#If you were able to tell the first five panels were the ones I drew 2 months ago give yourself a cookie

[kaprisvn]

PART TWO OF THE NIGHTMARES COMIC IS FINALLY HERE!

Woo boy this shouldn't have taken so damn long (two whole months...) but it's finally done! This one is a bit longer than part one, but there's still a part three to look forward to! Part three will be the most 'dynamic' of the three because it has the most unique panels so make sure to stick around for that! Oh, and if you notice the clear style change or any consistency errors no u didn't :(

Credits to @bamsara for the creation of the fanfiction Solar Lunacy! I hope it's okay to tag you with SL stuff right now :)

Anyways, here it is <3

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the final comic (･ω<)☆

P1, P2 (you are here), P3 To be continued...

[bushdivingbushranger]

What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields���whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

[djcarnationsblog]

Circus!Ibvs- Edward's Early Morning Practice - Slight Isward

Edward needed to practice first thing in the morning, it was his normal routine.

Sometimes Edward had to wonder why the norm had to be so strict. He didn't dwell on it though, heels clicking as he walked through the circus. Nobody should be up at the time, the sun hadn't even begun to rise, so Edward was all alone. It wasn't like he minded though, who cares if nobody was up, no one but Barry would have even considered being around him anyways.

Edward stifled a small yawn as he treaded casually through the grass, passing tents and empty stands as he went along. Combing through his hair, Edward spared a few glances around the place, as if hoping he'd see something so early in the morning. And of course, there was nothing different, just him, the tents and the outdoors. Not a single soul in sight...

Edward slowed down, staring down at the dew covered ground.

Who was he trying to fool? Of course he wasn't fine with being alone, it hurt. It hurt that nobody wanted to be around him, and he wasn't taking Barry's kindness for granted, not at all. He just wished the other performers wouldn't judge him so harshly. He was the ring master after all, and yet nobody wanted to give him an ounce of respect!

No, Edward knew they would never give him any respect, he simply hadn't earned it yet. But how was he supposed to do that? Nobody would believe what he tried to tell them, saying he was spouting all this bullshit- it was far from bullshit! Edward knows what he's doing, they just won't believe him.

The teen clenched his teeth, hands balling into fists as he stomped off hastily, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. He didn't want to think about it, less he get even more riled up then he was already. Edward let out a growled breathe as he ran a hand through his hair, gripping and pulling at it for a moment before smoothing it back out. It took a bit of walking to arrive at his tent, the exterior colored in blue and red with a few yellow accents.

He took a moment to stare it down, foot tapping against the ground as he narrowed his eyes. Stepping onto the concrete, he walked over and pushed the curtain aside, strolling inside. It was rather dark in the enormous tent, but Edward easily maneuvered through the inky black, knowing where the light was. A few steps later and he came across the light button, letting out a tiny huff as he pressed it.

The lights came on instantly, the ringmaster squinting his eyes a bit from the sudden brightness, scowling as he did so. Once his eyes had adjusted, Edward walked over to the control panel, turning it on as his eyes wandered to the netted hoop hanging from the middle of the tent. Whirling sounds started up as contraption shook a bit, jostling the hoop as it was brought down.

Now he just had to select the song he'd been practicing with since last week. His next performance was to happen by Monday at twelve o' clock and end by four two weeks later, but he'd gotten atleast most of it down already, he just had to get the end sequence right and he'd be all set to just go through the motions. He'd practice the expressions afterwards.

Edward stopped for a moment, cursing under his breathe as he left the podium where the control panel was. He'd forgotten to set up the safety net, God knows what could happen if he forgot, there was no way he was asking Drew to heal him. Finding his way to the supply closet, Edward fished for the key on the top of the door frame, quickly slotting it into the lock and unlocking it.

Placing the key back were it was, Edward opened the supply closet and wandered inside, flicking on the light and looking around. It took a bit of digging through various hoops, whips and other equipment before he found it, pulling it out and holding the bundle under his arm as he turned on his heel, walking back out. as he made his way to the one side, Edward uncurled the net and began to flap it out, going over to one of the metallic rods placed in the ground.

Finding the corner of the safety net, Edward hooked one of the holes on the rod, repeating that a few more times before he backed away. Thankfully there was a smaller platform on the rod to ensure that the net didn't slide down it, so he didn't have to worry about that.

It didn't take much effort to finish securing the the net, hopping up onto it for a test run. He looked down at the net, noticing how his heels didn't fall through the stretchable holes. He found it pretty funny how lucky he was when wearing heels, he had yet for them to fall through any holes. Edward let out a small snicker, casually making his way to the other side of the net, passing his hoop with an unvolentary bounce in his step from the bouncy net. It worked a bit like a trampoline, which was another thing that amused Edward.

When he got back to the panel, Edward tapped his foot against the podium, searching on the recorded history of it for the song he had used. Thankfully it was somewhere near the top, so he didn't have to scroll through the millions of songs he had performed with before.

Quickly taking a glove from the panel, he pulled on, glancing down at the button on the back of it before going back and selected the song he found, high-tailing it to the hoop as the machine started up. Edward made a mad jump as the hoop rose, latching onto the bottom and pulling himself up to the top of it, balancing on it easily as it swung a bit from the force. Once it stopped swinging, Edward positioned himself just like before, waiting with anticipation for the music to begin.

'Lean On by Major Lazer, Featuring DJ Snake.' Spoke the robotic voice from the panel.

The beat began as the hoop swung, Edward following his routine as the music really started up. His mind got lost in the excitement, swinging through the air as he'd spine and dance on the hoop, his body flying through the motions effortlessly. He'd flip from the top to bottom, twisting and turning as he'd hang by even a single heel. Edward couldn't help but smile, even as he'd fly and swing so dangerously high, the adrenaline was exilerating and it was something he loved.

As he neared the end, he had to remind himself which part he had failed to get down, swift hands pulling himself down to the bottom of the hoop as he threw his lower half up, twisting his heel into the net of it. Edward took a deep breathe as he began going through the motion, letting his body swing over like all the other times he tried.

And just like all the other times, his heel came loose from the net. Just like before, Edward was sent hurtling for the safety net with terrifyingly fast momentum. And just like before, he let out a loud curse of surprise when he impacted it, bouncing for a moment as the music continued.

Giving a deadpan, Edward pressed the button on the glove with a huff of annoyance, the song stopping abruptly as the hoop came swinging down, Edward standing as he grabbed onto it.

'Repeat.' that same voice called out.

And so, Edward began the same shit. Going through the motion, flying through the sequence up to that same part. And he failed every single time, fall after fall, yet he'd start again and again, growing more determined by the fail. He had to have gone through the routine more then twenty times, not a single break being taken between each. He wasn't stopping until he got it down, Edward absolutely had to be ready for the next performance, he couldn't miss it. Not this time.

Minutes turned to hours, yet time never was revelant to Edward. At some point, Edward had tried changing his heels, from three inch to four, then four to five, five to six all the way up to his ten inch. Nothing seemed to help hook the heel to the net, and Edward became frustrated the more he tried. Different techniques to tie the net to his heel, Edward going through even his most complicated ones to help stay on the hoop.

And then he got stuck.

It wasn't intentional, maybe it was his karma for trying to tie the heel to the net too fast, but he got stuck either way. So close to his goal, but now he was just hanging there, eye twitching as he grit his teeth.

"DAMNIT!!" He shouted out, twisting his upper body to grab onto the hoop, grumbling under his breathe as he fiddled with the knot. One of the things he hated about tying it like this had to be the fact that he could barely ever remember how to undo it, which in turn only made his blood boil.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He growled lowly, hands becoming more jerky by every failed attempt. Should he call for help? Maybe Barry was around somewhere, some people should be up by now right? No, he didn't want to risk someone other than Barry coming to find out who the fuck was screaming so loud at a time like this, only to see their very own ringmaster caught in a net by the heel of his shoe.

He couldn't even take off his heel, the thing was belted securely to his leg with the aesthetic (that Edward will die with) of a lock on it that Edward locked for extra security. The key was on the panel.

Edward let out a frustrated huff as his body went limp, just casually swinging upside down as he tried to assess what he'd do now. How was he supposed to get Barry? He left his phone at his tent so he couldn't call, and even then he wouldn't have been able to reach it cause there was no way in fuckery he was gonna practice with his phone in his damn pocket. That thing would have been sent flying by the very first spin. So what was he supposed to do?

"This was not what I thought I'd see."

Edward jolted when he heard a familar voice, scowling as he looked over to the entrance to see a certain fire dancer at the tent opening. Why did it have to Beamer? Why in the name of everything did it have to be Beamer?

"Why are you here?" Edward muttered as Isaac strutted inside the tent, examining his situation with an indifferent expression. "I heard you shout. Didn't expect to see you like this though." He simply replied, arms crossed as Edward let out a gruff sigh. "Jesus Christ." Edward spoke, already feeling the blood rush to his head.

"Jesus Christ indeed." Isaac echoed as he went over to the control panel, Edward raising an eyebrow as he did so. "And what are you doing, Beamer?" He asked. "Getting you down, what's it look like?" He replied, looking over the panel for a moment as Edward scoffed.

"I'm surprised that you even have the decency to help somebody." He said as Isaac pressed a few buttons. "Well, I coooould just toss you around like a ragdoll..." Isaac trailed as Edward gave him a stern glare. "Don't you try it, Beamer." Edward spoke in a warning tone, much to isaac's unaffected attitude. "And what are you gonna do huh Error? Beat me to a pulp?" Isaac said as he leaned against the panel.

"You can't even touch me right now." Edward hated how right Isaac was, growling as his eye twitched. "I hope you get raped by an ostrich." He spoke, a deadpanned tone of anger laced heavily in every word. "And I hope you get mawled by a hippo, but that's just wishful thinking." Isaac rolled his eyes as he went back to messing with the panel. "Be careful with that Beamer, you don't even know how to use it." Edward spoke, hoping to all God Isaac didn't end up busting the damn thing.

"Oh? Well why don't ya tell me, all mighty 'ring leader'?" Isaac mocked as he looked it over again, trying to figure out how it worked. "Oh when I get the FUCK down there Beamer, your baby-making days will be over before they even begin!" The Ringmaster yelled out, to Isaac's offense.

"Wow okay, maybe I won't let you down." The fire dancer huffed as he got off the podium, Edward's face going white as a sheet at the realization. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he shouldn't have said that, fuck Beamer, fuck his anger issues, fuck life right now!

"Oh my God- FINE!! What do you want me to do!?" Edward shouted, his head beginning to feel a bit dizzy from the blood as Isaac turned around, a smug look on his face. "Don't be an asshole for a whole week, and give me a hundred bucks." He immediately said, stalking right back up to the podium as Edward inhaled slowly.

"Fine." He muttered loud enough for the other to hear. "Red button to the far left of the panel on the first row, third row green button at the far right, white button on the second row in the dead center, then hit the black button at the far right in the bottom corner."

Isaac followed those instructions to a T, the contraption jerking for a moment before the hoop began to lower down, much to Edward's relief as he touched down on the net. The blood finally escaped his head as he sat up, Isaac walking over as he began to attempt untying his heel from the net. Isaac hopped onto the net, casually strutting over and plopping down in front of Edward.

"Let me see that." He huffed, batting Edward's hand away (much to the other's annoyance) as he took to getting rid of the knot. They sat in awkward silence for a while until Isaac was able to get it off, Edward looking away with a small huff of embarrassment.

"I..." He trailed off, looking between Isaac and the net as Isaac rose a brow. "...Thank you." He grumbled, ears hot and cheeks flushed as he moved away, standing up walk back to the panel. "Wait, what?" Edward deadpanned and turned to look at a very confused and amused Isaac.

"We made a deal, Beamer. I don't break deals." He responded, turning his head away and getting off the net as he went over to the panel, grabbing the key as he sighed in defeat, ears still tinted a fresh red blush, completely unaware of the beetred dancer behind

"I'll go get my wallet."

******************** ******************** ********************

I say it now with confidence, Isaac has a thing for Edward in High heels, don't try and change my mind XP

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (11) Family Remains

Summary: Hunting has been a constant the past month, but the next case Dean finds takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: Show level violence.

A/N: This is a rough rewrite of S4 E11. As always, I love hearing feedback from everyone! Let me know if you want a tag.

Series Masterlist

“Stratton, Nebraska – Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house, no signs of forced entry.” Dean did his best to ignore Sam’s comment about hunting non-stop for the past month. You were all exhausted, Dean included, but he had to move from job to job to keep his mind off of the never-ending-nightmare memories of his recent trip to hell. He had only opened up about it briefly, so you and Sam did your best to respect his wishes and move from one hunt to the next. Truthfully, you didn’t mind it so much. This was pretty much your life before you met the Winchesters, but at least now you had a team to do it with.

“Sounds like a ghost.” Sam grumbled.

“Yes, it does.” Dean agreed, implying that you’d be heading there ASAP. Sam let out a sigh and fell backwards in the backseat. Dean looked to the passenger seat at you, waiting for any objections but you understood his need to keep moving. You met his gaze with a half-smile and touched your hand to his arm, giving a small squeeze.

The impala roared down the winding dirt driveway leading you to the old farmhouse. Dean expertly picked the lock, pushing the door open to let you and Sam in ahead of him.

“Boy, three bedrooms, two baths and one homicide. This place is gonna sell like hotcakes.” Dean snarked. Sam chuckled and led the way into the kitchen where Dean found a sealed hole in the wall.

“It’s probably a dumbwaiter. All these old houses had them.” Sam commented.

“Know it all.” Dean immediately responded.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“What?” Dean tried to play dumb.

“You said…”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Sam frowned and continued searching.

Dean turned to you and gave a shit-eating smirk. You were more than happy to see Dean teasing Sam. It meant he wasn’t beating himself up inside at that moment.

The search of the house didn’t reveal much other than a doll head in one of the closets, sitting patiently as if it were waiting for you. You were cut short by a moving truck pulling up outside. You and the boys approached the family under the pretenses of being fake county code enforcers and were able to persuade the family to stay at a motel for the night because of asbestos in the walls, buying yourselves a little more time.

Much to your chagrin, the family had decided to go back to the house and start moving in. Night had fallen and you and the boys waiting in the car just outside trying to figure out a plan. The three of you sprang into action when you heard yelling coming from inside. The kids had been hearing and seeing things, and just as Dean was trying to convince them to leave, the power cut out. Cries from the dog led everyone outside where the words “too late” were painted on the moving truck in blood. The family was spooked enough that it took little convincing for them to go back to the motel. You ushered them to the cars, only to find the air let out of all the tires and the weapons stolen from the back of the impala.

“What the hell kind of ghost slashes tires and steals weapons?” You thought out loud. The screams of the daughter turned your attention to the side of the yard, where a disheveled, dirty girl was standing, staring at all of you.

Dean hurried everybody inside and drew a large salt circle, instructing them to get inside. The dad of the family wasn’t buying the “ghosts are real” storyline and tried to get his family out. You quickly stopped them and convinced them to stay.

Dean and the uncle, Ted, were having a power struggle of sorts, and you did your best to diffuse the situation, letting Sam go check out the attic, while you and Dean stayed with the family. While Ted was being an ass to you and Dean, a closet door slowly creaked open, getting everyone’s attention. A pale, skinny, dirty girl slowly revealed herself and made her way towards you. Her hair was ratted and broken at the ends, covering her face like curtains. Rotten black and yellow teeth peeked through her evil smile, complementing the blood stains on her night gown. You could smell the death on her from across the room.

“Everyone stay calm and inside the circle. She can’t get in here.” You stood defensively in front of the family as Dean held an iron fire poker at the ready. The old floorboards ached with every step the feral girl took towards you as she brandished a knife that was hiding in her sleeve. Something about this seemed off to you, and you were sure Dean felt it too. She slowly raised her foot up and over the line of salt and your stomach dropped. This wasn’t a ghost at all. This was a real girl. Crap.

“Y/N, get them out of here!” Dean yelled as he dodged a swing of the knife.

“Go, go! Now!” You herded the family outside, worrying what would happen to Dean. “Stay here!” You ran back inside, just in time to see Sam shine the flashlight on the girl, causing her to scream and run.

You, Sam and Dean all ran outside to the family. “It’s just a girl?” You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t something you’d ever experienced.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s psycho Nel. I’m telling you man – humans.” Dean rolled his eyes and looked around.

“Who is she then?” Sam asked.

“Maybe it’s the daughter of that first guy killed? Rebecca?” Dean suggested. You had spoken to the cleaning woman who told you that she had killed herself in the attic.

“She’s way too young to be Rebecca.” You added.

Dread washed over everyone when you all realized that the little boy, Danny was missing. You and Dean exchanged worried looks and you swallowed hard. The family began to freak out, but Dean was able to talk some sense into them. He told them to hide in the shed, but the father and uncle wanted to be out looking with you. Sam asked you to stay behind with the mom and daughter to protect them. You begrudgingly agreed.

“Who are you people?” The daughter asked you.

You sighed. “Like Dean said, we hunt ghosts.”

“Are they going to find Danny?”

“Yeah, they are. Sam and Dean are the best at what they do. Everything’s going to be okay.” You did your best to comfort her.

Dean knocked on the door after not too much longer, entering with Sam and the Dad.

“Where’s Ted?” The mom asked.

The silence answered her question. The girl had killed him in the house. Dean exited the shed, clearly needing some space. You knew he blamed himself for Ted’s death.

“What’s that?” You asked, referring to a book that Sam was reading.

“It’s Rebecca’s diary. I found it in the attic. I think I have something.”

“I’ll go get Dean.”

You walked outside to hear Dean’s conversation with the dad, who had stepped out for some air. Dean was promising that he would find Danny, no matter what the cost. You knew that easily translated into Dean being willing to give his life to find the boy.

“Dean.” You interrupted their conversation. “We’ve got something.” He nodded and followed you into the house with Sam.

“I finished reading Rebecca’s diary. Pretty sure that girl is Rebecca’s daughter.” Sam informed.

“Rebecca had a kid?” Dean asked as he moved boxes around, blocking one of the doors closed.

“It’s all she talks about. Being pregnant – being ashamed of being pregnant. Her dad said he would lock the baby up after it was born.”

“Why would he say that?” Dean questioned.

“Oh, gosh. Please don’t tell me it was his…” You picked up on Sam’s uncomfortable body language easily.

“Oh. Gross.” Dean said when he picked up on what was happening.

Brainstorming led Dean to believe that the dumbwaiter probably led to where Danny was being held. He busted the wall down in the kitchen, uncovering a drop to a dark opening.

“I’m gonna go down there and find Danny. Y/N, why don’t you go back out to the shed with the mom and daughter.” Dean ordered.

“Excuse me?” You shot back. His words were degrading, even if that wasn’t his intention.

Dean pulled you to the side and spoke in a low, calming voice. “I’m not sidelining you. But someone needs to be out there protecting them and you’re the best one here in a knife fight if that hillbilly bitch goes after them.”

You could tell he was being sincere and didn’t mean any harm to you. You grabbed a large kitchen knife and made your way outside while Dean looked for Danny in the basement.

The mom and daughter were holding each other by the back wall of the shed when you walked in, giving them a jump. You held your hands in the air. “Just me. They think they might know where Danny is.”

Your words gave them a light at the end of this dreadful night.

Not even five minutes after you had joined them in the shed, the back window was smashed forcing the mom and daughter to the other side of the shed where a knife slashed at them through a slot in between the wooden panels.

“Get behind me!” They ran to the most protected corner of the shed and you stood in front of them, knife at the ready. The incestuous girl snuck her way into the shed through an old trap door near the bottom of the wall and you ran at her, catching her off balance and knocking her down. You quickly disarmed her by kicking the knife from her hand and then jumped on her, slashing her throat with one fell swoop.

You moved the worktable that was blocking the door and opened it. “Let’s get you out of here.” You blocked the dead body as best as you could, gesturing towards the exit. The boys met you outside and Danny ran over to his mom. The family held each other, sobbing in a mixture of relief and terror.

“There was a brother.” Sam informed you. You quickly looked between Sam and Dean, concerned that this hellish night wasn’t over yet.

“I took care of him.” Dean answered your not-yet-asked question.

The sun rose as Dean had finished fixing the tires of the Impala. You and Sam had spent the night gathering the stolen weapons from the trunk. You said your goodbyes to the family and took off before the police could show up.

Dean parked the car near the pillars of an overpass and the three of you got out to eat, though none of you were very hungry. Sam excused himself to lay down in the back seat, leaving you and Dean in a pensive silence.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

You kicked some rocks around as you leaned against the concrete barrier. It was gloomy and overcast, matching how you felt inside.

“I’ve never killed a human that wasn’t also some kind of monster...” Killing that girl was weighing heavier on you than you expected. “That was so messed up. The whole situation.”

“Yeah.” Dean set his untouched burger down on the barrier next to him. “It’s just going to get crazier with the whole apocalypse starting.”

A few silent moments passed between you two.

“Why are you putting up with all this?” Dean asked bluntly.

“All of what?”

“You still want to hang around with us after everything? After knowing that Sam drinks demon blood, and that I tortured people in hell? Why are you even still here?” Dean refused to look at you, and you knew that this was him pushing you away to try to protect you.

“When I look at you, I don’t see a damaged man who’s been to hell and back. I see Dean Winchester, the hero. You’re the boogeyman’s boogeyman. All the little monster kids ask their parents to check for you under the bed before they go to sleep. I heard your conversation with that dad last night. You were willing to give up your life to find a boy you had never met and will probably never see again. But that kid isn’t the exception. You’d do that for anyone, wouldn’t you? Dean, you’re the guy who’s going to save the world.” Dean kept his eyes fixed on the same spot on the ground, so you continued. “But even more than that, you’re the guy who keeps a box of Milkyways under the front seat in the car because you know they’re my favorite. You’re the guy who watches Jeopardy on tv when you think Sam and I are asleep, and you get every answer right because you’re brilliant. You’re the guy who warms up my side of the bed while I’m brushing my teeth because you know how cold I get at night, and you’re the only person in this entire world who has ever made me feel like I’m worth something. So why am I still here? Because you’re the love of my life, Dean Winchester. I love everything about you. Including your habit of taking bites of my food every time I’m not looking. Yeah, I noticed.” That last sentence pulled a small smile across his mouth.

You looked into the car to see Sam passed out, breathing steadily. “The same goes for Sam. I don’t look at him and see the boy with demon blood in his veins. I see the goofy, floppy haired Sam who is a genius, who’s ambitious and fun and caring and brave and I see that he’s trying his hardest to do what he thinks is right.”

Dean cleared his throat and stood up, reaching his arms out to you. “Come here.” He pulled you into a tight hug which both of you desperately needed. “Thank you.” He whispered while his face was buried in your hair.

After a few long moments, Dean pulled away and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small chain and handed it to you, gently placing it in the center of your hand to reveal the trinity knot that was formerly your mom’s ring. He had cleaned it up and polished it, trimming off the broken part of the band to create a beautiful pendant necklace. Tears began to well in your eyes and your vision became misty.

“I didn’t have the right kind of metal to fix the band, so I made it into a necklace. I hope that’s okay.” A small tear traced your cheek as you closed your fist around the necklace, then wrapping your arms around Dean. “Your dad gave it to your mom because it means never ending devotion, right?” You nodded into his chest. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Dean was never really one for long, sappy speeches. You knew exactly what he was trying to say by giving you this gift.

“This…” you fought back your tears. “This means more to me then you’ll ever know, Dean. Thank you”

“Let’s see it on you.” Dean took the necklace from you and put it around your neck as you gathered your hair in the back so he could do up the clasp. He took a step back and made a rectangle with his index fingers and thumbs, pretending to look through it. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.” He gave you a soft kiss, then motioned to the car with his head. “Let’s get outta here.”

Chapter 12

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VI: The Dotted Line

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Jason extends an offer. Part one, two, three, four, and five.

Note: someone said Batgirl and Jason mission, and i am but a humble servant of the people. also, i almost named this chapter “Carolyn Crawford”. Hope you like❤️

TW: Decription of sex work (barely), very light gore

Being back at Batman’s side was a peculiar thing these days. Soothing and suffocating all at once; like returning home after a long, liberating trip. It felt easy, and safe. I was reminded of the first time he brought me up to a towering building top. I clung to Nightwing like a life preserver.

Once I found my footing, the building tops were the only place I felt safe. The taller the skyscraper, the higher and farther from the grim city that raised me. I wondered what would happen when I outgrew the skyscrapers, too.

November was settling like an icy blanket over Gotham. My breath wreathed around me as my chest heaved from scaling the office building I was settled on, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gray dawn as 2am turned to 3am. I could see Robin’s breath too, as he crouched like a gargoyle on the balls of his feet. Even when I pushed his arm lightly, he glared, but didn’t move. The kid had incredible balance.

“I was beginning to enjoy your absence.” He muttered.

I smiled at him. “Are you kidding? Patrol is boring without me.”

“Patrol is boring without brainless plebeians to subdue. I can make due without you.”

“So you’re saying you don’t consider me a brainless plebeian?” I replied.

His lip twitched. He liked this game. It was the birthplace of many of his preferred insults.

“Closer to a bumbling fawn.”

“I like that one.”

