#Shadow having a complete and utter mental breakdown

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Giving myself a spa day and washing my hair while thinking about what would happen if totk Ganondorf actually won is a strange way to relax but ok brain. You do you.

[balanceoflightanddark]

In smoke and shadow. Azula wants to manipulate Zuko into being exactly like Ozai somehow. That means that Zuko's best strategy is for him to step down from the throne and put Iroh in charge.

This would blow a hole in her plans for they rely on Zuko staying on the throne and no way would Iroh be easily swayed. Her mental problems may even worsen again which means she'll get sloppy again. Azula's new accomplices may lose patience and apply pressure.

The comics foolish attempt to make the revelation that she no longer wants the throne to be some shocking twist is just that, foolish. Because anyone who bothered to put in the effort of studying Azula's character and not simping over Zuko and Iroh 24/7 would know that she's never been that interested in being on the throne to begin with. She didn't express any wants for herself, and when she does, they are all exactly the same as Zuko's basically.

I also don't buy that she'd completely orchestrate everything that goes on in S&S all by herself. Considering that Ozai's the only one to ever sway Azula into doing anything, he still has power even behind bars, he's the main theme of her plans despite him not being physically apart of them, everything she can do, he can do better (except bend), and with everything lost, he's really all she's got left, it seems obvious that he'd be the one to pull the strings from even deeper shadows.

What do you think?

The best way I can describe Azula's involvement in Smoke and Shadows is as an undiluted mess. I'm serious. Somehow, they managed to top her bad treatment and portrayal in The Search, and in the process torpedoed all the build up surrounding the New Ozai Society. Bringing her in and her handling is quite honestly one of the WORST writing decisions I've come across in recent years due to how it cripples practically everything it touches.

For starters, her plan is stupid. If Zuko steps down and lets Iroh take over, then she's got nothing to work with. Plus, what's stopping Zuko from just...not being more ruthless? It's not like he hasn't dealt with her toying with him in the past. Honestly, Azula's plan requires everybody acting in a very specific way in order to work and can go belly up from the word go. Something like this seems needlessly complicated for her.

And I HAVE heard takes that Azula is using reverse psychology to make Zuko a more benevolent Fire Lord, which admittedly makes a little more sense given how hamstrung her plan is...just too bad this was never seen as a possibility in-universe nor even hinted at. Not to mention considering how Zuko treated her, just why the hell would Azula consider crawling back to help him?

Especially given the very questionable circumstances revolving that scenario given everything that's happened.

Hell, what does Azula even WANT at this point?

She waxes poetics about "being weightless and free", but that could mean anything! It could mean she's smoking pot or something. It's utter nonsense! Especially when you consider that her mental instability was apparently DROPPED in favor of resetting her back to her pre-breakdown state with only a few hints of her problems here and there. Like, what's her motivations especially when she just dropped Ozai right out of the blue?! And I do mean right out of the blue since we're given absolutely ZERO INFORMATION about what she's been doing between The Search and Smoke and Shadows.

Bringing this around, this is the big problem with how she's utilized in Smoke and Shadows. Her presence in the book completely derails what was supposed to have been a multi-book plot about the New Ozai Society and growing unrest in the Fire Nation about Zuko's rule all the way back with The Promise. You know, something that should've been a big thing for the Fire Nation. Actually deradicalizing and reforming from their past. For Zuko to actually define what his rule is to be. Actually bringing a proper end to the War-era Fire Nation that monsters like Ozai flourished in.

Instead, Azula, a character who had zero involvement with that plot, got shoved into the main villain role (again), and the people who are supposed to be the big bad guys are either treated too lightly (Ukano) or not even acknowledged until the very end (Ozai). It honestly just feels like a distraction from the Fire Nation's real problems with more of the rivalry between Zuko and Azula.

So my question is...why? Why the hell did Azula get shoved into this role in the first place? Well, the comics do provide an answer.

In other news: THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO WITH HER.

Yang admitted he got a lot of rightfully angry fan mail about Azula's handling, so he tried to do something new to appease not only both sides of the redemption argument, but those who wanted Azula to have a return to form.

And in the process of trying to please everyone, Yang screwed up on every front imaginable.

Azula's supposed "redemption" was too subtle to leave an impact. Her continued villainy was nonsensical and completely derailed the story. Her "restored" mentality comes right out of nowhere (along with doing nothing about the ableist overtones of the previous comics). And her plans were so haphazard and stupid, that it's not even a return to form. In essence, Azula's portrayal was supposed to be an answer to everyone's demands...but ended up pleasing no one.

With a character like Azula, you need a definitive stance. Something concrete. Something you can't simply tap dance your way around or twist. Yang should've done that, but instead chickened out and took the laziest route imaginable. My big hope though is that somebody got the message since they're giving Azula a standalone comic. If Faith wants to do her character justice, she needs to give us a concrete portrayal, and more importantly, a plan for what Azula's future has in store.

Hopefully Azula will get some proper direction...but I'm not holding my breath on it.

[mournersandfunerals]

HOSAB thought dump (spoilers, obviously):

I'm a sucker for a crossover, whether it's fanfiction or if the author just decided to have a bit of fun. That's why I love the Netflix Shadow and Bone so much, because why wouldn't I want to see Kaz Brekker making a deal with Alina Starkov?

So when Sarah J Maas yeeted Aelin across the universe in KoA and she fell through Crescent City and Prythian, I screamed, cried and threw up. Because what a way to end an eight book journey. And one would think that when Bryce landed in Prythian, I would have the same reaction. But here's the thing.

I got excited at first, and then I thought about it and realised how messy it is. Because ACOTAR isn't finished. There's so much that series needs to wrap up before it's done, and I really feel if SJM wanted to merge CC in with her other books, then she probably should have finished those books first. She's just adding more stuff to a series that already has so much going on, and it feels so overwhelming.

If Bryce had landed in Erilea, I would have had a much more positive reaction, because Aelin's story has settled so it'd be more fun to see those characters interact. The utter carnage that could come from Bryce hanging out with Aelin, Lysandra, Fenrys, and even Dorian, while Rowan has a mental breakdown? Beautiful.

But instead we get Prythian which already has so much to sort through. The whole shit with Koschei and Vassa, and that weird love square thing with Azriel, Elain, Lucien and Gwyn, and whatever the fuck is going on in the Autumn Court. And is anyone actually going to tell Lucien his true parentage, or is everyone just going to keep pretending like having Day Court powers is perfectly normal?

I know the continuation of Bryce being in Prythian will take place in CC 3 will likely be completely separate from ACOTAR 5, but it still feels like a lot to introduce an entirely different world into one that already has a lot of mess to clear up. It needs to be really well done for it to not be confusing, especially to readers who might not be up to date with ACOTAR. You shouldn't have to read them both in order for one to make sense, so I don't know how to feel about it.

But what I will say is that if she's merging the worlds together and Erilea isn't mentioned at all, I'm gonna be pissed, because she relies so heavily on using her ACOTAR characters when TOG is clearly the superior series (no I will not be taking criticism on that particular fact opinion at this time).

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'm nervous, and mildly sick of seeing Rhysand everywhere. Give me Aelin instead. I miss her chaos.

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[winterpower98]

MY BRAIN STARTED TO WORK AGAIN AND I HAVE MORE IDEAS FOR THE MONKIE KID STONE MONKEY AU!

