing. You cannot hide, whore.  She grabbed it from the ground before storming out to the hall, pulling the cable out the wall, effectively stopping Bucky’s call.

   - When were you gonna tell me?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Breeding A Human

Masterlist

READ THE WARNINGS THIS IS DARK!!!

Clark shows up to a a volatile murder and suicide attempt to late, usually everyone waits for him to fly over and save the day, yet one woman takes matters into her own hands and stirs up some troubling feelings in the man of steel at the same time. And it begs the question Whats a kryptonian supposed to do when he finds his mate?

Warnings: Adult situations +18, Smut, Dub con, Non con, Dark themes, Stalker,Emotional manipulation, Yandere,Breeding kink, Forced?Mating bond, Froced Mateing, Obsessive character ,Swearing, Spitting, Slight temperature play.

A/n: Sooo...Working on Trohpy is doing my nut it at the moment...I took a day off of it so I can go back with fresh eyes tomorrow but I'm in a yandere mood still so how about a dark supaman x reader smutshot that sort of wrote itself?

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @magdelen69​ @iloveyouyen​

You watched gasping in horror as police surrounded the desperate man. He was on the bridge like on the bridge ready to jump into the water of the bay below. He waved a gun around pointing it at any who approached warding them off. As if that wasn't bad enough he had a child in his arms, his child she was screaming scared stiff, she couldn't have been older then four five wearing a thick wool pale pink dress, screaming to her daddy 'to get her down she didn't like it'. The bridge although now closed was packed the crowd grew as pedestrians gathered to watch, not to see if the police could talk him down god no. They watched to see if superman would show wanting to get a look at the godlike man. To get a video or photo to put on their social media.

The desperate man was shouting threatening to do it. The officers were shouting warning him to put down his weapon. but you seemed to be the only one to listen to what the man was saying.'If I can't have her neither can she!' thrown in to his frantic rant. You got the gist of his issue, he had either lost custody or the mother was with holding his daughter from him, either way he'd felt the need to kidnap his own daughter and threaten her life in a desperate attempt to be with her somehow. You were pushed back into the railing as the crowd moved growing as everyone came to see the fuss many holding up their phones filming what was promising to be stand off.

You were sickened It was clear the man needed help not a fucking audience not wanting to be apart of it you turned walking away. Then your stomach dropped. There was a second of panicked yelling then bullets you turned in time to see the man fall limply off the railing his little girl screeched as she plummeted with him to the freezing deep water below that separated metropolis and Gotham. Everyone gasped moving to get a look, you ran to the railing looking as the two hit the water and disappeared. Superman hadn't showed in time. You watched as it dawned on the people around you that no one was surfacing. The man had been shot and the little girl was probably being held under by the current. No one did anything! they just watched they were standing by as a little girl drowned!.

You quickly moved you were a strong swimmer you might be able to get her. Without much of a thought you shrugged your coat off throwing your bag and climbed hearing the shouts of the officers to stay still or they'd arrest you. You ignored them diving off the railing before any one could stop you taking a deep breath as you fell down to the water. It was a shock, the freezing water hit you like a brick wall but you kept going. You knew these waters you'd been swimming them years doing lengths back and forth across them as training, the current in this part was dangerous for anyone who didn't or couldn't swim it swooped down, she would be deeper.

You kicked your feet hoping she was alright that you'd find her. You saw a movement a light fabric, it was her! then kicked your feet faster she appeared slowly kicking and clawing at the water fighting to beat the current. She reached for you kicking wildly she wouldn't last long, you followed her descent reaching her and latched onto her. She grabbed you painfully tight you moved her as you let the current carry your legs below you turning you upright. Your hands found her legs and pulled wrapping them around your waist she hung on digging her little shoes into you making you wince. You ignored it and made a quick dash for the surface you moved quickly over coming the current that swept to the bed of the bay. you could fight it but a tiny thing like her had no hope. You watched as the surface got closer, the sun brighter glittering on the surface then as quick as you could you broke the surface. She gasped gulping huge breaths crying and coughing up water her tiny body heaving you looked up everyone had there phones out filming. You felt your blood boil, this is what we have come to? watching, posting and sharing instead of helping! this was life or death and they were doing nothing!

You looked to the girl she was wet, cold and scared.But alive. You shushed her treading water kicking fast to keep you both above the waves. "You're okay! I got you I got you!" she cried nodding coughing a little holding onto you for dear life pleading not to let he go. You moved trying to see how you were going to get out either side of the bridge was tall docks no ladders or access. Normally you'd swim up river slightly to the bay there was pedestrian access but she was to cold as it was shed freeze and get hypothermia, she was already shivering lips turning blue.

It was the shouts of the crowd that alerted you to his arrival, he was above you both before thinking you moved trying to hoist the girl up to him."Take her quick! Shes freezing already!" he looked at you confused, didn’t you need help to? normally people clambered to be saved by him. He moved and bent down hoisting you both out of the water with one hand then moved cradling you in one arm holding the small girl on his hip.

"Hold on tight you two" you both did she squealed as you were rushed through the air within seconds you were back on the bridge he landed softly by the officers but didn't release you.

"Are you alright? not hurt are you? Either of you?" you shook your head looking to the child who also shook her head

"C-cold" she mumbled he rubbed her back trying to get some warmth you wriggled trying to get out of his grip not wanting someone to use it as a photo op but he didn't let you down. If anything he tightened his arm around you it could have been taken as a reprimand?. A paramedic came over with a blanket and wrapped up the shaken child he let the woman take her. You heard her cry out as her mother rushed forward clutching her tight. You smiled she will be fine now.

"Is she okay?" You looked seeing another paramedic standing before you. You made to jump down out of his hold but once again he held firm and twisted you away slightly. He moved looking down you froze what was?...was he looking at you? Your suspicions were confirmed when he spoke.

"Shes fine nothing broken or fractured just cold" you flushed unsure what to make of a man, a stranger just eyeing up your insides.

"I will get a blanket for her"

"No need I will take care of her... She just needs to get home a warm bath and bed" the woman nodded uncertain it would seem you both thought it a little strange you turned and found him once again staring at you intently you cleared your throat.

"Could erm could you put me down please..I want to get out of here...Go and warm up somewhere" he let go of your legs letting them slip down to the floor you were tall for a woman he noted as you stood full height you came up to his nose. He blinked to be honest the staring was unsettling he held you tight to himself still reluctant to release you. You managed to somehow twist away from him making him grunt at you softly . You moved cursing as finally the cool water began taking its toll on you and you shivered.

You spoke as you worked on getting as much water as you could out of the tight knit sweater you wore

"Thank you for getting us out...I wasn't sure what to do she wouldn't have made it to the stairs by the docks" he looked at you softly but there was an admiration there. His staring was now different almost as if he had decided something.

"I'm just sorry I wasn't there fast a enough...Luckily you stepped in, she's alive because of you... But you were the only one who tried to help, put yourself at risk why?" you blinked at him not expecting his question.

"I wasn't going to watch her die! I'm not like them." you motioned to everyone filming and taking photos. He looked at the crowd with a blank look then back to you he frowned a little still not understanding. You sighed giving up on your sweater and looked up at him.

"I just..I don't know I mean you help people cos you know you can right? That’s what this was, fights, guns I can't deal with that but I'm a strong swimmer so I could help her not that spectacular or brave or what ever"

"But...It is no one else here tried just you, normally people don't bother they wait for me you didn't, its nothing to be sniffed at" you frowned at him getting annoyed now.

"I know that and it pisses me off.No offense but just because your here doesn't mean we have to stop trying to help ourselves! no one else was going to get to her and that water is dangerous I've been swimming it for years! she would have died...I had to do something I couldn't just watch when I knew what was going to happen.

"It was almost suicide...Then even in the water you tried handing her to me you didn't you want me to get you both out?" you shrugged moving your hands around yourself rubbing up and down really shaking now wishing he let the woman give you a fucking blanket as your clothes clung to you drenched,  the cold was seeping into your bones creating an uncomfortable ache. You’d never know that he had wanted you to slide back up against him, he wanted to warm you with his own body heat.

Clark regarded you carefully there was something, he couldn't place his finger on it but you just got to him. He had seen you in the water grabbing the girl and surfacing. There was instantly something, when you broke through the surface his world stopped, he stopped mid flight, he could smell you a scent he has never happened across before his eyes had picked up on you from the city, honed in like a beacon he wanted you. He wasn't sure in what way but he did. He wanted to just scoop you up and fly you off somewhere anywhere just as long as you was with him. The need was almost a pain, a pit in his chest. It was a pull vibrating in his nerves that was constricting and consuming the hole in his chest making it hard to breath, an impulse to just take you, but he didn't understand whether it was to take you away? or to pin you down and take you.

That was when he snapped out of it enough to come and actually get you out of the water. Once he held you he didn’t want to let go you were cold shuddering yet offered the girl up first. You were beautiful and kind; you must have been out of all those people standing watching you were the one to make the leap. It was you who dived in after the child, that says a lot about your character.

He licked his lips really taking you in tall for a woman tho smaller than him. He swept his gaze across your form appreciating the way your clothes clung to you showing off a curvy supple form your nipples tempted him as they stood out from the cold. With your arms crossed you'd pressed the two mounds together showing off a delicious full bust. He was so invested in undressing you with his eyes he nearly missed your answer."I forgot..Didn't think I just knew she had to be out of the water asap" whatever he was going to say was cut off as an officer quickly came up behind you and grabbed your arms pulling them behind you painfully. You yelped as your arms were twisted behind you. You frowned did he just growl at the officer?

"Y/n Y/l/N you are under arrest under section-" you couldn't believe it! under arrest for saving someone, you looked around fearfully you'd never been in trouble before. Would you need a lawyer? How will you get home? Oh god how much is this going to cost?

Clark growled watching you wince and panic obviously frightened as the officer began handcuffing you placing you under arrest. Without thinking he placed a hand on the mans arm squeezing making the man wince then flinch as the man of steel cast a fierce look to him. Everyone froze including Clark. What the fuck was he doing? Protecting whats his! he answered his own thought immediately it shocked him but he understood. She was his now. He was unsure what being his meant but the possessive thought felt right, natural maybe this was just some new instinctual thing? that came with age. After all he wasn't human maybe kryptonian's had something like a second puberty? all he knew was that the new the need to protect you was absolute and unwavering, he would not let you leave with this officer. No. You were leaving with him.

"Su-Superman Sir?" Clark flicked his blue gaze from his woman to the officer a wave of anger? need?...He wasn't sure what to call it but it was strong and all consuming.

"No, I'm afraid I can't let you do that. If it wasn't for her that little girl would have drowned and I'm not letting you arrest her for it" the man trembled under the hero's stern gaze then looked to his sheriff for help the other officer was at a loss, the hero had never intervened in an arrest before and it wasn't like the police could over come him.

"I'm not arresting her for that, I'm arresting her for jumping, base jumping off public highways is an offense...Its against the law jumping from the bridge-" you twisted in his grip

"I only jumped to save her! I didn't see you diving in to help!" you gasped as superman silenced you he shushed you quickly.

"Your not arresting her at all" the officer was stuck he eyed him and hesitated "She has to be-"

"Your not arresting her" and with that said he held on to your arm pressing a hand to the officers chest and with a quick gentle shunt the officer was no longer holding you. He was stumbling back Clark felt a sense of pride as you held his wrist a gentle reassuring hold once making sure you was unharmed he turned glaring down at the police.

He moved holding your wrist twisting you behind on of his shoulders keeping you there becoming a barrier between you and the officers. The message was clear. They would be going through him before they got to you, you could hear many women in the crowd swooning as the man of steel protected you, others wondered out loud if you knew him or better yet were you dateing him?. You blinked looking up at him in awe, he going to stop them arresting you? go against  the law? The officer was at a loss and looked for help from the others his sheriff stepped in.

"I suppose since she did save the poor girl we can overlook her infringement...Can't we officer Barns?" the officer nodded you sighed in relief Superman looked to the hand bag and coat on the floor by police.

"Is that yours?" you nodded meekly and in seconds you was cradled in his arms bag on your stomach and coat draped over your freezing form and you were both off.

"Close your eyes" you did quickly squeezing his arm on your tummy tight as he left the scene.

Clark shook his head as he flew to the city landing on one of the lower buildings. He needed to stop, to calm him self his thoughts were raging, he found himself thinking of where he could keep you,where he could put you so you'd be safe. He had almost changed direction to the fortress the only thing stopping him was the fact you were wet and cold as it is your freeze in moments and that was not an option. Something was wrong with him, he felt pulled to you unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You shivered looking up at him quizzically when he didn't put you down if anything he clutched you tighter...Was he smelling you? you shook your head must be and alien thing.

"Where do you live? I'll take you home you need to dry off and warm up." you blinked at him his voice was different more of a growl that reverberated through you, you chose to ignore it and quickly stuttered out your address through chattering teeth. He nodded he knew the place with a quick 'hang on' you were off again withing moments you’d landed outside your small house with a light thud, the kids playing on the street stared gobsmacked as the hero placed you on your feet carefully.You wobbled feeling drained your body more concerned with shivering and conserving heat more then trying to work, but he was quick to support you ,you flushed uneasy as he stared at you his breathing faster then regular but maybe flying took it out of him? you didn't know.

"You go have a bath...Warm not hot you'll get ill, then get to bed take care okay?" you nodded thanking him once again he didn't leave until you were in your house safe and sound.

He hovered high hidden in the clouds above your home looking around for some reason committing its location to memory,  drawing maps and estimations in his head of how far away you was from his home and work. Something about you had captured him, it felt primal a pull ingrained into his being instinct wanting him to watch over you, protect you. He looked down into the roof of your home seeing right threw into your bathroom. You was doing what you were told. Good. He watched you for a few moments admiring you as you stripped naked, he could hear you grumbling to yourself as you pulled a soaked pantyliner from your underwear folding it up in a nappy bag then binning it.That must have been the scent drawing him to you, you was fertile, ripe. He shivered watching still entranced as you lowered yourself into the hot water yelping.

He sighed and grit his teeth you hadn't listened properly, you should have heeded him. He watched as you moved the wash cloth across your chest and tummy. For a self proclaimed swimmer you were curvy and soft, the type of woman you'd want to make a mother out of. He froze and smiled. Yes pregnancy would suit you well. He was overcome with the overwhelming urge to go and do just that. To breed you. The shiver down his spine and low growl emitting from his chest had settled it. That’s what he wanted, the root of these urges he wanted to fuck. Not just fuck he wanted to plough into your ripe soft body and impregnate you, force you to take his load until you was full, to rut into you until you were shaking and wailing! he groaned drawing in a deep breath through his nose taking in your tantalizing scent. Oh yes. He wanted to fill you and watch you grow with his seed. Shaking his head he moved he had to get out of here before he did do something he really shouldn't.