Damian’s disinterest in all things regarding my thoughts and feelings was a good distraction. I’d been using him for the past week since my latest brush with Red Hood. Well, Jason. It was still hard to wrap my mind around.

I knew him. He knew me. I shouldn’t have been worried; he knew nothing about me. Nothing other than who I was, anyway. I wanted to ignore whatever residual feeling was left from fighting him on the docks, and I really wanted to say I hadn’t thought about the last thing he said to me. But in truth, I’d thought of little else. The large gaps of time between our meetings left time for that.

We were looking for him tonight. More specifically, Batman and Nightwing were. Robin and I were sent to the quiet apartment rows of Crest Hill, watching over nothing in particular. Sent to keep us away from the fray. Even Robin knew it. When Batman said we’d be patrolling here, he looked like he could rip the head off a puppy.

“Movement in Coventry.”

“On it. Thanks, Oracle.”

One of the better quirks of Damian Wayne was that in the case he was spurned by his favored allies (Bruce, Dick), he quickly formed new alliances (me, Tim). Bumbling fawn comment aside, I could tell I was in his good graces tonight by utter happenstance and Batman’s shortcomings. I was nothing if not opportunistic.

“We can get to Coventry before they can.” I said quickly, keeping the nervous excitement in my voice to a minimum. He eyed me cautiously.

“Batman may be trying not to take risks, but we can handle a couple of goons. Besides,” I added. “Red Hood will probably be gone by then. He always is.” I was overselling it; Robin was already standing, eyes roving over the city scape in search of the best route to Coventry. I stood with him, then let the free-fall adrenaline send exciting jolts through my stomach as we grappled toward our destination.

I could see him, in my mind. His face on the docks, bathed with the flame of his lighter. Hear his voice, full of purpose and noble fury as he promised revenge. I understood his cause, but didn’t understand him, and that was the mystery that poisoned my mind and stole my ability to sleep. Not Red Hood. Jason Todd.

*

Robin and I perched over a factory compound on the water’s edge, Sprang River’s lower fork rushing by at the end of the factory court. A handful of men moved like ants in the flooding white lights that lit the exterior. The wind distorted the sounds of their voices. Robin must have had the same thought because he moved soundlessly to a lower roof panel, advancing on the building. I followed. One man began shouting.

“I’m going to the Northern pylon.” Robin whispered. Divide and conquer. I wasn’t going to argue. I kept my eyes on his silhouetted form to ensure he didn’t encounter any resistance on his way, then worked by way around the court, hoping I could get a good idea of the place before he reached his vantage point. The sky was lightening, and we were losing time.

Just as I was about to check the lot on the opposite side of the factory, a metal door swung open, scraping against the metal parapet. Red Hood walked out, accompanied by a man in a factory jumpsuit. I couldn’t make out their conversation.

I crept along the high factory railing as they meandered across the court, deep in conversation. I kept it up for around six minutes before his companion departed, heading for the lot.

“Robin,” I whispered into my comms. “There’s a man heading toward the parking lot. Trail him.”

“I see him.”

With Robin in the Southern parking lot a safe distance away, I watched Red Hood slowly pull away from the lights and people, heading toward the darker exhaust plants East of the court. It became a struggle to keep and eye on him and my footing at the same time, but I did it. He stopped at a motorcycle parked behind an electric turbine about a klick from the factory. The sky was a pale gray now, ever-lightening with the dawn, and the shadows were burning away with it. I lowered by self behind an electrical box attached to one of the turbines.

“We’re en route- wait, Robin-“ The comms rang in my ear.

“I gave you a direct order.” Batman growled.

“It was a stupid order.” Robin clipped.

“Where’s Batgirl?”

Red was about to replace his red helm with a motorcycle helmet, but paused. He seemed to stall for a moment, before calling out.

“Come here, little bird.”

I was more annoyed than anything. I was ready to be a step ahead of him for once. But then, I couldn’t resent him for giving me what I wanted. I stood, and took in his empty hands before approaching. He’d leaned against the metal turbine, arms crossed as he regarded me with an unreadable expression.

“They’re here, you know.” I warned.

“Call ‘em, then. I won’t move. I know I’m good, but I’d be outnumbered. Bad odds.”

I scowled. “I’m not gonna do that.” I said it because he already knew it. We both did. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

“You thought about what I said.”

“Of course I did.”

He glanced around, then pulled himself up straight and moved toward me. I took a few steps back, prompting him to flash me his empty hands, raised in surrender.

“Relax, darlin’.” He said. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be. I want you to understand.”

“How? How do I understand?” I’d been trying for a month. He pulled a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket, holding it out and letting me take it, keeping a safe, considerate distance. Inside, was a number.

“Come with me. One job. Nice and easy.” He said.

“I’m not killing anyone.” I said sternly, voice dropping.

“I’m not askin’ you to.”

“And I’m not standing by and letting you kill anyone.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Fine. We’ll do it clean.” I didn’t even know if I believed him. But I was tired of trying to understand him from a safe, considerate distance.

“We’re almost at location. Four minutes.” Nightwing’s voice almost made me jump. I lifted my eyes.

“You need to go.”

He was already turning on his heel.

*

It was two days before I texted him. I got a glorious three hours of sleep over the course of them, and I kept running down either respective fork in my road before turning around and running back. In the end, I subsided to the fact that I was raised by two business-women, and Jason’s offer was at worst an opportunity. If it all went to shit, and he tried to kill me, I’d at least have some information to present to Bruce, notwithstanding the lifetime of punishment that would get me.

Our rendezvous point was in Lower Gotham Proper. By the time I got there, it was midnight, and a rolling mist had blown in from the harbor, mixing with the smog that hugged the streets and making it nearly unsafe to drive. I silently hoped Batman and Robin were okay.

As I worked my way down a narrow street, the moisture in the air was choking; causing the fabric of my pants and jacket to cling to my skin. I’d almost prefer rain to the way the mist stood still, forcing me to muddle through it. It was dark. The lights and signs on surrounding buildings didn’t seem to be able to preserve through the fog.

I saw a figure pressed against a building that looked tall enough to be Jason. As I approached, we regarded each other’s forms apprehensively. When he tilted his head, I knew it was him. I drew close.

“Jesus.” I mumbled. “Could you have picked a spookier place?”

“Don’t tell me you scare easy.” He said through a cigarette. His helmet was in his hand, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for a motorcycle helmet. The whole get-up was kind of biker-esque. I didn’t answer. Just glanced around.

“Come on.” He said. “It’s not far.”

As we began walking, it struck me how much more relieved I felt to hear his footsteps alongside my own. I was capable; willing and able to fight just about anyone Gotham could conjure up. But still, walking with him was comforting. Like I had someone to watch my back.

We even eased into a bit of conversation. Small things- things we agreed upon. Rich society, and Gotham’s war on the poor. Politicians we wouldn’t mind going missing. If you had showed me his picture next his crime scenes, I wouldn’t have pinned him.

Jason wasn’t unpleasant; it was just that his disposition was highly aloof and somewhat irritable. He had rich bronze skin, and full lips that I was sure made for a charming smile when he decided to do so (not a grin, a smile). The composition of his face was very sharp and neatly symmetrical, but still held some gaunt exhaustion, revealed by the constant tense of his jaw. His attentive dark eyes were almost always narrowed in some fashion of distaste. He never once looked at peace.

It seemed to me that he was disinterested in most anything having to do with my life, other than that he wanted me with him. His entire being was an oxymoron; a juxtaposition of unexpectedly soft and startlingly sharp and there wasn’t a way to tell which it would be.

Finally, we approached a small, industrial building with a neon sign of red, blue, and green.

The Lion’s Den

Burlesque and Drag

I raised my eyebrows. A bit on the nose if you asked me. If the name didn’t give it away, the posters and marquees adorning the brick exterior did.

“We need to talk to someone here before we go.” Jason said, pulling on his helmet, and unzipping his brown leather jacket to showcase the bat.

“Lead on.” I said, pulling up my own mask.

The music was so loud, I could barely hear myself think. The led lights lining the ceiling were cycling warm colors; red, pink, orange, yellow, the glow burning through the smokescreen that was nearly as thick as the mist outside.

Women were dancing, in lace or topless, spinning on poles and otherwise moving gracefully to the heartbeat of the place. But that wasn’t the main event- a stage lit with marquee lights, the centerpiece of which was a table, where three women sat. Their outfits were something out of Marie Antoinette’s personal wardrobe. And that’s where Red Hood was headed.

We walked up onto the stage, and while it all sort of mingled with the dim neon in the rest of the building, I still felt oddly seen. I placed myself behind Red Hood, inserted between him and one of the women. They appeared to be playing cards.

“Well, well.” Said one of the queens, with blonde hair curled and blown out like something out of the 70’s. Her exaggerated, colorful makeup was a work of art- Picasso, perhaps. “Gonna stick around for the show this time, sugar?”

Red sat down, leaning so that his arm rested along the back of the chair, lights glinting off his helm. His relaxed composure made me nervous- but perhaps it was the lack of information.

“Not this time, Trixy.” He answered.

“Pity,” Said the broad redhead beside me, her voice a low, soothing timber. “You neva’ do.”

“Don’t be rude, Sasha.” The third woman scolded, throwing down an Ace of Spades, to the visible dismay of the others. “He’s a busy man.”

“Who’s your friend?” Trixy asked.

I glanced at Red Hood before answering. “Just a little bird.”

“How delightful. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty, shall we?” Trixy said. “Did Dominique get the message to ya?”

“Refresh my memory.” Red Hood said- for my sake, I’m sure.

“Bout a week ago, a bunch of girls from the Row went missin’. Ain’t unusual,” Trixy said darkly, “Most don’t got no family or nothin’. Just us lookin’ out for ‘em. When we run outta beds here, that’s when they go missin’. But it’s different this time. Buncha girls all at once- including one ‘a the queens.”

“Tiffany Spice.” Sasha said, a solemn look on her face. “She was just comin’ into herself. Lord, I’d be devastated if somethin’ happened.”

“Some a’ the row girls been talkin’ about this real shifty fella- Baron Haus. New guy. Used to pimp out girls from the Narrows.”

“And the girls disappeared when he showed up.” I said quietly.

“Bingo.”

“How many?” Red asked.

“About eight, Tiffany included.”

“And you know where he was working from?” I inquired.

“Sha’ do. China Town. Club there called the Moonlight.”

Red Hood nodded. “Anything else me and my little bird should know?”

Trixy thought for a moment. “Baron’s got some friends in GCPD. Had some uncles in the force, or somethin’ of that nature. He’ll be missed. More dead.” She spit the term bitterly.

“They always are.” He responded, getting up from his chair.

“And Hoodie, sugar!” She called after us. “You’re a doll for this.” He didn’t reply. As we worked our way back toward the front, he spoke quietly.

“I thought it’d be better if you met ‘em yourself. Always makes it more personal.”

Batman never did that.

“Do you always make it personal?” I asked.

“It’s not fun if it isn’t.”

The freezing moisture in the air bit fiercely as we pushed open the metal screen door.

“Right.” I said. “So, the Moonlight. How are we getting there?”

“How do you think?” He said, stopping short of a rusted yellow fire escape on the side of the building. He surveyed it, then looked at me.

“Race ya.”

With surprising speed and grace, he scaled the fire escape, no sound in his wake.

“Oh, it’s on.” I fired, rushing to the bars and climbing like they were monkey bars. He disappeared over the edge of the roof, and as I made my way up, I saw him several years away, already conquering another building. I raced toward him, leaping over exhaust pipes until we were high above the fog. The city below looked like an illuminated ocean, twinkling lights just below a pillowy white surface.

I felt like a child again, overwhelmed, nearly brought to giddiness with excitement. Was this how Bruce felt, scaling rooftops with Catwoman? The small, but sure thrill of consorting with the bad guy- knowing that they were consorting with you in return?

I wasn’t a sidekick. There was no line to fall into. No predecessors, no successors, no beginning and no end. I moved like Batgirl across the shingles and concrete and metal scaffolding, but I was weightless without the Bat legacy on my chest. There was something deeply, shamefully freeing about that.

*

We were greeted differently in the Moonlight; a stark contrast to the warm welcome by the queens in the Lion’s Den. It was set up more like a smoky, refined gentlemen’s club. We drew attention from every walk of life inhabiting the bar- men in suits, women in silk, and slimy looking characters that grated offensively against the debonair theme.

Most leered for a moment, then cast their eyes away, like they’d seen something they shouldn’t have. Maybe you could consider Red Hood one of those such things.

“Mr. Hood!” There came a voice, cutting above the orchestral music- Nessun Dorma, if my musical sensibilities were still honed from my piano lesson days. “Welcome, welcome. I can only hope,” The man gave gritting smile, wound tight with visible anxiety. “That you’re here on peaceful business tonight.” He cast his nervous, monolid eyes to me. He was handsome, no older than thirty and wore a tight black vest. I didn’t let my body language give anything away; frankly, I was as in the dark as he was.

“Oh, you know me, Baron Jun,” Red Hood drawled, slowing to a halt at the bar, and leaning on it. “I don’t decide whether things stay peaceful or not. That depends on you.” I stayed standing, near his back, studying the security. Two lumbering men at the entrance, one behind Baron Jun. I wouldn’t put it past curvaceous bartender in red to have a gun, too.

“Lookin’ for Baron Haus. I heard a little rumor he works outta this quaint establishment now.”

When I’d considered the Red Hood’s contacts before, I pictured something like Batman’s relationship with Commissioner Gordon- figuring he had to have some corrupt cops or lowlife sleuths packing him with all his vast information. I never would have guessed it would be three drag queens playing cards.

A conflict passed over Baron Jun’s face, seconds long. “You… heard correctly. Word does seem to travel fast.”

“I need to pay him a visit. Remind him about some of my rules.” He admonished. It was a dripping warning, like the salivating jaws of an animal, teeth bared and pointed.

Baron Jun swallowed. “I see. Well, he um- he’s not actually here, at the moment. Maybe I can tell him you dropped b-“

“You know, Jun,” Red continued, ignoring him. “I got this really funny feeling you know what rules I’m talkin’ about.”

The look on his face was something to behold. I’d seen fear, briefly, on the faces of criminals before I subdued them and went on my way. But this was different. Fear induced by nothing but a conversation. Call it hive-mind, a power trip perhaps, but I felt this pesky sense of camaraderie that prompted me to take a few steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Red Hood. Who was this vile little shitstain who made his living off men getting laid to play games with us? I thought about eight women, scared and abused. It was Baron Jun’s fault. Baron Haus’ fault. Everyone in this stupid bar, decorated to the taste of the men who abused them.

Baron Jun’s eyes dashed back and forth. Deny or ask forgiveness? I could see him running down those cross roads.

“He… he’s been running some shit I didn’t know about until last night. I swear I didn’t fuckin’ know.” He broke at last.

“Where are they?” I piped up.

“Who the fuck are-“ He was cut off with a bang and a scream as Red shot his knee. I was startled by the noise, but no one seemed to notice. It rang in my ear.

Give a girl a warning next time.

“Be. Fucking. Polite.” Red snapped, now advancing on the Baron. Only one of the three security guards decided it was worth the risk and stepped forward. Electric with the building energy of the whole night, I bolted forward and swung my fist into his throat. He made a choked noise and stumbled to the ground.

“Answer the question, Jun.” Red continued, this time in a taunting, sing-song tone.

“Oh, fuck,” Jun whimpered, cradling his knee. “Jesus- you- you shot me.”

“Always were a sharp one. I got a couple more bullets, and you’ve got another knee. So why don’t you sing before I get really impatient.”

“Christ.. they- they’re in the back. R-room fourteen.” His breath was labored with pain. I didn’t feel bad. Trusting that Red would handle the front and keep his promise of not killing anyone, I went to the back hallway, counting the doorways before reaching room 14. I made short work of the lock.

Some scuffling noises could be heard from the front room- but no further gunfire. I opened the door to reveal a velvet lounge, with red settees and satin curtains, along with fearful eyes looking back at me. I counted eight heads, including Tiffany Spice, who’d since abandoned his wig and gaudy attire. His make-up was streaked with long-dried tears.

“Tiffany Spice?” I asked, subservient to standard protocol despite my evening of rebellion.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Trixy sent us. You’re safe now.”

“Are the Barons gone?”

“They’re being dealt with.” I answered.

After finding them, the rest fell into place quickly. Red had indulged in some property destruction, and Baron Jun now reckoned with what appeared to be a shattered hand and some extra facial bruising.

I nodded briskly to Red and he, in turn, nodded to the bartender, who ushered the girls around.

Before departure, he knelt down in front of the Baron.

“You’re alive,” He said lowly. “Cause I’m doin’ someone a favor. If someone breaks the rules again,” He reached over and patted Jun’s pained face. “You be a good boy and come right to me. Okay?” Jun didn’t respond, nor take his bloodshot eyes off of his mangled hand, but Red straightened anyway and ushered me to the door.

Outside, we withdrew safely and quietly to a rooftop.

“Why did we leave them?” I asked.

“Trixy’s not my only contact. The bartender’s mine. She’ll get ‘em where they need to be.”

A beat.

“You knew Baron Haus wasn’t gonna be there.” I said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“That’s the only reason you promised me you wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Hesitation. “Yeah, it is.”

“Are you gonna track him down?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Seriously.” I tried again. He sighed, then looked at me. I was seeing his eyes clearly for maybe the first time all night. It was sobering, and he held my gaze.

“Yes. Yes, I’m going to kill him.” He said firmly. I looked away.

“He’s got a track record.” He explained. “Does shit like this, gets caught, and then uses his friends in blue to get a lighter sentence. Three months, maybe. Then, he’s back. I’m not the first one to catch him. But I promise you, I’ll be the fuckin’ last.” His vitriol was oil on concrete, and I decided it was better not to light any matches. The rest of the walk was quiet, neither of us making the catalytic initiative to part ways, coming down from the adrenaline the way we’d built it; in each other’s uncertain company.

*

We settled on top of St. Luke’s Hospital, towering defiantly amidst the smaller, crowded inner city neighborhoods below. It was 4am, but I wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite; I was awash with energy, by grace of the night’s feat and the biting cold. Jason had pulled his helmet off, and was leaning against the steel exhaust pipe, myself nestled at his side.

“I have another place I need to go. Three days- Mafia business in Little Italy.” He said.

“And you want me to come?” I asked. He tipped his head.

“What can I say, doll? You’re good at this.”

I looked over the city, brow furrowing.

“Unless,” He added in a low voice, wry and challenging. “You think it’s wrong. I am the bad guy, aren’t I?”

I didn’t look at him, because I knew he was wearing a darkly arrogant expression, and I didn’t want to see it. No, there was nothing wrong about what we did tonight. Even if there was; I’d do it all again for the relief on Tiffany’s tear-streaked face.

“I’ll go.” I said. “But you have to tell me something. Honestly.” I said firmly, bringing my eyes to meet his. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Ask away.”

“Why me? Why don’t you hate me like you hate them?” Them. My family. Our family. Hate seemed a harsh word, but only after I supplied it, was I reminded of its truth. Jason studied me for a few agonizing moments, allowing only the sound of wind and distant, crying sirens.

“Carolyn Crawford.” He finally said.

“What?”

Carolyn Crawford.

I’d forgotten all about her. My life was sort of divided by this giant, barbed wire fence between before adoption and after adoption. Evidently, my brain decided that anything before adoption would be better of folded up, sealed with wax, and filed away. Traumatic memory suppression, the shrink Bruce sent me to called it- even though the only traumatic thing was the night my parents died, not everything that came before.

Nonetheless, Carolyn Crawford was somebody I hadn’t given any particular thought to in a long time. She was a woman of forty (at the time I was thirteen), and she had that snooty, Diamond District disposition that you only find in women who marry into wealth, but aren’t born with it. She was beautiful; pale skin, thin, with an air of 1950’s suave, accentuated by the auburn bob of artificial curls she always wore. Her husband was an investor in Wayne Enterprises, and she was sleeping with Bruce.

I had no reason to know, or care about this. But Jason did. When he found out, he was uncharacteristically devastated. I could imagine, in retrospect, that when you’re a boy of fifteen and you find out the man who adopted you- a man who was a holyfigure in your eyes, the good guy- was sleeping with a married woman ten years his senior, you may experience a bit of devastation. He had something, some virtuous perception of Bruce, ripped away from him, and he was given a concept that his father, too, had vices. His one vice; women.

Jason was angry. He wanted the world’s perception of Bruce to crumble alongside his own, and so he took all the valor in his teenage body and enacted his own justice.

An anonymous email was sent to just about every company partner or investor, including Carolyn’s husband, and my parents, disclosing a picture of Bruce in some secluded room at a gala, with his arm around Carolyn’s waist, leaning intimately into her ear. She had a wry smile on her face. Above the photo was a single tag line.

“Carolyn Crawford is fucking Bruce Wayne.”

My parents gossiped about the email, of course, when they thought I wasn’t leaning against the office door. But that was all I ever knew about it. Apparently Carolyn’s husband didn’t divorce her, but he did cut her off financially, which may as well have been the same loss.

That was all I heard of it, up until a charity event on a particularly cold January night. The January before Jason’s death. I was waltzing around as per usual, a cup of punch in my hand. Waiting for the clock to tick its way to eleven o’clock- when I knew my mothers would want to depart so they could get up for work the next morning. The music was lovely; fluttering strings.

“You!” It was a harsh sound, like a shrieking banshee, or the whining note of a violin when all the bow hairs are frayed.

Carolyn Crawford was marching right toward Jason, fury on her beautiful face. I didn’t catch the beginning of the conversation as I tried to make my way through the bodies, of which a few were also alarmed by the sound.

“...you’re the only one who could’ve done it, you little- don’t lie to me!”

Jason was defiant there, with his arms crossed and his lip slightly raised, but I could tell by the nervous look in his eye that she was pointing her bony finger at the right suspect. I’m certain it was Bruce who figured it out.

“What the hell are you talking about, lady?” He said.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you sent that email. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“You’re outta your mind.”

“You’re going to regret this, I promise. I’m going to make sure that this follows you-“

“He didn’t send the email!” I said, pushing past a man who was eagerly watching, like it was the best thing he’d seen all night. I’m not even sure what possessed me to offer up the statement- maybe the way she was throwing her venom in his face and jabbing her finger at his chest.

“I did it.” I said. I didn’t look at Jason, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his mouth fall open. Carolyn Crawford turned on me.

“What?”

“I sent the email.” I said. We’d drawn more observers now, a small, hushed crowd of people too polite to intervene, but too curious to look away.

“Who the hell are you? And why would you do that?” Up close, I could see that she looked like she hadn’t slept. Other little things too; a pearl out place, stray hairs. She’d probably been through hell since Jason sent that email.

I leveled my gaze on her. “You really need to ask? What kind of wife-“

Slap.

Her open palm swung across my cheek so hard that I nearly stumbled into a donation table. There was a pressure in my ear, and then a stinging sensation. I put my hand to my cheek, and when I looked back up at her, she was eyeing the shocked crowd. Then, she turned, and walked briskly toward the exit, heels clicking on the marble.

Everyone stood there, looking at me. I flushed, shrinking under the weight of their eyes, feeling like an animal in a zoo. My mothers were nowhere to be found, and neither was Bruce.

In a swift movement, Jason grabbed my hand, shooting angry glares like daggers toward anyone who was looking, and ushered me into a secluded corner.

“Why did you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?” He whispered frantically, obviously battling whether he should touch my face or not. He decided not.

I gave him an insulted look. “I was helping you, jackass!”

“Well, you didn’t help!” He said, before adding, more exasperatedly. “You just got hurt.”

I shrugged, taking my hand off my cheek, probably to show him some modicum of strength, or defiance. “It’s not that bad.”

It was that bad. It was the first time I had ever been hit, by anybody. I actually wanted to cry. But I was dedicated to my tough girl role, so I didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He said, surprising me with the fearful apologeticism in his voice. “I’m really sorry- you shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve said something. I just fuckin’ stood there like-“

“Hey! It’s okay. I did it because I wanted to. Besides, it really doesn’t matter who did what. She’s just mad she ruined her own marriage.”

He shook his head and slunk down beside me on the cold marble. The AC was offensively imposing for the middle of January, and I hugged my knees to my chest as we watched the guests disperse, dragging back the events of the night to gossip about later, like foxes carry prized rabbits.

*

“Carolyn Crawford?” I repeated. “That’s what this is about?”

Jason gave me a wiry look, a lopsided smile, then threw his head back and laughed, contagiously so. I let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“I mean,” He added, “Not all of it. A little.” There was residual laughter in his tone, and it made me want to lean into him.

“A ‘little’. Okay. Should I be getting in touch with Carolyn Crawford and thanking her for rekindling this little partnership?”

“Yeah.” He said. “Send her an email.”

I laughed again. “Seriously, Jason, what the fuck are you talking about?”

His grin lingered, and his eyes fell over the city. I could see the gears turning as he considered his response. Then he just shrugged.

“You covered for me.”

“Yeah.”

“And...” He leaned back, not taking his eyes from the sprawling lights. “Somethin’ tells me you still are.”

I looked at him for a while, trying to wait him out and make him elaborate. But he didn’t. I resigned with a sigh.