Here the first part for who might have missed it

First of all, MK isn’t born from a bamboo anymore, he’s born from a stone (just to keep up the whole Stone=Monkey bit).

Now, for episode 9:

The beginning of the episode is pretty much the same Destroying the precious mural, giant monster attacking the city, meeting Macaque.

But when Macaque put the sigil on MK's jacket he can tell that there's something weird about it Like there's already a spell working on this kid But Macaque chalks it up to some Monkey king stuff and moves on with his plan.

So Macaque trains the kid for a couple of weeks and than he brings MK to where the big smoky monster is hiding

And MK just goes head first into attacking this thing before Macaque can even say a word. Which does set a few alarm bells in the monkey's head This kid has basically a death whish but Macaque can't bring himself to care, he's not his kid after all.

But the moment Macaque steals MK powers, not only the kid can't lift the staff but the spell that made MK looks like a human disappears

and Macaque's world shatters

This is the kid he left to Wukong This is his kid And he was ready to use him and than kill him as if he was a used rag

So we have a very confused Monkey!MK on one side (Was Macaque the monster? Was this a trick? or was this some form of new training?)

A frozen Macaque on the other side (This is my kid, This is my kid, I was going to kill him oh god no)

And we have a pissed off, dad-mode engaged, Wukong in the middle (his dad sense went off and he immidialty shoot down to go to MK)

Wukong, knowing Macaque and knowing full well he was probably up to no good, puts himself in front of MK and starts to interrogate Macaque in the most calm way he can (if MK wasn't there he would probably straight up attack the other monkey, like he's gonna throw hands  no questions asked)

But Macaque doesn't answer any of the questions Sun is sending his way He's just stuck, frozen in place and looking between Wukong and MK

And then he disappears in the shadows, without uttering a word but looking very close to have a mental breakdown which he does have, very very far away from where MK and Wukong are

MK grabs the staff (when Macaque left he also let MK's powers go, he couldn't keep them, not after that) and Wukong brings them both back to Flower Fruit Mountain where he scold the living hell out of MK.

He tells MK about Macaque, what they used to do together before he went west, what the black monkey became after that and how dangerous he is.

MK listen to everything, quietly, because he's not completely there He listen to what his dad is saying but, it doesn't sound like the Macaque he met

Sure he acted mischievous, but so was Wukong

The poor kid is so conflicted and confuses, he sleeps on Flower Fruit Mountain for a couple of days, he still goes to work and hangs out with Mei but he's ... weird

It's like looking at a toy working on low battery Which doesn't go unnoticed by his friend, who try their best to comforting or help him in any way they can, but he brush them off and tells them he's just tired because of Wukong's training

and this is where episode 9 ends

but I do have more ideas

because episode 5 happens after episode 9

But that’s for another time

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I’m new and if this is the right place can you do vinca comforting mc through a mental breakdown after things mc mom had said to her? If it’s too much then just ignore👍🏽

Written by: @evoedbd

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

“Alright, this is fucking unco, Rae.” Vinca’s voice was sharp; sharper than the little throwing blades adorning her striking red jumpsuit. In the peak of the Vegas sun, Vinca was a gleaming star; a blaze of fury and snark. The cut of her shirt revealed glistening alabaster skin; the finest marble shined by the finest scented oils. From sharp collarbones worthy of a renascence sculpture, down the valley between breasts full enough to make angel’s sob with envy. Then the smooth expanse of her belly, a surface which occasionally seemed to bubble with hidden muscle. The heaving expanse of her ribcage, lines which appeared between exhales.

“Sit down. Drink this.” Each command was almost barked. Harsh and short. Delivered from the international supermodel Vinca Wren. Rae didn’t know whether it was the heat, her own loneliness or her hysteria that brought such a vision to her, nor if Vinca herself recognised the irony of addressing thirst when she was the cause of it across the world. All she knew with terrifying clarity was that she had obeyed, accepting the iced water bottle and dropping to her haunches like an ever-faithful hound.

“Wha-”

“Ah, ah, ah. No questions.” Vinca cut her off, reaching out to press the pad of her finger to Rae’s lips. The bike Mechanic fell obediently silent, fighting the urge to rub her lips together at the irritating grain of sand that rubbed across them. When had Vinca put her hands anywhere near dirt? Wait… she’d said no questions. Why was Rae asking questions? Before she could freefall into her doubts, Vinca seemed to read it. The model withdrew her decorated finger with a softened expression.

“Drink. Then, spill.” She urged. Despite the strength of her tone, the power of her posture and … personality… Vinca’s words rung like a plea in Rae’s ears. The mechanic paused, taking another moment to inspect Vinca. There she was, on her knees in the sand of the Canyon, having chased Rae out onto the bike trails. Vinca was all high heels, platform shoes, clothes worth more than Rae’s monthly paycheck, sullied by sand. And concern. Vinca embodied concern. The aloof tilt of her mouth wasn’t true; delicious-looking, candy-pink lips falling a bit too far into a frown. The darkness of her eyeliner couldn’t hide the shadows in hypnotic blue eyes. This Vinca was not somebody Rae had ever seen before, at least, not directed at her.

The mechanic realised what a mess she must be. Her tie-dyed hoodie flapping around her elbows, cheap t-shirt hanging off of one sunburnt shoulder. Her face had to be a mess, after all her sobbing. She could feel the itchiness across her eyes, the dried caking of tears and snot down her cheeks, all the way to the point of her chin. Despite this, Vinca Wren had chased her. HER. Rae Lang. A dropout, bike instructor and mechanic living in a cheap apartment above her workplace with her single mother. That gave her the courage to try and smile, to dare utter a deflecting line.

“The drink?”

Vinca literally growled in frustration. Her hands came up to her pixie cut, sweeping the longer, dyed bangs out of her eyes. Nails dug into her scalp as if she could wrench her own thoughts out of her mind through the roots of her platinum hair.

“You are the most dense, stubborn woman I have ever met. You didn’t even cry when demons attacked you. We can’t have your eyes all swollen, that’s just a travesty. Whoever or whatever has made you this upset needs to be dealt with.” What started out frustration quickly melted back into concern. Hesitantly, as if she might break Rae, Vinca reached out. She ran her own fingers through Rae’s hair, across her temples, sweeping the chaotic locks away from the Asian’s face. Whatever Vinca saw there must have hurt her, given the subtle hitch in her breath before she slinked closer. How a near six-foot woman could slink on her knees was damn confusing, but Vinca Wren perfected the art. The movements. The attitude. The aura. Catwoman eat her heart out. It was almost feline how Vinca drew close, enough that she sat hip to hip with Rae.

“It’s my mom. We got into an argument, and things got spicy.” Rae confessed, letting herself melt into Vinca’s side. Any weariness vanished the moment Vinca’s arm wrapped around Rae’s shoulders, guiding her into a comforting closeness. Vinca’s nails found their way into Rae’s hair, delicately scratching across her scalp. This time, the motion was intentional, a gentle caress that drew the wounded sound from Rae’s throat, the weight off her chest.

“She said she was disappointed with me for dropping out of med school.”

That earned a derisive snort.

“Right. Because a doctor is SO much more useful than saving the world from Demons.” Vinca was unapologetically snarky. That earned a soft snort from Rae, a wet and wounded sound of amusement. So many people may have been touchy about such things, would have offered apologies and comforts. Vinca didn’t do that. She struck back, bigger and harder than ever, using the truth like a sledgehammer from a rival act.