You woke up in a sweat heaving deep breaths quickly turning on your beside light sitting up pressing the hair out of your face. You did this every night now, it was maddening. You couldn't sleep soundly not since the bridge incident, you'd left it three weeks before you went to the doctor's. He gave you some pills to help with anxiety and sleeping some for sleep but neither seemed to be working. You were being watched you just knew, you felt haunted day and night by something not someone, something.

Call it a sixth sense or vibes but you knew what you felt. Eyes watching you, undressing you a hungry gaze that felt powerful and frightening. You tried telling yourself you was paranoid or had some fucking ptsd shit over seeing that little girl almost drown, but you knew it wasn't. It was worse at night during the day it wasn't there as much you couldn't feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end or the cool chill down your spine. Someone was watching you inside your house, you didn't know how or why but you were certain.

You began closing your curtains and keeping them closed even buying all new wooden venitian blinds but still they were watching. It terrified you. You curled up into yourself crying rocking back and forth. Three months, three long months this had been happening, you lost sleep you didn't eat to the point you were loosing weight and constantly looking over your shoulder but you never saw anyone. Never saw anything just the same four walls of your home like always.

"Please...please I know your there stop...Just stop I don't know what you want from me" you whispered into your folded arms cradling your knees. You screamed jumping at a knock on your window, looking up you saw someone you thought you'd never see again.

He hovered there dressed in his suit of blue and red hope splayed across his chest. He looked worried? you moved slowly to the window opening it for him. He moved so quickly you could barely register and landed behind you softly.

"Are you alright? I heard you as I was passing thought I'd check it out." you nodded to him then shook your head no you were not alright. You was alone,scared and vulnerable. Unable to hold back your sobs any longer. He moved quickly wrapping you in his arms tightly, you held onto him willing yourself to stop your dramatic crying.

He took a deep breath placing a hand to your head scratching your scalp softly as much as he hated to admit it he was enjoying the way your sobs vibrated through him, the proof of how close he was holding you, that you let him hold you,let him comfort you.

"Whats happened? Are you hurt? Please tell me so I can help" he didn't need to ask he knew what was wrong somehow you had picked up on him you were perceptive for a human it was good, it would ensure his children's safety when he wasn't around. He wasn't stalking you. He wasn't stalking. He was guarding you, his mate. He had finally put a name to describe what you were. You were his mate you must be! he didn't react this way to other females his need to breed you was overwhelming and he was stumped on what to do about it.

He had tried to get the ball rolling by coming by asking for an interview as Clark the reporter but you'd shut him down and slammed the door in his face. He was angry at first, how dare you try to shut him out?!of all people you were his. You should welcome him! you should offer everything you had to him bend to his will as and when he wanted.

However once he calmed down he had reasoned with himself you didn't know it was him so he could forgive you for that. It was good in a way you'd shut out what you thought was another male. So past all the anger he was happy you'd thrown out Clark because you were waiting for him. You were faithful to him. He was here at least once every night protecting you from... Well he wasn't sure but he was protecting you from something. You shook harder sobs overcoming you, you couldn't speak. He moved slipping his arm below your knees scooping you up and sat on the bed cradling you.

"shh its okay I'm here I'll protect you I promise...Did you have a bad dream?" you shook your head and tried wriggling out of his arms.

"N-No I didn't its...I'm...Someones been watching me...Their here every night and I don't know who?! or-or where they are but they are here always! I'm scared! so scared and tired I can't sleep and everyone I've spoken to thinks I'm mad! but I'm not, I'm not mad!" he sighed looking around the room rocking you still letting you catch your breath.

He felt bad but still he had to be here. He had to look after you. He made a show of turning his head casting his eyes a full 360.

"There isn't anyone here but us...Tell you what how about I watch out for you hmm? Make sure no one bothers you" you blinked up at him hopeful.

"Yo-you'd do that for me? Really you don't think I'm going round the twist?" He smiled down at you petting your hair lightly tucking it from out of your face. A shadow was cast over his face making him look sinister for a second before he moved tilting his head at you.

"I will do one better, I will come over every night..I have been meaning to come and see you..To see if you was okay and I have been...well I-I err just wanted to see you again but... I had no reason to, honestly I can’t get you off my mind, I’ve tried but your...you’ve  enchanted me...wanted to see you I’ve past by many times but how do I... you know. I can't exactly ask to take you out to dinner now can I?.." You froze what? Dinner? He wants to? Did he just admit to having a crush? You flushed blinking confused.

He grinned at you listening to your pulse it quickened your eye blew wide. You were interested. Good. It would be easier.

"What you mean you-" He placed a finger to your lips.

"Shh not now just get some sleep I will watch over you tonight and see you tomorrow." You let out a breath frowning slightly.

"What you mean stay in here? What about the city? If something happens you need to go you cant just..." you trailed off as he laid you in your bed tucking you in leaving no room for arguing. That’s what he loved about you from watching guarding you he had noticed you were pure, kind, your moral compass was true and you held everyone to the same standard you wanted people to be better. For society to be better.

He smiled as he moved the covers over your confused form enjoying tending to you. "No Its not proper for me to stay in this room just yet...I will be up there" he nodded his head to the roof above you.

"I will watch over the house, if I’m needed in the city then I will leave and be back before you know it...No one will harm you, not while I'm around I promise" he sat on the side of the bed pulling your comforter higher pressing his hands along your sides making sure you were snug.

"If you need me just call" he leant over, you thought he was going to kiss you but instead he leaned to your head and smelt you again.

"Sweet dreams...Like I said I'm just outside I wont let anything hurt you mate...Okay...Trust me?" You nodded meekly and he grinned then just like that he was gone.

You stayed like that for what seemed hours you looked straight up to your ceiling. It was unnerving and reassuring having him guard you but why? Why would he do such a thing? You got the feeling he didn't do this for everyone. But then again he did sort of admit to having feelings for you. Maybe he did like you and he had a point he cant just ask you out so maybe this was his comprise. You got drowsy as your thoughts began mingling confused half sentences made you feel tired. You needed some sleep you could think in the morning and you was feeling much better that he was here or said he was here. Even tho the eyes were watching you still, the feeling was there but you could finally sleep knowing that someone was there for you, you had no doubt that he would interfere if something did happen. By this point you didnt have it in you to question why he was helping you again or what he meant earlier any more you just had to rest, thankfully it wasn't to long before you fell into a restless sleep.

He hovered above your home once again watching and listening pleased with himself. He had approached you things had gone well he made himself clear. well he thought it was clear, he would look out for you because you were his mate, he even called you by your title and you did argue you just accepted it, accepted him. He felt like he was on cloud nine his eyes looked down to you seeing you settle, wriggling into the covers taking glances up as if you could see him there protecting you. Once you was asleep he stayed for hours, there was no need really you were frightened by him but he would overlook that infavour of cherishing this moment, the moment when you had allowed him to guard you, you were down there you knew he was looking after you until the sun was beginning to rise. Nothing happened in the city he laid back lounging in the air absorbing the rays from the sun they would make up for his lack of sleep.

But finally and regretfully he had to leave. He sighed and left with a loud crack across the sky. He wanted you to know he had stayed. He swerved in the air making the short trip home. He was happy he had made progress and now could approach you each night without any suspicion or reason he could be near you and in time he would hold you again, caress you and love you. he changed quickly and got ready for his day at the office a smile on his face life was good.

You awoke with a start hearing a huge sound like thunder but not.it took you a moment to get your bearings but as soon as you did last night came back to you. Superman, he was here he helped you and watched over you for the night. That sound it wasn’t thunder It was him. You smiled slightly still unsure of what had actually  happened last night but he must have kept true to his word and stayed the whole night, for you. You felt lighter that feeling was gone you could breath. Slowly you got out of bed making your way to the bathroom to begin your day. Feeling dare you say at ease, a tiny slither of hope crept through you, could this be the start of you finally getting back to normal. You bloody hoped so.

He spent the next few weeks frequenting your house sometimes you'd invite him in and you'd talk until you got tired then he would put you to bed..It was sweet and comforting. You were always nervous but he assumed that was just because you liked him. He had butterflies in his stomach when he saw you to. He had looked around your home smiling taking in your taste in decor. You had style homey and chic all in one, you'd do wonders with the house he was preparing once he moved you in.

He saw you as much as he could even following you in town a few times. He hadn't had to save you which was a shame; not that he wanted you in danger god no! but it would be nice to have an excuse to swoop in and save you once in a while. he couldn't very well walk down the street with you or date you in a normal sense but things were going swimmingly, but being unable to date you in public was also probably for the better. He did not like some of your acquaintances men mostly. He warn you to stay away from them they wasn't good for you but you’d ignored him.

He will admit he was displeased, he despised it but it would seem you got on with men more then women, you probably wouldn't if you had any idea of the things they whispered among themselves. Three of the men in your group of friend's wanted to fuck you, two of which had a fucking bet. Literally they wanted to see who'd fuck you first. It was a bet that they wouldn't ever accomplish, if they went to far he would make sure they wouldn't have anything to fuck a woman with.

No one was ever going to fuck you apart from him. And if they did force him to intervene...Well number one, he could do it so fast they would never know who or what fucking happened, two they'd probably bleed to death before getting help and three if they did survive and somehow knew it was him? no one would believe them. He was superman. A hero, the earths symbol of hope. Poster child of justice and peace. Who would believe that he flew down and ripped a couple of guys cocks off. Not many.

He didn't even like your toys, he wasn't jealous but he would rather you just come out and tell him. Just ask him to fuck you, to breech your luxurious feminine body and mark you, fill you until you was heavy with his seed;his child. You hadn't ever called out to him verbally as you withered and grinded on your selection of toys. But he supposed that was because you thought he would hear. You was a shy thing when it boiled down to it. But you were his, his mate, his other half so it was obviously him you were thinking of in those rare moments you allowed yourself. There has been a few mishaps in the beginning of your relationship he would admit. You was reluctant to let him touch you but now you'd gotten used to it! He could hold you to him and give you small caresses and such you had panicked when he tried kissing you, you were skittish he let it slide after all you he could wait for you, you'd come around. Besides he thought it was cute that you resisted him a little.

Currently he was guarding you in town, you'd left the house an hour ago. He had heard you enter the city and immediately dropped out of the office to investigate, he didn't like you out and about alone...or with your friends for that matter you were safe at home. For some reason you'd come over to the business park in the city he was curious as to why you'd venture out here normally you did shopping online now and only left your house when absolutely necessary. With a quick jerk to his head he looked down at the sound of sirens and screeching tires. What? Ah! it was an accident waiting to happen... Well might as well sort this out hey if what he does causes traffic you might even agree to a lift from him!

An overzealous police chase was speeding down the main street ducking in and out of the traffic causing a panic, they were coming from down town, jewellery thieves from what he could make out on the radios. Perfect. He ascended twisting then shot down landing on the car crushing the hood and flipping it before it could hit anyone but parts of the car flew through the air.

It landed in the center of the busy road glass fuel and oil everywhere. The road would be cornered off for clean up. So excited about the possibility of flying you home he had come in to fast again... He sighed trying to hide a grin, he would have a reason to see you in broad daylight! Around other people they would see him with you! They would know your his! he could flaunt your budding relationship. He tried containing his glee looking to the police unit who were surrounding the upturned car he moved flipping it back onto its wheels with a single hand before nodding dutifully to the officers as they thanked him others screaming orders to the criminals in the car. He looked around allowing the crowd a few moments to snap their silly pictures then shot back off into the clouds, he had more important things to do.

Now where had you got to... He closed his eyes listening he smiled picking up on your sweet melodious voice. To his left. He grinned moving lower to hear what you were up to as he listened his blood ran cold his body shook with fear and rage. Absolutely fucking not!

  You were wrong! So so wrong! You hadn't got back to normal if anything you were so far from your normality that you believe you was going mad! The only time you felt sane and safe was when a certain kryptonian was around you. And even then that was taking a turn for the worst.

It had been another few weeks and since having the hero in your house you now had the horrid hunted feeling when out and about town in daylight which was new. Sure you could sleep at night somewhat now Superman Kal was there with you. You'd developed what you could call a friendship of a sorts. It was weird at first he did strange things. He sniffed you a lot and seemed to always have to be touching you, hugging ,holding hands he always had a palm on you or brushing up against him. You'd resisted at first but he was...persistent not in a bad way, it was like he couldn't help it like he was a hugger by nature sort of thing.

He was kind and gentle but he, there was something that sent red flags and you couldn't put your finger on it. He hadn't hurt you or insulted you but he seemed bossy? And passive aggressive he gave you what he called advice but it felt more like orders and got huffy if you didn't follow his 'advice' like a man child. And he did have a thing about safety. Its not safe to go there its not safe to do that bla bla bla. According to him you should just stay within your house and wait for him to come over.

Which is what you did in the end after a while of his griping you gave in. You found yourself being drawn in, you trusted him so you began to listen now you'd only leave the house if you absolutely needed to. Even though he said he made sure to always listen out for you. You'd laughed him off saying that was silly he couldn't be there all the time, but his face was set stern.

"Of course I can! I'm always here for you I could pick out your heartbeat, your voice from across the continent if I wanted to..No matter when or where if you need me just shout I will be there to protect you, I'm always here to protect you mate." It was weird and not once has he ever called you by your name it was always your pet name. Mate. You didn't ever call him out on it, you thought it was just a term for your friendship...The English always call there friends mate maybe he had been abroad and picked up on some slang, I mean if you could fly across the world in minuets you'd definitely spend time in other countries!

It was only another week later that you became worried, your paranoia had began to get out of control and you had begun to cling to him now, he didn't seem to mind in fact he seemed to enjoy your new found need for him to be around you. He held a smug look as you'd tell him he was the only thing keeping you together right now, that you were so grateful to him. But in the background you knew it was doing no good you were trapped. It was a slow descent into madness, paranoia and anxiety was the only constant, you felt sick when alone and had multiple panic attacks over the smallest things, like having to leave the house to get the mail. You'd spoke to him about getting help, seeing a therapist but he had persuaded you not to. He said he would help you through it, he would be here for you and that you can talk to him you believed him. A few days later when you'd argued with him over it he had stated quite bluntly that you couldn't afford it and you didn't need the money worry on top of everything else. It was a vindictive move on his part but once again he was right so you let it go. All his comment did was get you into an even worse state.

He was right you didn't need to pay someone to talk to not when you had him, he was a good listener he always listened he never judged and when he did throw in his opinions it was always with your best interest at heart..On the topic of money he had also convinced you to stop your medication

"It obviously isn't doing you any good, why pump your body with drugs if they aren't helping you mate?...You don't need them please....Don’t you trust me?" had you not been in such a vulnerable state you would have questioned him but no once again you trusted him to have your best interests at heart.