“Yeah, well.” I mumbled. “Carolyn Crawford was a giant bitch.” His lips fought a losing battle against another smile.

“Personally, I’m still a little impressed she had the gall to slap you.”

“Haha. Hey- did you actually take that picture?”

He shook his head, hesitating before adding. “Dick did.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He chuckled.

“So I took the fall for both of you.”

“Yeah, you did, Princess.”

He had this familiar, juvenile grin stuck to his face. And for the first time in a long, long time, he was Jason Todd.

[roguerogerss]

Hi babe! I saw you wanted some requests so here I am! Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader has secret telekinesis abilities (or whatever Wanda can do lmao) and is forced to use them on a mission. Bucky is just in shock bc his secret crush is a even more of a badass, so when he compliments her powers, she gets flustered and disagrees bc they’re dangerous, so Bucky helps her see the beauty in them? Tysm ❤️❤️

His Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

W/C: 3.9k (eek sorry!)

Warnings: Language (??), that's literally it.

(A/N: This one got away from me a little and I wrote wayyy more than anticipated. I hope u like it though? Idk. I had so much fun with this request, thank u sm bb! Praying that someone reads this, even though it's a whole ass novel.)

————

"Bucky, where are you? We have a minute and eight seconds until this place blows."

Y/N was worried, and, upon hearing her frantic voice in his intercoms, Bucky was too. He was aware that he didn't have long until the bomb detonated, but unaware of just how short that amount of time was. He was caught up in a fight, one that was frustrating in the way that he couldn't shake this guy. "Yeah, be there in five?"

He was being sarcastic, he must've been being sarcastic, Y/N shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, agitated. "Five what? Five seconds? Minutes? Bucky, I have to ask, are you insane?"

She seemed angry - no, she was most definitely angry - and Bucky silently cursed himself and allowed the Hydra agent to get a hit in, he thought he probably deserved it. "Look, I'll get out. Is there anything you guys can do to buy me some more time?"

Tony had chimed in by this point, telling Bucky that he was 'fucking crazy', ranting and raving to the heavens above about how the entire motive had been messed up and they might as well have stayed home. Y/N knew that she could help him, but that would mean using them - she didn't like to call them by the name that most would use - and she wasn't sure if it was really worth the risk. Bucky would get out, right? He'd work something out.

But time was ticking on, fifty-nine seconds now, and she was unsure of just how right that assumption was. She wasn't even entirely sure that she still had her powers, since she'd avoided using them or telling anyone that they existed since she'd escaped from the grasp of Hydra. Even as she doubted her abilities, she found herself rising from her seat behind the control panels of the Quinjet, next to Steve, and sprinting to the exit to the aircraft.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Steve asked, getting up and following her. The rest of the team were staring now, Natasha and Tony also standing from their places and looking expectantly in Y/N's direction.

"I have something that'll help. Something that you guys don't know about." She said sheepishly, slamming her palm down on the button that opened the exit hatch. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Even though she was promising her friends that everything would be okay, they seemingly didn't believe her, as all five of the other Avengers on the ship - Tony, Nat, Steve, Sam and Thor - followed her out onto the streets of Bucharest, where the public was in awe at the huge, futuristic ship that was sat in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. Natasha had told them to go home, she'd made the best effort she could to make sure that everyone was safe. However, no one had listened, and so she desperately ushered them away from the place that she knew would soon be rubble, while Y/N ran in search for Bucky.

They had what they'd came for, but that didn't mean that there were no Hydra agents willing to get into altercations with the team. Thor and Steve were frantically fighting off a pack of them, while Tony and Sam helped Y/N, hopefully getting a better view of the streets and where Bucky might be. "Hey, Y/N, I got him. Turn right, next street over. You'll see him." Sam spoke into the intercoms. Y/N thanked him, hurrying off in search of the super-soldier to whom she'd taken more than a liking to over the few months that he'd been fighting with them.

"Buck, I'm on my way, you better be ready to get the fuck out of here." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why Y/N, of all people, was the one who was coming to save him. He had to admit, he was more embarrassed than anything else, needing the help of the one girl who he'd felt anything for in seventy years. But he tried to brush it off, mostly because he had to focus on not letting a Hydra agent rip his arm off, and answered her.

"What are you gonna do? If I can't fight him off, no offence, but what makes you think you'll be able to?" Bucky sounded breathless, and she could hear the obvious sounds of strain and struggle as he continued to tussle with the agent. Y/N took a deep breath and turned the corner, close enough to hear the ominous beeping of the explosive device that a Hydra agent had planted there in hopes of causing harm to one of the Avengers.

"You know what, maybe don't question it. I have my own doubts, but it certainly doesn't help that you have them too."

The agent, who was currently deep in a brawl with Bucky, noticed Y/N, but all that she was able to think about was the amount of time that was left on the clock. She asked FRIDAY, and a rush of adrenaline and fear coursed through her when she realised that they weren't going to get out in time.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,

Y/N drew her gun and shot the Hydra agent, not missing as usual, and Bucky snorted. "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

Four, three, two,

She knew that this was it. It was either expose the world to her powers, probably be deemed as a weapon and certainly become even more wanted by Hydra, or die, and let her friends die too. She took a deep breath and felt the horribly familiar surge of - what was it, electricity? She wasn't actually sure - coursing through her body, and watched as Bucky ogled at the purple wisps of magic that extended from her hands and the way that her irises seemed to ignite.

One.

Bucky ducked and shielded his face, but looked up again when he didn't hear, nor feel anything that would signal an explosion had happened. Y/N had it under control, holding the bomb together with just her fingertips. She'd thought that it wouldn't happen, that her abilities would've simply subsided into nothingness due to being unused for so long, but she was wrong. She'd done it, and there was no going back now.

And then? The small explosion turned huge, and lurched forwards, setting a civilian apartment building completely alight. Y/N stood, watching, mouth wide open and quite unable to understand the circumstances of what the hell just happened. Bucky was at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he, too, watched the destruction take place. The rest of the team had rushed straight there, each one of them with hands over agape mouths while Steve called for Fire and Rescue and Tony wondered aloud, 'What the fuck is going on?'

Y/N found herself on her knees. She could see and hear Bucky in front of her, worry in his eyes as a few tears dripped from her chin onto her chest, but she didn't have it in her to decipher what his words meant, they all just sounded muffled and like he was speaking a language that she didn't understand.

She didn't know what she'd done, how bad it was, but she could hear the screams of the residents of the building, she could feel them vibrating through her body and ringing in her ears, and that was enough to convince her that her enhancements truly were the worst thing about her, that she really was the weapon that Hydra had deliberately mutated her to be.

--------

It had been hours. How many, Y/N was unsure, but a considerable amount of time had passed since they'd gotten home. The flight back from Bucharest had consisted of Y/N locking herself in a cabin, and the rest of the people on the Quinjet taking it in turns to try to speak to her, to try to understand.

No one, apart from Bucky, (who only had a vague idea), knew what had happened. There wasn't a single person on the jet who could fully understand it, Y/N included.

She was now sat on a sofa in the lounge, chewing off parts of her nails while everyone murmured and tiptoed around her. Tony was speaking quickly on the phone and glancing at her every couple of seconds, Steve was pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

Y/N wondered for a minute what would happen. Would she be arrested? Would something like the accords happen again? Was she about to become the cause of another civil war? Would Tony disown her? Send her back to Hydra? She didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to know.

Wanda and Natasha had come to comfort Y/N at first, sat with her and braided her hair like they did often, and it was nice to think that Wanda knew exactly what she was going through.

However, she'd told them that she wanted to be alone, and they'd dispersed and were sitting quietly in two separate armchairs, watching a movie with Sam. The truth was, she didn't really want to be alone. She wanted Bucky. She didn't quite know why, but she'd always felt calm around him, which was one of the reasons why she'd taken such a shine to him, and she made it very clear to herself that she was at least a little bit in love with Bucky, in a way that was less platonic and more romantic.

She couldn't lie and say that she was happy with the way that he'd handled things, though. As soon as the jet landed, he mumbled something about taking a shower and hurried off to his room, like he couldn't stand to be around her for any longer, like he was afraid of her.

And, honestly? She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

The truth, of course, wasn't that Bucky didn't want to see her, it wasn't that he was afraid of her, it was that she was evidently upset. It was tearing him apart to have to see her like that. He felt like he was obligated to be alone to think about what had happened, because he knew that - realistically - it was his fault that she'd had to use her powers. He'd been caught up in a fight, the bomb that had been planted was seconds away from detonating, she had to do something. Of course, he had no idea that something was going to be exposing hidden telekinetic abilities to the world, but close enough, right?

"I just got off the phone with a higher up." Tony stood in the middle of the lounge, everyone looking at him as he began his speech. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just, maybe don't turn on the news for a couple days, Y/N doesn't need to see that."

"Don't act like I'm a kid, please." Y/N spoke up, making it clear that she was annoyed by the fact that everyone was seemingly ignoring that it was her who had done this. "I did this, Tony. I want to know how much damage I caused."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head at her. "No, this is not the time to get all Steve-y on me, okay? You don't need to see it, you don't need to know, so you're not going to. Is that clear to you?"

"Mistakes happen, Y/N. It's not your fault." Steve said from where he was standing, next to the breakfast bar. "What matters is that you tell us what actually happened at some point."

"So, what I'm going to take from that, is that it's bad." She turned from Steve, back to Tony. "I'm not weak, I can deal with what I did, Tony."

Tony snapped, the stress of the situation and the argument from his daughter-figure becoming too much for him to handle, "Goddamn it, Y/N, you really wanna know what you did? Let's see, first of all, you used whatever powers you have, something that you clearly knew about but warned no one of. Second of all, you essentially bombed an apartment building in a poor part of Romania, you literally took from the poor. And now what? Fifty-five people are dead, kids have been left without parents, and that's on my back. Plus, you're being publicly deemed as a weapon until they figure out what's really going on there. So, do tell us, what is really going on there?"

"Tony. Stop." Wanda said, but Y/N was already halfway out of the room, with Tony realising that he probably shouldn't have said what he did and following after her.

"Y/N, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Tony called, but she wasn't listening. She got in the elevator and left Tony alone in the hallway without a word, tears threatening to spill from her eyes the whole time.

And then, finally, they did. When the doors of the elevator closed, when she could no longer hear Tony's voice, when she was alone, oh they did. She found herself on the floor, face cradled in her hands - the same hands that killed fifty-five people just hours before - and there were tears falling from her eyes, past her chin, soaking her black catsuit.

She felt empty, like her body was a shell and she was simply there, watching herself fall apart. It was a kind of guilt, one that ate at her from the inside and seared through every nerve, every part of her, until she could think of doing nothing but curling up and ceasing to exist. She wanted to yell, scream, punch something, run. Anything that would distract her from how she felt. She wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two, forget about everything and ignore her responsibilities until it hurt less. Most importantly, however, she wanted Bucky. She wanted now more than ever to be his girl. For him to lay with her and tangle his fingers in her hair and whisper sweet things in her ear until the bad things in the world simply melted away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Y/N didn't get up, not until FRIDAY asked if she wanted to go to another floor. When she did, however, she found herself taking the wrong turn, to the left instead of to the right, and walking away from her room instead of towards it. Without thinking, she'd already opened the door to Bucky's room, where he was reclined lazily on his bed, a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else, focused on the ceiling.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when she gave him a tiny little smile, but sighed when he noticed the remnants of her somewhat breakdown on her face. Bucky held his arms open, "Hey, c'mere."

She stepped into his embrace, tears finding their way onto her face again, and let him caress her back and play with her hair until the crying stopped. When Bucky held her, everything felt different, like she could put things into perspective and understand that maybe it wasn't all her fault. "Look, I know you think that this is the end of the world. I know it's scary, but Wanda learned how to use her powers for good. You can do the same." Bucky's attempt at comforting Y/N wasn't exactly superlative, but she knew that he was trying.

"I'm a weapon, Buck." She pulled away from him and sat on the end of the bed, wanting to cry and clawing at the sleeves of her suit in an essay to calm herself down. "That's how Tony worded it, anyway. I shouldn't have used them."

Bucky knew that his next question was stupid, that he probably shouldn't have asked it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was speaking before properly thinking over the consequences. "How did you get them?" He reached out for her hand and she let him hold it, getting a rush of exhilaration from the affectionate gesture.

Bucky wasn't usually one for showing how he felt, much less for saying it out loud or doing anything to communicate his feelings, and he wasn't quite sure why he had had a sudden change of heart and almost wanted her to know that he liked her, that, really, he would do anything for her. She didn't meet his eye as she began her explanation. "Well, before Tony found me, I worked for Hydra. Actually, less worked for them and more became their personal lab rat. They did a lot of experiments on me, tortured me, really, made me more destructive than any enemy organisation would know how to handle. And then, I escaped. And here I am, talking to you."

She gave him a sad little smile, one that he would swear had broken him. "I'm sorry." It was a lame excuse for comfort, really it was, but he racked his brain once, twice, and couldn't for the life of him find the right words to say.

"Don't be." Y/N shifted in her place, gaze on her hands which were clasped in her lap. It was quiet and Bucky wished that he knew what to say to her, that he could think of something that would make her feel less alone or soothe her in some way. A minute went by, two minutes, three minutes. The silence might've been comfortable between the pair, but it was certainly uncomfortable between Y/N and her own thoughts. "I should go." She said, standing from her place on the bed without looking in Bucky's direction once.

He knew that he had to say something, anything that would make her stay. The thought of her alone in her room was heartbreaking to him. He grabbed her wrist before she could take any more than a few steps towards the door and she looked down at him, lips slightly parted and one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "You're not a weapon. Sure, Stark said that, whatever, the guy's an asshole. But you're not a weapon, Y/N."

She gave a little humourless laugh, blowing a puff of air out of her nose. "The government apparently seem to think so."

Bucky smiled at her and said, "Fuck the government."

"Oh, so you're an anarchist now? Classy." Y/N sat back down and Bucky's heart felt like it was doing summersaults in his chest, all fluttery. She was smiling, he had made her smile, and it was genuine. As far as he was concerned, nothing else really mattered.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

Bucky sighed and cocked an eyebrow at her, eliciting a laugh from her lips. "You're really going to make me explain myself, huh?" He joked. "Look, You're not a weapon to me. I think you're a badass, actually." She snorted.

"Bucky, I killed a lot of people."

"So have I." Bucky's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he placed a tender hand on her thigh. "You don't see me as the bad guy. You never have, actually. What I'm trying to say, is that all of us have done bad things. Made mistakes, lost control, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I feel like a bad person." Y/N had her eyes trained on Bucky's face, bottom lip held tightly between her teeth as she tried to avoid letting herself word-vomit about everything that she was feeling at that moment. His hand squeezed her thigh gently, and she let out an embarrassing and involuntary gasp that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Don't. Y/N, I know it's cheesy as hell, but you did it to save my life, right?" Y/N nodded slowly, "So how does that make you a bad person?"

"You're grasping at strings, here."

“What can I say that'll make you feel better?"

Y/N knew what she wanted to hear, that he liked her as more than a friend, that he wanted to be with her like she wanted to be with him, that her fantasies weren't just fantasies, that he really did love her. But she couldn't say that. God, of course she couldn't say that. So, instead, she simply shrugged.

Bucky knew what he wanted to say to her, that he liked her as more than a friend, wanted her to be with him, of course he loved her. He couldn't drop all of that on her when all she'd given was a shrug, right? Wrong, apparently, because the words spilled from his mouth anyways, like he couldn't control himself.

And really, he couldn't. But he figured that she already knew that.

“I love you." He spluttered, and her eyes widened in shock. "Okay? God, I love you. And what you did today? Made me love you even more. I know you probably don't want to hear this, you don't want me to ruin our friendship, and I get it, I do. But, right now, all I wanna do is protect you, and let you know that you're really not the monster that you think you are."

She stayed silent. What could she say? Her head was swimming with ideas, but none of them really seemed fit. She thought that, if this day ever came, if somehow it came down to confessing her feelings for him, she'd know exactly what to say.

She really couldn't have been more wrong.

So, instead of speaking, she found herself simply staring at Bucky, into his eyes. Had he moved closer? Had she? Either way, their noses were soon bumping together and he was searching her face for any sign of disapproval, one that wasn't there, and so he kissed her.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she couldn't quite figure out where her body ended and Bucky's began, and she didn't think she really wanted to. Lips on lips, his hand on her waist and hers roaming his hair, it felt like heaven.

She was on a high, he was too, and the comedown was breathless and just as euphoric as the real thing. "I love you too." Y/N said.

Bucky couldn't help the plainly stupid, goofy grin that had spread across his face. Did he look like an idiot? Unequivocally. Did he care? Maybe, but that wasn't the point.

"I should get back to my room." Y/N said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "Thanks for...uh, the talk."

Bucky laughed and let her get up, walk to the door and open it while he watched in a daze, and then he stopped her. "Let me walk you."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I'm not entirely sure that you should."

Really, she was already his girl. She always had been.

[library-of-cronos]

Convention Hijinks

Ao3

At first Danny hadn’t wanted to go to a convention. Tucker had to convince him that it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought it would be. Sam was easy to convince, at least. He just told her that Dumpty Humpty was going to be doing a Q&A there. She had even offered to pay.

Danny, however, wasn’t as easy. Tucker had to look hard into the convention list to find something that Danny would like. It was a well-rounded one: some anime, some science-fiction (which Tucker was here for), some pop culture, and even more. It spanned over the course of a week, with over twenty thousand people planning to attend. Surely there was something for his best friend Danny Fenton.

“Dude!” Tucker said. “You’ve got to see this!” He practically threw himself at Danny, who was doing his homework on Tucker’s bed. The five-sheeted schedule was shoved in his face.

“Not this convention thing again. I thought I told you I wasn’t gonna go…” Danny sighed heavily, setting his pencil down on his homework, which was resting on an open school textbook.

“That was before I told you about this,” Tucker cleared his throat. “At 3:30 pm on Friday the 18th, there will be a demonstration using NASA approved training gear. Convention goers will be able to test out the effects of zero-gravity for themselves for a small fee!”

Tucker saw more than heard Danny slowly get excited over the course of his reading. He saw Danny’s eyes go wide, and his mouth twitch up into a smile. Tucker knew right then and there that he got him hooked.

-----

“When’s the NASA panel again?” Danny says, leaning in to whisper to Tucker.

Tucker leans in to whisper back. “Like I said, 3:30. Just relax, man. We’re at one of the biggest conventions in the country!” He gently pushes Danny back, pointedly looking hard at the row of super hero voice actors the three of them were listening to. Danny reseats himself in his folding chair, mumbling something incoherent.

Surprisingly, Sam was enjoying it as much as Tucker. Just a minute ago, when Danny was first getting antsy, she had asked a question to one of the villain actors. Tucker could tell it wasn’t out of genuine curiosity, as much as it was that she asked in place of Tucker, who hadn’t gotten picked for asking. But as the panel drew on, Sam seemed less and less eager to get to her panel as soon as possible (as if it wasn’t already happening at a different time).

The thought made Tucker smile just a bit. She hadn’t even seemed interested in coming to his panel, of which she barely knew anything about it, but she had come. Even Danny, who was busy shaking his leg anxiously, was beginning to loosen up.

So much so that when the speakers were taking more questions, Danny himself raised his hand and was called on. Sam looked just as surprised as Tucker felt.

“What do you think about the fan theory that Irina had been dead since the start of the show?” he asked, loudly and clearly. The panel lit up at the question, Irina’s voice actor going as far as to indulge that even she liked the theory. Danny sat back down, a smile playing on his face, and his leg no longer shaking.

When the panel was over, Sam stayed behind while everyone filed out. She quickly walked up to the front of the room where the voice actors were still mingling, and asked one more question to Irina’s voice actor, Lily. Tucker was too far away, but he didn’t miss Lily’s cute smile and gentle laugh.

He watched as Lily quickly ripped a piece off of scrap paper lying about their table and wrote something down. She handed the paper down to Sam, who nodded her head in thanks, and ran back to him and Danny.

She smiled and handed Tucker the paper. “It’s her phone number. I told her you were a dork who was head over heels for her and she thought you were cute.” Sam smirked. “You can thank me later.”

Tucker gasped, snatching the paper up like freshly cooked meat. “You’re the best!” He looked back up at Lily, locking eyes with her. She smiled once more and gave him a small wave.

“Come on, loverboy, my panel is next.” Sam teases, tugging on Danny’s and Tucker’s sleeves, and pulling them out of the room.

There was some time, however, until her panel. So they took to wandering about, gawking at all the cosplayers around. One in particular caught Tucker’s eye.

“Dude!” he said, rushing over to a buff man in a Superman cosplay walking next to another superhero that Tucker didn’t recognize. “That’s so cool!” he says, gesturing to the man’s costume. The man looks proud, going so far as to strike a dramatic pose.

Danny runs to catch up, also excited. “You’re telling me! I’ve never seen a Martian Manhunter cosplay before!”

“Who?”

“Martian Manhunter! J'onn J'onzz! The other superhero!” Danny points behind Superman.

Tucker looks over and sees the man that backed off when Tucker had come running up. He had green body paint all over, a red X across his chest, and a blue cape cloaked around him. “Him?” he asks.

Danny nods enthusiastically. “Superman is cool and all but J’onn is way cooler!”

The man steps forward, towering over Danny at first, but kneels down so he’s at Danny’s height. “I’m glad you like it.” he says, giving Danny a soft smile. “I also think J’onn is cooler.”

After that display Danny had insisted on more than just one picture with the man, even dragging Sam into it, who they both knew really wouldn’t mind. Tucker, in turn, insisted Danny be in the picture with him and Superman. Danny also wouldn’t mind.

“I thought you’d like Batman more.” Tucker jokes while they’re walking to Sam’s panel. “I mean...brooding? Needing to do everything alone? Trying to be way cooler than you are?”

Danny promptly punches him in the arm, sending Tucker colliding with another cosplayer. He apologizes over his shoulder, but keeps teasing. “Seriously, you won’t even let us help with ghosts cause you ‘don’t want to put us in danger’! I would have thought you’d like ol’ brooding Bruce Wayne.”

Danny sends him a playful glare, huffing out a breath. “Yeah well maybe J’onn and I have a bit in common…”

Sam, who was walking closest to the wall, leans around Tucker to talk to Danny. “Like what? Being green? You can barely tell the difference between my plants!”

“I meant similar in powers.” He says, a bit quieter. “Invisibility, flight, intangibility? That’s all stuff I can do.”

Tucker shoves his head back between the two of them. “So you’re even more of a nerd?” He laughs loudly. “You want to be a big-shot superhero just like him, huh? Might even fantasize about going into that world?”

Danny punches Tucker in the arm again, this time lighter than before. “Shut up.” he says. “You’re not any better than me. Remember the last convention we went to? You totally admitted to being a furry!”

“Maybe so,” Tucker said, leading them into the convention room on their right. “But it’s your word against mine.”

Danny opened his mouth, but Sam quickly silenced him with a nudge to the arm. “Can we not talk about this right now?” 

Tucker looked up to see a room full of people, some of whom turned to see what the three of them were being so loud about. He shrugged, letting Sam lead them into some middle row of chairs, with Danny taking the aisle seat.

Q&A’s weren’t really Tucker's deal, mostly because he thought they were a bit boring. Luckily, the band had brought some of their instruments to play a song for the crowd. This time it was Sam who enjoyed it the most. Tucker even saw her mouthing some of the words and nodding her head to the beat.

Of course, Danny was doing the same. But that was Danny, he was always a bit enthusiastic about everything except school. Sam doing it was just a bit more special. Totally a nerd thing to do, and Tucker loved her for being just as much of a dork as him and Danny.

The music got louder and louder as the song ended on a lengthy bass guitar finish. Danny stood up like the rest of the room, whooping and clapping. Some whistled loudly, some stayed sat down, but clapped anyway. And Tucker, he stood up high and yelled out “Do another!”.

The drummer whooped out loudly, shouting to his band mates over the crowd to do just that. And they did one more song, which Tucker knew was Sam’s favorite. She would never say it, but he knew she was thankful he said something.

They left the room satisfied and hyped up on adrenaline. Next up was the NASA panel that Danny had come here for. Tucker could tell he was excited by the way he was practically bouncing each step he took.

They got into the room, much smaller than the other two that they had visited by the look of it, but metal equipment of all kinds was set up in the middle on white fold-up tables. Most notably, there was a large tube in the middle with a curved sliding glass panel in the front, plugged into a heavy outlet, of which the wire was stretched out of the back door.

Danny hardly noticed that though, taking to stare in awe of the chamber instead. He barely even reacted when some of the crowd parted from the hallway and moved into the room. A queue was beginning to form, and Sam motioned for them to follow her to the front where it began.

“Earth to Danny!” Tucker jokes, poking Danny in his side. Danny sends him a glare, but follows along as Tucker leads him to where Sam stood.

Danny had the first turn out of the three of them, as Tucker and Sam both knew he was obsessed with space. Literally, in his case. They had to keep an eye out for any ghostly powers showing when it was his turn in the anti-gravity chamber.

After a few people getting their turns floating about happily, with Danny growing more and more impatient, it was his turn. He quickly hopped into the pod, not at all listening to the instructors warning on what to do and not do. Afterwards, the door was closed and sealed, quietly whirring to life again.