“She thinks I’m being reckless with the act. That I’m trying to hurt myself like some…” Rae grasped for the words, unable to find what she was looking for. She looked imploringly to Vinca, pleading with the younger woman to rip the truth from her too. To drag every dark thought into the light, just as she did upon the stage. Just as she did in every brutal fight. There were so many shadows, so much confusion, yet Vinca usually brought clarity. Why wasn’t she being clarity now?

“I can read minds, you know. I’d know if you were being stupid or planning on kicking it on stage.”

“I don’t get it. She loves Yvette and Lazarus.”

“Everybody does.” Vinca agreed. It was true. Yvette was so painfully charming, despite her aloofness. She captivated without a single touch. She burned; azure fire held back by the weight of humanity. And Lazarus had somehow swept Rae’s mother off her feet with his gentle words and polite mannerisms. It didn’t hurt that his abs could be mistaken for a cheese grater and that he never wore a closed shirt… ok, so her mother was a cougar. Rae couldn’t exactly blame her. But she could disagree on one thing.

“But she thinks you’re dangerous.”

“I can’t argue with that. My fashion is pretty sharp.” Vinca delivered the line flawlessly, only a twitch at the corner of her mouth, showing any amusement. Rae could only shake her head in disbelief at Vinca’s jest. She didn’t get it. Didn’t take it seriously. And why should she? Vinca Wren was a worldly marvel, an international superstar. While Rae showed overweight tourists the easiest bike trails, Vinca Wren was in London. While Rae had to deal with overly entitled customers, Vinca Wren was sitting beside leopards in the finest lingerie or setting the trend for summer bathing suits surrounded by lions. Whilst Rae had a cougar for a mother, Vinca Wren sat amongst actual, literal cougars in suits that could make grown men sweat or gowns which would make grown women sob with envy. Vinca Wren was Pride. The big bad sin. The mind-reading, knife-wielding, drop-dead gorgeous extraordinaire. Why would she care what a bike shop owner thought?

“She thinks you’re just using me, that I’ve been swept up in the glamour, and I might get hurt when you g-get bored. That when you’re all done with the bike tricks, you won’t really care for me.” And there it was. The truth, laid out for Vinca to weaponize. To wield. All Rae’s unspoken fears laid bare. To rip the world apart with at a whim, all with her devastating smirk.

“Bullsh-” Vinca cut her answering growl off, clamping her jaw shut. A breath, composure reclaimed, emotion hidden behind a professional mask.

“… I mean, what do you think?” A submission. That made Rae blink. Vinca Wren had just shut down her own opinion to give Rae the floor.

“Can’t you read my mind?” Rae demanded on instinct, earning another derisive snort and a blasé flick of Vinca’s wrist.

“Duh! But like, invasion of privacy much?”

There was something about the way Vinca said it that didn’t sit right with Rae.  A waver in her usually impeccably aloof act. Her sharp features were just that little too youthful.  Her lips didn’t quite reach the notes of indifference, nor did her nose point quite as high in the air. Then, her eyes… wider. So impossibly bright blue, like a summer sky.  So devastatingly vulnerable for a blink, before they narrowed slightly, adding to an angular appearance.

“Are you scared what you’ll find?” Rae couldn’t help but fire back, drawn into the banter. It felt dangerous, like throwing herself into a pit of knives and daring them to cut her, but the reward was worthwhile. The briefest flash of surprise in Vinca’s eyes, a tinge of colour to her cheeks, and that dangerous, not quite a pout, not quite a frown; an expression which promised pain and horror upon those who had incurred her wrath. The little crease in her brow, the way her eyes hardened and narrowed, honed to a razor's edge. Somehow, knowing Vinca, that expression was just downright adorable… like a kitten threatening a toy mouse.

“I’m not scared!” Vinca declared just a touch too vehemently to be truthful. There it was. Pride. The sin Vinca had taken on, in a way she still hadn’t disclosed. Not fully. She had killed someone, that much Rae knew. Someone evil. Someone who had the world fooled and was using his power to hurt everyone Vinca loved. But Rae knew there was more. There had to be. It was too raw a wound to be a completed chapter.

“Vinca Wren. I know when you’re lying by now.” Rae commented, refusing to let the moment she saw go. Rae had seen the photoshoots, the advertisements, the endless endorsements of this larger than life woman. Vinca Wren was sold as sex and danger; a mystery. A real-life Selena Kyle. A sin above humanity. How many people got to catch a glimpse of the woman beneath? The young, loyal woman who would give everything to protect what she loved? How many people ever got to see Vinca crack? Even Yvette seemed to look to Vinca as a rock, mindless to the fact life was like water. Mindless to how water eroded Vinca, until only sex and danger remained. What she had to be. What everybody saw. Just how did the world see Vinca? How easily did they forget how she hurt?

“Fine, whatever!” Vinca’s confession was a deflection, delivered with another attempt at indifferent even in an explosion of irritation.

“So I’m anxious about what I’ll see. Happy now, you little sadist?” There was no heat to her words. The beginnings of a fond smile tugged at her lips, even as she straightened enough to loom over Rae, chin held high in a haughty fashion. Despite her appearance of looking down, Vinca’s eyes glistened with scarcely restrained amusement. Something rarer than diamonds. Sapphires amidst the clay and sands.

“Vinca.” If one name could be a loaded sentence, it was the way Rae whispered that name. A prayer. Imploring a goddess to pay heed to an ant. And heed the goddess paid. For one bright, blistering moment of crystal clarity, Vinca’s world was only Rae. Vinca gave her all to the mechanic, hanging on the unspoken words, searching and fearing simultaneously. Rae swallowed. What could she even say? What words did she have that could sum up the complication, which was Vinca Wren? How could she show the duality of intents, the clash of meaning to every word that could ever describe her? Snarky meant wonderful, and bitchy meant saintly, selfless. Vinca redefined every insult one might spit; turned the world on its head, twisted it upon its axis. She was the brightest darkness. The darkest star. She was the shadow of the sun because she shone too intensely to be anything so simple as sunshine.

“Whenever you’re ready, look at what I think of you. Until then, I’ll try to find the right words.” Rae wanted to cuss herself out even as she spoke sweetly, invited Vinca inside yet again. Stupid. How was she so stupid? She’d had Vinca’s attention, had the chance to try to fix everything Vinca hated about herself. Had the chance to begin to untangle her own jumbled concepts of the woman. And what had she done? Chickened out. Left Vinca without answers and pressured her into something she clearly wasn’t comfortable with.

She was shocked to hear an amused huff, as if Vinca was attempting not to laugh. There was an easiness to her presence, a tenderness even in the way she sidled closer, using her own body as a pillar for Rae to lean on. For once, Vinca’s snark was delivered lightly, lips pulled into something resembling an unpractised smile as she delivered a deadpan line.

“I’ll buy you a dictionary.”

“Make sure it has snarky in it.” Rae needled lightly, giving Vinca a poke in her exposed ribs. The Pride assassin was warm, roasting even, yet so soft and smooth beneath even that poke. Once more, Rae was struck by how unusual their blossoming friendship was, how far apart their worlds truly were. Cultures, countries, paychecks. Everything considered to make the world turn. They were so very vastly different, yet here they were. Sitting in the sand. Sweaty and snotty. Making bad jokes and bridging their different upbringings one awkward syllable at a time.