But through all this nothing was mentioned about his crush which you was thankful for. Your not to sure how you can turn down the man of steel but you'd have to. In the state you were in you couldn't pursue a relationship you had to get better!. You thought he had understood that without needing to say it. But then there was the attempted kiss a few days ago.

He was at your bedroom window, you'd opened it desperate for his visit carving to speak with him for a bit. You needed the company you had isolated yourself in fear of everyone around you, one of them was the culprit, the start of all this! you couldn't trust them but you could trust him. He protected you he helped you and listened. You liked to think you acted normal around him but in reality you knew he knew how sick you was. You'd leaned out a little to far for his liking and he had grabbed your shoulders and pressed you back gently.

"Hey! no mate back inside you'll fall I know you will I can't have that!" You giggled putting your hands on his once sliding then off. You leaned out again closer towards him.

"You saying you wouldn't catch me Kal? Hurt my feelings there-" he growled interrupting you with a fierce snarl

"Of course I would mate! I will always catch you! Never ever say something that stupid to me again!" You laughed him off waving your hand brushing off the words as banter not registering how serious he sounded. You'd been alone for to long now and just wanted some interaction,you loved his visits it was the only time you felt safe.

"I was teasing geez I know you wont let anything happen to me by now you love me to much~" he had just hummed a soft look across his face mumbling under his breath.

"I do" he licked his lips leaning in faster then you could really stop him, you tried shimmying back yourself back into the room but he held your wrist keeping you half hanging out. He stopped a hairs breath away from your lips. You froze tensing worried he would do it, that he would try and take a step you didn't want. He moved slower but you managed to dodge twisting your face pretending peek back at the clock in your room. He sighed as his lips met your cheek instead of their intended target. He moved his lips to your ear and spoke in a low baritone voice, he sounded disappointed.

"Get back inside, go to bed you need sleep. You had an early morning I will see you tomorrow mate." He was gone before you could see the dire look across his face

You shook your head after he had left, you panicked you were devastated what if he didn't come back? what if that was it? you'd never see him again? you had been a wreck that day crying yourself into hysterics thinking that was it! that night he had been a few hours late only adding to your turmoil. When he had arrived he quickly wrapped you up in his arms enjoying how you clutched at him so desperately. It may have been cruel to let you dwell in your pain a few hours longer, but he had to, it was a punishment for the way you'd refused him. He needed you to realize you were his. You needed him as much as he needed you. When he had come around he acted as if nothing happened ignoring the obvious rejection he simply ignored what he didn't like. He didn't like the almost kiss, didn't like that you'd pulled away so in his eyes it didn't happen. And that in itself was enough for you to not want a relationship like that with him.

It was then you decided enough was enough, as much as he had tried to help it just wasn't working you needed a change a new start you had made the drastic decision to move back home to central city. You were still being observed you didn't feel safe in your own home and that was something you couldn't see changing so today you were off to see an estate agent. You hadn't spoke to him about it, honestly you were dreading his reaction but he could always visit you travel wont really be an issue the talk was going to uncomfortable but it was necessary you couldn't stay here, not any more it was making you sick so today you was looking at property options you owned your house so was going to see how much they would buy it for. You gulped as you made your way out of your home anxious and shaking, this is why you were leaving something as simple as leaving the house brought a terror in your stomach so sickening you could barely function. You hoped you calmed down by the time you got to the office...But you doubted it. Once you were near the city that whole in your chest opened again your windpipe clenched painfully making it hard to breath. You were going to panic! you sat back on the seat of the bus you were stuck in traffic going nowhere fast. You wavered taking deep breaths closing your eyes just about ready to cry then you heard the gasps of 'superman' you turned quickly looking to the sky seeing him hovering looking down to your direction almost as if he was looking at you. You sighed and nodded to yourself. he was there. he was looking out for you.you calmed down inside you that feeling was still there that awful awful prey like feeling, but knowing he was around made you feel slightly better.

You sat with the woman brushing of your anxiety being down to the move. you looked at what they would effectively swap your home for, they were nice most in the suburbs two beds one caught your eye. it was a detached three bed house nice yard and a quaint neighborhood. You knew the area there was plenty of job opportunities in the local high street great transport links. you smiled.

"I like that one...Its a block away from my parents where I grew up... could I go see it? I am definitely interested." she smiled brightly as you said that seeing a sale in her sights.

"Yes of course..Its a lovely area as I’m sure you know very friendly which is hard to come by in these times...its around $25 000 under budget for what we would offer you on your place so you would also get change" she laughed you forced a chuckle just wanting this over asap.

"Wait what? I only paid around $140.000 for mine...Why the sudden change?." she chuckled

"Since Superman's appearance house prices in Metropolis have shot up no one moves out but everyone wants to be here to get a look at him!...We are the home to the only known alien on earth..People want to be here they believe its now one of the safest places in the country if not earth" you nodded it did make sense when she put it like that.

"Well at least I could decorate... is it empty now?" she smiled nodding shuffling the papers taking away the other houses seeing as you wasn't interested.

"Yes it is, ready to be moved into, if you like it and all goes well you will be able to pick up the keys in say three to four weeks? we even have a moving service for an extra fee packing delivering and unloading." you nodded looking a the pale green painted house. Yes you would go look. You sat and arranged a visit for a weeks time.

You left feeling lighter yet only for a few seconds when you got to the main road you screamed as before you could even blink and jump back at the sound of his violent landing Kal had grasped you roughly and took off again leaving a huge crater. You screamed as he did one huge swoop across the city to your home. You swore at him as he landed pushing you to your door. you turned to curse him out but stopped.

"What are you?" he cut you off snarling a single word twisting you roughly to the door.

"IN!" you gulped swallowing for the first time you were scared of him, frightened you moved opening the door with shaky hands and stepped inside he followed closely rage flooding his system. he directed you to your living room sitting you down.

"Your not leaving me mate...Your not going anywhere!,You are mine! My mate MINE!" he shouted making you squeak and flinch reminded of just how strong he was as his voice alone hurt your ears. He paced before you for a second then sat on your coffee table and leaned forward sharply pointing a finger at you.

"Y-You wasn't...Your not trying to leave me are you? I-I we were just about to start our life together..Why? Why would you do this? You love me..You have to I've seen it! Please this is a joke tell me this is a joke?..a cruel cruel joke!..Is it? TELL ME!" you shook as he grabbed you tears were in his eyes frantic his grip hurt.

"Kal Please! please calm down listen to me! I was going to tell you I'm just going to look at it! I'm not leaving, not yet anyway" he growled standing crouching over you pressing you tight back to the sofa you try to avoid his hot gaze.

"Your not leaving! you not going anywhere EVER!" you gasped out a sob frightened as he lost his cool you went to speak but he cut you off.

"You are mine, my mate, my one, you were made for me and you will stay with me! I thought I'd been clear! why do you think I was watching over you? I told you I couldn't stop thinking of you after the bridge. I love you. And you love me! I've seen it smelt it, the way you wither under your own touch, you do it for me...Tell me! tell me its me you think of, me! when you let your hands wander over yourself. I know you hold back your careful not to call out for me, you know I'm just above you, your shy you can't be blamed my love but I know...You don't have to hide anymore" he leaned close pressing himself between your thighs forcing your heat to press on him. You struggled to keep up with his dizzying rant.

Then you went cold. He had seen you touch yourself? He had been above the estate agents? and the night he came to you...Slowly it began to dawn on you just what had been going on. It. Was. Him.

He had been haunting you, he just admitted it since the bridge? he was watching spying. He's your stalker. You mumbled the words looking him right in the eye. He glared at you a sinister look and snarled giving you a firm shake and slammed your back into the sofa making the wooden frame creek.

"No! I was protecting you! its dangerous your small and alone you needed me! you still need me!" you scrabbled at him trying to get him off you screaming bloody murder. He was your stalker. The most powerful man on the planet! That’s why you felt it even in your own home. He could see through the walls!. You sobbed and struggled.

"You? You watched me..You wasn't protecting me! you were hurting me! you you isolated me! I'm worse now then I ever was! WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? NO! GET AWAY GET OFF OF ME!"

He growled pressing forward holding your wrists down by your sides. He lunged froward and kissed your open mouth entangling his tongue with yours forcefully, he had to show you. You screamed into the kiss trying to twist lifting your legs trying to get your knees between you but it was no use. He was incredibly strong and you were nothing but a wisp of a thing, you were human and he was all but a god.

He moaned into your mouth licking away at your tongue tracing patterns on the roof of your mouth. In your squirming you'd slipped down your back curving and center brushing him higher on his abdomen. He grinned taking the opportunity to slide his knees below your hips making you rub against him you flinched and bit at him, trying to hurt him he chuckled at your silly little attempt. Is this what it was supposed to be like? you fight him so he overcomes you? so he proves his strength, his worth as a mate? did he have to pin you and take you to show he was able to protect your children?. It must be that. You were his mate. If that’s what you needed then he would deliver.

With a grunt and a smile he moved his hands releasing you suddenly he has hit with a barrage of hits he could see you wincing as you hurt yourself hitting and slapping harder and harder at him. He ignored you, they would bruise and you would tire, he focused on the task at hand moving his palms over your behind then dug in puncturing holes in the seam and pulled splitting open the fabric of your jeans effortlessly until they no longer had a crotch. You screamed a fought harder to no avail, he had made his decision he was going to indulge. He was tried of waiting and playing around he would fuck you, fill you and breed you then he would take you away. You said so your self you wanted to leave and like any good mate he will oblige.

You cried feeling your clothes become tatters, his frame was huge and unmovable. You'd have better luck denting concrete. He hummed pulling back as you bit at him again trying to scratch and claw at him. Your hands were throbbing form your relentless beating on him.

"Now now mate stop being silly...Did you know that your ovulating? that’s probably what all this is hmm? the running away? the struggling and fighting? your testing me, you want to know just how strong their fathers going to be? I understand that, I already know how much of a fierce little mate you are...Our children will be strong" you froze staring at him in horror you gathered that he was going to...to force himself on you but...The fact that he intended to finish inside of you? to fill you. He took the moment of shock to quickly undress he was back between your thighs before your legs had lowered to the seat. you did little more then shake as he slide a finger below your panties.

"shh shh I know its exciting....Our own family... Please don't struggle my love I don't want to accidentally hurt you. I want our first time to be enjoyable for you...And then I can get down to business and breed you properly I wont stop until I've seen it! until I know without a doubt your mine and your carrying proof of our love." contrary to the threat and the violent truth behind them his words were like honey. Sweet and soothing a gentle lilt to them as he moved pulling then gave a quick tug but you cried out at him as your panties fought to hold on he rolled his eyes moving to hold either side then pulled.

You wept as the last barrier between you was removed. He shushed you and pressed his fingers at your core instantly, you were dry. He scowled you shouldn't be. You should want him. He ignored your pleas and pailful whimpers as he plunged two fingers inside your tiny heat. He grunted as the warm muscle protested around his thick fingers you screeched curling your toes unable to kick out at him as he held your legs between his arms and ribs pressing them open around his wide torso. You panted and cried, you wasn't ready or willing you tensed as he moved his fingers gradually opening you up for him. You looked up and cursed him, he was the definition of a beautiful monster. You glared at him knowing there wasn't anything you could do he was Superman you had no hope in overcoming him so in one final act of defiance you spat in his face.

He turned his head letting it hit his cheek and froze eyes closed as it slowly slid down his cheek and turned slowly back to you grinning you watched in horror and slight disgust as his tongue poked out licking it into his mouth he moaned.

"My love...I had no idea you were so filthy, spitting in the bedroom isn't something I've tried before however for you my love I'd do anything~" you gasped as he reared back taking a deep breath and spat onto his fingers you yelped as his fingers ploughed it into your hot pussy, it was freezing cold. You hissed it stung bad as his speared it deeper inside of you.

"Oh love? did you not like that? is it too cold? I'm sorry..I thought since we were experimenting I could play with temperature a bit...Sometimes I just get excited is all...But hey thanks to your little spitting fit my fingers are going in so much easier. And your body is opening up! you'll be ready for me soon enough" you shook your head and wriggled wanted to be free of him.

"Please please not like this-I don't want to! don't make me! don't force me please Kal" your words fell on deaf ears as he moved closer humming at you cooing softly trying to coax you into relaxing.

His cool spit was warmed inside of you as his fingers prodded deeper and deeper curling back and forth. He looked down intently to your abdomen staring then smiled.

"Shh shh its okay I'm here.... See your getting wet now, your pussy knows...Its hungry can't you feel it? trying to trap my fingers inside of you? wanting so desperately to have me breed you, it wont be satisfied until your full and your bulging with my love." he angled his fingers forward and pressed holding his fingers still bar from an incredibly fast flicking of the tips of his fingers.

You screamed it felt like vibrating rabbit ears grazing your soft patch of nerves. You couldn't help yourself you rocked and grinded in unwanted lust. Your body moving of its own accord as he moved his digits your blood hummed racing and hot you panted and thrashed against him pitifully. You screamed throwing your head back twisting your hips trying to buck him off or to slip a leg from his grasp. He chuckled following you keeping up his pace.

"That’s it...That’s it love see?! you want me my love! good girl such a good girl keep going love here maybe this will help? you know I've watched you, how you angle your toys it should be about...here" then suddenly he pushed roughly to the spot you choked on your moan as you clenched around him in a painful forced orgasm. You wept as your nerves burned and your body ached spasming and jerking onto his hand. You trembled from head to toe moaning and grunting as your body was pushed to its limits.

He smiled pulling away from you slowly as you came down panting and whining with every deep breath you rocked forward as he slid the flat of his palm over your drenched cunt collecting your release and wiped it across his thick frightening cock. He was smothering himself making sure there was enough on his tip to breach you.

You gulped watching as he started at you his eyes were half lidded he moaned as he moved slowly across his own cock pulling and teasing as he did so wanting to entice you. It had to opposite effect, it was huge and looked lethal and angry you don't have to touch it to see it was throbbing you could see it. You hissed still weeping pleading with him not to do this he shuffled back, it was the cold breeze that alerted you to the fact he'd just stripped you bare. You whined as he moved twisting you to lay flat on you stomach on the sofa with warm wet hands he pulled you into position dragging you across the sofa leaving sticky hand prints across your skin that cooled as he removed his palms from your skin

You felt his hand wander over your back, your legs trembled you were tempted to run, to launch yourself over the arm and in to the kitchen, the hall cupboard, fuck you would even try to make a mad dash to the stairs if it meant you'd get away. Thought of escape were all abandoned as his large wet hand was placed at your neck his fingers cupped your throat gently, you could smell your own arousal as he shuffled you making you come up onto your hands an knees before him you whined crying moving one hand to his large wrist.

"P-PlEASE PLease st-stop this! ple-ase don't rape me!" you sobbed out his answer was a growl he squeezed you throat letting an echo of his strength through the fingers.