Danny’s shirt started floating up, which he pulled back down. Then, his whole body began to float as well. His face lit up, and he started laughing. He placed his hands on the side of the chamber and pushed him around as much as the pod would allow.

“This is so cool!” he said, muffled heavily by the glass. Danny spun himself lightly, pushing his way as far up as the chamber would allow.

Tucker laughed as Danny’s already messy hair started to grow messier. He even saw Sam holding back laughs.

The whole thing, start to finish, took about 15 minutes. Tucker refused to go in, claiming he got motion sick easily. Sam said that she didn’t want to be stared at by all of these people while she was stuck in the chamber, claiming it would be uncool. Tucker thought it sounded reasonable, but Danny couldn’t even fathom turning down space gear.

Sam argued that they could go flying whenever they wanted.

“It feels totally different.” Danny argued back. “Flying is fast and I can go wherever I want. Zero-gravity is more like...having to slowly pull yourself around instead.”

“Still not going to try it.” Sam said, leading them out of the room. Tucker told Danny to leave it alone. Not that Sam’s refusal put a damper on the cheerful mood.

On the other hand, they had to take a break from panels and guest speakers to get food. At Tucker’s request, that is. Sam took one look at the variety of food and had asked to split off for now so she could find something for her to eat.

They all agreed to meet off to the side on the wall when they all got snacks, like most others who had the same idea. Sam wandered off farther down the hall, leaving them to do the same.

Tucker and Danny had soon found a vendor with the most unhealthy, deep fried food Tucker had ever seen. Things like wings and fries were common, but this man had deep fried candy bars. Tucker had to try it. Even Danny seemed interested, so Tucker offered to pay for the both of them.

Tucker grabbed the deep fried candy bars on sticks, giving a quick thanks to the vendor, before handing the second one off to Danny. The two of them started walking over to a wall to sit down and eat, but Tucker just couldn’t wait. He bit down to the middle of the bar, trying desperately to keep the warm chocolaty mess all in his mouth while they found a secluded area.

Tucker sat down right away, but Danny stayed standing, just holding onto his snack instead of eating it right away. Sam said she’d find something to eat, and Tucker was sure he saw her at a vendor’s station down the hall, so Danny was probably waiting for her.

“You know you can eat it now, right?” Tucker said, after swallowing his huge bite. “It’s gonna take time for her to get food with all these lines.”

Danny quickly glanced through the large crowd of people walking around the food vendors hall. His shoulders hunched and he sighed. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down next to Tucker and reluctantly taking a bite. He mumbled out a response, but it was overtaken by a surprised and pleased hum at the taste.

“Good?” Tucker asked, taking another bite of his, this time a reasonable size. “Told you it would be”.

He and Danny kept eating, but Danny suddenly stood up with only half a bar still on the stick, as opposed to Tucker, who had finished. He pointed into the crowd at something. Tucker followed his finger, also standing up. He had to look hard, but saw Sam walking around with something in her hands, looking somewhat confused. She was probably searching for them, Tucker thought.

He stepped off of the wall, grabbing Danny gently by the arm to pull him along. “Sam!” he yelled around the crowd. She stopped, looking all around the room for his voice.

He tried again. “Sam!” he called out, louder, waving to get her attention. She turned and finally noticed him, hurriedly walking towards them. They all walked back over to the large wall littered with groups of people also eating.

“Thought I’d never find you guys.” she says. “I found a vendor with ultra-recyclo vegetarian food here.”

“What’d you get?” Danny chirps in.

“Cinnamon roasted nuts.” She says, proudly. “The lady who was making them was vegan, too!”

They spent the next half an hour talking and eating their snacks. Sam mentioned that if they wanted to get anything else from the vendors hall, she would pay. Danny turned her down, saying that he didn’t want to make her pay. She just laughed and reminded him that she was rich.

When Danny left to go to the bathroom not too long after, Tucker told Sam that he took a look in there earlier and saw a space hoodie Danny would go nuts over, but he didn’t have the money to buy it. They agreed to distract Danny somehow and get it the next day, if they were still selling it. More likely than not, they could convince Danny to take a nap and they would go get it while he got some well-deserved rest.

Speaking of which, it was getting late. Tucker checked his phone. Almost midnight, actually. He could tell Sam was just as tired as he was. The convention would be open until 4:00 am. Raves, 18+ panels, and the like would be starting soon, so they would get going when Danny got back.

Once he did, Sam led the three of them out of the convention hall, down the street, and back to their shared hotel room. It wasn’t that far away from the convention center, only a block. Sam’s parents had paid, knowing that Sam was going to go whether or not they had gotten them a room. It was Tucker’s parents who gave the approval, though. That was enough to convince Danny’s parents to let him go. That and Jazz. She had said that Danny needed to get away from ghosts and ghost hunting altogether and have fun like ‘a normal teenage boy his age’.

Tucker clicked the hotel room open, holding the door for Sam and Danny. They both trudged through and promptly plopped down on each of the beds, Danny going face-first on the closest one. He rolled over, lying the whole of his body spread across the bed. Tucker closed the door behind him, following them and lying down on the bed with Danny.

“Movie?” He asked them.

“Horror,” Sam said, resting against the pillows and headboard. “Something scary at least”

Danny sat up slowly. “Sci-fi?” he questioned.

Tucker grabbed the remote and took a look through the catalogue while Danny and Sam took turns changing in the bathroom. Danny had come out in a blue NASA shirt and gray sweatpants. Sam had come out in a dark purple tank top with black spiders on it and black sweatpants. Tucker planned on changing once the two of them had gotten settled.

“Found a sci-fi horror,” He pulled up the channel just as the movie was starting. “‘Supernatural Space Killers 2’”

Sam yawned, setting up their chargers on the only outlet between the two beds. Danny handed his phone down to her. “That lame movie?” she said. “Phone, Tucker.” She reached out a hand, palm up.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his nearly dead phone, and handed it over to her. He took the chance to rummage through his bag, which he dropped off in the hotel before they left. He pulled out his pajamas: a Dumpty Humpty t-shirt and loose gym shorts. “It’s all that’s on, Sam. It’s this or the food network.” He left to go change, coming back quicker than the other two.

“Pass.” Danny said, sliding to the far end of the bed as Tucker came over to lay down. Sam joined the two of them once everyone’s phone was set up for the night.

“I don’t want to fall asleep listening to Gordon Ramsey’s yelling.” Danny complained.

Tucker turned the T.V’s sound up, drowning out any background noise from other hotel guests so they could sleep in peace. “Agreed.” he said, placing the remote down on the side table.

The three of them settled down, backs against the headboard, leaning against each other, along with as many pillows as they could find stored around the room. It took a while for all of them to get comfortable, but they ended up half-wrapped around each other, making snarky remarks at the T.V.

And that was how the rest of the night went, up until the three of them fell asleep, cuddling each other.

The next day, when they would go back to see more of the convention, would be exciting. But at that moment, the world felt quiet.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 11

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 11 - Reason

Are there really people in this world that, no matter who you ask, no one has any information about him?

The weather forecast says that today’s temperature will go above 30 degrees for the first time this season. At noon, the white and scorching sun reflected off of the marble floor tiles outside the main building of the school. Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were sitting on the stairs relatively speechless. They spent the past three hours of phone calling around to find the address of the small Daoist priest. Lin Yan stayed up all night. The lack of sleep for many days made the world confusing and blurred around him. His senses were all fuzzy. He buried his face in the palm of his hand and he rubbed his forehead. He raised his head and exhaled.

"I've asked everyone. I was on the same project team with him, in the same research program, in the same dormitory before, his friends. . . He seems to have no friends, and he doesn't seem to have any relatives nearby. How do we find him?" Yin Zhou put his phone down. He grabbed the balled-up piece of paper on the ground, spread it out and read it again: "He has no class this week, and they have all gone to prepare materials for the thesis topic. Do you want to go back to the small temple to ask?"

"Please, you didn't see what happened yesterday. It was like a News Years' celebration from hell. I'm afraid that if I go back, the monk will take the peach wood sword and smack me three times over." Lin Yan said weakly. "You check first, I'll watch from behind."

"Hey," Yin Zhou poked Lin Yan sneakily, and there was a small white flash on the edge of his glasses: "What did you do with the ghost in the end?"

Lin Yan curled his knees into a ball and replied reluctantly: "I've already told you eight hundred times. We watched the nightlife of Wudaokou for the rest of the night."

"Watched the nightlife? Were you drunk?" Yin Zhou drew close to Lin Yan. "So, are you enemies turned friends? Is the fighting done? Should I expect any relationship in the future now?"

"Please watch what you're saying. He's watching now." Lin Yan raised his head lazily, blinked his eyes vigorously, rubbed his temples vigorously to keep himself awake: "No kidding, he disappeared at dawn, but I could feel that he was still there. The strange thing was that he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying to him. The monk said that the ghost wouldn't remember being a human being. He was basically. . . just like an animal."

"You have to find A-Yan quickly. I'm afraid that something will happen to him." Lin Yan said: "And he must know more than we do."

Yin Zhou slapped his thigh vigorously: "I always hang out with the three-dimensional people and get dragged into messes like this."

"Hack into the files of the school's dormitory. Students are supposed to register their new address when they move out. Maybe there's a clue there."

At 2:30 in the afternoon, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou appeared in front of an old five-story house on Dadong Road.

This city had many similar-looking buildings. Land prices were soaring day by day. Developers couldn't afford to dismantle them. Residents had no money to move. Over time, older houses like this one had become ugly scars in the cluster of new buildings. The old-style design had poor lighting. Even in broad daylight, it was dark and damp. The grey paint on the wall had peeled away, exposing the brown-red brick wall underneath; the dusty bicycles and broken furniture had piled up in the alleyway, never cleaned. From time to time, a mouse would hop past, staring at the intruder's whereabouts vigilantly in the dark with its small eyes.

"Shouldn't this place be demolished?" Yin Zhou stared at the address on the note in disbelief, and then looked up at the old residential building that seemed to be crumbling: "If you live here, you won't be able to run away if there's an earthquake." Lin Yan felt a bit guilty. He had heard that the little Daoist had been in a bad family situation and had been relying on part-time work to subsidize his tuition, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. He shouldn't have kept quiet when he was kicked out of the dorm. As a result, he could not live in a dormitory and pay 1,000 yuan a year, so he left to rent a house in a place with little money.

The two cautiously walked through the small alley. Lin Yan pulled away a spider web hanging above his head and asked Yin Zhou's back: "What's the number of A-Yan's house?"

"0023" Yin Zhou patted the dust off his jeans and looked up at the surrounding house numbers in confusion: "But this should be the bottom floor."

"The basement." Lin Yan said in a deep voice.

The old corridor was full of rubbish, and it was so dark that he could barely see the blue and gray stripes of the stand-up collar T-shirt on Yin Zhou in front of him. There was a damp and mouldy smell in the air. He didn't know why, but Lin Yan suddenly remembered this one thing he saw in a movie. In a ghost film called "The 4th Floor", the woman in white at the end of a creepy corridor tilted her neck, and her dark hair showed two dark eyes. Lin Yan shook her head vigorously, trying to get rid of the fantasy in his mind. He couldn't help but laugh at himself. He must be really sick because all he could think of were ghosts all the time.

Yin Zhou stopped and pointed to what Lin Yan had said before. He saw a simple door at the end of the corridor with the number 0023 slantingly engraved on the door. Just as Lin Yan was about to knock on the door, Yin Zhou cut him off and put his ear on the door.

"Someone's talking." Yin Zhou frowned and adjusted his glasses: "I can't hear what they're saying. . ." He raised his finger to his lips and made a silent gesture. Seeing Lin Yan hesitate to listen, Yin Zhou grabbed him. He yanked his collar forward harshly. The soundproofing of the old house wasn't very good. They could make out intermittent voices inside through the door panel, speaking slowly, and occasionally letting out a low laugh or two.

"There's A-Yan's voice. Does he have guests?" Lin Yan murmured and turned back. After thinking about it, he felt that listening through the wall wasn't ethical, so he pulled Yin Zhou back and muttered: "Don't listen. People will think we're trying to rob the place."

The door was suddenly pulled open. Yin Zhou lost his balance and tumbled forward a couple steps. He propped himself up on the door frame to stand firmly, and explained embarrassingly: "Hi, hi, hello, hello, I thought no one was coming."

There was no response, the doorway was pitch black, and the sound of the door panel swaying slightly echoed in the empty corridor, "Squeak--"

A slender hand was holding the door frame, and a pale face flashed in the darkness. Yin Zhou came face-to-face with him, widened his eyes and cried out, "Ghost!" Then he hurriedly backed into Lin Yan. Lin Yan hadn't expected it, and he didn't have time to see what happened. Whatever happened, they both retreated instinctively. Yin Zhou stepped all over his feet, and the two fell into a shameful ball on the ground.

A timid male voice rang from above his head: "Brother Lin Yan?"

The light turned on, and the person standing at the door was the little Daoist A-Yan.

When he entered the house, Yin Zhou couldn't help but anxiously mutter. He followed Lin Yan reluctantly and walked into a small spotless two-bedroom house with simple furnishings. A white candle was lit on the coffee table in front of the old sofa, the wax drops forming small bumps around the candle's edge on the tabletop. Lin Yan and Yin Zhou sat down and looked around curiously. This wasn't a place where they expected young people to live. There was a faint smell of traditional Chinese medicinal herbs in the air. A compass and a peach wood sword were placed on the old cabinet, and an aged portrait of a person hung on the wall. Yin Zhou asked Lin Yan who the old man in the portrait was. Lin Yan quickly motioned him to shut up, and whispered that this was Tao Hongjing, the founder of the Maoshan School of Daoism.

When he saw A-Yan's unique appearance at school, he always thought that it was all for show. Lin Yan didn't expect that he really had some connection with the Maoshan School, known for their effectiveness in exorcising ghosts. A-Yan was still wearing the weird blue robe as he walked in with two teacups. He leaned over to blow out the candles on the table and respectfully handed the teacups to Lin Yan and Yin Zhou. The ceramic cup had been a Buy 3 for 10 Yuan bargain at a roadside stall, but the tea was still fragrant and tasted pleasant.

"The green bamboo leaves from Mount E-Emei are a specialty of my hometown. Master gave it to me. If I ever feel homesick, I drink this."

Yin Zhou was stunned by A-Yan's dismissal of their meeting moments ago. He gulped and asked calmly: "Didn't you have guests over? Why didn't you turn on the lights? I was scared to death just now."

The little Daoist's expression suddenly changed. He whispered a 'no'. Yin Zhou raised his eyebrows and glanced at him. The little Daoist couldn't stand sitting under his stare. He turned around and took out a tray from the cabinet, placing it on the coffee table carefully. "I was only talking to them," A-Yan said. On the tray were some boxwood carvings of different figures and animals. The carvings were lifelike, their eyebrows, beards, and even the folds in their clothes were clearly visible. Lin Yan picked up one and studied it. He was stunned: "Isn't this your master?"

A-Yan lowered his head and replied: "Yes. It can be boring living by myself sometimes. I sculpt some small things to pass the time and tell them my thoughts. Talking to them makes me feel better." He pointed to the woodcarvings on the tray and said: "These are my parents, sister, and our family cat."

The wood carving was covered with a thick layer of grout, soaked in oil; it looked very well-used. Except for the monk set off to the side, the remaining sculptures made up a set; there was a boxwood table, an exquisite miniature chair and the smiling family of three with their ball-shaped cat. Lin Yan touched the cat's head and couldn't help but admire the work. He said: "These carvings are really good, they're very heartfelt. A-Yan, if you're homesick, don't forget to book tickets with me if you want to go back home for the Mid-Autumn Festival. The school will give us a group discount."

A-Yan froze: "No I won't. My parents passed away long ago. I want to work and send money to my sister to study."

Lin Yan hadn't meant to touch a soft spot when he commented. He put down the woodcarving and apologized. A-Yan didn't care: "It's okay, I-- I'm used to it. I don't have any friends. When I carve these and talk to them, it feels like they're still here."

"I'm your friend." Lin Yan comforted him: "Carve one for me when you get the chance. Your craftsmanship is really amazing."

"Okay, I'll show it to you once I finish it." The little Daoist smiled, his eyes sparkling: "By the way, you-- you guys were looking for me because of the ghost thing that followed you?"

Lin Yan nodded. He sat upright and took a deep breath. He sorted out the things that had happened since encountering ghosts and said, "I heard you say that ghost resentment is too powerful and there is no way to overcome it. I wanted to know if there is another way to send him away without dispersing his spirit. He almost choked to death three times." A-Yan frowned and shook his head, "That's not it. Al-- Although I can't see him in places with heavy yang energy, I can feel that he's very sad." After that, he pondered for a while: "He didn't mean to harm you."

"Evil ghosts have no human consciousness, and those who die suddenly have resentment. Only when they wander in between the worlds of the living and the dead and find something to kill can they calm their hostility. My master said that they are so powerful that they have to be eliminated. I have the ability to look into the eyes of a ghost and understand their emotions, so I can't always disperse their spirits. Think about it, a murdered ghost who has waited for hundreds of years in a dark and cold grave; what else can you feel except profound sympathy?"

"Loneliness. Unbearable loneliness." A-Yan stared at the wooden carvings on the plate, his eyes suddenly distant: "On July 15th, the gates to the ghost realm will be open. He wants to take you to his world. It's too unbearable to be alone." The last sentence was hushed, almost self-deprecating.

Lin Yan picked up the cat woodcarving and fiddled with it. To be honest, he did sympathize with the ghost. He even closed his eyes to try and imagine himself in the ghost's shoes. The closed, silent, unknown horror of death, a blackened skeleton in the faint light of a miner’s lamp sleeping quietly. First, he is hidden in the coffin, then under a layer encrustation, and then inside an airtight tomb room, with a heavy bluestone tomb door, layer upon layer locking the soul away to keep it from rising again. No matter how magnificent the mausoleum is, and how rare it was to be buried in one, what's the use of it? Only the sound of his heartbeat could be heard in the eternal darkness. No, there isn't even a heartbeat.

Death is the loneliest thing. A deadly but lonely ghost, after hundreds of years of silence, waiting for someone to finally sense its presence.

How tragic yet oddly optimistic.

[darlingpetao3]

One of Those Faces (H.R. Wells x Reader x Harry Wells, Part 1)

Rating: G

Summary: As a barista at Jitters, an accident leads you to meet the charming and energetic H.R. But some time later, he returns as a massive standoffish grump. It’s as if he’s two different people...

A/N: This is a collaboration that the lovely @hwells-ho-train​​ and I started back in the fall. It is the first of many fun things we’ve been concocting together behind the scenes!

Tag List: @fandomdancer​ @bluesclues-1234​

(x)

You’ve grown accustomed to the whirs of the espresso machines. So much so, that every night when you head home from work as a barista at Jitters, it’s odd not to hear the sounds.

Some days are more gruelling than others at the coffee shop, especially when autumn rolls around and there’s a burst of customers. Pumpkin Spice lattes, anyone? Or as they’re called at this time of year, a “Spicy Flash.”

What? It’s not like you name these things.

And of course, you’ll have to deal with customers’ picky and often complicated orders. You feel bad for the newbies when this happens, but you have no problem because you’re a whiz at your job. At some points though, it all feels monotonous.

That is until he started to show up.

‘He’ being HR Wells. 

You’d been training a new barista that day, passing on your knowledge of how to brew the perfect cup of coffee when a tall man in a Pork Pie hat threw open the door with gusto and took a deep breath through the nose. Upon exhaling, he shut his eyes and made the impurest noise you’d ever heard (inside of a coffee joint).

“Ahh, that’s the stuff!” His broad smile revealing even, white teeth and a pair of dimples to die for. If that weren’t enough to grab your attention, upon opening his eyes, you saw they were so blue they seemed to glow. You were so lost in those sparkling azure orbs, that the perfect cup of coffee you’d been pouring overflowed and scalded your hand.

“Ouch!” 

SMASH.

The coffee cup exploded into shards, and your anxious new barista squeaked in alarm at the mess.

Dammit, way to make a first impression.

The handsome stranger’s blissful look shifted to one of utmost concern as he turned his gaze towards you.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed while whipping a white cloth out of his back pocket. Wetting it down at the water fountain, he wasted no time in grabbing your injured hand and gently pressing the cool cloth to your injury.

Between your mortification and the pain in your hand, you felt like crying. “Thank you, but I really should get that mess cleaned up.”

He turned those big soulful blue eyes on you. “Oh please, not yet, it’s so rare that I get to play the hero.” He punctuated his statement with a charming grin and you were utterly lost in it all, letting him lead you to an empty table with the comforting pressure of his big warm hand.

“Do you come here often?” you asked him, only understanding how it sounded a little too late. The stranger raised a flirty eyebrow at you.

“Do you come on to all your customers, or am I just tremendously lucky?” he asked you in return.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” You could feel your face grow hotter than the sun (or that coffee you spilled on your hand). The man chuckled.

“To answer your question, no, I’ve only just discovered this magnificent little shop, but I can already tell it’s my favorite place.”

Did you just imagine the little squeeze he gave your hand?

“Can I get you a drink?” you offered. Dammit, I need to stop accidentally using pick-up lines! “A coffee? Latte? You know, because that’s my job and you’re the customer?”

His smile almost blinded you.

“That would be delightful…” he drew out the last syllable before his eyes focused on your name tag. “(Y/N)!” 

Your silly little heart fluttered at the way he said it. As though it were the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

“But first,” he raised a finger in the air before eyeing your hand critically. “Let’s take care of this.” 

He tied the damp handkerchief (who carries those anymore?) around your hand. Then he sat back and judged his handiwork for a moment. 

“How’s that?”

“Beautiful,” you said dreamily before snapping back to yourself. “I mean- excellent, really great! I can’t thank you enough…?”  You left it open-ended since you still didn’t know his name.

He bowed deeply. “HR Wells, at your service, milady.”

Good grief, you really needed to stop grinning like an idiot.

“Well then, HR,” your breath caught a bit at saying his name for the first time, watching as he grinned at you. “Let’s get you that drink.”

——————

It had started out as a day like any other. Night shift left a mess of the cappuccino machine, and you were busily cleaning it down before opening when a movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. A tall figure draped in black stood hunched against the early morning winds. You still had five minutes until you officially flipped the sign, but it was just one guy.

Putting on your cheeriest customer service grin, you turned the latch and opened the door. “Good morning! You look miserable out there, let’s get you something warm.”

The man seemed taken aback at your bubbly greeting, but he shuffled in quick enough, muttering a gravelly sounding “thanks” and followed you back to the counter.

It occurred to you that letting this random man in while you were completely alone in the unlit shop was not one of your better ideas. If he robbed you, you’d never be able to identify him in the dark. With that grim thought in mind, you went to the control panel and flipped every light on in the building.

“There, that’s better,” your sudden anxiety made your voice louder than usual. “So, what can I get you-” your question dying on your lips when you finally got a clear look at him in normal light.

It was the man from the other day - the man with the sharp blue eyes who helped you after your accident. HR! He was still as handsome as ever... But why does he seem gruffer? He certainly didn’t look as sweet and joyful as he had last time, more so rough around the edges.

I guess not everyone is a morning person, or else they wouldn’t come here!

“It’s nice to see you!” you chirped with a big smile, hoping that will help his morning mood before you got him his cup of java.

The man frowned at you, but you continued to write it off.

“Thanks?” he said, sounding unsure.

“Not a problem,” you waved away his apology. “Now let’s see, what sort of sweet deliciousness are you in the mood for today?” You inwardly cringed - you might have oversold that. Judging by the wariness distorting his pretty face, you definitely did.

“Black. To go.” He replied shortly and then slowly backed away.

You blinked at his abruptness. Where had your happy-go-lucky Knight in Shining Armor gone? “Ok, yeah, right away.” You turned away, feeling like a total dummy.

You busied yourself in getting his drink, and your mind began to wander to your favorite theory from the past few days - what does HR stand for? Harold Rothchild? Horacio Roberto? It’s been quite fun to make up the names in your head.

When the drink was finished, you popped a lid on it, scribbled on the side, and slid the cup on the table over to the grumpy man. “Here you are! Hope you enjoy it, have a nice day!”

“Thanks.” He turned, muttering, “Horatio Rob-?” and immediately left, which made you feel like your last meeting with him never even happened. It was like he was a whole other person...

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Secrets & Fury || Morgan & Blanche Feat. Agnes Bachman

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Bachman House Ruins

PARTIES: @harlowhaunted & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Blanche make contact with the past. The truth is not meant to soothe.

CONTENT: brief mentions of suicide

The only thing left of what had once been the Bachman House was a few outer support beams and a wall, sticking out of the ground in a way that wouldn’t have been possible unless the ground swallowed the house whole. Which, in fairness, it did. Blanche remembered Morgan, Cassie, and herself throwing themselves out of the home and into the adjacent garden as the ground trembled and swallowed the cursed house… Blanche had never asked Morgan where the house went. Was the house still lingering below the soil or had it disappeared somewhere else entirely? Blanche stared at the dirt, grimacing at the patches of weeds that had feebly tried to break through to no avail, and decided that she would ask ahat at different time. There were no spirits here, not this time. The cool chill that ran up Blanche’s spine from time to time was the cold December air… And the dark, leafless trees that loomed around the area as if they were watching her. As Blanche painstakingly drew the circle in the dirt, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was doing this in front of an audience. Like this was a final test to see if it was worth it -- if she was worth it.