“It’s a dictionary. That word be ancient. If it isn’t in there, I demand a refund.” Vinca pulled what might be dubbed a Karen face, complete with severe frown and haughtily raised brow. For one. Two. Three seconds, there was silence. Then, cracks. Vinca’s lips twitched, Rae’s breath caught in her nose. Then laughter. Rae laughed, freely and openly, right alongside Vinca. The Pride assassin’s laugh, a genuine laugh, was a far cry from delicate. It was the soft chortle of a lioness. A sound which was soft yet never let anybody forget the dangers of the being. Rae didn’t care. She continued to giggle and snort long after Vinca stopped, almost oblivious to the tender, thoughtful expression etched across Vinca’s face. Almost. Rae caught it, like a glimpse of a falling star, and wished upon it. Wished to understand it. For once, for clarity to be cast upon itself.

“… Look…” Vinca broached, voice unusually hesitant. Thoughtful and soft. So very quiet, yet so unmistakably her.

“Your mom cares about you. She’s worried. I get that. I’m not the type of person you want around for my sparkling personality. But you also have to make your own choices and mistakes. That's part of growing up. And if you tell anybody about this, I will stab you, but you’re pretty ok. You haven’t fucked up that badly… yet.”

She had to add the yet. She couldn’t be soft, not if she wanted everybody safe. Soft wasn’t safe for anybody… yet. That didn’t mean she didn’t relish how close she had gotten, how close she could come. Enough to taste the humanity. Enough to break her heart once more.

“Vinca…” Rae began, unable to find any other word, any other sound even to begin her sentence. Summoned, Vinca’s gaze turned back to the mechanic, meeting her eyes in a silent question. A silent dare. Under the weight of such a gaze, Rae cracked. The corners of her mouth pulled towards her ears, curling into a wicked little grin that sent Vinca into high alert. She tensed, calculating. Instead, she found herself flabbergasted by a rather playful observation.

“You’re really terrible at this comforting thing.”

“No shit. What do you want from me? Professional advice?” She demanded sharply, brows arched dangerously. Her lips peeled away from her teeth ever so subtly, an instinctual warning. Just like a timid hound trying to prove it was tough, Rae realised. Vinca’s knee jerk reaction was fear. Denial. Aimed at something behind the words.

“Maybe just a hug?” Rae’s request was simple enough, though it still threw Vinca for a loop.

“Seriously? What are you, twelve?” She barked; her laughter far less joyous. What she didn’t expect was the wounded expression across Rae’s face… no. That was a lie. She had expected the sad tilt to the Asian’s fine lips, along with the foggy glistening across suddenly unfocused eyes. What Vinca hadn’t expected was the way it would hurt. She flinched, unable to stop her body from reacting despite all her training. Only one person ever asked for hugs from her. One glistening, gorgeous person who Vinca herself kept tearing down. One person, she’d given everything for, including their relationship. One bright, stubborn little girl who… who reminded her entirely too much of Rae.

“… Fine.” She relented, twisting until she could gather the small woman to her chest. It was overwhelming in the best and worst of ways. Finally, after so long, she had someone she could care for. Even if that only lasted a moment, she had the comfort of contact. Of someone wanting innocent contact with her. She wasn’t reading lewd thoughts and desires, nor having to be on guard in case skin touched her. She could just… be. Exist in a moment. That was enough for Vinca to squeeze tighter, to burrow her nose into the crown of Rae’s head with an entirely too soft sigh of her own. Then, she bristled.

“For someone so sharp, you’re really a big softy.” Rae sighed, voice a million miles away. Lost in a moment, Vinca could never fully surrender to. It was too soft. Too dangerous. Too tempting. She wanted to withdraw, like a tiger with its paw snared in a trap, Vinca wanted to flee… but she couldn’t. Rae’s arms were wrapped around her, squeezing like a boa constrictor. Hands, gentler than the finest Masseuse, were like the teeth of a trap digging into her flesh. There she was, a soul sold to hell, stuck in the embrace of someone angelic. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

“If you tell anyone…” she began, hissing the words into the baby hairs behind Rae’s ear. She shuddered, unable to conceal a reaction at the heated breath, the closeness… the sickly promise in Vinca’s empty threat.

“I know, you’ll stab me.” Rae chuckled, simply squeezing a little tighter, nuzzling that little bit closer. Vinca relented further, sighing, slouching into the contact.

“Seriously though…” Rae began, withdrawing enough to see the startled expression upon Vinca’s face as she muttered the next word.

It wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the opening Rae had hoped for, nor the closure Vinca may have sought. Yet, there was a door opened. A tender olive branch extended; a sprig, too defiant to die in the blazing heat. That little spark, that unspoken potential drew a matching smile to Rae’s lips, gave her the courage to accept the comfort Vinca offered, even knowing that she risked being cut. Perhaps bleeding would be worth it to have a friend as loyal as Pride… no, as loyal as Vinca Wren.

“Thanks.”

[1-lightofjustice]

Choice and Fate

Preview :   

("I made it in time to be with you at your final moment and share your destiny. I am satisfied with that.") -July, 1999

("It may come to be that you'll share my destiny and have to die with me." "Then so be it.") -December, 2013

Two Kings, two knights, and their shared destiny.

Pairing : Fushimi and Munakata, Habari and Zenjou. No romance but a very deep bond

Tags : Metafiction, Angst with Happy Ending, Zenjou Gouki P.O.V

Notes : I was re-watching Side Blue Seven Stories, and boy do I fangirling hard when Zenjou talked about "shared destiny" (It's the same word, unmei!). Especially since Munakata and Fushimi's secret plan is my favorite thing on K : ROK. Then when I read about previous Blue clan's tale, it occurred to me that Habari/Zenjou/Shiotsu really has some similar dynamic with Munakata/Fushimi/Awashima. Responsible and doting beautiful King, serious and disciplined Lieutenant and second in command, and the wild card "can't wear their uniform properly" private force of the King. Their situation is also somewhat familiar, but of course in Munakata/Fushimi/Awashima's case, they ended with happy ending *pats Zenjou and Shiotsu*

Link of this fic on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31751149

Throughout the surprisingly long life of a Zenjou Gouki, he has encountered many crazy situations. Hell, he managed to see the Kagutsu Crater incident right in front of him and stayed alive. But what happened last night can be included in one crazy thing that happened in front of his eyes after a long time.

It started with him following his current superior (not King, Munakata Reisi is never his King) to a small plain room. It was furnished exceedingly modestly, having only a desk and a bed. Zenjou thought that this boring place must be the perfect place to discuss something like a secret plan. Munakata seemed to notice his thought, informed him with a light tone.

"This is my private room. Not many people know about this room, so it will be convenient for our secret meeting.[1]"

"So you really have a place to rest. I've heard rumors about you are some kind of creature who doesn't need sleep." surprised Zenjou. Zenjou has heard many rumors regarding what a bizarre creature the current Blue King. From he has an infinite set of glasses to he lives inside network and doesn't need rest, because no single person ever see him in any condition except straight and sturdy. Although, he also never saw Habari slept either.

He wondered if that was Blue Kings' stubborn trait, to never let people see their crumbled form even on the brink of their death. Yes, he already knew the state of Munakata's Damocles Sword, but the current Blue King's eyes never waver in fear of his own fate.

Just like Habari on that damned day...

A disapproving tongue click voiced his thought, also turned his attention toward its source. Entered a lanky boy with a scowly face that maybe can rival Shiotsu. Of course, he knew immediately the identity of the boy. Fushimi Saruhiko, the number 3 of current Scepter 4. The wild card of the King, Munakata's favorite [2], who has given authority to act freely as his liking [3], much to the discipline Lieutenant Awashima's frustration.