"I'm not raping you...I'm making love to you, I'm breeding you, you came y/n you want this your just shy and confused... that’s all just confused. It must be part of this mating bond or-or it could be your a human you don't understand not yet..You will!, you want me really I know you do, now hold still whilst I claim you, it will all be over soon and we can go home trust me." you whined trying to move forward as he brought his hips to yours. You mewled bawling your eyes out as he pressed the crown of his weeping dangerously virile cock to your lips. He took a breath and pulled you back by your neck.

He dragged your body back onto him eyes blown as he watched his cock disappear into your hot cunt, he groaned feeling your body try to reject him. You were small and no matter how ready you were it was a shock you were bound to put up some resistance you didn't mean to he reasoned.

You gasped as he force fed you his cock, it was painful and hot you tired thinking of anything else but it was hard to, he was huge and was pressing against everything! your mouth hung open in silent screams, he drowned them out with his own chorus of growls and praise blowing hot breaths across your back. You winced yelping out as he stuffed you finally he was met with a barrier with an inch or so to go. He grunted as the tip of his cock nudged something, then looked in past your spine. It was your cervix, you yelped as he pressed harder on your insides it hurt, you moved a hand back trying to stop him not knowing what he had hit but it was painful.

"YOu?! NO I CaN'T PLeASE NO MORE! YOUR TO BIG!" he ran a hand over your back hushing your panic trying to sooth you he explained.

"Hush mate I know..I can see its just your cervix...Your ovulating so its soft and ready just stay still whilst I push pas-" you screamed when you realized what he was going to say you quickly reached forward for the sofa arm.

He growled at your blatant disrespect of his status! He was your mate! in a knee jerk fury fueled reaction he moved releasing your neck bringing both hands to your hips and slammed you back making you scream as his cock slipped past your wombs last defense.

"THAT’S ENOUGH! BEHAVE AND TAKE IT!" his bellow was shouted over you painful cries as he then began to rock into you with no mercy or regard for you or your pleasure. He moved faster massaging your cunt intent on filling you just as nature intended.

"There see? like a fucking glove! now just behave if you stopped your fighting you'd be enjoying my cock by now!" you cried as your insides were battered enduring the thrusts that were meant to punish. He grunted loudly into your ear leaning over your back his abs skimming your sweat slicked back. You felt each thrust rock across your back the room was filled with your cries pleading him to get off, pull out and stop his replies were groans and satisfied grunts, finally you gave up he wasn't listening, he wont stop, he wasn't leaving anytime soon.

You closed your mouth digging your fingers into the sofa below staring at the soft cream fabric of the cushions that were bout to be completely ruined, biting your lip you tried to ignore everything. his grunts and the loud slapping sound that accompanied each brutal thrust.

"Fuuuuck yes! I can't wait...can't wait until you fucking pregnant! I'm gonna make you a Mother today! fucking breed you! my mate MINE! fuck fuck yes!" you cringed as he moved faster, your pussy was clenching around his hot cock pulling and twisting around him as he ignited your nerves massaging your spot effortlessly. you quivered legs trembling struggling to hold your weight as he began swelling inside of you.

You keened quietly feeling the throbbing of his flesh you shook as he brought a hand to your clit and rolled it in a fast figure eight motion your legs widened and our arms gave out you screamed pressing your face in the cushions below crying and pleading as you release over him one loud protest after another fell from your lips as you jerk violently against him. You cried in shame as your release was one powerful stream of cum hitting him washing his heavy tensing balls as they swayed tapping your oversensitive cunt. He laughed rubbing your clit faster making it last, you sobbed as another think stream followed instantly coating him and your sofa. He stuttered his hips cock swelling you felt his balls pulling taught wetting your lips with your own release.

"NOOO! NOO PLEASE Please don't cum in me!!! don't! your to deep I can't-I'm not ready for that please KAL NO!" you screamed at him one last ditch attempt to halt him as he grunted loud into the living room releasing what felt like torrents into your vulnerable womb.

You sobbed quietly into the sofa feeling his seed filling you he held sill and deep as his load continued its desecration of your empty womb intent on filling you just as he promised. He looked down watching as he flooded your insides then he let out a huge breath through clenched teeth.

"Fuck yes... That’s it, good girl..Good mate not letting anything escape, you cant not until its taken...If only you could see this love, like me I'm so high, so far inside you, I wouldn't be surprised if I've coated your stomach" You held still and silent not wanting to respond..What could you say, it was done. so you stayed there head down ass up with your once hero embedded deep within you waiting for him to pull out. But he didn't as soon as his balls were finished emptying he immedieatly began thrusting again trying to press his semen deeper wanting it to take. you groaned twisting to look at him why is he still hard? he just finished? he shouldn't still be going."Oh love we've just begun, I can last hours and I did say I'm breeding you its going to take more then one little load to be sure" that brought all new floods of tears as he rutted into your bruised body beginning a second round of what you feared was many.

True to his word he had you bent over on the sofa for most of the day, fucking you relentlessly after a few hours he had stopped, not because he was done. oh hell no, he stopped because you were chafing even with the copious amout of fluids you'd both made..Well mostly you he had bypassed your cervix each time and very little had escaped you he had made sure in some cases holding you by your crossed ankles and tilting you up bouncing you slightly much to your shame he would hold you high to rest almost completely on your shoulder blades to be sure he was getting as much in your womb as possible, after all as he kept saying he had a job to do. By this point your almost certain you were pregnant but he still wanted to continue just to be sure. Tho currently he was giving you a break he moved slowly through the house getting you a juice and thin sheet he found in the laundry basket in the kitchen.

He draped the sheet over your form then left to go up stairs for a wash cloth deciding you needed a wipe down. You jumped when you heard a loud knock at the door. You wrapped the sheet around your frame wincing as you moved hunched over you moved taking baby steps to the door. You swallowed as you opened the door to the police?

you frowned tugging the sheet tighter to yourself around your chest. The officers eyes widened at your appearance and he blushed he stuttered and cleared his throat you spoke first seeing as words escaped him.

"Y-yes can I help you?"  he blinked and shook his head then managed a professional voice.

"Are you okay miss? we have had calls about screaming and a possible domestic disturbance all afternoon... Your neighbors thought you were in trouble, we hadn't been able to get out earlier-OOHH my ahem err well" you frowned as the officer began nodding stuttering suddenly looking anywhere but you, you turned seeing Kal there now back in his suit hair still purposefully left messy you swallowed and shivered flushing embarrassed as he made a point to fold the black washcloth in his hands.

"I apologize for that officer...We took the afternoon to ourselves and I got...Well I had to make up for my absences didn't I love..." you whined as he moved up behind you wrapping an arm around your still tender tummy you hissed as he rubbed your stomach and abdomen kissing your neck smirking. You could see one of your neighbor's lean far over her porch railing stealing a look wanting to know what all your screams had been about and covered her mouth in shock seeing the man of steel she flushed fanning herself as she realized it had been privvy to his fucking marathon, she turned waving down another of your neighbors pointing. You cringed pressing back into Kal wanting to run and hide. He smiled at you kissing your cheek again.

"Ah yes...Well then that’s...That’s fine no harm done I suppose I can let you off with out a ticket for disturbing the peace seeing as it was is well...I’m sure no one would mind after all you so for us... I'd just ask you both be more considerate of the neighbor’s in future they were very concerned said it sounded like she was being...Attacked." you flinched if only they knew.

Kal laughed rubbing your tummy then lower almost cupping your violated screaming pussy he tugged you back to him.

"Haha OH..See love I told you we should of role played somewhere else, you frightened your poor neighbors!...I do apologize we...Tried something knew she just couldn't help her self but I will try to keep her quiet next time." you whined twisting in his hold you turned to Kal embarrassed

"K-kal please stop talking..."

"Oh love come now, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I'm sure the officer has dealt with this type of thing before...” he handed you the washcloth in his hands “Here you go and relax I'll have your bath ready in a moment. Don't think I didn't see you waddling over here, I told you to stay put until id drawn your bath, your still to tender to be moving...honestly I should never have put you on top!" he ushered you in behind him into the house and stood tall in the doorway you cringed as he spoke a little to loud for your liking as you heard your neighbor gasp and began giggling with each other.

"Once again I'm sorry for wasting your time but as you can see everything is fine" the other man nodded smiling to him shaking his outstretched hand only to happy to have the opportunity.

"We had to check it out as I'm sure you understand" Kal nodded laughing then bid goodbye to the man then called an apology to the giggling flushed neighbors then turned shutting the door behind him then walked into the living room finding you curled up on the floor crying.

He sighed and quickly scooped you up taking you up to bed. He would wait until you were asleep before moving you to his own secluded home he had prepared for you, for now he would hold you. it must have been a shock to find your soulmate just as it had been for him, but unlike him he would not allow you to go through the roller coaster of emotions alone, he would stay right here with you every step of the way.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.  

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed.  “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

#

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.  

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?  

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

#

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs.  But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”  

#

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.  

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

[laurore-stormwitch]

of almost failed heists and romantic advice

For the @grishaversebigbang mini bang! First time writing the crows, it’s been a challenge. I had the incredible and emotional honor to see some beautiful art made for this fic by @streckenweise-okay [here] , @j-wirth [here], @davonysus [here]. You are all talented and amazing <3  Summary: an easy undercover job becomes not only a chance to revisit some old friendships with Nina back in town, but also the perfect occasion for a romantic intervention and some dating advice for our favorite Bastard of the Barrel.

ao3 link

Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, a forgotten Rietveld. His figure hid itself in the many names he had been called, in the many tales of sorrow he had inflicted. He did not need a reason, nor to rob or brake, nor to wreak havoc on the filthy streets of Ketterdam. Swift as the sky-splitting dive of a crow on his prey. You would feel him coming, in the tense silence shattered by the rhythmic beating of a raptor-headed cane on bricks. Kaz Brekker, who did not need a reason, or concealed the ones who mattered. The same Kaz Brekker, however, who did not have a valid reason for choosing to bring the three biggest headaches of his life along with him on this wretched job. A sharpshooter with an absurd taste in fashion, a Grisha witch as annoying as his broken leg and a wayward merchant’s son he had spent way too much time babysitting. 

A strike of genius on his part. On top of that, he had chosen an undercover job, like they had the slightest ability not be noticed. Except for Nina; that girl blended everywhere like whisky. She was now strolling back to them with an excited gleam in her eyes, sipping on a glass of wine. She giggled happily. “Relax, Kaz. It’s a party.” 

He cut her a glare from the corner in which he was standing, stiff and broody. 

“Where the hell are the two lovebirds?” 

“At the buffet. Do you know they have a chocolate fountain?”

“If it doesn’t drop gold”, Nina arched a brow at him, “I am fairly sure I don’t care for it.”

They were interrupted by the brilliant flash of color of Jesper’s suit and his brazen laugh. He had an arm thrown around Wylan’s shoulder; the merchling’s  cheeks were flushed and his hair ruffled. He seemed slightly uncomfortable or about to throw up. For all the kruges, how much had Jesper let him drink? At least they did not have a particularly difficult role to play. Nina planted a kiss on Wylan’s cheek.

“This is so fun!”, she exclaimed, delighted by the situation. Kaz glared at her again.

“A job it’s not supposed to be fun.”

“Take your brooding mood out the window, Brekker”, Nina waved a dismissive hand at him. “What would a job be without fun?”

“Terribly dull”, Jesper winked.

“Annoyingly painful”, offered Wylan with a hiccup. They turned to Kaz. 

“Adequately profitable.”

His friends cast their eyes heavenward. Jesper snatched other glasses , pretending not to see Kaz’s threatening look. The party was grand, held in the home of a Council’s member from whom they were supposed to steal some documents held in a safe in his study. The job was easy to say the least, so when they had learned that Nina was in town, she had tagged along. Kaz wanted to wack himself on the head with his cane for this wretched idea; apparently, they had taken this as an excuse to party and reminisce old times more than an occasion to actually help Kaz make some money. Nina surveyed the room. 

“I wish Inej was here”, she whined. Kaz had never been one to pray, so it was not surprised when the Saints ignored his pledge to make Nina drop the argument. Instad, she turned to him with a smug smirk. 

“How is it going between the two of you?”

Kaz tapped his cane on the floor, avoiding the heartrender’s eyes. Maybe she would shut up if he ignored her. Was he not radiating a general air of murderousness and danger, enough to convince his nosy friend to leave him be? Well, not enough. It just made her do something even worse and refer to the other two headaches.

“Kaz is a hopeless cause.”

“He’s not asked her out yet? Not even a romantic snack in between threatening people and skewering them with knives?”

Jesper shrugged his shoulder, nudging Wylan closer. “We offered to do it for him”, he noted.

“You did”, Wylan peered at thim. “I want to keep my head on my neck.”

“Why hasn’t he?”, asked Nina, considering Kaz, still ignoring them.

“I don’t think he’s familiar with the concept of asking someone out. Or even asking someone for anything, mainly bossing people around.”

Kaz adjusted his tie. “I’m standing right beside you.”

“It’s not hard, Kaz. Just buy some flowers and smile.”

Jesper laughed at Nina’s idiotic advice. Were they actually trying to get assassinated right now? Another thought paved the way in his mind. Was it an idiotic advice, though? He could admit that anything not involving schemes or robbery was not an area of expertise for him. And he had been meaning to do something...nice?

“You’re asking Dirtyhands to smile?”, asked Jesper. Nina huffed.

“Can it be that hard?”

“You’ll see. Kaz, smile at me.” 

Kaz had two roads in front of him: for some reason, he chose the insane one and indulged Jesper, curling his lips upward. An uncomfortable silence dawned over them. 

“All the Saints and their suffering”, Nina exclaimed.

“Is he about to murder someone?”, Wylan asked. Nina burst out laughing.

“That is your i-am-asking-you-out smile?”

“It’s terrifying”, considered the merchling.

“Positively daunting”, his boyfriend confirmed.

“For the love of Inej’s Saints drop the smile. Stick with the flowers.” She eyed him from upside down, critical. “And fix that dreadful hair.”

Now the choice laid between leaving them all here or trying to find a way to finish this wretched job. Since the second option included a mouthful reward, he went with it. He eyed the owner descending the stairs with his guards. That was their cue. 

“You all know what to do.”

To their credit, they all snapped to attention when he called them. Nina strode behind the owner, fluffing her hair, while the three of them disappeared silently toward the upper floor. Silently. As silently as they could, Wylan being half drunk and Jesper being...well, Jesper. What one does for some kruge, thought sourly Kaz. He did glance at his reflection in the mirror, trying a half smile as they ascended the stairs. But no one needed to know that. 