The silver, jeweled barrette kept her blonde hair out of her face, and every once in a while, she would reach up to run her fingers along the smooth, teal gemstones encrusted on the trinket. It made her feel better. Blanche remembered what Jasmine said about Focal Points, and even if it was false, at least it gave her peace of mind. At least it brought her closer to the one she missed most of all. Even that made her feel more powerful than before.

This was what she was doing when Morgan arrived. Blanche glanced at her, her hand falling back to her side as she gave her a strained smile. “Hey,” she said softly, and she grabbed her pink lighter from her pocket. Time to light the candles. “You can put it in the middle of the circle. What you brought of Agnes’, I mean.”

Morgan had tried to come early. She hadn’t been to the old Bachman house for even a drive-by hello since it had tried to collapse with her, Blanche, and Cassie in it. She couldn’t see the place as a benign victim of circumstance after having to face off against Hannah Bachman, hearing the ways she mimicked her own mother in her brand of cruelty. Pulling alongside the street now made her feel as though the wood and nails had been as complicit as Constance in the horrible things that had happened here. What she had expected to find, to get used to, she wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that Blanche had beaten her to the punch and settled into a circle inside the ruins. That’s what happened when you got too anxiously punctual people together, she guessed. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said wryly. “Our appointment isn’t for another ten minutes, Blanche.” She reached into her bag and took out the arm bone she had stolen from Agnes’ grave, wrapped in fabric. Deirdre had been able to identify her with just a touch: thick dark hair like Morgan’s, large eyes that were brown instead of blue, and an anguished look as she laid down in a rickety bed and worked a pillow around half her face, a pistol in her hand. She had been crying, Deirdre said. Morgan couldn’t think of any other way she might have gone, not with what she’d been made to live with. “Genuine, banshee-identified great great grandma Agnes,” she said softly. Agnes’ family title sounded strange, knowing that she had died only a few years older than Morgan. They felt more like equals now, women who had been ground up and bent into the wrong shape, who were tired, who just needed to catch a break for once. Morgan sat down just outside the circle, careful not to disrupt any of the markings. “You um...when you bring them here, you don’t have to see how they died, right Blanche? I mean, she’ll look…” Like there’s a massive exit wound on the side of her skull. “How she did when it happened. But that’s not something you have to carry, is it?” Morgan asked.

“I’m nothing if not efficient,” Blanche replied. The grin on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, though she was pleased to see that Morgan looked alright. Blanche had been here for forty-five minutes already, but she wasn't’ about to tell Morgan that - she sought out the flattest part of the ruins and spent an absurdly long time drawing the circle. She looked sharply at Morgan, the question burning in her throat. How did great, great Grandma Agnes die? Not that it mattered, because she would do the seance no matter what, but she couldn’t help but think of the bullet wound inside Sammy’s skull and Winn’s chest, and how Bea’s head never sat quite right on her shoulders… But Blanche shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty gruesome deaths,” she said. Blanche didn’t know Agnes, so she hoped her appearance wouldn’t stay burned into her memory like her friends. There was some part of her that knew this wasn’t true, she remembered spirits maimed in all sorts of ways… But as Blanche finished lighting her candles, she stood, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “She’ll look how she chooses too,” Blanche said, “If she’s been around since she died… Then she’ll probably have learned to change her appearance by now. But if she hasn’t or she doesn’t want too…” Blanche reached to fiddle with the hair clip in her hair again, chewing on her lip in thought. “That’s her choice. It won’t prevent us from doing what we’re here to do.” She examined her circle for the upteenth time, looking for imperfections. She could find none. With a small breath, she looked back to Morgan. “Are you ready, Morgan?” She waited for Morgan to nod, before going to settle into the dirt.

Blanche took a few deep breaths, glancing over at Morgan to really make sure she was ready, before she began reciting the sanskrit. The power Blanche felt flowing through her and the circle was almost on par with the deep seeded resentment in her soul. It was strange and exciting and somehow different than when they had been in her apartment. It was a mistake, Blanche decided, to not have come here the first time. Wind howled around them, the flickering of the candles erratic but never going out as it circled them. She was clear headed, drawing her energy from the back of her mind - rather, the back of her head, she supposed, where her great grandmother’s clip lay. She focused on that as she opened the portal of communication, the chilling wind whining in protest as she pushed forward. It was tiring, but slowly, a woman flickered into sight. Slowly, her transparent form grew stronger, and Blanche could make out her features and the frumpy old clothes she wore. With a push forward, Blanche ended the opening of the ritual.

“Are you Agnes Bachman?” Blanche asked, glanced at Morgan for confirmation before anything else.

Morgan kept her eyes trained on the center of the circle, like letting her hair blow the wrong way might turn everything around for the worse. She heard the wind in her ears, saw the small candle flames surge on their wicks. Doubt gnawed in her stomach, she’s not coming, she’s not here and she’s not coming and I’m never gonna know what really happened. Shit, was she awful for trying to reach out with her will and pull her toward them? For wanting her to be stuck here all this time, just to have someone she could talk to? Morgan didn’t have time to find an answer inside herself. A silhouette formed in a circle, then a face.

“Oh, shit…”

Agnes Bachman didn’t have a hole in her head. Her wavy hair hung just below her jaw, styled in waves Morgan had seen in fashion panels from the 1910’s. She had loose housecoat, or maybe it was just a regular day coat that had been retired after getting too big and patchy, hung heavy on her frame. (Morgan couldn’t figure out how that worked, the woman before her didn’t have a body, so how could anything be loose or tight or anything in between? And yet just from looking at her, Morgan could imagine the pointy ends of her joints and the ridges on her stomach from going hungry on and off for years.) She had a bemused half smile, one that was way past surprise, and a face that looked hauntingly like the one Cece had pulled out of the magic trunk. “It’s you,” Morgan whispered. “This whole time, I’ve been looking at… Agnes.”

“Is there someone else I would be?” Agnes asked. She had a high, tired kind of voice, not unlike the wind that had swelled around them only a minute ago. It was a reedy voice, torn up from too many cigarettes. Smoking was unladylike in Agnes’ time, but maybe she’d stolen her husband’s cigarettes, or bummed some off people with more money. Maybe after a certain point she had decided not to care. She looked around, taking in what was left of the house, the hole in its core, the stars above and the jagged, splintered ruins reaching through it like so many broken fingers. “I remember this place.” She scoffed, smirking. “It feels a shame I’m not more surprised to see it in pieces. You’re supposed to bond with the place you grow up. It’s how you maintain your ties with the earth.” She turned back to them, gesturing self consciously around her temples. “Is anyone gonna tell me what this party’s about...?” The smile she gave each of them was thin, like she was afraid something bad was going to happen. How often had she been blamed or yelled at for Constance’s mess? “One of you has to know something, if you’re pulling me cross-country to my old house.”

“Y-yes. I mean...we...uh…” Morgan fumbled for words and gaped at Blanche, silently asking for help.

Awestruck by her success, Blanche stared at Agnes in a sort of wonder. The wind grew calm around them, still lightly tugging at loose hairs and flame to let them know it was still there. She had done it. She pulled Agnes Bachman back here. Blanche gaped right back at Morgan, suddenly speechless herself. All coherent thoughts flew out of her head and suddenly she forgot how to speak any language whatsoever.

“Wha-” Blanche stuttered, and then realized she was the one supposed to be running this ‘party’. She almost leapt to her feet, but stayed rooted to the spot so she wouldn’t jostle the circle. “Agnes,” Blanche tried again. “My name is Blanche Harlow. I’m a local medium in White Crest. This is Morgan Beck, she’s your great, great Granddaughter. I’ve… We, rather… We’ve contacted you because we want to ask you about the past, specifically relating to Constance Cunningham.” Her words were formal, but they were at least confident.

“Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

Agnes hadn’t stopped looking at Morgan since she’d appeared. Morgan straightened her shoulders under her gaze and angled her head this way and that, trying to find the angle that would give her the most ‘respectable impressive descendant’ look, not that she knew what that was. Agnes smirked at Blanche’s fumbling and Morgan noticed an array of little smile wrinkles that gave her some comfort. She must have been happy, or something like it, for a little while.

“I should tell you,” Agnes said, leaning in with a conspiratorial look, “I told my kids not to settle down, so they maybe wouldn’t have any of their own. But I’m not surprised they didn’t listen to me. Kids never do, so don’t get any ideas.” She squinted taking in more of Morgan. “But that’s not going to be a problem for you, is it, sweetie?”

“No,” Morgan whispered. “I mean, I have a...I haven’t really discussed it with my girlfriend, we’re gonna wait fifty, maybe a hundred years first. That’s the kind of family planning you get with a zombie and a banshee!” She laughed, shrill and pained. Was this how you were supposed to talk to your grandmother? Did it matter when she only looked five years older than you? “I died. Because of the family curse. Seven months and change, so I’m still adjusting. But it’s fine! I mean, it’s not, but it will be.” She gripped her wool skirt, fighting the urge to crawl closer to Agnes.

“Girlfriend, you say? I’ve seen things get better for some girls like that in the last hundred years. I should’ve figured it ran in the family. Mama was right about something after all.” The smirk she gave was bitter, scratching an old scab on her heart, and if Morgan hadn’t already heard about Hannah Bachman’s dismay from Leah, she would’ve seen the cut her response had left in Agnes’ face. “Your death, sweetie, does that mean the magic doesn’t touch you anymore? Whatever you and your girl do, are you safe from it?”

Morgan nodded, eyes beginning to well. “Yeah, we are. The curse didn’t follow me after. We’re good. It’s just uh…” She looked sidelong at Blanche. “It’s Constance? She’s here and she is…” Evil. Cruel. A walking nightmare. “Really, really determined to make up for what her curse can’t do anymore. And I...we were wondering...if you could tell us what really happened. I read Lucrecia’s diary, but I want the truth from you. And before you say anything, I don’t blame you. I don’t know where it started in the family, but I know you didn’t deserve to carry this like it was all your fault, and I don’t blame you for what she did.”

Agnes straightened up. “I can’t talk about Constance,” she said flatly. “And the person who started that story was me, because it was true.” She turned to Blanche. “Can you put me back somewhere? It doesn’t have to be home, I don’t much like my new grave. But somewhere else, please.”

Blanche thanked every God that may or may not have existed that she had excellent memory recall. She backed off of Agnes, ready to do what she, as a private investigator trainee, did best: listened. The true extent of the Bachman curse had been made apparent to her when Morgan died violently in the middle of town and became a zombie, but Constance never put into thought that there could be life after death… Funnily enough, Blanche hadn’t put that much thought into it either, before she met Remmy. Blanche rested her hands in her lap, leaning forward on her knees as she concentrated on keeping the line of connection open.

“You can’t talk about Constance? Or you won’t talk about Constance?” Perhaps Blanche’s voice was a little sharper than it needed to be, but she wasn’t here to pull punches. She was here for the truth. After the truth was known… Well, then she could deal with Agnes. Agnes, from what she felt, would need to move on. But one ghost problem at a time. This seance wasn’t for Agnes, it was for Morgan. And, to an extent, though Morgan could never find this out, it was for Constance too. Constance deserved closure and peace - the last thing Blanche wanted for her was to Cordelia or Lauren Langley.

Blanche leaned back, her head tilting to the side slightly as she examined the ghost. “Don’t you want to make sure the right one is known?” Maybe she didn’t, though. Blanche pressed her lips together for a moment. “I won’t be sending you anywhere,” she said, “Until we get some answers. And I’ll have you know… I’m very persistent.”

“Is there much of a difference as far as you’re concerned?” Agnes asked. Her squinting gaze turned on Blanche, running up and down to appraise her. Morgan’s mother had a similar look when she was trying to worm out of a conversation she didn’t want to have, but Morgan didn’t get the sense that Agnes was looking for points of weakness or ways to hurt Blanche. It looked more like she was working a puzzle. “If people think badly of me, it’s because I got the ball rolling. I don’t have any right to be sore about any tall tales that have gotten rolled into the truth.” She looked at Morgan again, smiling in a sad way that made the zombie’s heart lurch. “You should blame me. And I am sorry, I will always be sorry, for my part in your death. Even if it means you get to wait a hundred years to have a family with a woman you love--” she paused, staring off somewhere Morgan couldn’t follow. “It shouldn’t cost you what it has. Death is too high a price, especially after what you must have suffered. It’s not much of a life to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” Morgan whispered. “I know you’re...yes, I was miserable and I didn’t get to do anything I set out to, but you didn’t cast the spell. You didn’t take one falling out and turn it into a hundred plus years of--”

“No.” Agnes’ voice turned to rock while somehow never rising above her quiet. “No, Morgan. I’m not going to discuss it in those terms. Or at all.” Agnes looked over at Blanche, checking to see if her point had been effectively made, but Agnes had never gone up against Blanche ‘I do what I want’ Harlow. She withered under the young woman’s look and pursed her lips as her position sank in.

“Listen,” Morgan said gently. “I’m going to get her back for what she did to you, to all of us. However hurtful, however awful or complicated, it didn’t merrit what she did for retribution. I’m going to make sure she…” Morgan winced, not wanting to throw her position in Blanche’s face. Of all her friends, she had been the most honest, and the most kind, about her position. “I’m going to make us even.”

Agnes’ face dropped with horror. “You what? You can’t. Sweetie, whatever you’re up to, you can’t do that to her. You have no idea what she--It was my idea to run away! I made her take all the risks. Crafting the glamours that would make us look older, hiding the money I’d stolen in her tree, hiding travel clothes, securing our transport. My mother watched me at all times, I was afraid we wouldn’t stand a chance if I slipped away somewhere I couldn’t explain. I was selfish and I was scared and I made her do everything for me, and then I--” She looked helplessly at Blanche again, her wish transparent in her eyes: please, please. “I let her fall for me too,” she said. “We were caught, the morning we were set to leave. Constance told the truth and I--I didn’t. She had given a story and I knew we were sunk and I wouldn’t see the light of day for weeks unless I did something different. I--”

Agnes’ reedy voice seemed to snap. Her silent appeals to Blanche were going nowhere; the medium only stared her down harder than before. And every, “hey,” and “you don’t have to be afraid,” that Morgan gave only seemed to make her more desperate.

“I said she was kidnapping me. That she’d hurt me.” Agnes said at last. “We had stolen pistols from the Logan’s house to protect ourselves. I told my mother to check her reticule, where I’d told her to put them and she thought it was proof. I didn’t know they were going to tell everyone or turn her into a pariah. I thought she would be run out of town, dropped on the nearest cart, never to return. I had no illusion of being forgiven, but gods help me, I did not know my mother would leave her with nothing and make her live like some poor animal. When I realized, it was too late.” Agnes clenched her airy fists, fighting the impulse to cry. “I would like to go back now. Send me back now and have done with it.”

Morgan tried to reach for her, forgetting everything except how badly she wanted to know the woman in front of her. “No, you can stay, Agnes. It doesn’t matter what happened before—”

“Now. I want to be gone now. Please. I will not answer anything else. I won’t.”

Anger was an emotion Blanche was used to, and the more Agnes said, the more angry she got. Fury and disgust twisted into her stone faced expression as she sat there, her arms crossed as Morgan and Agnes conversed. Finally, with a wail, Agnes turned to her, begging to be set free. “Coward,” Blanche said unkindly. “You’re a coward.” Blanche pushed herself up to her knees, as if she was going to move to stand. She didn’t, however, because her energy was being spent in keeping the connection open. Still, Blanche’s eyes flashed angrily.

“I’m not naive enough to say Constance is blameless. Constance is to blame for a lot of things -- Morgan’s death and the subsequent death of others in her path for revenge - but you…” Blanche shook her head, “You chose wrong and you lied. You lied to save yourself and threw the one you loved under the bus.” Blanche scoffed in disgust. Never before had she felt such anger towards another ghost. The closest that came was Lauren Langley, but even that held a different sort of anger than the rage that bubbled in the pit of her stomach now. If she could, she’d throw a fist in Agnes’ face.

“You are not to blame for Constance’s actions,” Blanche said, folding her arms over her chest. “She is able to make her own decisions and do what she will but… You are to blame for hurting her. You are to blame for lying. You are to blame for the misery that was thrust upon her as punishment for a crime she did not commit. You lied because you were a coward. And that -” Blanche jabbed a finger at Agnes. “- Is what you should feel remorse for. That is what you need to reflect on. And then you’ll be able to move on.” While Constance was on a warpath for vengeance that would end up destroying her. It was hard not to blame Agnes for everything.

With a sweep of her hand, the wind howled around them, growing louder as Blanche recited the end of the ritual that would close the communication with Agnes. She didn’t want to hear what Agnes had to say, even as her pain stricken face was seared into Blanche’s mind even as she disappeared from the circle. The wind quieted and the candles surrounding them extinguished. The ritual was over. Blanche slumped back into the dirt, exhausted, but too angry to give in to sleep.

“All of this…” Blanche said, sneering at the place Agnes once stood. “Because of a cruel lie…”

Morgan flinched at Blanche’s words as if they had cracked against her skin. She called out her name, trying to interrupt, “That can’t be the whole story, there has to be something else…” But Blanche’s fury had found its target, and though Morgan couldn’t fathom why, she understood that it would not let go. “Don’t be cruel. Blanche, please!” But please only got Blanche to say the words that would send Agnes back to wherever she had been before. Morgan grasped at the air as Agnes vanished, her face shut and clenched with shame. Something in the air lifted, like heat diffusing a cold room. Morgan continued to stare into the circle. There had to be something else. Maybe Hannah Bachman was the real culprit, for making her daughter so afraid that she wanted to run away in the first place. Maybe Agnes had sensed something unstable, even dangerous in Constance and took her change to back out rather than run away with someone who was willing to sign off on the misery of generations of people. There had to be something, because if Morgan’s family had been right about Agnes, then how was she supposed to split her vengeance between them? Who was she destroying Constance for besides herself if Agnes had tried so hard to beg her not to? Morgan’s gaze dropped from the air where Agnes had just sat and down to her own hands: discolored around the nails because she was between meals, protected by gold cuff bracelets on her wrist, so no one would see the bite that made her what she was. Ruth Beck hadn’t cared a wit that she was going to be avenged, Morgan wasn’t even sure if she believed it. Morgan’s father had lost his last tie to the earth when he saw her happy with Deirdre. Deirdre herself insisted the choice was hers to determine. And now the memory of Agnes’ horrified face stood frozen in Morgan’s memory. Was it still fair, and still enough, if this was for her satisfaction and hers alone?

“She was just…” Young? Stars above, could Morgan really say that without it getting thrown back in her face two seconds later? “She was scared. She didn’t know what was going to happen and we don’t know why she really…” Threw someone she supposedly loved under the bus. If Hannah was so dangerous, enough to run away from, why wouldn’t Anges have figured out that Constance was going to suffer without her protection? Wouldn’t that have been obvious? Was her ignorance to the consequences just another lie too? Morgan shivered, frowning into the ground. She was long used to disappointment, but she hadn’t thought that meeting Agnes would leave her more confused than when she’d started. “I don’t know,” Morgan sighed. Nothing she put together in her mind fit the way she wanted it to. “Whatever, why-ever she really did anything, she paid for it with her life and a hundred years of being hated.” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Blanche, scrutinizing her expression. She had seemed more invested in Morgan’s family drama than she had before. Morgan had taken great care to keep her out of it as much as possible. “What was that all about, just a minute ago?” She asked gently. “I’ve never seen you like that with a ghost before. Is everything okay…?”

She was just - Blanche almost snarled the word ‘young’ right back at Morgan. Constance was just as young. She was nineteen. Blanche could remember, back in high school, where her only long term boyfriend broke up with her and how devastated she had been. If that situation had been anything like Agnes’, which it hadn’t, and Logan had wronged her in some type of way, Blanche would have wanted to curse him and his entire family too. The thought was snide, and filled with anger. She realized, with a start, that she was two seconds away from defending Constance’s honor, and that wasn’t right either. Constance had done wrong, Blanche reminded herself, her palms suddenly sweaty. She hadn’t meant to, mostly, of course. Maxine had been an unfortunate accident, and the incident with Nell… Blanche wanted to believe that she really didn’t know that Nell had been in the car until it was too late. And Morgan had said intentions matter. Blanche wanted to believe that, and she wanted Constance to give up this calling of vengeance on Morgan’s family because at the end of the day, Morgan hadn’t done anything wrong. Morgan hadn’t done this to Constance. Agnes, she thought the name with disgust, started this.

But that didn’t make Morgan’s target goal right either. She had the cold reminder that Morgan’s end goal was to torture and erase Constance from existence. The thought of her being in pain made Blanche… Well, it made her sick to her stomach. Constance didn’t deserve that. She needed to be at peace while she was still able. At least, then, she would be happy. She would be able to move past what Agnes had done, and it wouldn’t have to lock her into a toxic storm of resentment and fury.  At Morgan’s question, though, Blanche’s palms frew more sweaty, and she wiped them on her jeans. “I wasn’t wrong,” Blanche mumbled to her shoes, shaking her head. She refused to look at Morgan, instead turning to start gathering her things in her back. Her face had flushed, but it had been a little pink already from the anger she burst out with during the seance and from the exhaustion the clung to her. “In order to move on, Agnes needs to come to term with her choices she made while she was living. She can’t do anything to change them, not now,” Blanche’s lip curled in disgust as she carefully stuck the candles in her bag, straightening to sling it over her shoulder. She went to the magic circle she had so carefully carved into the dirt with a sharp stick and some chalk and destroyed it. While Blanche hadn’t listened to Granny’s teachings, she did remember that Granny said to never leave a circle unattended, just in case. Finally, she reached up and pulled the jeweled, silver hairpin from her hair, letting her blonde hair tumble down. Carefully, she put that in a separate pocket of her backpack. Her shoulders slumped tiredly and looked at Morgan, “I’ll talk to her again soon,” Blanche said, decidingly. “I’ll call upon her again and speak her more closely, once… this is all over.”

Silence froze and bristled around them; Morgan held her tongue. Blanche’s ire was hot and sharp as a needle fresh out of the fire. She didn’t have to say a word for Morgan to know she was angry at her too. For Constance. For being “unfair.” Maybe if she wasn’t the one crushed over her whole life and promptly murdered, Morgan could understand these good for nothing principles, or whatever strange projection was going on from Blanche’s angle. She’d confounded people on moral questions before. Only the stars above knew how many passes she gave Deirdre, and that was just for starters.

“No,” Morgan admitted quietly. “But I never said you were. That wasn’t my point.” The point was that Agnes’ mistake should have only destroyed two people, at most. Tragic, but contained. Constance had driven Agnes to the kind of misery that made her want to end her life. And then proceeded to do the same to every other Bachman descendant, those who weren’t horribly killed by her meddling out right. It was unbalanced to the point of grotesque. What pity, what understanding was there left when Constance’s last stand was with someone she’d never met, except to try and destroy? At least Morgan was taking a stand for her own family.

“If there’s another way to get Agnes to White Crest, some way she can be around without a circle, I’ll look after her so you don’t have to keep your hotel for ghosts open longer than you already have to. She’s my family, I should at least try to help her. I want to.” And she wanted to understand why Agnes was so opposed to her finishing this ugly game Constance had turned their lives into. Seeing Ruth’s total apathy at the news had been one thing, but Agnes’ horrified face sat heavy and sick in Morgan’s stomach. She shouldered her bag and dusted herself off, looking down at Blanche with guarded concern. “I still don’t know why you’re so determined to help me, but thank you, Blanche.” She reached out a hand to pull her up. “You need anything right now?” She asked quietly. The differences between them felt as strong as the similarities in this moment, certainly nothing that could be solved with a trip to a diner or a few twenties stuffed into Blanche’s bag. But Morgan was tired of losing people, and she had a sick, prickly feeling in her stomach, almost like guilt, and she was desperate to be rid of it.

It was a strange fury that had settled in Blanche’s stomach, and she didn’t understand it. Blanche knew Morgan held different opinions on the whole subject and that their end goals were different, so she wasn’t understanding why she was so upset at Morgan’s insistence that Constance was the only one in the wrong here. It wasn’t fair - none of this was fair. Perhaps Constance had been right in that the Bachmans - that Agnes Bachman and whatever that thing Cassie, Morgan, and Blanche had confronted in the house so many months ago - were the evil ones. Whatever that meant made Blanche’s head spin because she also knew that no matter what, killing Morgan was inexcusable. How was it possible to care so much for a ghost that did something so horrible to a friend? And was she so determined to help Morgan, or was she determined to help Constance? Couldn’t there be a way for her to help both? Why was the answer one or the other? Blanche was sick of having to choose and she was sick of having to ask herself hard questions and she was sick of having to think.

Not for the first time, Blanche felt that fuzzy, static feeling in her head.