("Zenjou, don't just face the enemy head out! I ordered you to wait, didn't I?!"

"So what? Habari said it's okay, didn't he? You're too stuck up, Shiotsu..."

"Sigh... Habari, you're too sweet with Zenjou.."

"It's fine, isn't it? This guy does a better job when he runs freely.") [4]

"As weird as he looks like, Captain is a human too. Obviously, he does things like resting and sleeping like the rest of us. He just works all the time like a moron and spouting nonsense like King doesn't get tired or something like that." Fushimi's sarcastic quip brought him back to the present. Zenjou has to tell Shiotsu that as delinquent as his past self, this boy is way way worse than him.

At least he never called Habari a moron.

Captain didn't look offended at the insult, though. He greeted the boy with his usual amused tone.

"Ah, Fushimi-kun, you finally came. Have you finished your work?"

The boy shrugged and sat on the only chair in the room, facing Munakata who was seated on his bed. Zenjou himself was content to stand leaning on the wall, away from any of them as possible.

"Tsk, after the alliance agreed on Silver King's plan, I have so many things that have to be prepared. You are the one who asked me to come to your room after today's work is over without getting noticed by other people. Do you realize how wrong it sounds?"

Munakata only smiled at Fushimi's insolent words.  

"I'm sorry, but there's something important that I have to discuss with you in secret. It's related to Silver King's plan that we've heard this noon. After listening to that, I am planning to make a backup plan in case his plan is failed."

Backup plan...quite a natural move for the current Scepter 4's Captain. For a Blue King, he had a quite pessimistic mindset. Once again, Zenjou ascertained that Munakata is not the same as his bright and optimistic Habari.

But, a doubtful thought entered his mind. Was Habari indeed always optimistic?  Suddenly he recalled his conversation with Habari about birds dropping, and Zenjou mulled, maybe Habari knew about his upcoming tragic fate earlier than he thought. [5]    

Fushimi looked at Munakata with a curious gaze, devoid of worry or mistrust upon Captain's words.

"You think his plan will be failed?"

"I can't say that his plan will surely fail, but for a King who runs in shadow all this time, it's weird for Green King to make such an open attack. I have a feeling that Green King has something on his sleeve and it potentially can mess up Silver King's plan."

"Why didn't you say something at the alliance meeting earlier?" asked Fushimi, fully aware that the usual Munakata Reisi should not hesitate to say anything on his mind at the earlier alliance meeting. Munakata pushed his glasses in a somewhat weirdly embarrassed gesture.

"Because I'm still not sure what is Green King's hidden trick so so that my suspicions can seem like paranoia for no reason. I also don't want to discourage other Kings before the battle. Anna-kun is still a child and Isana-shi seems to...have quite a weak mental strength. Besides, the fewer people who know about my backup plan, the better."

Fushimi scanned around the room, seemed to have just realized the absence of Lieutenant Awashima and other Scepter 4 members.

"Lieutenant and the rest of Scepter 4 members are not included in your plan?"

"Yes, I just need you, Fushimi-kun, and you, Zenjou-san. I don't plan to include other clans either but I can't control their action. Is there any more question?"

Looks like finally the curious youth ran out of his questions. Zenjou himself refused to say anything unless he was asked directly.

"Alright then, will the two of you hear what I have to say?"

Zenjou felt a sudden deja vu. Three of them, a king and two wild cards, this situation mirrored their meeting before Kusuhara's avenge mission.[6]

"Fine, let's hear about your plan."

"If our defense on Mihashira tower is defeated and the Slate gets stolen by Green clan, I need you to enter Green clan, Fushimi-kun."

Zenjou froze upon hearing the sentence. He threw his full attention toward Munakata, to see what kind of face he made after uttered such a crazy task. But Munakata didn't seem going to take his words. The current Blue King switched his gaze at the boy Fushimi, who had an unnaturally speechless look on his young face.

"Infiltrate Green Clan, get as close as possible to their secret quarters and the Slate, then give us chance to attack them."

Fushimi's shocked face lasted for a few minutes. Then he finally found his voice to spoke up.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to be Green King's clansman. That means betray Scepter 4. Betray  you ."

Munakata maintained his unshakable serenity.

"Yes, we will have a fake quarrel in front of everyone and you are supposed to leave me in anger."

The youth gradually lost his shocked face. In exchange, his mouth morphed into a twisted grin, and he let out a quite long crazed laugh. Captain just stared at him in silence with no intention to stop his subordinate's bizarre action. In the end, the boy regained his composure and threw Munakata a bitter smile.

"I see, it's such a fitting job for a traitor like me."

Munakata lowered his gaze, but his voice remained steady.

"Indeed you are the only one who can do this task, not only because you have switched clan before, but also I have complete faith in your ability to fulfill this mission."

"Faith, huh..."

Hearing his favorite subordinate's mocking tone, the Scepter 4 captain stood up and walked to the table near the boy. He gently put his hand on the table and spoke softly.

"But I understand that it's not an easy task to accept so you have all night to consider this. In the morning, please give-"

"I'll do it."

"Fushimi-kun?" Munakata's composure shook a little, jolted at Fushimi's resolute words. The person in question stared his Captain head-on with a determined expression.

"I accept this mission. Truly annoying, but I understand the importance of the backup plan, and your plan seems logical enough."

"Fushimi-kun, I advise you to think about this matter carefully. This is a mission with no guarantee that you would return alive. You can refuse it."

"Tsk, don't you say that you have faith in my ability?"

"I have absolute confidence that you can perform this task successfully. But after Green clan is aware of your espionage, you will be trapped in the middle of enemy's territory alone, especially since this mission is kept as a secret from everyone except me, you and Zenjou-san."

Fushimi took his eyes off Munakata and looked at Zenjou, as if just noticing the veteran's presence in the room. He looked at the scarred man slightly annoyed, probably because he didn't like other people to see his last (maybe) mental breakdown.

I don't want to see it either, kid. I don't even know why I am here.

"I understand to keep it from Lieutenant and others to make my betrayal will look real, but why does Zenjou-san is included in this plan?" protested Fushimi, not caring a little bit about Zenjou's demonic popularity. Then again, that kid once (maybe) deliberately passed him and taunted him with his own Captain's condition [7].

Truly no wonder that he's Munakata's favorite.

"After you give a chance to attack, I plan to confront Green clan and Zenjou-san, I need you to be my only companion."

If before Zenjou froze, now he felt like he was being doused by cold water. No one in the room didn't understand the hidden meaning of the Blue King's sentence. Munakata walked toward Zenjou and stared at him sternly, signified how serious the situation that Zenjou was getting into.

"I do not plan to include other Scepter 4 members since Awashima-kun and the rest should handle clan's matters in my absence. Zenjou-san, I will rely on your ability to give me the best possible protection while facing Green clan."

So he refused to say outright about the elephant in the room, huh. How hilarious. Voicing his thought, the youth snorted sarcastically.

"Pft, best possible protection, isn't he your executioner? Or what do you call him? Your Sword of Damocles, part of your destiny."

Wow, ain't that familiar words. So the boy overheard his conversation with the current Blue King on Kusuhara's avenge mission. Munakata didn't mind his subordinate's provocative words at all and firmly addressed the elder man.