***

The safe had scarcely even been fun to crack. Kaz slipped the document in his jacket, scanning the study. Who knows what one could find that people left unguarded. Jesper and Wylan were outside, keeping control on the stairs. The situation seemed under control, so he did have some spare time to search for something precious. He approached a drawer, flicked a pin in the keylock and - 

BOOM

A loud explosion resonated on the floor, rattling the walls. Definitely not a good sign. And definitely a sign that his henchmen raised some hell. Kaz sprinted out, only to find an absolute mayhem had been unleashed, and at the centre of this chaos, sure enough, stood his two royally idiotic friends, covered in dirt and pieces of furniture, gazing at each other with utter shock on their faces like they hadn’t just made a smoke bomb explode. The one that was supposed to be an emergency to cover their escape and was now invading the house. 

“What the hell did you do?!”

Screams rose below them; Jesper scratched some dust from his jacket and rolled his revolvers out, grinning in Wylan’s direction, apparently unfazed by how much they had just screwed up. 

“Wylan got carried away”, he shrugged his shoulders. Wylan flushed violently, jaw dropped in his boyfriend’s direction.

“You pushed me against a wall! I told you I had the smoke bomb in my pocket!”

“Were they making out again on the job?”, Nina rushed in their direction, her gorgeous face lit up with amusement as she struck down one of the guards running up the stairs with a flick of her wrist, a dart bone flying out of her cuff. 

“It’s Jesper’s fault! He’s always trying to...to…”, Jesper arched a brow at Wylan. 

“Yes?”

“Entice me!”

Kaz blew out an exasperated grunt, pushing them toward the background door. “Move!”, he seethed, running to work the lock. Dirtyhands getting killed on a saints forsaken robbery, perfect irony. With a quick look, he realized the damn lock had been reinforced with Fabrikator’s craft. He signaled Jesper, who practically squealed with amusement. 

“Do I get to use my powers?” The hard glare he earned from Kaz seemed to be enough for him to get on with his work. Nina turned, shooting other dart bones toward the stairs. Quick steps and screams were echoing through the buildings, and smoke was clearing. “You might wanna hurry up, Jes!”, she shouted over her shoulder. 

“We might have a problem”, the sharpshooter mumbled, as the lock literally melted on itself, effectively sealing the door closed. “I’m still getting the hold on - “

He was interrupted by another deafening explosion, as Wylan threw another device which detonated on the wooden stairs shredding them into pieces. 

“Do you all have to keep destroying our ways out?!”

“I’m sorry!”, screamed Wylan over the echoing thrum of the bomb, his gaze shifting to a window that opened up to the roof. 

“Do not even think about it”, Kaz pointed his cane at him. 

“Either we take a page from Inej’s book or we get arrested, what do you choose?”, Nina asked grudgingly, starting to climb on a cupboard. Saints, he was going to kill them all. Jesper and Wylan followed suit, making their way out on the roof and helping Kaz up. He shot a murderous look at Nina, who was eyeing him as he not at all gracefully moved up and shut the window closed behind him, swearing to every known Saints in Kerch.

“Since you are so bad at this, you should try to compliment Inej about it and maybe she’ll teach you something.” 

“Start fleeing before I catch you, Zenik.”

Shots began firing from below them, grazing Kaz’s arm. Nina erupted in a grin. 

“Time to run, Brekker.”

And so they did. Extremely far from how Inej would have done it. Loudly, stumbling throughout Ketterdam’s rooftops, helping each other - as much as he hated to admit it, mostly Kaz - on the slippery tiles and the narrow eaves. Ketterdam buildings left little space to breathe, being conveniently close that they could jump from one to the other. Kaz lost track of time, though his bad leg felt like they’ve been running for hours. Jesper stopped abruptly as they neared the docks, crunching on his knees and howling a breathless laugh. 

“That was fun.”

Nina giggled, slouching on the rooftop they had stopped on. “Ease up boys, we lost them ages ago”, she exhaled, closing her eyes toward the moonlight and leaning back. Kaz tentatively seated himself behind her, stretching his leg. 

“If this easy job ends up with me not being able to walk, vengeance will be coming.” 

Wylan and Jesper slumped down on his side, ignoring his dreadful look. Wylan peered at Kaz with a sly smile. 

“Jesper has stolen something fit to celebrate a successful heist.” 

The sharpshooter grinned, pulling out a bottle of cherry wine from nowhere and uncorking it with a whistle of joy. He passed it around as their cheerful chatter filled the night’s quiet. They were crazy. Crazy, reckless, and still idiots. Yet, Kaz couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his ragtag band of misfits. So he did not protest when Jesper handed him the wine, and he even threw a crooked half smile at him. The night began to wear off with every sip.

“So”, started Jesper at some point, snatching the bottle from him, “about our advice?”

It had to be the wine for Kaz to answer this. “I guess I can try it.”

Wylan huffed and gave him a knowing look.  “Just be yourself, Kaz. Inej likes you like that.”

“Ever the romantic”, Jesper winked at him, making him flush. Again. 

“Aside from that”, Nina propped herself up, turning to him, her lips quirked and her face lit up with happiness, cheeks red from the wine. “I still suggest the flowers. You know her favourites. And you might want to get ahead with those, Brekker'', she added, pointing her finger toward the horizon; over Ketterdam’s rooftops, the moonlight shone on the silent streets, reflecting on the waves that hit the docks. There, against the sky lit up by stars, stood the profile of a sharp ship, a flag Kaz knew by heart flying over the mast, its edges turning his stomach upside down as it entered the harbour. 

“Our Wraith is coming home.”

[thesillylittlesnek]

The Things That Waited

That’s right, i wrote some more! this was a writing project for school, but it turned out pretty well so here you are!

There was a forest beyond the gate. The trees were tall – tall enough to be seen over the top of the towering stones. They said if you could climb to their top, you could see the edge of the world. I never put much stock in that.

I had never seen the outside. None of us had. Outside there were cursed things, monsters that roamed the grassy woods. Monsters with fangs long enough to tear through steel. Strong enough to fell one of the tallest trees.

Or so they said. Those stories? Those I could believe. Because one of us had seen Outside. His name was James. He was my best friend, but he never told me what he saw out there. But I knew it was bad. No natural creature could have done that. Not to him.

He had stumbled through the gate, and for a moment there was light in his eyes. Excitement – the glory of his discovery, the adrenaline of doing what cannot be done.

But then there was the blood dripping down his cheek. Following the curve of his face, turning his pale lips red. Spreading, shockingly bright against the gray of his shirt. His torn shirt, half of it shredded, the skin beneath unrecognizable.

He had fallen to his knees, his own blood pooling around him. His knife was in his hand, stained with crimson. His eyes – his beautiful green eyes – they'd searched frantically, almost blindly. And they’d settled on me, kneeling beside him, pressing gloved hands to the worst of his wounds.

There was so much blood. I couldn’t understand how there could be so much. It pooled beneath us. It dripped, thick and heavy from our clothes. I remembered him pulling something from his pocket. It was a small marble, shadows swirling within. It hung on a silver chain.

I tried to tell him not to move, that he was only making things worse, but he reached up. The cold glass hung heavily against my heart. It seemed to throb – a steady heartbeat, contrasting with my own.

Pounding in my chest, frantic to save my James.

But I watched. He smiled once, fleeting and bright. The last burn of a star as it burns out and finally dies. I couldn’t remember crying, but my tears mixed with his blood all the same. And his green eyes faded, dulling. Losing their spark. Their life that had led him. Gone.

I could feel his blood soaking my shoes.

The marble hung around my neck, tucked neatly into the collar of my shirt. I protected it, made sure it never broke. I didn’t know why, but it was the last thing I had of James left. And that made it invaluable.

I grew distant. My emotions seemed to have no spectrum, only mindless rage and useless apathy. One day the rage won, an overreaction to a starving boy’s attempt to pickpocket. I fought with him, and it felt good. He fought back despite his size – and he wasn’t strong. But it was enough to hurt when he punched me.

It was only later, after I’d already won, when I saw the cracks spiderwebbing across the glass. The shadows’ heartbeat increasing – faster – faster – for the first time since I'd first seen it.

I felt tears threatening to spill. My last memento of James, broken as everything else. I closed my eyes against the burn, the marble slipping to the ground, shattering entirely.

“Hello, child. I must thank you for relieving me of that prison.” It was as though many voices spoke at once yet heard from a great distance.

I glanced up. The shadows seemed to have taken a form – now, this should have surprised me more, but at this point the world could have ended and I would have simply stood by and watched. It hesitated, its mouth, the only feature it had, quirking in what seemed to be a toothily grin of confusion. “Do you have a... name? Or something I can call you by?”

“Yeah, sure. Call me Lyss. What about you?”

It shifted away slightly, wide grin faltering. “I have no name to speak of, Lady... Lyss.”

I peered at it. “There’s a character in a book I read once – it was often just a smile, alone without a body. They called it the Cheshire Cat. Does Chessie fit? And you can drop the ‘lady,’ I'm just a schoolgirl.”

“That seems acceptable,” it said, and its smile widened toothily. “In return, perhaps wishes may be in order? For my kind are known as Jinn.”

“Wishes?” I asked, stepping a bit closer.

“Wishes,” it confirmed. “Three, though I warn you of the consequences should you take them.”

Hesitating, I tried to brush away the thoughts of lifeless green eyes. “I wish... no. I wish to see outside without threat of death.”

It didn’t respond, only reached for my hand. I followed it, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. It led me through alleys and cobbled streets led me to the eastern wall. Smiling almost like a human – almost - Chessie ran a shadowed hand across the bricks. They slid away, forming a smooth gateway. I stepped through, watching the Things That Waited – iridescent white monsters the size of lions, with the fangs of a viperfish - as they turned to stare, snarling curiously.

“Can I make a second wish, Chessie?” It nodded, its smile knowing and almost sad. It knew what I was going to do, knew what impulses I was running with.

“I wish James alive again – alive and well.”

I didn’t notice the way the Things sniffed at the opening in the gate, how one tentatively tested the edge. I was too focused on Chessie, watching as it sighed. Watching as smiling shadows enveloped us in darkness.

I did notice when out of the fog, guided by Chessie’s long-fingered hands, came James. Stumbling and skeletal but alive.

That was when I heard the screams. Chessie watched me – or I think he did. “You have one wish left, Lyss. You can wish your city safe, but once you enter again, your protection in the wild wanes. And your beloved James has no protection.”

Already I could see some smaller Things eyeing him curiously. “I wish...” I wish for the city to be safe. I should have wished that. But I was scared and reckless and hopeful all at once. “I wish for James and me to be immortal.”

I felt different immediately, and a good thing too, for a beast leaped at James. But it was unable to hurt him, claws glancing off harmlessly.

But I knew it was the wrong choice as screams echoed within the city, innocent blood spilling onto the cobbled streets and splattering the walls. And I knew if I could go back I would. But Chessie smiled one last time, shadows dissipating into light.

And the screaming stopped.

and there you have it: here’s the tag list, lmk if you want removed/added

@confused-as-all-hell @thebonecarver @matthias-is-alive @simping-for-solangelo @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @saltyfortunes @fuckinhotsauce @nightshade3465

[dearophelia]

and some things you just can’t speak about

long live :: the tower :: and some things you just can’t speak about

Quentus is five when the Reapers come. [it’s sad turian kiddo hours here tonight. warnings for war and parent death. i’m so sorry.]

He’s five when they come.

Quentus lingers upstairs against his father’s strict orders to come down to the basement now. Ducking down so he’s almost hidden, he peeks out through the front window as a red laser beam shoots out from the hulking ship. The beam whines so harsh Quentus feels it in the space between his ears. Suddenly, a little pastry shop down the street explodes in fire and brick.

He inhales sharply and drops all the way down to the floor. As fast as he can, he scrambles on his hands and knees for the basement door. His hand slips and he tumbles and bumps his way down the steps. Dad doesn’t even scold him for staying upstairs, just pulls him up from the floor and into a tight hug. His subvocals rumble in a panicked hum that makes Quentus sniffle and start to cry.

Dad holds him, letting him cry before pulling away. He gives Quentus a little nudge, urging him deeper into the basement. Once sure that Quentus is safe, he climbs the stairs to close the door. A simple sheet of metal can’t protect them from the monsters descending from the sky, but it feels safer with the door closed.

“What are they?” Quentus asks, wiping underneath his eyes.

Mom shifts Nico from her hip to Dad’s arms and then kneels in front of him. There’s a soft, calming hum coming from her throat, but it’s choked with worry. “They’re called Reapers,” she says quietly.

“The bakery’s gone,” he says. All those pretty pastries. The lafka and trilap he and Nico like. The kindly older woman behind the counter who snuck samples out to kids when their parents weren’t looking. All gone.

Mom nods and draws him in close.

They’re silent for the rest of the evening. Quentus curls up on a pile of pillows in the corner and tries to sleep. He counts sixteen flashes of red before sleep finally comes.

//

Two weeks pass. Mom and Dad take turns venturing upstairs to bring food and supplies down. They’re both silent each time they come back, subharmonics tight and controlled with what they aren’t letting their sons hear.

Quentus wants to see the sun through more than the small basement windows. But he knows better than to ask. Mom and Dad are so on edge, so hypervigilant, that he doesn’t dare ask, even if he can carry an armful of cans down the stairs.

“We should’ve left with the Initiative,” Dad says quietly one night, his voice full of sharp regret. He hangs his head and stares at his feet.

Mom sets her hand on his shoulder. “We didn’t know,” she says, just as softly.

“Avi had a spot for us. We could have left. All of this…” the rest of his words disappear into a strangled breath. He turns toward Mom and lets her pull him into a hug. Quentus can’t make out their murmured words, but Dad’s shoulders shake as he clutches at Mom, like he can’t hold her close enough.

The mattress shifts beside him and Quentus scoots over, making room for Nico. His younger brother looks up at him with wide eyes, fear rumbling through his subvocals. Quentus settles an arm around Nico’s shoulders and lets him cuddle into his side. He can’t make the same warm, comforting rumble that Dad uses to soothe them after a bad dream, but he can give Nico a hug.

Quentus doesn’t know what the Initiative is, but Dad doesn’t mention it or Uncle Avi again. By the end of the fourth week, all of their belongings that matter have been moved down to the basement.

//

Quentus is dismayed to discover that, despite the Reapers invading and slowly turning their street into rubble, he is not exempt from schoolwork lessons.

Mom works with him on his math one day while Dad’s out scavenging for supplies. The sun sets, Quentus has finished two sets of problems on his own, and Dad hasn’t returned.

She makes dinner – their fresh food is long gone, but she manages a decent dinner with canned vegetables and dehydrated meat – and plays games with the two of them until bedtime like nothing’s wrong. Quentus desperately wants to ask about Dad, but there’s a fragility to the way she’s holding herself. He squeezes her a little tighter when she hugs him goodnight.

Three nights later, there’s a noise upstairs. Mom turns off the lights, grabs a gun, and takes up position at the bottom of the stairs. “Hide,” she orders him and Nico.

Quentus grabs Nico’s arm and drags him out of sight into a closet. He keeps the door cracked and keeps his eye glued to the tiny open space.