“You could summon her, or she could travel herself,” Blanche finally said, her tone devoid of any true emotion. “What I just did isn’t anything other than opening a line of communication. If I don’t close the line, she could get stuck in the circle. That’s why, even after you dissipated wrong Agnes, I had to close the ritual. But it’s not a permanent means of keeping them here.” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook her head. Blanche was quiet a moment as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and looked at Morgan. There were words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite find them. Confusion and anger melded together, and Blanche realized that it might be better to not say anything at all. “I don’t need anything, no.” Blanche said. “I’m going to go home though, I’m… I’m tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she realized. She was exhausted, and Blanche wondered if she hadn’t overdone it. There was supposed to be a balance so she didn’t feel like complete shit afterwards. But as she turned on her heel, giving a quiet goodbye to Morgan as she trudged back to her jeep, she started to think that maybe the energy she spent on the seance wasn’t the only reason why she didn’t feel well.

[ivegotthefanficinme]

Freedom Part 10 Mandalorian X Reader

Summary: An escaped slave owned by the Hutt clan, with the knowledge of dark clan secrets.  A bounty is set and the best hunter in the parsec is hired, The Mandalorian. Two vastly different paths cross. Both are scarred physically and mentally by their past. Can they ever truly be free? *SLOW BURN*

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of slavery, PTSD, Rape implications, FLUFF, Language

Word Count: 3.2K

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (You are here) Part 11

You were cold when you woke up on the floor of the cell. For a brief moment, you couldn’t remember the events that had occurred just a few hours ago or maybe it was a few days ago… You do remember drifting in and out of consciousness for some time. It wasn’t until you drew Din’s tattered cloak closer and opened your eyes, met with the sight of Din’s frozen form, that everything came rushing back to you.

“Oh maker,” you choke.

You rise to your feet, chains clanging, they carry you over to the carbonite panel. His dried blood cracked and flaking off of you as you walk. You set your palms against his frozen chest, grateful that they hadn’t stripped him of his shirt and helmet. His creed hadn’t been broken… at least not by them. 

In all the time you had known him, he had always been on the quieter side, only speaking when needed. But you had gotten used to the rise and fall of his chest, his occasional sigh, and the words he would whisper against your ears at night. 

But now he was eerily silent and still. You sigh, resting your forehead against his unmoving chest, tears escape from your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Din. I will find a way to get you out of this. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Deep down you know Din would protest, telling you not to do something stupid, not to sacrifice your body for his life, no matter what the cost. 

But you would, you would do whatever it took to get him back. 

In the carbonite Din could hear your sobs, so close that he knew you had to be right in front of him. It hurt, but he at least knew you were still alive.

“I love you,” he hears you say, and his heart shattered. Although it hurt, it hurt him so much, but it was a pleasant break from the pain that radiated from his back.

You stayed there, with your hands pressed against him, your forehead resting against his chest as you hatched a plan. A plan that should at least free him, and yourself… if everything went according to it.

You jump when you hear the door open, maybe you would get your chance.

Turning, your eyes land on Grahvix, he lacks his finer robes, leaning against the door in just a plain shirt and long pants. You try to hide your exposed body from Grahvix underneath Din’s tattered cloak.

He watches you silently for a few moments. 

“A Mandalorian hm?” He asks.

You nod, silent.

“That was the same one I had sent after you. How did you manage to get your grimy claws into him?” 

He stands, slowly making his way across the room. 

Din could hear him, he could hear Grahvix’ boots thump across the floor. He backs you up against Din’s solid form.

Your heart races.

“It’s been days since I last had you…” Grahvix growls.

Grahvix’ words echo in Din’s head, anger flares up inside him that he can do nothing to quench. He would love nothing more than to send a blaster bolt through his head… or just vaporize him altogether.

Grahvix’ hands explore your body as you are trapped. Trapped between the frozen form of the man you love and very much alive form of the man you hated with every fiber of your being. 

His hand finds your throat, squeezing slightly as he forces you to look up into his eyes.

“Should I take you right here? Here, so your Mandalorian can hear your every cry?” 

“Do it,” you hiss, “Do it and see what he does to you when he is unfrozen.”

Your chained hands trail down his chest as you try not to cringe, barely breathing, his grip on your throat too tight. You make it down to his hips, feeling what you want in his pocket, but he seems to realize what you are doing, his hand tightens around your throat.

“Oh no, you don’t ever get to have that.”

Your hands fly up to his wrist trying desperately to release it so you can breathe.

“You forget,” he sneers, “You don’t have to be awake for me to take what I want. Even if your screams are a chorus to my ears.”

Black spots start to appear in your eyes as you struggle against him, your lungs scream for air, but none comes to rescue them.

Your hands drop, eyelids fluttering as blackness envelops you again.

***

This time you wake up to the sound of blaster bolts outside the door. 

You scurry to Din, still frozen in the panel as you stare intensely at the door. Your body aches from what Grahvix had done to you while you were unconscious, but your thoughts don’t dwell on that for very long.

Maybe someone else had come to free you? Maybe Limax had pissed off the wrong person?

The door of the cell is literally blasted off of its hinges, clattering to the floor. Two figures enter the room, their eyes quickly landing on you next to Din’s frozen form.

One of them, a woman with broad shoulders and more muscle than most men, speaks first.

“Are you Y/N?”

You nod, clutching Din’s cloak.

The other, a man with dark skin, grins suddenly. “Well, it's nice to meet you!”

The woman looks away from you, taking in Din’s frozen form. 

“What the fuck happened?”

The man starts laughing, “He looks like one of his own bounties.”

The woman shakes her head, “Oh man, he is never going to live this down. Let's get you two out of here.”

“Who-” you rasp, barely able to speak.

“Cara Dune, and that’s Karga. We’re friends of Mando’s,” the woman answers.

You breathe a sigh of relief, turning to the panel next to you.

“We need to get him out of that, but it's only operated with a remote and I don’t have it. Grahvix does,” you say.

“Are you injured?” Karga asks.

You shake your head, the bacta Din had given you had pretty much healed your back, and save for the bruising around your neck and the deep purple splotches at your hips, you are okay physically.

A blaster is placed into your hands, and you notice that Din’s chest plate and blaster are slung across Cara’s back.

“You know how to use one?” Cara asks you.

“He taught me,” you nod towards Din.

“Let’s get that remote then we will come back and unfreeze him,” Karga says, setting a hand on your shoulder.

You jump at his touch and he immediately pulls away.

You brush your fingers against Din’s unmoving chest, “I’ll be back, then we will get you out of there.”

Din had been so grateful when he heard Cara and Karga. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance at getting out of here now.

You follow Cara out of the room, with Karga trailing behind you. In a whisper, you give Cara directions to Grahvix’ personal chamber. A place you had been many times before. After you had found the control on him, you doubted that he would continue to carry it with him. Likely hiding it in his chambers to limit your access to it.

You arrive at the door punching in the code you’d seen a thousand times. Nine. Seven. Three. Five. It slides open and the three of you step into the dark room.

“Alright, start looking,” you whisper.

They dig through his things as you head towards the bed. The bed that… you didn’t want to think about all the things he had done to you on that bed.

You open the drawer of the small cupboard next to the bed and find the remote set down neatly on top of a few papers. 

“I found it,” you sigh.

With the remote held tightly in your hand, your group races back to the cell. You hoped that no one had discovered you missing and moved Din in the process.

You step back into the cell and sigh in relief. Din was still there.

“I’m gonna get you out of that stuff,” you say, walking over to him.

You press the button on the small remote and look back up at Din. The carbonite starts to glow a bright red as it thaws and melts away.

Din collapses to the floor before you can grab him, his wounds on his back already starting to bleed again. You drop to your knees next to him helping him turn over and pulling him against you.

“Damn, Mando, they did a number on you,” says Karga as he leans against the wall.

Din groans in pain as a response.

“You’re out, it’s okay,” you whisper to him.

“How-how long?” He asks, his voice shaking.

“A week, maybe a little more,” you reply.

“Maker, its hard to tell time. Are you- are you alright, Y/N? I heard him… hurting you…” He trails off as he sets his cold gloved hand against your cheek.

“I’m alright.”

Cara lets out a puff of air, “Well, great reunion between you and your woman Mando, but we need to get the two of you out of here.”

You nod, helping Din to his feet. With one arm slung around your shoulders for support, Cara hands him his blaster.

“Let’s go.” He nods.

You hesitate for a moment.

“If I leave, what is going to keep Grahvix from sending more bounty hunters after me?

Din sighs, “There is only one way for us to take care of that, you know that right?”

You nod, “It will be safer for all of us, and for many others.”

Din’s voice crackles throughout the modulator as he takes a step, “Then let's take care of this.”

With your support, Din takes careful steps out of the cell.

“To the main room,” he says, “We make our stand there.”

You and Din lead the way, with Cara and Karga making sure that no armed guards surprise you from behind.

Grahvix and Limax seem to be surprised when your small group arrives. 

“How-” Grahvix is cut off as Cara and Karga shoot down the guards before they can even draw their blasters.

Limax grunts, clearly upset by these actions.

Din, even in his weakness, draws you closer to him.

“You aren’t going to survive your punishment this time,” says Grahvix.

“There will be no more punishments given from you,” Din rasps.

Grahvix’ lip twitches as you silently take the blaster from Din.

Now Grahvix turns to you, his lustful eyes devouring your body, at least what could be seen under Din’s tattered cloak.

“You wouldn’t dare leave here again? You know what will happen,” Grahvix sneers.

“You just can’t stand the idea that I might find love, and that you won’t own my body,” You shake your head, your heart racing.

Grahvix huffs, now angry. He starts down the steps, “I’m going to kill-”

He gets cut off by a blaster bolt slicing right between his eyes.

You let out the breath you had been holding, the blaster still aimed at the place Grahvix’s head had just been. You lower it slightly, your mind hazy.

Limax lets out a howl as you pull the trigger again. The bolt singeing the arm of Grahvix’s dead body. You pull the trigger again, and again, and again.

Angry tears run down your face, like every shot is going to take away your years of pain.

“Y/N…” Din calls, “Y/N… Y/N stop…” He rests his gloved hand on your wrist, gently pushing it down, pointing the blaster to the floor. “He is dead, you can stop now.”

“I-I-” You stutter, vision blurred by tears.

“You’re safe. He is dead… Y/N,” Din says softly, “Y/N, let me have the blaster.”

He gently pulls it from your fingers as you stand frozen, unable to comprehend what you just did.

The sounds of Limax’ guttural howling echo in your ears.

“You three get back to the ship. I’ll deal with the Hutt and meet you there,” says Cara.

Din nods, not protesting as he leans on you for support.

Karga leads the way out of the palace. For several moments you aren’t sure if you are clinging to Din for dear life, or if he is clinging to you both to stay upright, and for dear life. 

A slow but steady pace carries you away from the nightmare.

A loud boom echoed through the air, followed by another boom that shakes the ground under your feet.

Just a few moments later, Cara reappears, a grin plastered to her face as she tries to wipe a yellow slime from her face and hair.

“What did you-” Din starts.

“What I love to do, blow stuff up. Limax burst like a bubble, there were yellow slug guts everywhere,” she laughs. 

Your eyes go wide, “He’s dead?”

“Oh yeah, very dead. You won’t have to worry about him or Grahvix ever again.” She pats your shoulder.

Suddenly, Din starts to collapse, his weight pulling you to the ground.

“Din? Din are you alright?” you ask, trying to control his fall and your own as much as you could. He sits into the dust with a huff.

“Dizzy…” he breathes, “Feel like I’m about to pass out…”

“We need to get him back to the ship as fast as possible. I think his back is worse than I had thought,” you say. 

With Cara’s help, you get Din back on his feet and your group continues to the Razor Crest.

In just a few moments you and Cara drag Din up the ramp and into the ship, setting him down on the small cot where the two of you had nursed many injuries. 

“We’ll be right back with more supplies,” Karga says, following Cara out of the ship.

You turn back to Din lying in the cot.

“It feels like we were just here…” you whisper, “When I was patching you up before.”

His hand catches yours, “But this time you are safe.”

You sigh, “Turn over Din, I need to look at your back.”

He groans as you help him turn over on the bed. Biting your lip, you stifle a gasp as you catch the sight of his back.

The lashes hadn’t been able to scab over while he was in the carbonite, every lash was a dark angry red and crusted with puss.

“How bad?” Din rasps through his modulator.

“It's pretty bad,” you breathe, “I’m not… I’m not sure where to start.”

A loud coo interrupts your thoughts, you turn around and find Cara holding a small green bundle and Karga with a large case full of medical supplies.

The child reaches for you and you hold him against you grateful that he was okay.

“Din, Din he’s okay. Looks like Cara took good care of him,” you turn to him, holding the child down for him to see through his visor. 

He lets out a sigh, “Good to see you womp rat.”

The child cries suddenly, noticing the wounds on Din’s back.

“I know buddy, he’s hurt pretty bad,” you whisper.

The child struggles against you until you place him down next to Din on the bed.

Turning away for a moment, you motion for Karga to set down the supplies so you can start searching for what you need.

You gather up some bacta patches and more bandages. You hear Din groan behind you. You turn seeing the child with its small hand pressed against Din’s back. 

“Hey!” you exclaim. 

Din groans again, but this time it doesn’t seem to be in pain… more in relief.

You reach down to grab the child but the wounds that had once been on Din’s back were gone. 

“Wha-”

Din starts to push himself up as the child collapses on the bed, snoring.

“He-he does that sometimes… I don’t know how but he does,” Din rasps, he looks up at Cara and Karga who just stand there dumbfounded.

“He-He did the magic hands…” Karga stutters.

Din chuckles, nodding. 

“Thanks for looking after him for me. Could you two… could you two give us some time alone? We can catch up on everything later, I just need…” he trails off, his visor set on me.

Cara nods as Karga waves his hand. “Debrief later then.”

They step down the ramp heading back to their own ship, leaving Din, the child, and me in the Razor crest.

Din sighs, “It’s been a while since we had a moment alone.”

“It has,” I agree.

We sit there awkwardly next to each other on the cot. 

“I’m sorry…” you whisper.

He turns to look at you through his visor, “For what?”

You shrug, refraining from looking him in the eyes… or rather visor in this case. 

“For getting you sucked into my mess. For you receiving seventy-five lashes on my behalf. For you being frozen in carbonite. For you being out in so much pain because of me,” you ramble.

“Stop,” he says, shaking his head.

Tears well up in your eyes, “Oh Din, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. All of this has been my fault.”

“Stop,” he repeats.

“It’s my fault. Your blood is on my hands now. I-”

“Damn it, Y/N. I said stop,” he gently sets his hands on your shoulders. At some point he had taken off his gloves, his warm calloused thumbs rub circles into your soft skin.

Tears still run down your cheeks, but you have quit talking as he removes his hands, slowly reaching up and removing his helmet.

“This was not your fault…. Besides, it is over now. You are safe, I am safe. It’s okay,” his deep voice melodic in your ears.

Your eyes trace his face. Chapped but supple lips, prickly scruff along his jaw and upper lip, and the deep brown eyes that you could get lost in.

“I worried about you,” he whispers now, “I hadn’t slept in days when I finally found you. And when I did… you were so broken. They hurt you so badly. I didn’t care what they did to me as long as they didn’t hurt you anymore.”

“Din…” you whimper, feeling a twinge of pain in your heart at his words.

“But we are safe now.”

His eyes slip shut as he rests his forehead against your own.

“I’m sorry I broke my promise to you, but I will make it again, and this time I will keep it even if it kills me,” his hands cup your cheeks, “I will never let anyone hurt you again. Never… even if it kills me.”

Your soft sobs are muffled by his chapped lips pressing against your own ever so gently. 

He pulls away, his own chest shuttering.

“I’ve cared for you and the child more than anything else since I lost my parents. I thought I was going to lose you too. I just… I couldn’t stand the loss…” he manages to control his breath but the pain was there. You could hear it. 

He brings you up against him, his warmth soaking through his tattered shirt and there he holds you as you both fall apart in each other's arms.

To Be Continued... 

A/N:

I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to update. School got kinda crazy during the first half of the semester, but now its all online... so we will see how this goes. Hope you all liked the chapter, there is still more to this story!

Tags:

@lokilover-39 @fleurdemiel145 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @70sgubler @pascalisthepunkest @ispilledmyink @imaginebeinlovedbyme @fastidious-and-a-mess @taman-a @yumisaru @whos-too-bi @frantheseer @retrobhaddie @aeryntheofficial @renreypoe

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - I’m Sticking with You 

A/N – Here it is to keep you all company in quarantine. Also, this reminds me of a fave song of mine: Honey by Bobby Goldsboro. As usual a special thank you to @rocksinmuffin​ for starting this off with the amazing prompts.

Warnings – Mentions of suicide and mnemosurgery.

Rating – T

Swerve sat at a table inside his hab-suite, holding a gun in his servo. It wasn’t fancy or large; it was little more than a pistol really, but it would do the job. He thought he’d feel something about his upcoming demise, but after spending all of his tears on you, there was nothing left to feel. Still, Swerve didn’t think he deserved a quick and painless death. That was why he was spending a short while re-watching his memories of you; it would help further twist the proverbial knife to cause a little extra pain.

“(Y/N), my dearest, my darling, my everything,” Swerve said to the paused memory that only he could see. “I always knew this day would come. I knew if we ever got together you would eventually learn that I was no good for you and that you would leave. Admittedly, I was being selfish when I married you. I hoped… I wish we could have had a bit longer together before you went away.”

He sighed, finding that he wasn’t out of tears for you as he previously thought he was. The coolant slipped unchecked down his cheek and Swerve continued his monologue, though his vocaliser was heavy with static as he did so.

“No matter what happens, or wherever I end up after this, I want you to know, I will always love you, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

With that, he played the memory he had been saving till last; it would be the last thing he saw before taking the fatal shot.

The memory was one of the many times that you had sang the Velvet Underground’s ‘I’m Sticking with You.’

Swerve’s frame shook with his final tears. He couldn’t keep his servos steady as he lifted the pistol.

‘Anything you want me too

I'll do anything for you

Oh, I'm sticking with you

Oh, I'm sticking with you

Oh, I'm sticking with you.’

The song drew to an end and Swerve closed his optics. He held the pistol barrel to his helm, vented air through his systems and put his finger over the trigger.

Ultra Magnus ran to the holding cell. Only minutes ago, he had made a check on the security cameras, which was where he saw Whirl unmoving in a pool of his own energon; if he had ever thought Whirl to be suicidal, he would never have sent him to solitary confinement.

Slamming his palm against the cell’s scanner, he opened the door. He scanned Whirl, finding him alive, barely. Rushing to his aid, Ultra Magnus applied pressure to the stab wound whilst calling Ratchet and Velocity for medical assistance.

Fortunately, while Ultra Magnus was doing all that he could to save Whirl, he didn’t miss the giant note on the cell wall. His optics widened in surprise and he sent out an all-bot-alert to find out who was the closest to Swerve’s room. It was Chromedome who responded first, with a general message of curiosity.

Ultra Magnus thanked Primus that he had go in touch with one of the bots who knew just how important a Conjunx Endurae was.

“Chromedome, you must take this message to Swerve immediately. (Y/N) did not leave him intentionally. An accident must have caused the Rod Pod to malfunction. He needs to know.”

“What are you going to do?” Chromedome responded, concerned for your safety as he had been since the moment you left.

Ultra Magnus didn’t mention his priority to Whirl. Instead he simply answered, “Organise a rescue party. Now tell Swerve. Go!”

That was around ten minutes before Swerve picked up the gun that could end his life.

You pressed a servo to a dent in your helm, already regretting the damage that had come to your new body. Fortunately, it was mostly just scraped paint, but you still felt the occasional twinge of pain from another bump elsewhere. Then again, you felt you could live with a bit of minor damage to your systems. After the Rod-Pod crash-landed on the alien planet, you knew your previous human body would have died upon impact.

Orienting yourself, you stood up, feeling nauseous when the ship lurched forward. You stood as still as you could, waiting to see if it would make any more sudden movements. When you thought it was safe, you walked across the ceiling of the upside-down ship to the control panel.

“Ship,” You called, hoping it might respond. “Rod-Pod? If I say I’m Rodimus will you wake up please?”

The ship didn’t respond. You had hoped it might at least send out a warning or an error code or something, but it seemed completely destroyed. You didn’t even think there was any power left in it since the screen and lights were off.

You remained perfectly calm as you kicked at the ship’s entrance, taking a few goes before it broke open. You stumbled out into a desert comprised of fine white sand wherever you looked.

“Great, I couldn’t have landed in a city or near a town. No, I had to land on fucking Tatooine.”

‘Ugh,’ You thought dismally, ‘More like discount Tatooine. At least real Tatooine had some buildings…somewhere.’

Still, you were Cybertronian now. Maybe somewhere in your brain was instructions to repair the Rod-Pod. You looked at the crashed ship, noting for the first time that the exterior was on fire. There was no way in hell you were repairing that.

Trying to hold onto your previous sense of serenity, you thought about how Whirl had taught you to bring your optics online during your previous panic attack. If making a call was anything like that, maybe you could call Swerve. You hoped you could. Not only were you in need of rescue from the desert planet, you also needed him to know you were sorry, that you still loved him, and most importantly, that you would get back to him, no matter what.

“If Marlin the fish can get his son from a dentist in Sydney, I can do this. Uh, body, call Swerve,” You commanded.

Nothing happened.

“Please, call Swerve?”

You closed your optics and pictured your old communicator as well as Swerve’s face. ‘Please… I need him. Please don’t cut him out of my life.’

You grew both frustrated and upset when several more attempts at calling your husband didn’t work. What if it was the dent in your head causing interference? Or maybe you were too far away from Swerve for anything to happen? Was that possible? You had never thought to ask Swerve how his body worked; it had simply never come up in casual conversation. Suddenly a truly dreadful thought hit you. What if word of your departure had reached him already? He wouldn’t think you had left him, would he? He wasn’t the most stable bot at the best of times, and you knew the way his separation anxiety and fears of being inadequate could course him to self-destruct.

“CALL SWERVE!” You screamed at yourself, fearing for his well-being. “NOW! I- I need to know that he’s safe. Please…” You fell to your knees, crying and holding your head in your servos, “Please, call Swerve.”

Once again you were left with nothing but the deafening silence that surrounded you on the barren planet, but you weren’t ready to give up. At least, you thought you weren’t until you heard the rumbling of engines. Looking to the horizon, you saw five vehicles that looked like quad-bikes in the distance, the riders of which were hidden under white body armour.

Venting air through your systems in a manner that simultaneously soothed you and freaked you out, you decided to take a long walk away from the Rod-Pod. You had heard tales of the scavengers that lived on barren planets. They had probably been travelling since you crashed, hoping to steal whatever was left over from the ship. Yet, as you moved further to the left, so did the bikes. You continued moving further away from the Rod-Pod, but the bikes changed course to match yours. You prayed that they were coming to your aid, yet as they got closer, you saw the giant crossbows come up from the vehicles subspaces.

If you were still human you would have broken into a sweat. As a Cybertronian you couldn’t do that, but you still had your fight and flight response to work with. You ran. Every so often, you would risk a look behind you, hoping that you would be able to scan one of the vehicles and transform. As with your earlier attempts to call Swerve, nothing happened when you tried to transform. The only thing you did find from occasionally looking back was that the organics chasing you weren’t actually wearing white body armour; they were the armour, so to speak. You supposed it had to be some kind of exoskeleton, stretched over long bony limbs that stuck hideously outwards.

You kept on running, putting all the power in your new legs into fleeing the monstrous organics. What had started off as the Star Wars experience had quickly turned into a bad remake of Mad Max: Fury Road.

You wished that having a Cybertronian body could have been as easy as having a human body, but apparently without instructions or a mentor, you were useless. You couldn’t call for help, you couldn’t transform, and worst of all, you couldn’t outrun your hunters. That much became clear as you saw them gaining in your peripheral view. What you didn’t see was the two quadbikes behind you aiming their crossbows for your arms, though you soon felt it. Screaming in pain, you fell to your knees.

Although it was probably futile, you fought the waves of searing hot pain, forcing yourself back up and facing off against your eerily silent attackers. You pulled against the barbed hook in your left arm, trying to remove it. However, no amount of brute strength could save you from the electrical charge that both crossbow bolts emitted, coursing through your systems to temporarily shut them down. This time, when you fell to the ground, you didn’t get back up, and the raiders were free to claim you as their prize.

Chromedome pelted down the hallway, making his way to Swerve to tell him the partially good news. He couldn’t wait to see Swerve’s face when he told him that you hadn’t left him and it was only going to be a matter of tracking the Rod-Pod’s trajectory to find you and bring you home to him.

Without even bothering to knock, Chromedome burst into Swerve’s hab-suite, shocked to find Swerve holding a gun to his own helm. As quickly as he had entered the room, Chromedome wrestled Swerve to the table, which wasn’t too difficult considering how much smaller Swerve was compared to Chromedome.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Chromedome yelled in a panic.

“GET OFF ME!” Swerve cried out in a mix of anger and pleading. “I NEED TO DO THIS!”

“NO, YOU DON’T. YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N).”

“DON’T! Don’t Mention her name please,” Swerve voice fell to a whisper and he stopped struggling against Chromedome, though he still reached for the gun which was only a short way from his grasp. “I failed her, Chromedome. I failed her and she hates me. My wife… My wife hates me.”