"Zenjou-san, are you willing to accompany me and obliterate any threat that can harm humanity?"

Zenjou-san was well aware that the said humanity's threats meant by Munakata are not only about Green Clan and their grand plan. Munakata planned to push his Weismann's level past its limit to face Green clan, and when his Damocles Sword is at the risk of getting down, his life will be the obstacle that must be removed to prevent massive destruction.

(”Zenjou, you will always do the right thing. You will cut what needs to be cut.”)

"I will cut anything that needs to be cut."

"That's good then" nodded Munakata, who seemed satisfied at the confirmation of his own execution.

Silence engulfed the small room. Neither of them intended to open break the ice, probably busy with thoughts of each great burden on their shoulders. After a few minutes, the boy spoke up with an amused yet depressed tone.

"Lieutenant will not be happy about this."

"I bet she won't," chuckled Munakata softly.

"If somehow we can survive in the end, she will choke us with massive ankos."

The boy suppressed his giggle. He was aware of his impending fate, the high possibility of his death with his King...

And he laughed.

On  that day , didn't he also laughed at the possibility of his death alongside Habari? Wait, no, he laughed about how angry Shiotsu to be left alone and has to handle all the mess after their death. And in the end, Shiotsu still had to take care of all Scepter 4 matters because Zenjou after he cut his own king is truly dead in everything but breaths.

Glad that Shiotsu isn't obsessed with anko. Not that he dislikes anko, though.

Captain's chuckle disappeared, seemed that he didn't enjoy Fushimi's newest humor.

"Fushimi-kun, are you sure-"

Fushimi stood up to silence Munakata's mouth, fixed his eyes to his Captain steadily.

"Shut up, I said that I will do it, didn't I. Just like you said, I am the only one who can do it. Instead of nagging me, you should think about yourself."

Fushimi turned around, refusing to face his Captain. The boy muttered petulantly.

"....I am not the one who will walk toward a practically suicide plan."

Munakata sat back on his bed, staring at the room ceiling.

"Your mission has a very high risk, it can be considered a suicide plan, though. It may come to be that you'll share my destiny and have to die with me."

"Then so be it."

Seeing the despairing scene unfolding before his eyes, Zenjou looked away, hard. He didn't like it. The scene he saw right now, is too similar like on that day.

("I made it in time to be with you at your final moment, and share your destiny. I am satisfied with that.")

"Well, there's nothing left to discuss, right? Then I'll go, there are so many things that need to be prepared for tomorrow's plan, also for this new backup plan."The boy hurriedly walked toward the door, still refuse to turn back and saw his Captain.

"Fushimi-kun?"

"Yes?"

The current Blue King took his eyes off the ceiling, focused his attention at his subordinate's back.

"If there's a time when you can choose your fate, please choose the best option for your safety."

The boy was silent for a few moments. Then, still with his back to his Captain, he grabbed the doorknob

"I'll keep that in mind."

The door was opened, and Fushimi was ready to walk out of that room. But, he turned back facing Munakata and stated with a soft yet clear voice.

"When the time comes, I have a feeling that my body will do what I think it's right to do, reason doesn't matter. Just like that night when I stepped to your side. So, I can't promise you anything that I myself can't understand."

"I see... Then, whatever your choice later, do not hesitate."

("Do not hesitate, Zenjou.")

"Yeah, I will not regret it."

I don't understand. Why did I must kill you that time, Habari?

The former right-hand of late Blue King silently watched as the youth's figure completely disappeared from the room. The current Blue King rose from his bed and also walked to the door.

"The meeting is over. Looks like we have so many things to be prepared, aren't we, Zenjou-san? Or do you have any questions?"

Questions? He has so many of them. He felt like he didn't understand anything at all. Blue Kings. Munakata.

Habari.

But there's one thing he had to make sure of.

"You will not let the boy share your fate, aren't you?"

Munakata just smiled softly and walked out of the room, as if his smile is enough for an answer. But the right-hand man of the late Blue King understood the meaning of that damned familiar smile.

The answer is as clear as the blue sky.

King, Zenjou thought, is truly the cruelest being.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

As Munakata predicted, Mihashira's plan was failed and Green clan succeed in stealing the Slate. As per Munakata's plan, he had a nasty verbal fight with Fushimi and the boy left in anger (he wondered how much it was acting and how much it was their scream to each other for the last time). Then, just like Munakata's prediction, the boy managed to be Jungle J-ranker, the current Blue King was fired from his job, and the rest of Scepter 4 were not allowed to leave home base.

The final stage had been prepared.

"I wish I knew what they were thinking, both Captain and Fushimi-san!"

A young energetic blue clansman's voice of frustration echoed in his ears, while he accompanied the Captain walked toward Green clan's base. Funnily, he wondered the same. He glanced at the current Blue King, hoped to catch a glimpse of emotion regarding his impending death. But the current Blue King walked straight as usual, there is no hesitation in his steps and his regal posture.

Habari, when you stood straight facing my sword, surrounded by destruction, what were you thinking?

Did he think about his duty as King to preserve society?

Did he think about his fate to die for everyone's sake?

Did he think about the benefit of his disappearance?

Is it... Is it so wrong for Zenjou to think the opposite?

To think that the world can crash and burn as long as he can be on his King's side?

("The country would be destroyed."

"I see... None of my concern. I fight with you, I die with you. That's all I need to do. Let Shiotsu take care of the rest.")

Losing on his thought, and let his body automatically slashed anything that came across their path, he halted when Munakata suddenly stopped in the middle of the road.

"Now we wait."

Wait, for what?  

Zenjou got his answer quickly after. The road in front of him trembled and shifted. Green clan members around them yelled in panic, confused why and how the gate of their secret base was opened.

But the former right-hand of late Blue King understood. The boy did it. He chose to stay on his King's side and fight for his sake, disregarding his own life.

This means that for the boy, opened the gate for his King is the right thing to do.

Again, he hurriedly took a glance at the King beside him. The Blue King smiled softly, relief in his eyes tingled with immeasurable fondness.

"Fushimi-kun. You have done it."[8]

("That's right, Zenjou. That's fine.")

As if his mind wasn't already filled with painful nostalgia, a familiar person appeared from the gate. Ootori Seigo, the Gray King, another person who lost his everything because of Kagutsu Crater.

"Good grief, the gate really did open. Nagare's foresight is quite accurate."

Of course, the Gray King acknowledged Zenjou as Habari Jin's right-hand man. It's been 14 years ago, but no one will ever forget everything that happened in the middle of Kagutsu Crater. Not that he had any business with Ootori Seigo, now.

He was Munakata's problem.

As the Gray King summoned Damocles Sword, Munakata also summoned his. The broken Blue Damocles Sword clashed with the solid Gray Sword.

The Blue King unleashed his sanctum, pushing his Weissman level.

Green clan had been aware of the boy's infiltration.

The countdown of their death has begun.

So far, everything has gone according to Munakata's plan. But then many unexpected things happened. The first was the arrival of the red and white clansmen who entered the entrance that had been opened by Fushimi. Indeed, the Blue King had said that he cannot control the movements of other clans, but what happened after that certainly completely deviated from Captain's prediction.

Scepter 4 members, who were supposed to be confined in their home base, disregarded the orders from above and came to assist their King. For a supposed genius, Munakata is truly stupid to think that he stopped being their leader after he was fired. As if any clansman will accept that a single piece of paper dictates them to abandon their King.