The basement door opens, then closes, and a figure walks down the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, in a patch of moonlight.

“Torbin,” Mom breathes. The gun clatters to the ground. “Where the fuck were you?” she hisses, equal parts anger and relief in her voice. She stands up and immediately wraps her arms around him.

The bag of supplies in Dad’s hand falls and he holds her just as tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as Mom’s subvocals break, “there was a Reaper patrol. I couldn’t get back.”

Quentus barrels out of the closet, Nico right behind him, and they both rush into their father’s knees. Dad bends down and rests his brow against Quentus’, then Nico’s.

“I love you,” Dad says, desperation thickening his voice as he hugs them both.

Quentus can only whimper.

//

Six months pass and all Quentus wants is to play outside again. To see something other than the walls of their basement. To see and talk to someone other than his parents and younger brother.

He misses his friends.

Some of them might be alive – he’s heard his parents talking about people they’ve met out scavenging, and some of the names are familiar – but he’s not allowed upstairs, much less outside. It’s safer apart, Dad said patiently, when Quentus finally yelled about wanting to see the sun and play with his friends. They’re less likely to notice us in small groups.

So he reluctantly pokes at his schoolwork, tries not to be too annoyed when Nico does his reading lessons out loud, and makes it halfway through an entire math book before Mom realizes he’s been cheating. She gives him a look, sighs, and makes him start over again, this time with the answer key removed from his omnitool.

Mom passes time by building solar battery panels from spare parts she and Dad bring back from scavenging. She trades them for vitamins. Dad sews up wounds and sets broken bones in their kitchen, accepting whatever he can in payment even if it’s nothing more than thanks. Days pass with the rise and fall of sun in tiny shadows on the floor. Quentus has stopped jumping at every horn and blast outside.

One of Dad’s patients pays him in a media OSD. Quentus smiles for the first time in months when he discovers an entire directory of comic books. Mom lets him skip a day of lessons. He curls up in his tiny bed and devours each issue, even the volumes and stories he doesn’t know.

Math is still stupid, dehydrated meat is still tasteless, and he still misses his friends. But at least he has new comic books, even if he goes through them all in a week.

//

A little over a year into living in the basement, Quentus wakes up to violent red light and unbearable heat. The whole house shakes and glass breaks upstairs.

“Get down,” Dad says, climbing over him to shield Quentus with his own body. He tucks his hands over his head, arching his back so his strong plates take most of the blow.

Through deafening crashes and a demonic horn that grates all the way down his spine, Quentus hears Nico crying beside him. He looks over: Mom’s curled over Nico the same way Dad’s protecting him. She closes her eyes and tucks around him tighter as the ceiling collapses onto them.

The silence that follows is worse. The four of them hold still, waiting for the rest. Quentus tucks his head into Dad’s carapace like he did when he was smaller. Dad hums quietly and Mom joins in – a warm, safe noise, and Quentus tries to pretend that they’re just cuddled on the couch, reading before bedtime. It doesn’t work.

Mom’s breath hitches when the mechanical noises begin. Something’s walking in the remains of the upstairs – many somethings. They communicate with beeps and electric whirs and growls. Quentus slams his eyes shut and doesn’t see the look that passes between his parents.

Dad pulls away. Quentus opens his eyes, lifting a browplate in confusion.

“Hide,” he whispers, gently bumping their brows together. “Take care of your brother.”

“Dad?” his voice sounds so small.

“I love you,” Dad says. “Remember that.” He presses his mouthplates to Quentus’ crest and then pulls away to gather Nico in his arms.

Quentus doesn’t even have half a second to process his father’s words before his mother wraps her arms around him. Her subvocals rumble with deep, aching grief as she hugs him tight.

“I love you,” Mom whispers fiercely. “Stay together. Don’t let them find you.”

Pieces of concrete and stone start to lift away. The mechanical noises grow louder. Something screams and it makes Quentus want to curl up in his mother’s arms and never ever leave.

“Hide,” she urges, letting go. He reaches for her, but she only grabs his hand, leading him toward the closet. “Stay here,” she says, stepping out of the way for Dad to set a crying Nico beside him in the small room. “Keep the door shut,” she orders, “and close your eyes.”

His breath shakes and he starts to cry just like his brother. “Mom?”

She leans in and briefly rests her forehead on his, then Nico’s. “I love you, so much.”

Light shines in from a newly-made hole by the stairs.

“Andi,” Dad says from the other side of the room. He slides a brand new heat sink into his rifle.

“Close your eyes,” she says softly with a smile, just like when he’s having trouble sleeping. She shuts the door, leaving Quentus and Nico in darkness.

With one hand clamped over Nico’s mouth and the other over his own, Quentus squeezes his eyes shut as gunfire erupts in their basement.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, silence.

//

Based on the path of sunlight through the small crack at the bottom of the door, three days pass before Quentus works up enough courage to pop the door open and peek out. He doesn’t see anything, so pushes the door the rest of the way open.

There’s dried blood by the stairs, staining the floor a dark blue. The basement is empty.

They’re alone.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Betrothed Ch. 11 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 11: Broken

Summary: Illumi cannot escape his past - but sometimes that fact isn’t all that bad.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst, the usual.

Words: ~2500

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter probably sucks. When I’m working night-shifts I become erradic and can’t think straight, but I still wanna write, so...

Story Masterlist

No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man To be the sad man behind blue eyes. And no one knows what it’s like to be hated. To be fated to telling only lies. But my dreams they aren’t as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours only lonely. My love is vengeance, that’s never free.

- Limp Bizkit: Behind Blue Eyes

“Keep good care of Alluka, okay?”

He only nodded in response. You never doubtet him to protect her, yet also couldn’t help reminding him either after everything he’s been through. 

After all, his fear of Illumi made him forget about his locked away sister for such a long time...

“And you’ll be listening to your brother, right?”

“Aye!” the little girl cheered, pecking the flustered boy on the cheek.

It was actually very adoring to look at those two siblings who were finally reunited, now able to make up for the time they’ve lost.

The only companion you’d take with you was your familiar Luna, and you also didn’t want to rely on Alluka’s powers now that you had a hint to your husband’s whereabouts.

Your sister-in-law had been through enough, and she also was way more than just someone to grant wishes. She had desires, dreams and a future to look out for. Both of them.

Gladly, Killua could tell you about all safehouses in Yorknew City so the Zoldyck family wouldn’t notice about you prying around. That information was more than enough for your search.

“What are you going to do from now on?”

“Getting my husband back, obviously” you shrugged at Killua’s words, clutching the ace of spades you were holding. Hisoka had given it to you - infused with a powerful nen, you could contact him whenever you felt it necessary.

“I know that’s all very much for you...” Yes, Killua had struggled with his brother’s mental illness ever since his birth. And now to act like all of that never happened just because you told him he had a change of heart? It seemed almost impossible. “So take your time processing things. We won’t bother you until you’re ready.”

Rumpling up the boy’s white hair, you grinned widely at your friends before you boarded the airship.

You were already halfway across the ocean when you got a message from Killua, warming your cautious heart:

“I’m glad you’ve joined our family. Save him.”

Days passed by as you searched safehous after safehous, as well as every shady corner of the city. Much to your dissatisfaction, your husband had always been gone as soon as you reached the scene of crime.

“I’ll find him, no matter what!” you thought just before you reached the next safehouse, deep in the mountains surrounding the great city. He had seemingly destroyed the Zoldyck Personal Transmitter, just as you had - both blessing and curse.

The view was breathtaking, yet you didn’t bother yourself with wasting any minute enjoying it. Luna’s cry told you that you were near, and that was all that counted right now.

Because there were only three spots left, and what if you’d search for him in vain and he had already left Yorknew City? Your guts twisted very unpleasantly at the thought, making it a lot harder to climb the last pile of rocks.

And there it was - a small brick house, nothing more than a one-room-apartment with the most needed items to survive a short time.

There were lights on inside, you clearly saw them from afar.

Fearing that he would leave if he noticed you, there was no other option left than to surpress your Nen completely, leaving you defenseless against every possible threat. 

But when you entered, there was no one there - except...

“Oh?” As you stepped into the dim cancle light of the room, a small cat stumbled in between your legs, purring happily. “Who are you, sweetheart?”

Seems like Illumi made a friend, huh?

The thought alone made your heart feel like it’ll burst out of happiness as you pet the animal’s head, noticing that Illumi had treated it’s wounds.

Leaving Luna and the cat get to know each other, you roamed around the room, searching for any possible hint on Illumi’s location.

The house seemed to still be occupied, so should you just wait here for him?

But then, the TV that he seemingly forgot to turn off bursted the local news:

“The auction is only expected to take place in a few weeks, but the preparations are already in full swing. Even though everone is talking about the possibility of the Phantom Troupe blowing up the occasion, rumors about ‘special measurements’ have been spread. The organizers did not want to comment, however they assured us the auction will run safe and peaceful.”

“Organizers my ass” you gritted your teeth. Everyone on the world knew the legendary Ten Dons were secretly holding an Underground Auction, with the ‘legal’ one just being a distraction.

But now you could very well imagine where your lover has headed up to...

It’s the same every year. Many assassins would gather to protect the auction, very well paid by the Dons.

A very good occasion to start wiping out the profession of assassins completely.

Finding the place of action was no problem. A quick research and you knew that the tallest hotel in town was in their possession, where the assassins would probably be allowed to stay until the big occasion.

The hardest part however was what in the world you could do if you arrived there...

“P-Please, have mercy!”

As you broke into the building and entered the conference hall, the blood-bath was already in full swing, the true strenght of your husband unfolding in front of your very eyes.

“Sorry, but I cannot make exceptions” Illumi spoke calmly, hitting his enemy’s head with a needle.

There were twenty-five - no, thirty corpses laying around.

Did he really single-handedly kill all those highly professional assassins? Then again, you had never seen him go all out before...

Even though your husband seemed to have granted them a quick death, everything was a mess. Broken furniture, scattered bodyparts and puddles of blood everywhere.

Illumi obviously didn’t need any help, but the moment you saw another enemy try to attack him from behind, you snapped.

Before you could even comprehend what happened, your body had acted before your mind, leaving you only able to watch as the man fell to the ground.

That wasn’t right. Those assassins were mostly hunters, who arrested or killed criminals. They weren’t guilty or worthy of death.

And yet you did it...it was a reflex, your inherent wish to help Illumi being stronger than your rationality.

So you stood stock still as your husband turned around, furrowing his brows at the injured person laying at his feet - and finished him off.

"Oh? Y/N...” Why did his tone have to be so cheerfull, even at times like this? “What are you doing here?”

As if this was a casual chat, he stepped over several corpses until he faced you, while still remaining his distance.

You gulped harshly, even after all this time not prepared for this moment. “I-I was searching for you.”

“What for?” he plainly retorted, stepping harshly on one of the twitching bodies. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, but you shouldn’t be here.”

Folding your hands to keep them from shaking, it made your following words seem only more as if you were praying. “Because I want you to come back to me. Please...”

“I can’t do that, Y/N” he said and his pained smile ripped your heart in thousand pieces. “I’m too dangerous to be with you. I see that now. It’s no wonder you didn’t trust me back then - since I can’t even trust myself.”

Seeing your face stained with tears made him struggle with the wish to cradle you in his arms, soothing you like he always did. But he refrained from doing so.

“Don’t be sad.” He rose his bloodied hands in the air, gesturing across the room. "I found something I want to do. See? I’ll cleanse the world of other monsters like me and make it more safe for you!”

“Lumi...” Hearing this familiar nickname in your most alluring voice made him drop the facade for only a mere second. “...are you crying?”

“Huh? So that’s what it is.” Only now Illumi realized that he had been weeping as well, touching his face in surprise. He had already forgotten that he was able to cry as well."Yeah. It happens a lot lately.”

“Illumi, love-” you now pleaded, breaking out in convulsive sobbing. “You’re sick, you know that. But that’s not the right way...”

“No need to worry” he tried to compromise, pointing to his neck. “I used a needle on myself, in case my parents should get the better off me again. If I ever hurt someone innocent again, it’ll tear my aorta apart and I’ll die.”

You dared to take a few steps in his direction, but he backed off. “There’s no other way, Y/N. You’re the only one allowed to put an end to my life if you wish, but nothing else.”

“If I die, I’ll make up at least for a fraction of my deeds” Illumi thought to himself, his face now contorting to a rather mad smirk. “Y/N will be safe.”

You said nothing - no, you were left unable to speak.

Seeing the love of your life suffering so much was just too hard for you to bear.

“I’m not worthy of your love, Y/N.” God knows when he managed to appear right in front of you, but somehow he did, softly raising your chin. “I’ll never be” he added, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Y-You...” Softly sniveling, you embraced your husband, face wetting the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t need to be ‘worthy’. Love doesn’t work that way, Lumi. I’ll always love you! That’s up to me and you can’t just change that fact!”

“I could” he suggested himself, struggling with the temptation to kiss all your pain away. A needle could make you hate him, or even forget it all.

But he had promised himself to never manipulate other people or cut their freedom, even if just for their safety.

It was your own decision how to feel, or how you’d deal with it.

“Do you really still not remember, Lumi?”

“What exactly?” Your husband didn’t move an inch as you grabbed him tight, afraid he’d leave as soon as you let go.

“You spared me back then” you whispered, shivering as you tried to get a hold of him again. "We were still young, but you were already under their influence...”

Illumi clearly began to shake too, making you regret the previous words. Of course they would cause a flashback...

“Do you remember?”

“Vividly.”

Your husband must’ve been sixteen around that time - yet already a completely trained, fearsome assassin.

Who was his target again? He couldn’t remember.

All he knew was that the orders were to “kill the target as well as it’s allies and leave no witnesseses behind”. The job was precize, requiring to act quick to clean up every proof.

And then there was you.

Still in midst of your hunter education, you were assigned by your family to become the bodyguard over that certain politician, following him on his every step.

But now you saw it all in front of you: Illumi, with his hands firmly strangulating your airway.

He hadn’t developed his Nen abilities at the time, therefore having to do the job with his bare hands. And since you were the last one he had to get rid of, there was no need to hurry.

It was a strange feeling to have such a beautiful person writhing underneath him, piercing him with their pleading look.

Somehow it was a shame you had to die so early, and under those circumstances...

Just when you felt yourself passing out from lack of oxygen, you refrained from trying to pull his hands away - and placed one softly on his cheek.

Illumi froze, shocked by your deed. He had taken so many lives, made countless people suffer already...

But you were the only one who looked at him with such kind, sad eyes...absent of any hint of grudge.

You coughed heavily before you were able to corak out the question burning on your tongue: Why did he stopp fulfilling his mission?

"Yes, why...” he asked himself as well, rubbing the cheek you had just stoked. That sensation, the gentleness and affection of your touch was so foreign to him that he completely lost himself for a moment.