Chromedome had been to the emotional prison that Swerve was trapped in many times before. He had lost count of the amount of times that he had visited relinquishment clinics on Cybertron, preparing for the day he might snuff out his own spark. He knew from those experiences that Swerve wouldn’t just believe him if he told the truth about you. Instead, Swerve would think it was all an elaborate lie to stop him from ending his life. That left Chromedome with the problem of what to do.

Without thinking about it, Chromedome held Swerve down more firmly, releasing his mnemosurgery needles from the tips of his fingers. He told himself he was doing this for Swerve. After all, he was only planning to remove the memories of your departure until Swerve was in a safe place for him to explain everything. If Rewind was there, he would have told Chromedome that he was only doing it for himself, and that mnemosurgery was both addictive and evil; Primus knew they had had the argument enough times in the past, but if Rewind wasn’t around to see it, then it didn’t matter if Chromedome fell back into old habits and performed one tiny memory rewrite, did it?

“What are you doing?” Swerve asked, feeling the panic rise inside him. He began struggling again, babbling as he did so, “Chromedome, did I hear a shunk? I distinctly heard a shunk. Was that your needles? You can’t rewrite my memories. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done. CHROMEDOME, I MEAN IT! DON’T YOU DARE CHANGE ME! DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Shhh,” Chromedome hushed the mini-bot in a tone that was supposed to be comforting but sounded only menacing to Swerve. “It’s all going to be all right. In a few minutes, it will all be over.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, followed by Rung’s soft voice, “Swerve, are you in there?”

Chromedome cursed and covered Swerve’s mouth. Seeing the needles that were to wipe his memories only made Swerve panic more, and he was afraid that he might purge his tanks, even if his mouth his covered.

Rung continued speaking, used to being met by the silence of his patients when they had been through something traumatic, “I was just finished with work today and I thought you might like some company.”

Throwing his head from side-to-side rapidly, Swerve managed to shake Chromedome’s servo loose, “HELP! HE’S GONNA RE-WRITE-”

Chromedome pushed Swerve’s helm into the table, and whispered in his audial-receptor, “I’m helping you, idiot.”

But it was too late for Chromedome, Rung had heard enough in that cry for help and had used his all-access pass to enter the hab-suite. He took everything in, made a note to work with Chromedome to save him from his mnemosurgery surgery addiction, and called security all in the space of under a minute. For now, Swerve was safe and alive, though Swerve knew it wouldn’t be long before his second attempt to journey to the afterspark.

You woke up in a metal cell and you didn’t have to touch the bars to know they were electrified; evidently, you new body had better hearing than your previous one, allowing you to hear the hum of a strong electrical current. You wondered whether you should call for a guard to see what they were going to do with you, but what was the point? You would probably find out soon enough anyway.

Sitting up in the corner of the cell, you examined the damage to your arms. You had always thought that Cybertronians didn’t feel much pain compared to humans, but evidently you were wrong. The only difference between the two species was how resilient Cybertronians were. Whoever your kidnappers were, they knew how to get past Cybertronian resistances.

You heaved a sigh and winced as you put your arms down. You thought about trying to call Swerve again but decided against it. He was probably trying to call you, and if he couldn’t do it then you had to be too far away.

‘Swerve…’ You thought of him and all the ways he made you happy. Being without him since the first time you were married only made you morose as you sat with nothing but the hum of the fence to keep you company.

This could be the last night of your life before it came to an untimely end. With that in mind, you thought of Swerve and started to sing.

“I'm sticking with you,

Cause I'm made out of glue.

Anything that you might do,

I'm gonna do too.”

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[azwriting]

30 and 42 with Kylo :)

Tension (Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader) 

Summary: Reader is a Knight of Ren who has feelings for the Supreme Leader, something the other Knights enjoy teasing her about.

Prompt: “Hold me back!” + “Can I hold your hand?” 

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, 

Word Count: 1873

Muddy boots slapped against the floor of the new Star Destroyer, heavy breathing coming from behind each thick black mask. The Knights of Ren moved with such power each lieutenant and Stormtrooper messily hurried to clear the way for them, eyes always lingering on the imposing figures and trail of sludge they left in their wake. The sanitation division would not be thrilled…

Commander (Y/L/N) led the group of five behind her, in the absence of their Supreme Leader who had not been able to accompany them on their recent mission. Although Supreme Leader Ren had no quarry about leaving his second in command, a fellow Knight in charge of the rest. She was a well trained fighter and leader, someone he would always want by his side and in return she wanted to be by his. 

Underneath her mask, (Y/N) let a small smile work its way onto her face, fond thoughts of Kylo Ren plaguing her mind. He was tall, powerful, and beautiful underneath that mask. A massive part of her that she tried to bury deep down, wondered what it would feel like to be pinned underneath him as his plump lips pressed hot kisses against her skin. 

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) returned to the hallway, trying to shake away the heat blossoming inside her at the thought. There was an unspoken thing between them, a tension so thick that it could not be cut with a knife, but she only ever believed it was because of her own hidden feelings. It was unprofessional to have such lustful thoughts, but it was more unprofessional to make crude jokes about the unresolved feelings.

“Do you think (Y/N)’s mask will shatter from all the tension building between her and Ren? Vicrul asked, laughing to himself. (Y/N) stiffened at his words, but stayed silent moving through the seemingly endless halls of the ship. 

“It’s possible, Ren already broke his!” Ap’Lek joined in, both unaware of the second in command tightly clenching her staffs at their blatant disrespect. (Y/N) had to quietly remind herself it was not up to her to discipline them, surely when Kylo caught wind of their teasing he would handle it himself. She just had to hope they would not say anything to set her off. 

“Should we send them off on their own mission so they can be forced to face the truth?” Cardo asked trying to be quiet, but failing. 

“Perhaps both of them wouldn’t be so uptight if they just fucked!”

(Y/N) spun on her heel before she had time to digest the words flowing out from Vicrul’s mask. “That is enough!” She barked, switching on each of her staffs, blue crackling electricity emitting from each end. The other knights stepped to the sides, not wanting to get in the middle of the eventual fight. 

(Y/N) could practically feel the smugness radiating off of Vicrul. He was pleased to have gotten underneath her skin. He unsheathed his blade and held it forward as she twirled her two staffs, the electric currents humming out in the tense air. He nodded once, irking her even more, before her staffs came down harshly against his blade. 

The sound echoed through the halls, but they paid no attention, the two Knights too busy attacking each other. (Y/N) ducked as Vicrul’s blade came swooping down on her, only to end up lodged into the side paneling for the ship. He yanked on it, but to no avail it stayed cemented into the wall. She smirked slightly, standing back up to her full height, and swung at him. He too ducked down quick, but (Y/N) shoved a muddy boot into his abdomen, sending him stumbling backwards now with no sword. The other Knights watched in amusement until (Y/N) stalked forward ready to deliver the final blow to an unarmed Vicrul. 

Kuruk quickly butted in, wrapping his arms around her while Trudgen ripped her staffs from her hands. She struggled against Kuruk, “That’s right, hold me back!” 

Vicrul laughed and steam about poured from her ears, “You’re only proving my point!” With nothing in her grasp to inflict pain, she did the next best thing, she hurled her helmet at him. He dodged it with ease, only laughing louder. 

“Just wait until I get my hands on you, you bantha fodder!” She shouted, voice no longer modified, unaware of the incoming heavy boots.

“Is there a problem here?” (Y/N) stopped struggling in Kuruk’s grasp, looking back to see the towering build of the Supreme Leader, his eyes observing the scene before him undoubtedly. She cleared her throat, pushing Kuruk’s loosening arms off of her. 

“No, we were just having some fun Supreme Leader.” His mask drifted down to look at her distressed state, an undeniable tension between them. 

“I’m sure you two would like to have some fun.” Vicrul mumbled from behind her. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, moving faster than anyone could process. She ripped one of her black staffs from Trudgen’s hands and pressed the sizzling blue electricity into Vicrul’s chest. He flew backwards onto the ground, groaning and clutching his torso in agony. A smirk fell on (Y/N)’s lips, pleased with her work, but still she stepped forward ready to further imprint the message into his mind: Do not talk about her or the Supreme Leader. 

Before she could even take another step, she was hoisted up into the air, her abdomen hitting a hard shoulder as she was carried away someone. But not just anybody, no she knew just who carried her away by the size of the hand splayed across the back of her legs and the warmth seeping up through the layers of black beneath her.

 Kylo Ren.

Kylo carted her through the Destroyer, officer heads swiveling to take quick odd looks before their eyes would duck away afraid to be caught watching the odd sight. (Y/N) did not fight against him, it would only prove to be futile, instead she just rested her head in her hands and used the time to calm her anger. She knew she could not give anything away, if she had not already, when it came time to him questioning her outburst. He could not know the feelings she harbored. Kylo came to a stop and entered the access code to a door before entering with her in tow.

 Her eyes flickered around, gulping lowly at the realization that she was in his quarters. His massive hands slid up her black robes and placed her down onto the edge of his bed. Her eyes lifted to find his mask already looking down at her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he leaned back against the opposite wall, arms crossing as if he had all the time in the world.

“What happened back there?” His voice came out rougher than usual and she mildly feared the possible repercussions. He had never gotten angry with her before, well the only time being when she had gotten injured on a mission, but she had him were always on the same wavelength. Another reason they worked together so well.

“Nothing Supreme Leader-” 

He cut her off, “Kylo.”

 Her eyebrows furrowed unsure as to why he always insisted she called him Kylo, instead of Supreme Leader which everyone else was required to call him. 

“Nothing Kylo, I allowed Vicrul to get under my skin. It will not happen again.” She sighed, eyes falling down as she tugged off her gloves. 

“What did he say?” His voice was softer, a hint of concern woven into it. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the Knights words and what they had been insinuating about the two of them. They were right on her end, which was most likely why she reacted so aggressively. 

“He mocked my fighting abilities.” She lied straight through her teeth, giving him a curt nod to sell it.

 “And that’s why you went feral out in the hallway and destroyed stuff?” 

(Y/N) winced, “I’m sorry.” 

Kylo let out a loud sigh, arms uncrossing, “Don’t be sorry, just tell me the truth.” (Y/N) dropped her head, fiddling with her fingers. She could not lie to him it seemed, her knew her better than that. She only feared that her words would either anger him or repulse him to no end. 

“Vicrul was insinuating that there was something going on between you and I. Which there isn’t, but it was still infuriating nonetheless.: She quickly added at the end, her eyes refusing to meet his hidden ones.

Kylo was quiet, too quiet, for far too long, but she did not dare to move or speak. “There isn’t?” 

(Y/N)’s head flew up immediately in shock over his question. Her lips parted unsure what to say, only knowing that she wished to see his face instead of the cold mask that concealed his expressive face. 

“Is there?” She questioned grasping her bottom lip in between her teeth. 

“I don’t know.” His hands released the gears of his mask and pulled it off in one swift move. As their eyes met no longer interrupted by the mask, she could not help but offer him a small smile, knowing he had heard her thoughts. His lips twitched slightly, almost unnoticeably as he took slow hesitant steps forward. 

As he drew closer, (Y/N)’s chest tightened, nervous about the thick tension hanging around them. Kylo kneeled down before her, eyes holding onto hers with uncertainty. Carefully he plucked each of his fingers out of his gloves, discarding them to the side without a second thought. His large calloused hands ran over the fabric covering her knees, drifting closer.

 “Can I hold your hand?” He asked, a light blush turning his face a sweet pink. (Y/N) had to blink a few times to process the lovely sight. She even wanted to laugh at the notion of the fearless Supreme Leader of the First Order asking to hold her hand, but during their time by each other side she grew to know the uncertainty that resided in him. So instead she slipped her hand into his waiting one. A soft sigh fell from both of their mouths at the contact, a spark igniting a wild fire inside them. 

(Y/N) lifted her free hand and rested it on Kylo’s warm cheek, a groan tumbling out from his plump lips. Oh how his unfiltered noises were music to her ears. He pressed his face deeper into her hand, basking in the long awaited contact. She smiled at the sight, content that her pinning had been mutual, that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. There was an unspoken thing between them and it was beautiful. 

Biting her lip (Y/N) leaned forward, “You can do more than hold my hand.” Her lips gently grazed across his and a loud moan sounded from deep in his throat, before he eagerly closed the gap.

Much to her dismay, Vicrul was right and was about to be paid a lot of credits from the other Knights and even General Hux.

Taglist: 

@sporkedlooser

[sketchyracoon]

I may have lost any semblance of control on my life i had before. Among Us AU details under the cut.

Many of them have accents. I had the idea that they were from a big like multi-country space project and fell in love with the idea of the American(s) on the ship just startling the others because of things like the lack of bidets in the US.

Red (Elliot) is 38, is a Texan and you can tell he says Ya'll as a descriptor and many of the others are slightly fearful of the way he mashes words together. his whole personality can be summed up with "I'm a cowboy baby" and the fact that he's angy.

If I'm honest he is the only American on board that really startles the other crewmates even the other Americans are like "hey dude chill".

Orange (Herbert) is 27 probably from France (haven't really decided yet) and he was more confident before shock horror bad things happened to the whole crew. (More on that at five). Herbert is also very easily overwhelmed, he tries to pay attention but is often confused.  I’ve also decided to change the egg on his head to be a hat in the future but I decided that after I drew the egg.

Pink (Eun-Jung) is 29, South Korean but he got some schooling in Britain and has probably traveled a lot. He looks soft but he can and will throw a mean punch. He and Herbert have crushes on each other but they kinda put it to the side when shit went down. There have been many times however when Eun-Jung has sat down with Herbert and calmed him down and dried his tears.

Green (Philip) is one of the younger crewmates being 22, he's a very studious lad he loves adventure novels and always wanted to go to space.

Especially after watching shows and reading books about space. He keeps trying to get together group DND nights but it's very hard for him to cater to everyone's interests cause he's the kind of DM that wants everyone to have fun but he also has a lot planned for a session but nothing ever happens because everyone is always goofing off. He still has fun tho and so does everyone else.

White is Angie, If I'm honest I named her that because of the halo she's wearing, and I thought it'd be funny. She is a not so single once single mother who lost her husband when her kid was born. She used to live in England but moved to Ireland for new scenery and for the space project.

She and black (Jolene) met in school and quickly fell in love. They Are Married! And the whole crew hates (loves) how sappy they are. Angie is stubborn and strong but also very kind and level-headed, she's not easily overwhelmed like Herbert is but when she does get overwhelmed, she doesn't crumble like he does. Doesn't mean her wife doesn't comfort her tho.

They both are in their late forties (Angie is 48 and Jolene is 49) and I named Jolene, Jolene because of the song. Jolene is Irish btw idk if I made that clear. And she is the definition of a chaotic lesbian, Angie tries very hard to keep her air of being a distinguished bi but she's also very chaotic at heart. They both are greying hair-wise but Jolene keeps covering it up with dye. Jolene thinks her wife looks very elegant with the white in her curls. Jolene can be summed up with that one Tumblr post story about a girl who told a girl she liked that "her air must be mad crisp" because of her plants.

Cyan (Tea) is Scandinavian and listen this like Eun-Jung's name is where is gets shaky google wise, and if this name isn't really a Scandinavian than I guess it's just an eccentric nickname. (I’m assuming it’s pronounced like the drink but if I’m wrong sorry) She is NERDY AND PROUD, but like not movie nerdy girl I mean genuinely weird nerdy. I guess technically everyone is a little nerdy in this crew but she's a feral kind of scientist. She is technically the captain of the ship because of her science background and her previous work with the Scandinavian branch of the space mission. Her goggles are prescription. She is 36 and has a little crush on the resident father of two purple (Perry).

Perry is a loving dad and all-around kind dude, he fathers the group sometimes intentionally. Often taking control of making food, and sometimes the group meetings, even tho technically he's not in charge. He's an open ear to the entire crew and he loves his two kids so much. He doesn't talk much about how he and his Ex split up but it's clear that he and his kids are happier without her. He Kinda likes Tea back a little but he's so busy being a good dad that he doesn't know that. He's often found baking for everyone and is in fact the culprit behind the extra five pounds everyone gained when joining the ship. Perry is 32. His family is from India and he visited his extended family there a lot but he was born and raised in the UK.

Blue (Liz which is short for Elizabeth) is not the greatest with people, she tries her best but she often comes off weird she's 51, one of her hobbies is learning and practicing different rules to fighting styles. She’s trying to teach herself taekwondo but the lack of instructor and need to use downloaded videos is holding her back. She's got some skill in boxing and ran a self-defense course back on earth. Her entire class was sad to see her go but the respected her decision and on the off days that the ship gets reception to radio back earth or other ships she makes sure to message them back with well wishes.

Yellow (Zack) is a little shit lord, he is the youngest on crew at age 19. He got in through a series of events up to and including the fact that his parents were exasperated by him and that his Aunt Liz (who he calls Aunt Lizzy) telling them that they were short a crewmate. the previous yellow left and they were having trouble getting a fit for the crew's specific needs, everyone else was on different crews and couldn't leave to fill in their gap. They were planning to leave with nine people when Zack reluctantly signed up. He was 18 at the time he first signed up and after a year of training, he was greenlit just in time for the mission.

He doesn't really get along well with anyone but he slowly opens up to the crew overtime. He got labeled as a problem child because of undiagnosed ADHD and focus problems and by the time he was diagnosed it was too late and all of his teachers had basically given up on him.

The entire crew tho is cool with it because many of them are neurodivergent. Liz and Zack are the other Americans of the crew.  But Elliot is the only one who is not bi/multilingual. Unless you count Texas accent as a language which a many of the crew jokingly do. In which case he is fluent.

But then disaster struck, after a few months of bonding and growing close as a found family people started to die. After some trial and error, they found out that Herbert and Zack were behind it. Liz and Eun-Jung being two of the few remaining both reacted differently Eun-Jung was controlled anger barely keeping it together and Liz was deeply disappointed, she wanted better from her nephew.

What was weird tho was after ejecting the pair their display panels confirmed that they were "imposters" and now that they thought about it it was weird that they were all locked to this one specific floor of this ship. but no matter that was a thought for another day. now able to go to the lower floors the remaining crew mates all went to bed.

The next morning however everyone was back and alive not even a scar remaining, even the imposters. returned. After a lot of shouting (mainly from Elliot who was pissed about being stabbed) the crew started to reluctantly trust what Hubert and Zack were saying that they didn't want to hurt or kill any of them but something made them and it was like they were in a haze.

It was only directly after a kill that they could snap out of it and control themselves briefly (kill cooldown) before they lost control again. Since then they've been stuck in this sick loop where they all keep taking turns being stuck as imposter killing each other. At first when it happened again, they thought it was Herbert and Zack again but once it didn't stop anything and the ship told them that they weren’t imposters.

They realized that it was randomized. Overtime they learned the rules. Only Imposters can access vents, the kill count, that they can then follow around and do things as ghosts after thy get murdered, etcetera. But one thing they didn't realize was the punishments.

Overtime as they each tried to break the rules by, revealing themselves as imposter, trying desperately hard to go pacifist, or any number of other things like trying to remove their helmets, or talk on comms before emergencies on meetings they were punished.

Philip is now growing plants off of himself. Eun-Jung has a similar punishment but it's solely cherry blossoms. Herbert is stuck killing everyone by eating them with a giant mouth from his stomach. I don't know Elliot’s punishment yet but the thought to make him Texan squared did cross my mind.

Angie is turning into one of those rad many-eyed angels from Dante's inferno. Jolene is now growing goat horns and her eyes are now goat-like. And Idk what other punishments to give Tea, Perry, Liz, and Zack, I want them to be related to the hats and stuff you can wear in game like some of the others but how to you punish some one using a banana? Or two kids? Or googles? I’ll probably come up with something later especially since they are all mostly hidden by the suits, that means that conceivably their punishments are hidden by the suits.

[dontcare77ghj]

Dragons

Natasha x reader x Clint x Bucky

Masterlist     Sleep Series Masterlist      Halloween/Supernatural Masterlist

“Sir you and Miss Romanoff have a message.” JARVIS said one afternoon. For once, the world seemed quiet. The Avengers hadn’t been truly needed for almost a week. In the past week none of them had trusted the silence, they’d all been ready and waiting at the Tower for the next problem.

“Patch it through, JARVIS.” Tony said, pouring himself and Clint some more coffee.

“Tony, I need your help.” A voice familiar to all the Avenger’s said. The team all began to listen intently to familiar girl, all concerned for the safety of the girl. “Nat, Clint and Buck aren’t picking up and I know I don’t have much time left. They’ve found me.” She added.

The team had known Y/N for a long time. She was Tony’s sister, the friend of the rest of the team and the girlfriend of Clint, Natasha and Bucky.

“I’m not going to be able to get out in time. Aithusa’s ill, Veles tore her wing and I can’t move them along with five other dragons in such a short amount of time.”

When Y/N turned sixteen it was obvious that she was different to those around her. She possessed magic. Though her family easily accepted her new skills and abilities she had to keep them secret for years until she and Tony joined The Avengers initiative. But when she turned twenty it as clear she possessed something more than just magic.

She’d met a man called Emrys and he explained the full extent of her powers. She was a dragon lady. The beasts everyone believed to be make believe were real and she was able to communicate with them and they with her.

When Emrys died he passed the living dragons onto her as well as the eggs he protected.

“I’m hiding who I can. The eggs are hidden in the basement and the others will be in hidden in the walls. I’ve left Nat the locations. But Tony, they’re going to take me and Aithusa, and when they do, I need you to come here and find the others and look after them.” Before Y/N could continue any further a loud crashing sound came over the message.

“Fuck.” She cursed. “Tony, I love you. Take care of them and pass my love on to Clint, Nat and Buck.” She said and the message ended. Tony had already dropped the coffee pot and was pulling out his phone. Natasha was already on her phone and a furious looking Bucky was holding tightly onto a worried Clint.

“We’re going now.” Natasha said, jumping from the couch with Clint and Bucky not that far behind her. “Stark if you’re coming, move your ass.” She added, the three of them moving towards the door.

“I’m coming, Romanoff.” Tony said, hurrying after them. Steve shared a look with Bruce, Wanda and Thor. The three of them nodded at him and they all stood.

“We’ll come too.” Steve said, following the four of them.

“Good for you. Let’s haul ass.” Tony said, giving the four of them a quick smile in gratitude.

Having been in a relationship with Y/N for nearly three years, Clint, Bucky and Natasha knew everything about the woman. Despite having some issues with mental health when she was younger and the tragedy involving her parents, she was the most positive person the three had ever met. It was her positivity and light that drew them to the woman and her willingness to the love them despite their pasts that made them stay.

Because the four of them had been together for three years, the three Avengers were very close to their girlfriend’s dragons. Not pets, she refused to let them be called pets, they were dragons and that was it. They knew how much they meant to their girlfriend, but they also knew what HYDRA would do to have their hands on Y/N’s dragons.

Storming into the house, Natasha directed her boyfriend’s towards the secret rooms while she ran down to the basement. Tony ran to check the security cameras while the rest of the team began to search through the house.

Natasha opened the panel and saw the chest holding the unborn eggs untouched.

“Thank Chuck.” Natasha murmured, seeing the eggs were unharmed. She knew what HYDRA had planned for the creatures would be nothing compared to Y/N’s wrath if one of her babies were harmed. Resealing the panel, she rushed back upstairs to check up on the others.

When she made it upstairs everyone was in the living room with six dragons of varying sizes. They all appeared on edge and were surrounding Thor who was talking to them in another language, attempting to calm them.

“Stark have you found anything?” Natasha asked, moving to stand next to Bucky and Clint. A small orange dragon flitted over to the three of them and Clint reached down to pick up the small thing.

“Yeah, I think I have.” He said, turning the computer around to face everyone. He clicked play and they all watched as Y/N shot up at the sound of a loud bang. Aithusa jumped from the bed and hissed at the loud noise as she tried to protectively curl around Y/N.

Y/N stood in front of the white dragon and said something in the dragon’s language when it tried to move in front of her. The dragon hissed slightly but stayed behind Y/N as the bedroom door burst open.

“Manere retrorsum.” Y/N growled and threw her arms up, eyes glowing gold, and threw the men backwards.

She pinned the men to the wall and to the floor, glare plastered on her face. She began to cast another spell when one man’s hand twitched and shot her twice. Once in the stomach and another in the thigh. The pain was distraction enough that Y/N dropped the spell and the men rushed her. She was knocked out as they collared Aithusa.

While they were struggling to hold the distressed dragon two men came in with a large metal crate and injected the dragon with something. The dragon began to slow in her movements, and they forced her into the crate. One man picked Y/N up and the rest picked the crate up.

“Pause the video.” Bucky growled, glaring at the screen. “That’s Rumlow.” He snarled, pointing to the figure holding Y/N.

Natasha cursed in Russian and Clint grabbed her hand as he held the dragon in one hand. A coal colored dragon rushed towards the trio and landed on Bucky’s shoulders.

Tony played the video and changed the perspective to the outside camera. The team watched as Rumlow carried an unconscious Y/N out to an awaiting van and the other men held the rattling crate.

“Can you track the license numbers?” Steve asked, catching a glimpse of the van’s plates.