("Tokyo Legal Affairs Bureau, Civil Registry Department, Annex 4 is just a facade. Our true identity is the proud Scepter 4 clansmen of Blue King, Munakata Reisi").

Supported by his clansmen's sanctuary, the Blue King rose from adversity and managed to turn the tide. In the end, he succeeded to land a fatal blow on Ootori Seigo and made his Damocles Sword disappeared. Every blue clansman rejoiced for it before suddenly Munakata's whole body crackled with uncontrolled Blue power.

Scepter 4 Lieutenant suddenly rushed to his side and prevented other people to come closer to her King.

"Everyone, stand back. You too, Zenjou-san."

Not too long ago, he challenged Lieutenant Awashima to kill her King. He didn't really think that it had to be her job to slay her King and stop her King's Damocles Sword. Maybe he was testing her. Maybe he was just annoyed because she nagged him about his role in killing King in the past (not that she was worse than Munakata about that). Maybe he was a little resentful because people like her remembered him best as the person who was credited with stopping Habari's Damocles Down by killing his own King.

No matter what reason, it was clear that Awashima took his words seriously. She immediately went to Munakata's side and kept everyone away from him.

"I am his lieutenant. If necessary, I will..." declared Awashima firmly, But her hands were shaking, indicating the heavy feeling raging in her heart.

("Zenjou, as always, you never do wrong things. You will cut what needs to be cut.")

The current Blue King just kept calm with his crackling body. Maybe he already gave up on controlling everything that happened around him and allowed himself to go with the inevitable flow of fate. What did he say before? 'There are times when you want to throw out reason and let fate take its course'.

"Awashima-kun, when the time comes, do not hesitate."

("Do not hesitate, Zenjou.")

Too focused on what was happening, no one noticed the gray king's departure from his previous place. Zenjou just noticed it for a while, and let him be. With the old man's battered body, Ootori couldn't do anything except mustered his last strength and limped toward his purpose of life.

"At least, he can die where he wants."

Which is certainly couldn't be said for Zenjou. All he can do is to live and observe the next tale of Blue. Blue that did not belong to him.

Wild power in Munakata' body was intensified. Crack in the huge blue sword grew exponentially. Lieutenant Awashima strengthened her grip on her sword, gritted her teeth.

Will history repeated itself?

Will the right hand of the King, the most devoted clansman of Blue, killed her own King?

Suddenly, crackles that enveloped the Blue King stopped. The broken Sword of Damocles disintegrated into blue sparkles, diluted in the clear blue sky. Lieutenant Awashima drastically relieved her tense posture, utterly grateful painted her pretty face.

Munakata himself didn't show any sharp change of expression. With the same serene and peaceful smile, the former Blue King whispered softly.

"It seems my life has been spared."

"Captain!"

Munakata turned his back facing his Lieutenant. He noticed the strong woman's refreshed face, as if she was just relieved from a huge burden and all is well. That's exactly what happened, indeed.  

"I must admit that I was a bit curious to see if Awashima-kun would be able to slay me. However, I appreciate your efforts. Thank you."

Asshole. Even just after be free from the brink of certain death, the young captain is as cynical as ever. The Lieutenant's emotion didn't change much, but if someone looked closely, a spark of anger flashed her eyes.

"With all due respect, Captain. Your gratitude alone will not be enough."

"Huh?"

"Excuse me!"

A loud, well-deserved punch, streaked Munakata's baffled face. Zenjou snorted, silently cheered.

Serves him right.

He was truly satisfied to accompany Munakata today.

A huge earthquake shook underneath them. The Scepter 4 Captain in everything but an official title (not for long) quickly ordered his clansmen to evacuate. He himself stayed in the place he stood, stared forlornly at the remnant of Green Clan base below him. Come to think about it, Munakata had been staring at the Jungle entrance ever since he defeated Gray King.

As if he dropped something precious in there.

Do you regret hoping that he doesn't share the same fate as you, now that you survived?

Suddenly, a green light appeared behind him, carrying the bruised but clearly alive Blue's youngest clansman. The newly former King turned around, and finally met his private soldier's eyes for a long time since their hurtful (fake) quarrel. There are so many things that happened to them, so many things that should be discussed, but the youth casually spoke up, as if they're in a normal day of normal daily Scepter 4 life.

"Mission accomplished, sir.."

"Well done."

Seeing the serene scene in front of him, Zenjou suppressed the bitter envy in his heart.

If only he and Habari's situation ended up like them...

Kagutsu bastard... if he wanted to destroy everything so much, he should destroy the damned Slate when he was at it.

0000000000000000000000000

"So, have you found your answer on the last incident?" asked a man with a scary face beside Zenjou. His name is Shiotsu, the former Lieutenant of Habari's Scepter 4 and Zenjou's closest comrade after Habari. They were on a drink together in the same oden store as the last time [7].

"What answer? I was simply watching the current Blue King." replied Zenjou while sipping his drink. Shiotsu scowled.

"You certainly watched him because of  that time . You said that you want to understand Habari after all.[9]"

Smoothing his frown, Shiotsu raised his glass and pondered.

"To be honest, I am curious too. How did he feel when he stood between his own life and massive destruction? How did he feel when he asked you to kill him?"

"Habari didn't ask me to kill him. I chose to do it."

The bespectacled man suddenly stated, put his glass down slowly.

"That's my answer I guess."

"What?" perplexed Shiotsu. Zenjou Gouki is the absolute loyal dog of Habari Jin. For him to admit that he chose to kill his King... the former Acting Captain of Scepter 4 couldn't believe his ears.

"On the recent incident with Munakata, The Blue-I mean former Blue King didn't ask Awashima to kill him. Still, she rushed to his side, just like I did in the past. She's prepared to do what needs to be done, for Scepter 4 and society's sake. On the other hand, that boy Fushimi chose to risk his life for Munakata, opened the gate that became the entrance for Silver King and his alliance to enter Jungle, and indirectly caused Munakata's Damocles to disappear. Both of them didn't move because of command. They just did what they think is the right thing to do, without hesitation."

Zenjou took a dejected breath, and continued calmly.

"At that time,  maybe it happened to me as well. All Habari did was to let me do my choice and accepted his fate."

Shiotsu was silent, stared at Zenjou's contemplative look. The former guard dog of Blue King's face was melancholic just like how he always is while thinking about their King, but he could feel that finally, his closest comrade found peace in himself.

"I see... Then, did you regret your choice?"

Zenjou smiled wistfully.

"Part of me still wants to die alongside him on that day, but I will try not to regret what's already happened."

Shiotsu still remembered the days after the Kagutsu incident. Zenjou's blank hopeless look, as if his soul went with his king to the afterlife. Zenjou who left Scepter 4 right after Habari's death, and withdrew from everyone. Zenjou who refused to come out, and chose to grieve in silence.

Looking that his friend's sorrowful yet serene smile, Shiotsu felt very grateful that his friend was still alive and sat in his side.

"Good for you, Zenjou."

Looking at his comrade's unusual fond smile, Zenjou chuckled.

"So you can make a smile with that scowly face, Shiotsu."

"Shut up. I was born with this face, but you and Habari's recklessness certainly didn't help me to hold back my scowl."

Zenjou let out a crisp hearty laugh. Then, as if he had just remembered something, he grinned.