“Why didn’t you struggle?” he turned the interrogation around, almost forgetting about the severe situation both of you were in.

“Dunno” you shuddered, just now realizing that you had given in to your fate just seconds ago. “You seemed kind of sad.”

What?!? This must be some kind of trick!

“Does someone force you to do this?” The compassionate expression on your face scared him, making him want to run away from what he did not know. “You don’t seem happy to do this.”

“I don’t feel anything” the teenager scoffed, taken aback by your worry and care. “I am a highfunctioning tool of darkness and nothing more.”

"How sad...” You cracked a weak smile, and it’s brightness was enough to make him flee, your last words still spinning in his head. “I think under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to become your friend!”

You really were something else...flirting with an enemy that tried to kill you?!? Talking about being insane...

“I get now why my family was so much against our marriage...it’s a joke, really...”

It was a mystery how you didn’t recognize him right away, and how you only now remembered. They had to change all the facts, spending a huge amount of money to silence anyone knowing the truth.

Your name got changed, and everyone would have to act like you were their second child - because the one on the mission had died back then.

So the wrath of the Zoldycks wouldn’t caugh up with you to finish their job.

“You liked me...” Illumi let out a shaky breath, “...even back then.”

“Sure!” you now chuckled weakly, trying to brighten the mood. “How could one not fall for those eyes?”

“I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t.”

Leading his hands to your neck, you wanted to show just how much you trusted him. And immediately, his hands, wandered up to your face, softly suqeezing and stroking it as if he was making sure this wasn’t just a dream or an hallucination. “You’d never hurt me, Lumi. I know that.”

And finally, he cupped your face, hesistantly moving his own closer to yours.

“Is it really okay for me to love you?” he whimpered ever so slightly - but you already pushed your lips onto his until they were inseparable.

“Yes, it is.”

_____

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[babybatscreationsv2]

SpiderVerse: Predators ch25

Marvel | Starker

Peter Parker is barely keeping it together. Dealing with Gwen Stacy's death, Harry Osborn going MIA, and MJ refusing to take his calls, has the guy feeling seriously run down. Now to top it off, his uncle Ben is facing serious prison time. Fortunately or unfortunately, New York's own Kingpin of Crime, Tony Stark, has offered him a deal to save his uncle. On a positive note, this Kingpin guy is kind of hot. Is it wrong to sleep with a murderous criminal? 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

warnings: mentions of violence, mild degrading language

Peter was on edge. His every waking moment was like drowning in a pool of anxiety. Where was Murdock? Was Harry okay? Would Elsa betray them? And then there was Tony. Tony who could be so fragile when it came to their relationship. Peter didn't know much about his past, but he'd pick up on the abandonment issues. Tony didn't like it when it was away. But Peter had other things to worry about.

May was happy that he was home, though she seemed worried by the change. At least Peter could see that she was doing okay. She was clearly still in pain. Every time something reminded her of Ben she would sob and end up leaving the room to go cry. Sometimes, though, she laughed. The happy memories came almost as often as the reminders of loss. Peter wished he hadn't left. He should have been here with her suffering the same cycle of suffering and grief. He deserved it.

George Stacy had apparently been coming over once a week. He and May had their own sort of potluck night. They each prepared a dish and they ate together which was super awkward now that Peter was home.

Happy also went with May on her regular bingo night. Once a week, they went out for breakfast together. May's social life was far more impressive than his own. Too bad he had killed or driven off every friend he had. It just made him miss Tony more, but at the same time, Tony made him feel lonely. Tony added an extra element of secrecy to his life that took him from 'double-life' to 'triple-life'. Tony Stark was a villain in Spiderman's world. He wasn't much better in Peter Parker's. He wasn't sure who that made him when they were together. The Kingpin's pet? Spiderling? Whatever it was, it was a whole different mentality. Spiderman had a darkness that threatened to come out and kill, but Tony Stark called on a different darkness. One that he could say he liked even less. Yet, he'd gotten a taste for poison and it would kill him if he stopped now.

The only time Peter felt comfortable leaving May alone was when he knew she was with Happy. He didn't know the guy personally, but if he knew Tony, then he knew his life was on the line if he fucked up. Those are the moments that he stole away to soothe what anxiety he could. He went to visit Elsa.

It had been one week since Venom went into Harry's body. Whatever the creature was doing... well, it was doing something. Harry's skin was more normal and less lizard-y now. His legs were back to human proportions. There were a few patches of green skin left, but Peter had hope that a few more days should do it.

Elsa was a train-wreck. Her hair was tangled and stuffed into a bun on top of her head. She kept losing her glasses. Peter came in one day to find her stumbling into things. When he helped her find her glasses, she broke down crying. Apparently she hadn't needed them ever since she first bonded with Venom. The bruises on her shins from running into the coffee table were all reminders that it wasn't there looking out for her.

"It'll be over soon and you can have Venom back," Peter assured her. They sat together on the couch.

Elsa sniffled and nodded her head. "Just a little while longer. I know."

"Have they been able to communicate with you at all?"

Elsa nodded, then she laughed, the sound bursting out of her. "They said 'food'." Peter laughed, too. "I've been feeding them bits of chocolate. Not great sustenance for a human, but it's what Venom needs."

"You made a monster in a lab that only eats chocolate."

Elsa smiled fondly. "They're my monster."

Peter felt a prickling all the way down his spine. He went to the window and looked out. No sign of trouble. Then he heard screams and glass shattering.

"I gotta go."

"Take care, Spiderman."

Peter raced through the city. There was a pit in his stomach that only grew as he continued on. And then finally, he reached Stark Tower.

A crowd, no, an angry mob was gathered around the building. People threw rocks and bricks. Tower security held the doors, but Peter could see a paramedic kneeling over a woman on the floor. People were screaming, chanting. They said Stark had stolen from them, spread drugs through neighborhoods, killed their loved ones.

"What the hell is going on?"

A news van down on the ground was reporting on the scene. Spiderman swung down closer to listen in. The reporter posed in view of the fight to get through the doors. She spoke quickly into her microphone.

"Here at Stark Industries the crowd is growing increasingly violent as Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, refuses to make an appearance. There has been no comment yet from anyone at SI and no information has come to light about the leak. Police are arriving now with a warrant for Mr. Stark's arrest, but will any of these outlandish claims prove true? The public seems to think so."

Peter swung around the block and climbed up to the top of the tower. The window into Tony's office opened at his touch and he slipped inside.

"Tony?" He wasn't in his office. Peter ran to the hidden apartment, but he wasn't there either. He dialed his cell phone and got no answer. The second time he tried the number had been disconnected.

Peter sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Everything felt so out of control. Tony was missing and in trouble. He didn't know where to find Murdock. He didn't know if Harry was going to be okay. And May, was May even safe?

Then he got a call over the Spiderman line.

"Spiderman?"

Peter lurched to his feet. "Tony? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"Fucking Felicia Hardy," he growled. "But don't worry about that, sweetheart. I wanted you to know that I'm safe. I need to lay low for a while."

"And then what?"

"We don't have any choice but to play it by ear. I have people working to make this all go away, but if it doesn't work out then I guess there will be no more Kingpin of New York."

"What does that mean?"

"It means throwing away everything I've built and finally retiring. Morocco seems nice."

"You can't leave."

"I might not have a choice." He paused. "Would you go with me, Peter?"

"I..." He stopped and thought. He would have to give it all up, too. Being Spiderman, trying to protect New York, trying to save people. Maybe he could be Spiderman in Morocco, but all of the work he had done would go waste when the villains took over. Maybe another hero would come to replace him. Maybe that would be for the best.

"It's okay. You can think about it. May could come too, you know. It might even be nice."

"I'll think about it. Stay safe."

"Don't worry about me, darling."

"Let me know of there's anything I can do."

"You're sweet, but I won't ask you to murder Felicia Hardy for me. Besides, I want the pleasure."

Peter let out a breath. "If I find her, I'm turning her in for art theft."

"Then it's a race to find her first. Good luck, dearest spiderling." Tony hung up the call.

Peter stood staring at his phone, unsure of what to do next. It didn't seem like there was anything he do to help Tony. He spent the rest of the day trying to get caught up on school, but it was almost impossible to concentrate. Then someone rang the doorbell.

Peter was up and running for the door in a flash. "I'll get it, May," he called.

"Thanks, Pete," she said from the couch. She was watching one of the many nearly identical crime dramas. He pulled the door open and was struck speechless.

Tony offered him a charming smile. "Peter, darling. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"I uh..." Peter blinked rapidly, processing what he was seeing. Tony Stark, his boyfriend, the Kingpin of New York, the wealthiest man on the Eastern Seaboard, was standing on the doorstep of the rickety little house his family only owned because his father's father's father bought after immigrating so many decades ago. The house could have fit in one of Tony's bathrooms which had less to do with the size of it and more because it was shit by comparison.

"Sorry, I didn't call. I had to disconnect everything I own including my car's GPS."

"Uh..." Peter continued to stare, but when Tony shifted anxiously he finally snapped out it, remembering the constant danger. "Come in."

He stepped aside and Tony entered. May looked over the back of the couch.

"Mr. Stark? It's good to see you again," she smiled, but her eyes cut to Peter. The 'what the fuck is going on' went unspoken. Especially since they had something of an unspoken agreement that May didn't trust Tony because Ben hadn't liked him and therefore only sort of approved and only then because Peter seemed happy.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Parker. I needed a place to stay the night and Peter said it would be alright if I stayed here."

She looked at Tony then she looked at Peter. "Of course that's fine. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Come on, Tony." Peter grabbed his hand and dragged the man upstairs but it was only once they were in his bedroom that he realized what a mistake that was. His walls were covered in posters for tech conventions, Stark Industries announcements, fan posters of other super heroes.

Tony smiled, looking around the room. "This is about what I imagined."

"Why are you here?"

"It's this or sleep in my car and I'd rather be here where I know you're safe."

"What's going on?"

Tony sighed. He sat down on Peter's bed and picked up a Rubik's cube from his nightstand. "Showed up at the safe house to find all of the windows broken and the police everywhere. Since there's a warrant and all, I thought I would avoid that mess."

"May is gonna lose her shit when she realizes you're wanted."

Tony shrugged. "She won't turn me in, though. You know she won't."

"No, but she won't be happy."

"Are you happy I'm here?" He looked at him with the saddest puppy dog eyes. Peter hadn't known he could make that face.

"I missed you."

Tony smiled and Peter couldn't help but smile back. He went to the bed and straddled Tony's lap, letting himself get drawn into a heated kiss.

Peter looked into his dark eyes. "How did all this happen?"

"Well you see," Tony began. "I emotionally blackmailed you and then-"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I meant your company being literally on fire."

"Felicia let the world know that maybe I'm involved with tax evasion, and corporate fraud, and also the drug trade. Everyone's a victim," he sighed.

"You do realize that a lot of people are dead because of you."

Tony shrugged. "A lot of people are employed because of me, too."

"That doesn't fix it."

"Some evils concern me more than others." He trailed his fingers down Peter's chest and set his hand down on his thigh. "I have other concerns at the moment." His fingers brushed over Peter's crotch, his cock instantly taking interest.

"Here?"

Tony smirked. "How many times have you laid in this bed jerking off while you looked at posters of me?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Never. I never liked you that much."

Tony grinned. "Not even for an imagined hate fuck?"

"You think too much of yourself." Peter rolled his eyes, giving him a smile in return. Then he kissed those smirking lips. It felt like coming home. They stay tangled up and making out for a while. Then Peter pushed Tony back to lay in the bed. He stood up and went to lock the door.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and slipped off his jeans. Tony watched him with hunger as he pulled off his underwear. He climbed back on top of him, kissing him, devouring each other's mouth.

Peter reached down and slowly pulled up Tony's shirt. He slipped down the bed and pressed kisses to his skin. He kissed the softening muscle of his abdomen and pressed his lips to the warm metal of the arch reactor then he kissed the hollow of his throat.

"My spider," Tony sighed. His hands rested on Peter's back. Peter sucked a bruise under his jaw. Tony hand slid up his back and grabbed a fist full of his hair. "My spider," he said again.

Peter licked his lips. He looked into those deep, dark, eyes and found hunger. "Show me," he challenged.

Tony stood, holding Peter in his arms. Then he threw him down on the bed. He pulled off his t-shirt and stood in only his jeans, scarred and strong chest so beautifully on display like a king or a god or Peter's own wet dream. Then he was on top of them, the both of them panting heavy. Peter gasped, whining quietly as Tony pressed kisses all over his body. He clamped a hand tight over his mouth to muffle the noises he made as Tony bit and sucked marks into his skin. On his thighs, his belly, his chest.

"Gotta keep quiet," Tony chuckled. "Your poor aunt will have a heart attack."

Peter grabbed him, pulling him up so their eyes were level. "Shut up and fuck me."

Tony grinned. "I think I've been a terrible influence on you." Peter reached up to the drawer beside his bed and offered Tony a bottle of lube. He took it with only the most devilish smile. He pressed a slick finger into Peter's hole, continuing on.

"You've become greedy, demanding," he pushed in a second finger. "Entitled even."

Peter's legs spread, trying to wrap around Tony's waist and pull him in.

"You're spoiled and rotten. Do you know that?" Tony teased.

"Tony," he panted as Tony fingered him. "Put your fucking dick in me," he demanded and the back of Tony's hand cracked against his face. Peter gasped, then moaned as pain exploded through his face.

Tony stared him down. "Is that what you need? Discipline?"

Peter shivered. His face was so dark, so vicious, like Peter was prey he couldn't wait to devour. "Please," he said.

Tony smirked. "If your aunt weren't home I'd put your right over my lap, sweetheart, until you're kicking and screaming. Give your bratty little ass a spanking."

"Please," Peter moaned.

"Another day, little spider. Now keep quiet for me." Tony reached down and unzipped his jeans. He pulled out his cock, pants just below his hips. Peter moaned as he pushed in, both hands covering his mouth as he tried to be quiet. Tony had found a quieter way of making it hurt, using just enough lube to push inside, but not quite enough. It burned as he pushed deep. Peter legs trembled and he clung to Tony's biceps. Peter whimpered quietly.

"That's a good boy," Tony purred. His eyes shined. The smile on his lips was dangerous.

He took his hands away to beg. "Tony, please," and he kissed him. Peter moaned and whined, sounds muffled by Tony's lips, as he fucked him slow and deep. His whole was body like a live wire, burning, vibrating with need. When Tony's hand wrapped around his cock his lips parted spilling soft whines into the air.

"Hush, little spider," Tony warned. "Wouldn't want Aunt May to know what a whore you are, would you? In here spreading your legs in your childhood bed, demanding to get fucked like a spoiled brat."

"Fuck," Peter groaned through clenched teeth.

"You can't help it can you?" He smirked. "You're too addicted to my cock."

"Yes." Tony tried to move faster and Peter grabbed his hip. "Not yet."