“You could.” Tony said, shrugging as he turned the laptop back to him. “But HYDRA isn’t as dumb as we think. These plates are probably fake or stolen.”

“But we could hack traffic cameras and see where the van goes.” Bruce said, moving over to stand next to Tony.

“They could’ve gotten to the cameras before us. What about satellites?” Tony asked, turning in his chair.

“Hi, hate to interrupt this science convention,” Natasha started, waving a hand at the scientists. “But can you do it? That’s all we need to know.”

“We can do it.” Tony said, Bruce nodding along. “Give us a couple hours and we’ll be able to find her.”

“Great.” Clint said, nodding at the two of them. “You two track them, the rest of you make yourselves at home, we’ll be in our bedroom.” He added, pulling Natasha and Bucky towards the stairs. Four other dragons flitted over to their guardian’s life mates and followed them up the stairs.

“I’m going to slaughter them all.” Natasha snarled, pacing the room with a purple dragon following her closely. “I’m going to tear the hearts out of their chests and make them watch it beat before they die.”

“They will suffer.” Clint agreed, stopping her and taking her face in his hands. “They will learn what happens when someone takes our girl.”

“And we’ll have plenty of help.” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around both his partners. “The team is willing to save our girl; Tony will do anything to save his sister and I’m pretty sure these guys are willing to caramelize anyone who has hurt Y/N.” Bucky added, smiling as the dragon on his shoulders cooed seemingly in agreement.

“We’ll get her back.” Clint promised, kissing Natasha and Bucky and scratching the chin of the coal dragon.

“Yes, we will.” Natasha agreed, smiling at her boys.

Reader POV

“Tell us how to control it.” Rumlow demanded, getting very close to your face. “Tell us!”

“Go fuck yourself.” You sighed, laying your head back on the table and closing your eyes.

You’d awoken alone in a cell. You could hear Aithusa somewhere in the building, but she sounded weak. Before you could attempt to blast the door open on your own, Rumlow and his men had stormed in and injected you with something.

Whatever it was it made you weak. It made your magic weak. Your legs collapsed out from under you, your head felt as if someone were attempting to split it in two and your entire nervous system was on fire. The men dragged you out of the room and into a larger room with an array of torture tools surrounding you.

Upon strapping you down to a metal table, you’d immediately been questioned intensely. Where are the other dragons? Where is Emrys? What do I know about the Avengers? How can they control Aithsua?

Your response to every question had been the same so far.

“Again.” Rumlow barked, moving away from you. You were numb to the pain at this point. 

You started laughing as they attempted to shock you again. The pain making you feel disorientated and borderline hysterical.

“Stop.” Rumlow growled, storming over to you and forcefully grabbing your chin. “You think this is funny? Let’s make it funny.” He snarled, moving over to another man he began to furiously give instructions to him in Russian, all the while glaring at you.

A man came to stand next you while another dragged a table of tools over to the two of you. Rumlow smirked as the first man began to look the tools and slowly walked over to the two of you.

“Miss Stark I am going to ask you one more time. Tell me everything.” He said, leaning in close to you. “Tell me about your brother, tell me everything about those dragons of yours and tell me everything about Hawkeye, our Black Widow and our Soldat.”

“Go fuck yourself. I won’t let you touch any of them.” You snarled, spitting in his face. Rumlow smirked and wiped the spit off his face before nodding at the other man.

“She’s all yours.” He said and left the room. The man turned towards you with a scalpel in hand.

“Shall we begin?” He asked rhetorically, smirking as he stepped closer.

Everything hurt. That man was clearly not a registered doctor, that was one thing you knew for sure. Most of your body was covered in blood, cuts, burns of all varying degrees and so many of your bones had been broken.

“Still haven’t loosened your tongue I see. Well I can fix that.” The man said in his thick accent. “How shall we do this? Decisions, decisions.” He mused, going through his tools.

You let out a shaky breath, closed your eyes and relaxed back onto the cold table. What he did to you didn’t matter as long as you could block out the whole situation.

The door slammed open and thundering footsteps came towards you. You opened your eyes and turned to face the owner of the footsteps. You saw a furious looking Rumlow, covered in burns and red marks, storm towards you.

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head off the table.

“You will tell me how to control that demon or I will kill it while you watch.” He growled, holding your hair in an intensely tight grip. “Do not test me.”

“You can’t control any of my dragons.” You laughed, smirking mockingly at him. “I am the only person on Earth who can control them.”

“Then that’s what you will do.” Rumlow said, dropping your head back onto the table. “You will tell that beast to do whatever we say, or I will kill it.”

“You touch her, and I swear I will make sure you burn.” You growled, glaring at the man before you.

“Bring it in.” He said to the other man. The man scurried out of the room like the rat he was. “We’ll see who burns.” Rumlow added, giving you a smirk.

Several men came back into the room dragging in a large metal crate. The crate was shaking wildly, and several sounds of distress escaped the box. At the sounds of Aithusa’s distress you began struggling against the straps that held you to the table.

“Show us. Show us how you control the dragon, or I will cut your throat.” Rumlow threatened as they opened the cage. A man came forward with a noose on a pole and wrapped it Aithusa’s neck and dragged her out of the crate.

Aithusa had chains around her wings and one wrapped around her mouth, preventing her from shooting fire at the men. Aithusa let out a muffled growl as her eyes landed on you.

“Show us.” Rumlow demanded, tracing the scalpel along your collar bone.

“I can’t show you anything when you have her muzzled.” You snapped, hissing as he quickly cut below your collar bone. “It’s fucking true you asshole. I cannot do anything if you have her muzzled.”

Rumlow stared at you for a minute. His face showing no emotion as he debated your argument. Finally, he nodded.

“Fine. Unmuzzle the beast.” He barked. The other men appeared unsettled at the thought of her being unmuzzled but complied with Rumlow’s orders.

“Did they harm you?” You asked, the men in the room watching with interest as you spoke.

“I feel worse than I did before.” Aithusa spoke in her soft growl. “Whatever they injected me with is making me feel weak. But look what they have done to you, they should burn.” She growled loudly, making one of the men jump.

“What are you saying? Tell me what you are saying.” Rumlow demanded.

“She is willing to show you what she can do.” You answered. “But she can’t do anything in here.”

“Why not?” Rumlow asked, pressing the scalpel into your skin again.

“Look at all the flammable objects in this room.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Your entire base would burn to a cinder.”

“Then we will take you somewhere where you can show us.” He said, unstrapping your arms. He bound your hands together and forced you onto your unsteady feet. “Bring the beast.”

He dragged you down a series of long, winding, hallways until you reached a single door. He forced the door open and you were taken aback by how bright it suddenly was. When your eyes adjusted to the sunlight you finally noticed your surroundings. You were in the middle of nowhere.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Aithusa asked, looking at you wearily.

“I promise I have a plan, darling. Just do what I say, please.” You said, giving her a small nod.

“Now show us.” Rumlow demanded. Some men had set up targets at varying distances for Rumlow’s entertainment.

“Hit the targets.” You told the dragon. Aithusa didn’t hesitate and easily hit the targets, though the amount of fire she breathed varied in amount. She needed to get out of here.

“What else can you show us?” Rumlow asked, looking at the targets in satisfaction.

“Her flight is incredible for a dragon of her size. Place a target anywhere on this field and she will be able to spot it and destroy it easier than she just did.” You answered, shifting your head to look up at the man. He narrowed his eyes and stared down at you.

“If she leaves, there will be consequences for you. And they will be severe.” Rumlow warned.

“Understood.” You said, giving him a nod. “Aithusa, when they unchain your wings, you fly away. Go, find Nat, Bucky, Clint or Tony. Find them and don’t look back.” You told her, not allowing her to argue. Aithusa gave you a small nod and stretched her wings as they were unchained.

Without waiting for another word, she stretched her large wings and took to the sky. The men began shouting in panic as she rose above the ground. Rumlow smirked in excitement until she flew in the opposite direction.

“Shoot it down! Shoot it down!” He yelled, as she disappeared from sight.

“You’re too late.” You smirked. “She’s already gone and when she comes back, she won’t be alone.” You said, smirk dropping when Rumlow began to laugh.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” He said and dragged you back into the base

Non-reader POV

Aithusa flew as fast as she could in her slightly delirious state.  She wasn’t sure where she was going or how she was going to find anyone to help her.

She was dizzily flying in the clouds when a red and gold figure flew next to her.

“Aithusa, it’s me Tony.” The figure said. Aithusa let out a sound acknowledging she knew who he was.

“Can you come with me? I’m with Natasha, Clint and Bucky and your siblings are with us.” Tony said as he and the dragon hovered next each other. Aithusa gave him a nod and next to them a jet suddenly appeared.

A door lowered and Aithusa recognized Bucky standing there with a coal dragon on his shoulders Aithusa flew as quickly as she could and landed next to the brunette and rubbed her head against his hand.

“Hey Aithusa.” Bucky greeted and moved her away from the door. Aithusa began to make a series of rapid growling noises that the other dragons began to respond to in variants of growls.

“Point Break, you want to help?” Tony asked, retracting the plates from his face.

“Aithusa knows where Lady Y/N is.” Thor said and began to speak to the dragon’s language. “Continue in this direction, there is a field coming up. There will be scorch marks.”

“What kind of state will she be in?” Clint asked from the cockpit, hands tightening on the wheel at the mere thought of Y/N being hurt.

Aithusa began to speak in a rapid and deep growl.

“From the sounds of it, very bad shape.” Thor said, looking at the dragon warily. “Brother Bruce, I would suggest you ensure your medical is fully stocked.”

All three of Y/N’s partners and Tony glowered at the thought of the woman being injured. The rest of the team shared a look as the other four glowered and glared, they nodded to each other each knowing to stay out of the four’s way.

Odin knows what they would do to anyone in that base.

Reader POV

“Ah! Fuck you!” You screamed hoarsely. Rumlow smirked and dug his finger into the new bullet wound. “I swear to Hades when I get out of here, you’re going to be choking on your own ass.”

“And I thought we were becoming such good friends.” Rumlow said sarcastically, grabbing another tool off his trolley of pain. “Now you have a choice, leg or arm?” He asked, waving a small saw in front of you. “Or you could tell me what I want to know.” He added suggestively.

“Go fuck yourself, you dick.” You spat, glaring aggressively at the smug man.

Rumlow didn’t say anything as he smirked down at you. He turned the saw on and moved it towards your leg.

“You let me choose.” He said as if a way of reminder. The saw made contact with your knee and you let out a long shriek of pain before the world went dark.

When next awoke you were alone. You were still strapped down to the metal table but Rumlow and his men weren’t with you. Everything ached, you felt as if someone had thrown you into a blender and left to puree.

You looked down at your leg and let out a sob. Your left leg was missing from the knee down. What was left of your knee was wrapped in bandages, but they were severally stained red.

You let out a few more guttural sobs before you forced yourself to calm down. You couldn’t do yourself any good if you worked yourself up and passed out again. You raised your head as high as you could and tried to find a way out of this.

To your dismay you couldn’t find anything in the room to help you break out. Even all Rumlow’s toys had been removed from the dingy room. Attempting to break the bonds that held you to the table was a ridiculous notion. You couldn’t feel your body, how would you be able to move it around?

“Wakey, wakey, darling.” Rumlow said, barging through the door. “Are you ready to cooperate now?” He asked, standing at the foot of the table.

“Go, fuck, yourself.” You enunciated, closing your eyes as he stood near the table.

“Nothing seems to faze you, does it darling?” Rumlow asked, tsking at your answer. “It never fails to amuse me. Now, how can we get that out of you?” He questioned, footsteps echoing as he moves around the table.

Your eyes shot open as the door slammed open. You smiled as Natasha, Bucky and Clint thundered into the room with Tony not far behind.

Rumlow pulled his gun out but was not quicker than Bucky. Bucky shot the man thrice and stormed over to him. Tony followed Bucky while Natasha and Clint rushed over to you.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart look at me.” Clint said, grabbing your face in both his hands. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, putting two fingers in front of your face.

“Get your hand out of my face.” You groaned as Natasha cut your hands free. “It’s grotty.”

Natasha let out a laugh and leaned down to kiss your forehead. She quickly got rid of the rest of your bonds as Clint kissed your cheek.

“We need to get you back to the jet.” Natasha said, looking you over with worried eyes.

“I’m fine.” You said as Cint picked you up and cradled you in his arms. You let out a loud yelp as he cradled your battered body. Bucky and Tony’s heads snapped over to you at the noise and rushed over to you.

“Hey baby doll.” Bucky cooed, fingers brushing over your bleeding cheek. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” He added, gazing down at your missing leg.

“Hi Buck.” You murmured, smiling weakly at the man. “You haven’t seen a number until you see what I’m going to do to him.” You said and Bucky smirked at the fire in your eyes.

“We’ll feed him to the dragons, okay little one?” Tony said, kissing your hairline. “That sound good?”

You hummed happily and rested your head on Clint’s chest before shooting up and then winced in pain.

“Did Aithusa find you?” You asked, holding your throbbing ribs.

“Calm down, angel.” Natasha soothed. “She’s fine.” Before Natasha could continue seven colourful dragons raced into the room, chirping and growling enthusiastically.

“I thought we told you to help the others?” Tony mumbled, looking into the hallway.

You laughed as the little orange dragon, Vele, made a comment to Tony.

“Vele says they already did and you shouldn’t doubt them.” You laughed quietly. 

“We’ve gotta get going.” Tony said, drawing the three of your attentions to him. “We’ve got company.”

“Bucky grab him.” Natasha said pointing to Rumlow, growling on the word him. “Do you have any juice in you Y/N?”

You shook your and looked down.��“They did something to me, I can’t use my magick.”

“That’s fine, angel.” She soothed. “Tony can you handle them?”

“With my eyes closed.” He said cockily. 

“Hang on Tony.” You said, halting the man. “Vele, you stay with me, you’re still injured. But can the rest of you go with Tony and keep him safe.”

“Of course.” Aithusa said while the others nodded. “We’ll make you proud.”

“Tony, they’ll go with you.” You said and they all moved over to him. Tony gave you a nod and he and the dragons made their way into the hallway. Bucky grabbed Rumlow by the scruff of his neck and dragged him along as Clint carried you into the hallway with Natasha covering the two of you.

“You’re going to be okay sweetheart.” Clit said, running down the hall and holding your body incredibly close to his.

“They took my leg, Clint.” You murmured, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “He fucking took my leg.”

“And we’ll work through it together. You’re alive and that’s all that matters.” Clint said, leaning down to kiss you.

Running through the building you took note of all the bodies on the ground. None moving, all covered in copious amounts of blood and you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“Clint I’m tired.” You groaned, leaning your face into his chest.

“No, sweetheart, no sleep.” He said quickly. “You have to stay awake, Y/N.”

“Night Clint.” You mumbled, eyes closing as he began to run faster.

“Come on sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” Clint encouraged as he stood in front of you.

“Ok, ok. I can do it. You can let me go now.” You told Bucky who gave you a look.

“Are you sure baby doll?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Of course.”

“Of course she can.” Natasha said, moving to stand next to Clint. “She’s my fiancé, she can do anything.”

“She’s our fiancé.” Clint reminded, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s waist. “And we know that. Bucky get over here.”

Bucky moved over to Clint and Natasha and you took a deep breath.

It had been a month since HYDRA had captured you. Your magick had come back a week after the incident but unfortunately there was no spell to fix what Rumlow had done to your leg.

Tony had called you into the lab three weeks after your return and when you arrived he was waiting for you with a large smile. Natasha, Bucky and Clint were in the lab with him, each sharing the same grin.

Tony had been working on a new leg with you with Shuri. The new limb shared many design features as Bucky’s arm and made you smile at the thought.

Now here you were, a week after being given your new leg and you were making a lot of progress. It was your first time attempting to walk without a crutch or one of your partners.

Natasha had her phone out as you walked, a bit clunkily, towards them. They all smiled at you as your way over to them. When you were arms length away, Bucky pulled you into his arms and held you into his chest. Clint and Natasha joined the hug you all stood there for a few minutes enjoying the comfort.

“I love you three.” You murmured, raising your head from Bucky��s chest. “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” Bucky leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Of course.” Natasha said, kissing the back of your neck. “We love you.”

“All of us do.” Clint added, resting his head on your shoulder.

The three of you remained in that position for a few more minutes. It was moments like this the three of you relished in, the peaceful and the loving. The moments when nothing mattered but the four of you.

Show your feedback. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/message me any comments, ideas, pairings or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes

Coming Soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Steve x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Steve x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

[just-dreaming-marvel]

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN - VORMIR (2)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

WHOLE STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING TWO MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 2,010ish

Summary: A sacrifice is made. A soul for a soul.

After both men had kissed me goodnight and left to finish up somethings, I went to the computer at my desk. I took a deep breath and deja vu fell over me from almost seven years ago, when I made a video before I turned myself into HYDRA. The computer’s dim light glowed on my face as I set up the camera and pressed start. I filmed my heartfelt goodbye, making sure they each knew how much I loved each of them and why I was doing this. Once that was done, I brought the extra quantum suit into my bedroom and made sure that it had PYM Particles to go with it. Then I found an extra necklace chain and attached my engagement ring, promise ring, and bracelet to it. 

In the morning, after everyone had suited up and I had done it secretly, they all gathered on the platform with me at the control panel. They all stood in their teams in a circle. And, right on cue, Captain America began one of his encouraging speeches.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us,” Cap stated as he looked around. “We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back…” 

“You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know, that doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re going to win.” Tony and Steve looked at each other, Tony raising an eyebrow slightly at him with a smirk plastered on his lips. 

“Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

Rocket looked at Scott. “He’s pretty good at that.”

“Right?” Scott agreed. 

“Alright, you heard the man,” Tony said. “Stroke those keys, kiddo.”

“Tractors engaged,” I informed them as I did as he commanded. We made eye contact and he motioned me to jump into his head. “I love you, Daddy. Stay safe.”

“Always. Love you too, B.”

Clint was looking at the miniature sized ship that Rocket had agreed we could use.

“You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?’ Rocket asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” replied Clint. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“As promises go, that was pretty lame,” Rocket muttered.

Natasha looked to Steve, smiling. “See you in a minute.” He gave her a faint smirk before turning to look at me. I quickly entered his thoughts. 

“I love you,” Steve stated. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

I smiled, trying not to show the sadness in it. “I love you too. Don’t ever forget that.” 

He looked at me, clearly confused and a bit worried. But before he could say anything, all of their helmets slid on. I pressed the button that opened the quantum realm portal as they checked their GPS coordinates. 

Once they all had disappeared into the quantum realm, I rushed in behind them. The 2014 team had landed fine, I watched behind a rock as they got the ship ready to split up. Rhodey and Nebula were going after the Power Stone and Nat and Clint were going after the Soul Stone. I instantly got into their heads and confused their senses so that they wouldn’t be able to notice me.

“Alright. Bring it down low,” Rhodey instructed as he guided Nebula, who was on the Benatar, on landing the escape pod. “Right on that line. That’s it. Down, down.”

“Hey, can we hurry it up?” Clint asked. I could feel his nervousness.

“Guys, chop-chop,” Natasha started as well. “Come on. We’re on a clock.” As she talked, Nebula landed the Benatar and walked off.

“All that, is really helpful,” Rhodey stated before hugging Natasha. “Take care, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Nat replied.

“Take that stone and come back. No messing around.” 

Clint walked up to Rhodey. “Hey. You got this.” He extended a hand for a hand shake.

Rhodey took his hand. “Let’s get it done.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Nat and Clint began walking into the Benatar. “See you back,” Nat said.

“You guys watch each other’s six,” Rhodey warned.

Clint and Nat turned around a gave small smiles to the other two. “Yeah,” Clint responded. 

They began walking back into the ship and I began to make my way over to it, trying the best I could to hide just in case my mind control wasn’t working. I reached the ship and entered it just as the ramp was closing. They both took their seats at the front and I stayed tucked away in the back. Once I knew that there was no chance we’d been running into Rhodey and Nebula again, I let go of my hold on them and focused more on the two master assassins at the front of the ship. The ship took off, picking up speed tremendously. It was basically running on autopilot. Nebula must have entered the coordinates for them. Nat and Clint smiled slightly as the looked at each other.

“We’re a long way from Budapest,” Clint joked. Natasha just laughed. 

It didn’t take long for us to arrive to Vormir. As we flew up, we stood in awe at the mix of sand dunes and ponds that created the planet.

“Wow…” Clint awed. “Under different circumstances, this would be totally awesome.” 

I silently agreed with Clint. When the ramp lowered, I was quickly the first person off and hid behind it. The other two weren’t very far behind me. The three of us took in our surroundings. There was a giant mountain a ways off, in the mist of the dunes. We walked across the sand dunes and then climbed up the mountain after shrinking the ship back to pocket size. Natasha spoke up once we were close to the top.

“I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain.”

“Technically, he’s not a raccoon, you know,” Clint replied.

“Whatever. He eats garbage.” 

“Welcome,” a blacked cloaked, red-faced figure greeted as he floated towards us. The three of us quickly drew our weapons. 

I quickly began using my powers on him, just in case. “Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Clint, son of Edith.”

“Who are you?” Nat asked, a tinge of fear and confusion ran through her.

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh good. You tell us where it is, then we’ll be on our way.”

“If only it were that easy.” If only. The Stonekeeper led us to the edge of the cliff. “What you seek lies in front of you… as does what you fear.” 

“The stone is down there.”

“For one of you. For the other… In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul.”

There it was. The truth about obtaining the stone. The two shared worried glances before Clint began to pace around as Natasha seated herself down on a rock. I leaned against the side of some rocks, watching until it was time to make my appearance and also trying to find a way to not have to sacrifice anyone. The Stonekeeper watched on.

“How’s it going?” Clint sarcastically asked the Stonekeeper. “Gosh… Maybe he’s making this shit up.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why, ‘cause he knows your Daddy’s name?” Clint took a few steps towards Nat.

“I didn’t.” I peaked in her head, she was right. She didn’t know her parents names. My heart broke just a bit at the realization that Natasha didn’t know where she came from. “Thanos left here with the stone without his daughter. It’s not a coincidence.”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever it takes.” 

“Whatever it takes.” 

Natasha stood up and walked to Clint. “If we don’t get that stone, billions of people stay dead.”

“Then I guess we both know who it’s gotta be.”

“I guess we do.” 

Clint grabbed onto Nat’s hand and she reciprocated as they looked at each other. “I’m starting to think, we mean different people here, Natasha.” 

“For the last five years I’ve been trying to do one thing: get to right here. That’s all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back.”

“Oh, don’t you get all decent on me now.”

“What, you think I wanna do it? I’m trying to save your life, you idiot.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want you to. Because I… Natasha, you know what I’ve done. You know what I’ve become.” 

“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“Maybe you should.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

I knew it was now or never. I took myself out of their heads and stepped into their line of sight. “And you’re both a pain in mine,” I stated.

“Bailey?” They both gasped in surprise, their eyes as wide as they could have been.

“What are you doing here?” Nat asked, letting go of Clint’s hand and stepping towards me.

“I saw how Thanos got the stone,” I answered. “And I couldn’t let it be anyone but me.”

“No,” Clint quickly shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Clint, I’ve done stuff just as bad as you have… Even worse since I was doing it for HYDRA. I also didn’t tell you two what you guys were getting yourselves into before you arrived… I need to do this. For you two. For my family.”

“Did you even say goodbye to Tony? Or Pepper and Morgan?” Natasha wondered. “Or what about Steve?”

“I couldn’t do that to them… It’s better this way…” I walked over to them and grabbed onto a hand of each of theirs. “It has to be me… The world needs the Avengers… The world needs you two… Don’t make me force you into letting me…”

Clint took a deep breath as the three of us rested our heads against each others. “Okay. You win.” He stated. He smiled and knocked Nat and I to the ground. “Tell my family I love them.”

Nat quickly tackled Clint to the ground. “You tell them yourself,” she stated. 

She was busy electrocuting him as I ran towards the cliff. She wasn’t far behind though. We were both stopped by Clint shooting an explosive arrow, knocking us to the ground. Clint quickly ran towards the cliff, looking straight at the two of us as he did, and jumped.

I jumped after him and hooked him up to a grappling hook that had been attached to my belt. He grabbed my wrist before I could fall all the way.

“Damn you!” He exclaimed.

“Bailey!” Nat shouted as she looked over the cliff. 

“Let me go,” I whispered, as tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“No. Please, no,” Clint begged.

“Bailey,” Nat pled. “We can figure out another way… Please…” A few tears escaped her eyes. She reached down to hand as well, trying to help. “You can’t do this to us… To Tony or Steve…”

“It’s okay… I love you guys and tell my family I love them. So, so much…” I gave them a small teary smile. “And I’m sorry… There was no other way… No one else needed to die… I couldn’t let that happen. We’ve all lost too much. Whatever it takes, right?”

“Please…” Clint pleaded. 

I looked them both in the eye one last time before I kicked off the wall and fell through Clint’s grip. 

The two screamed my name as I plummeted to the ground. I closed my eyes and let my mind play my favorite memories of my family. I knew that they would be devastated, but I knew what I was doing. And it was worth it. Worth saving my family. As soon as I hit the ground, I was gone.

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