Tony kept moving slowly. He pressed kisses to Peter's neck that Peter answered with a string of kisses down his throat.

"Tony," Peter breathed his name against his skin. "I love you."

Tony answered him, lips brushing against his neck. "I love you, Peter."

"I thought you died, today."

"Never, baby. I'm unkillable."

Peter held his face and crushed their lips together, moaning as they kissed. Tony started to move faster, fucking him just as frantically. It burned. It hurt so good that it made his head spin. He felt his cock dripping onto his belly. His thighs squeezed Tony's hips, probably digging in bruises but he didn't have it in him to care. A hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed. Teeth bit into his bottom lip. He tasted blood and it only drove him higher. Another hand clamped around his mouth and he realized he was nearly screaming.

Tony kept fucking him while he came, gripping his hips when he finally quieted down and driving into him until he was spilling his own cum inside him. He laid down next to him, kissing him frantically until the fatigue set in.

Peter felt like crying. It was too much. Everything was too much, too overwhelming. At least Tony was here with him now. He could keep him safe as long as he was here in his arms.

[thewatermelloncat]

Safe House

Summary: After leaving the most boring party, Denali finds herself worried about a stranger.

Author’s Note: The Punk!Rosé fic that I promised a while ago. Kind of took a different direction and is a bit darker than I intended for, but that’s how it worked out.

WARNINGS: REFERENCED SEXUAL HARASSMENT/ADVANCES

Read on AO3

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Not that Denali had been to many parties but she was sure that they were supposed to be more exciting than this. Sure, she had been having a great time until her friends ditched her to go hook up with someone or another. Now she regretted offering to drive, figuring that if she had alcohol in her hand, it would make the night slightly more bearable.

Still, she tried to stay hopeful and friendly, attempting to make conversation with people until they starting speeling off about something she didn’t understand, or until they, like her friends, decided to go make out with someone instead.

Overtime it wore her down and that is how she found herself sitting on the tiles next to the pool, staring at her.

“Who is she?” she asks Olivia, a girl she only vaguely knows from her maths class. Interrupting her unsubtle flirting attempts with the self-proclaimed school weirdo, Utica. Looking over at someone across the pool.

“That’s Rosé” Olivia says as she giggles at Utica tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stay away from her.”

Denali was about to ask why but Olivia suddenly laughs loudly at something that Utica whispers to her and follows her out of the pool.

Well, that’s another person lost. Denali sighs as she leans back on her hands. After closing her eyes for a second and debating whether she should leave, she feels someone watching her.

Opening her eyes, she finds the girl she now knows as Rosé staring back at her. She almost looks as bored as Denali feels. Her head leant against the brick wall of the house; pink hair tossed messily over one shoulder as she takes a long drag from a cigarette. She shifts slightly as she realises Denali looking back at her, almost with a smug confidence as she exhales slowly. The smoke curling out from parted lips.

Intrigue has Denali sitting forward, she feels like she knows her from somewhere around the school but she can’t place where it was that she’s seen her. Doesn’t even know where she sits at lunch or what classes she takes – maybe they’ve shared a few. Though she won’t go over to her and ask.

For now, she’ll keep her distance, locking eyes with her from across the pool. Then Rosé smirks and looks away, seeming to not be interested in her anymore. Denali looks away too, though with growing interest, she can’t help keeping on staring back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

More conversation attempts fail and Denali decides to pull the pin and call it a night. She moves around the rooms of the house asking if any of her friends she had driven want a ride home, but by the looks of things they’ll be riding home with someone else tonight.

Fishing her keys out of the pocket of her bleached denim jacket, she walks out to the road, unlocking her car when she gets to the curb. Hopping into the driver’s seat she sighs and leans back against the headrest, ready to head home. Her legs are tired from standing around and she just wants to change into comfortable clothes and climb into bed.

Sticking the keys in the ignition she gives it a twist and does her seatbelt up as the engine rumbles on. She lowers the volume of the radio as she slowly pulls out from the curb, sparing one last look at the house and the people still milling around outside. Then she turns back to focus on the road.

It’s about half a block down the street that her foot absentmindedly pushes on the break, slowing down as she sees a person with pink hair walking ahead of her along the footpath. Without thinking she pulls up beside them.

“Rosé” she says as she rolls down the window. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”

Rosé stops walking as she turns to the car. If she was surprised to see Denali, her face doesn’t show it. Then she blinks and keeps walking.

“Rosé” Denali eases her foot off the break, allowing the car to roll forward alongside her. “It’s late, you shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

“Who are you to know what’s best for me?” Rosé says flatly without looking at her.

“I don’t” Denali acknowledges just so she doesn’t annoy her. “I’m just trying to do something nice.”

Rosé’s pace falters as she judges that Denali truly is just trying to do her a favour with no strings attached.

“And I’m technically driving on the wrong side of the road here. So, if you could get in soon that would be great.”

Rosé chuckles a little as she waits for the car to roll to a complete stop before she rounds it to climb into the passenger side. “Thanks” she says as she shuts the door behind her. The word sounding broken and Denali suspects that she doesn’t say it often.

“Where do you live?” Denali asks when she starts the car again, pulling over to the correct side of the road.

“Not far from here” Rosé says before she starts to give Denali directions.

The directions she gives her worry Denali. As they drive down roads and turn corners, Denali recognises this area as the part of town that her parents always warned her to stay away from and never visit alone. A nervous glance to Rosé reveals nothing of uncomfort as they continue along until Rosé shifts in her seat.

“Just drop me here.”

Denali follows her gaze to an empty spot of curb with no driveway in sight. So, she slows but doesn’t stop. “I’ll drop you off right outside” Denali refuses, knowing what Rosé is doing.

“It’s not far from here” Rosé tries to insist but still the car doesn’t stop. She looks at Denali and sighs deeply, knowing by her expression that she won’t give in. “Five houses ahead, on the left.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Satisfied with finding an actual driveway, Denali pulls the car to a stop. As far as the houses she’d seen around the area go, this one isn’t too bad. A rusted gate falling off of its hinges, a wonky gutter, and if the sun was out, she is sure she would see chipping paint, but the windows all seem to be intact and the lights are still on.

Rosé seems to recognise an extra car that is parked in the driveway, and flinches slightly back in her seat. If Denali hadn’t been watching her, she probably wouldn’t have noticed, but she did and now she’s hyperaware of the nervous expression across Rosé’s face. Though she seems to settle herself with a soldiering breath before she undoes her seatbelt and opens the door.

“Rosé you can get back in” Denali calls out to her when Rosé hadn’t moved far, stopping for a few seconds to stare at the house. “I can take you somewhere else.”

Rosé shuffles her feet for a moment before she turns to step back through the open door.

“Is there anywhere else I can take you?” Denali asks gently.

“Okay, yeah” Rosé says to herself, closing her eyes as she seems to assess whether her idea could work. Then she opens them and nods down the road straight ahead, “there’s a place a block that way.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Here?” Denali says pulling up to the house Rosé directed her towards.

Rosé doesn’t reply but her leaning forward, appearing to be searching for something out the window is answer enough.

“Fuck” she curses leaning back in her seat in defeat. Looking like she’s about to cry.

Denali hears her mumble something to herself but she can’t make out what it is and pulls out from the curb again, not bothering to ask about it. A wave of concern washes through her when Rosé doesn’t even question that they are moving again, instead just seeming to accept that she’ll get out wherever the car drops her off.

For the rest of the car ride Rosé is in her head, staring blankly out the window and not saying a word. The only thing that notifies Denali of her getting out of it is when the car stops in front of a modern looking town house and she pulls in a breath, her brows knitting together.

“Come on, let’s get out” Denali prompts. “You’re staying the night with me.”

“I…” Rosé falters as she starts to shake her head. “You don’t even know me.”

“Rosé. I think I’ve learned a lot more about you in the last half hour than I’ve learned about friends I’ve had for years” Denali says before she hops out of the car.

“Well then, I barely know you” Rosé raises but follows Denali out of the car anyway.

“Alright” Denali turns to her, walking backwards on the way to the front door. “I’m Denali. I love to ice skate, I sing overly loud to songs on the radio, and currently my parents aren’t home. Tonight, I went to the most boring party but I met a girl I’m worried about, and I want her to spend the night with me. Just so that I know she is safe.”

To that Rosé can’t find anything to say, but the tension in her shoulders relaxes and she follows at a quicker pace. And for Denali that is enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“There are extra blankets in the cupboard” Denali says as she steps back into her room from getting changed in the bathroom. Finding Rosé sitting cross-legged on the mattress she had pulled out for her, dressed in the darkest comfy clothes Denali could find her.

Rosé looks up from her hands on her lap where they are bunched in the sleeves of the hoodie that she had been wearing under her leather jacket, which now lies immaculately folded at the end of the mattress. Like she’s afraid that anything looking less then perfect will disrupt the appearance of Denali’s bedroom.

Denali sighs to herself as she continues straight to the cupboard to pull out a blanket, knowing that Rosé would never ask for one if she needed it.

Rosé smiles smally at her when she places it at the end of the bed, but she doesn’t reach forward to touch it.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Denali says as she climbs into her own bed and Rosé does the same.

“Everything is fine, Denali” Rosé assures.

Something about the articulation of Rosé saying her name sends a rush of butterflies through her, and she smiles as she turns out the light.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vaguely Denali becomes aware of the rustling of a sleeping bag. She would have thought Rosé would just be getting comfortable but the sound keeps going far too long for her to just be changing position.

Blinking her eyes open, curiosity has her hitting the lamp switch and pushing the covers off of her legs before crawling to peer over the end of her bed. Clarity settles over her when she sees the edge of the sleeping bag bunched tightly in Rosé’s hands and her breathing irregular as a nightmare plays behind her eyes. Denali chews at her lip and moves her legs under her to sit cross-legged, knowing to wait until Rosé wakes up on her own.

In films and TV shows she’s seen people surface from nightmares with a sudden scream and dramatic rise from the bed – it doesn’t happen like that. Eventually Rosé stills and her grip on the sleeping bag relaxes slightly. There are a few seconds where she breathes shakily before she opens her eyes. Then she lies there, seeming to gather her surroundings before she slowly pushes herself up into a ball, tucking her legs to her chest and resting her head on her knees.

“Rosé?” in the quiet of the room Denali’s whisper seems deafeningly loud.

“Go back to sleep, Denali” Rosé doesn’t look up from her legs, her voice quiet and fragile.

Not even considering to, Denali climbs off the end of her bed to sit next to Rosé. “I’m not going to ask if you’re alright” Denali introduces as she puts a comforting hand between Rosé’s shoulder blades. “But I would like to know what is going on, if you’d tell me.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind” Rosé looks up again, drawing in a deep breath.

“Do you want to talk about it? It might help you sleep better.”

At Rosé not immediately refusing, Denali takes it as answer enough. Reaching forward she picks up the blanket at the end of the bed that had remained untouched and wraps it around Rosé’s shoulders, hoping to stop her shaking.

Without any words, Rosé clutches the edges of the blanket tightly in her hands. She nods slightly but Denali knows she’ll have to lead the conversation.

“The car in your driveway. Who does it belong to?”

“Family friend” Rosé’s voice sounds heavy, like it’s hard for her to speak. “Didn’t know they were coming over.”

“They not very nice?” Denali asks gently.

“Wouldn’t know. Barely ever see them sober… But if you ask anyone else, they’re too nice. If you get what I mean?”

Denali isn’t quite sure she does, so she asks, “what do they do?”

“Flirt, stare, sly comments on physique” Rosé lists very quickly, her tone bitter.

“You?” Denali checks, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Of course, me” Rosé scoffs. “Every time I see them.”

Denali gasps smally and stares wide-eyed for a while until she realises that she should say something. “Do your parents know?”

“Yeah” it almost sounds like a sob, and Rosé chews at her lip. “They’re in the same room.”

“And they do nothing?”

“To them it’s all just a complement. Who wouldn’t want to be told how hot they look? How they’ll have boys fighting over them if the men don’t get to them first?”

“Have they – has the friend… tried to…” Denali can’t even finish her sentence.

“No, they haven’t touched me” Rosé says. “Maybe put a hand on my leg, or tried to hold my hand or something. But nothing more than that.”

“And your parents don’t care?”

“As long as I come home twice a week so that they know I’m still alive, they don’t give a single fuck about me” Rosé shifts to pull her hood up and Denali habitually moves the edge of the blanket back over her shoulder when it had slipped off.

“The other house you took me to?” Denali introduces as a means of changing topic.

Rosé nods, accepting the change of conversation. “A friend, Mik. He doesn’t go to our school, but we’ve known each other for a long time. Sometimes we’ll stay over at each other’s places if something goes rough for one of us.”

Denali nods in recognition as Rosé takes a breath.

“Except tonight his window was open, which means he’s out.”

“Do you go over there often?”

“A few times a month.”

“Rosé” Denali sighs sadly before she shifts closer to her. “Can I?” she asks, tilting her head towards her shoulder.

“Mhmm” Rosé hums with her jaw clenched shut, like she doesn’t want to admit she wants the contact.

Denali smiles smally as she leans her head against Rosé’s shoulder, wrapping her arm around the back of her waist. Needing to hold on to her more so for her own comfort than Rosé’s.

“I’m scared, Denali” Rosé’s voice is faint but it breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

Wordlessly, Denali shifts her head against Rosé’s shoulder to get a better look at her. A sign for her to continue.

“I know it’s going to sound ridiculous, but I’m afraid to sleep in my own house when he’s there” she shakes her head as she speaks. “I’m terrified that I’ll wake up and he’ll be standing over me.”

“It’s not ridiculous” Denali affirms as she lifts her head but leaves her arm around her waist. “You have every right to feel how you do and I’m so, so sorry that you have to think about these things.”

Rosé’s breath shakes as she breathes in.

“Is that what you dreamt about?” Denali pieces together.

Rosé nods, biting again at her lip.

“Do you want to talk any more about that?”

She shakes her head and Denali notices the tired lines under her eyes and wonders when the last time was that she got a proper night’s sleep.

“You should get some more sleep.”

“I” – Rosé starts and Denali knows she’s about voice doubts about whether she can.

“This is going to sound wrong” Denali introduces, cutting her off, “but you can come up to bed with me. There’s plenty of room for both of us. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Rosé looks hesitant but when Denali moves from her side, she follows.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” Denali asks as she pulls the covers over both of them.

“I don’t mind” Rosé says quietly as she settles down next to her.

“I’ll leave it on” Denali decides as she settles down into the mattress as well. “Rosé?” she says hesitantly as she finds her hand and holds it under the covers.

“Hmm” Rosé hums without opening her eyes. Sleep taking her faster than either of them had expected.

“You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you” she promises squeezing her hand gently.

As she closes her own eyes, she feels Rosé’s grip tighten back. Then it relaxes as her consciousness drifts away.