"Speaking about recklessness, Lieutenant Awashima is also not happy with both the current Blue King and his boy's recklessness. She's so angry when knowing that they literally walked toward suicide plans without her knowledge, intended to leave her alone to stay in Scepter 4 HQ and handle Clan's matters after their death. The discipline Lieutenant punched his superior and tried to break the boy's back with her hug."

Hearing that, Shiotsu couldn't help but snicker. Oh, he knew the feeling of that Lieutenant's frustration and exasperation very damn well.

"Of course she is, and they deserved it."

"On  that day,  Habari left your side to face Kagutsu alone. I also followed him and tried to die with him. To think about it, perhaps we both could be that reckless because we know that you can survive and take care of the rest of matters after our death. Like Awashima, do you ever feel angry-"

*BUGH*

A hard-boiled punch followed by a back-breaking hug answered Zenjou's question.

Reference :

[1] Case Files of Blue volume 2 chapter 3

[2] Fushimi Saruhiko side story

[3] Days of Blue Chapter 4

[4] Side Blue Oneshot- A Dog Reminiscence

[5] Zenjou Gouki ~ Dog Droppings, Bird Droppings

[6] K Seven Stories Side Blue

[7] K Countdown Chapter 6 : Damaged Blue

[8] K Return of King Manga Chapter 12

[9] K ~ Seven Stories ~ Piece 7: Habari Jin

[daily-rubbersoul-redux]

Bio: Nathan Kanpeki

Perfection’s Dark Scion

DOB: 5/19

Height: 178 cm; Appx. 5 ft 11 in.

Stand User?: Yes

Relationships:

- Family: Ai, Minoto, Fujiko

- Friends: Bella, Minoto

- Acquaintances: His classmates in 1-B, 

- Unsure: Sumi, Baseball Boy

Likes: Feeling appreciated, getting good grades, being perfect, making his mother proud, keeping his thing orderly, reading, going above expectations, snow, dancing

Dislikes: Being undermined, feeling inferior, mistakes (even his own), people who look down on him (including himself), being manipulated, having to ask for help, relying on others, rainy days, oranges

Other info: Nathan is, to put it lightly, a complete and utter perfectionist.  He holds himself to the highest standards, and strives to be the best in all that he does.  Despite this, he almost never looks down on others, directing nearly all criticisms he has to himself.  He tries to treat people kindly, or at the very least with respect, and is generally a pleasant person to be around...though he does have an unfortunate tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and is currently on a pretty bad unlucky streak.  He also cares a good deal about his family, and he and his mother are quite close - a fact which he really isn’t embarrassed of, despite his age.  This extends to his extended family as well, with him being very close with his uncle and cousin.  However, not all is happy in his life; His perfectionism combined with his love of his family can often cause him to refuse to let those he love help him, causing them to worry for him which then leads to him becoming even more resistant to help.  

Alternate Outfits:

Stand:

[The Scions’ Dance In Purgatory] (name to be removed once picture is added)

“All I wished for was perfection... Now, I’m unsure if I’m even human anymore.”

Ability Description: Grants a boost to the user’s strength, speed, and perceptiveness based on their current emotional state (the more desperate/frantic/unhinged, the more powerful they become; can only be turned off by fully calming down; has no time limit or cooldown); The user can summon a Glaive at will, as well as de-summon it; Physical changes also occur (with their severity depending on the user’s emotional state as well) such as: change in eye color, a perpetual shadow over the user’s face, growing horns and a tail, and one or both of the user’s hands developing claws made of a black armor-like substance (all of these are temporary and will dissipate with the stand’s effects).

Special Traits: Sentient;  The stand itself has no physical form, simply manifesting as a voice in the user’s head; Is usually quite encouraging towards its user; Has a ‘second form’, called [Praise this Despair!], which has the same abilities as the first for the most part, except it is much more powerful and causes the user to gain an eerie bright pink flame-like aura (can only be triggered by the user completely snapping, or being pushed to the point of mental breakdown);  This second form is the result of being shot by the arrow twice, along with the ability to summon a weapon; As it is entirely emotion based, it can be very hard to control at times.

[bangtansfavwriter]

🥞☕brunch café owner! jin☕🥞

tw: a tiny mention of anxiety and shitty people that you may have encountered in school / uni ( but a lot of fluff to make up for it! )

- so far, your day was a complete catastrophe, im not even gonna tone it down, it was a complete shitshow to be honest

-it was like god woke up and went "i’m gonna let y/n have a shit day lmaoo"

-you overslept and missed your bus... on the day you had an appointment with your lecturer about your term paper

- after tripping on the stairs and hitting your knee, you hobbled to the office where this gollum lookalike was already waiting for you

- your lecturer was unreasonable enough to not let you extend your deadline for your paper... the one book you needed wasn't in the library for the past 3 weeks and there was no other edition available. so you explained the situation multiple times even at the beginning of your writing process, you even wrote him mails to explain the issue

- but this man who literally radiated boomer energy with every particle of his being really had the audacity to not answer, not even to your second mail and then he actually said that he does not understand "how someone of your age doesn't manage to even get a simple task as writing a paper" done

-you explained the situation again but he was pretty much tone-deaf to your situation and didn't even care when you said that you're actually gonna go to the library now to get the book scans

- so you went there already drained and exhausted from that conversation

-but the library was an even worse experience tbh .......

[fic mode: on, hohoho]

The lady in the library yelled at you for no apparent reason after you informed her that the scanner wasn't working and made you look stupid in front of other students who were there until one of them intervened and helped you out, which you appreciated. But this whole situation grew even worse on you after you left the library because your anxiety kicked in. You went straight into a quiet alley nearby and started crying quietly. "But hey!" you then exclaimed angrily, while wiping away your tears "At least the paper is gonna get done, right?! because who gives a shit about mental health and all huh, Mr. Go?!" and you started sobbing again. "Dickhead... And that stupid library lady... with her stupid fat 80s glasses. And her ugly yeehaw look...". This was something you wouldn't ever do in public, crying and ranting that is. but the alley was quiet, your only company was a stray cat that was sleeping underneath a tree's shadow. or so you thought. "Ugly yeehaw people and their ugly ass clothes, like... go read a magazine or something...". You started feeling more liberated with each mild insult you'd utter, so you went on. "Ugly library lady and her giant wart, like who the fuck are you? yubaba?" you heard someone snort and start laughing a squeaky laugh that almost sounded like a windshield wiper. Taken aback by the unexpected witness to your mild breakdown, you stood still at first, then looked around, left and right, but you couldn't see anyone. "Over here!" you heard someone say. You looked around again and sighed when you still couldn't see anyone. "Did I finally lose my mind?" you mumbled to yourself, only to hear the squeaky laugh again. "Hey! Turn around and look up!". You got up the bench and did as you were told by the omnipresent voice and finally saw the person it belonged to. Up at the 1st floor, there was a guy looking down to you from his tiny balcony that had plants hanging down from it. He smiled at you when your eyes met and you felt your heart rate go up in an instant, as you realized this stranger, this awfully handsome stranger witnessed how your petty little rant and crying about yubaba's twin in the library. "Tough day, huh?" he asked, you just nodded and quickly wiped your face with your sleeve. "Oh no, hold on" he mumbled and suddenly disappeared from his window, leaving you behind with a surprised look on your face. A box of Kleenex suddenly landed in front of your feet, as he reappeared at his window. "Just one would have done it, too, but thank you. I appreciate it!" you said and smiled at the guy. While you wiped your face, you heard another something land on the bench. You looked up again to the guy who, all of a sudden, avoided your gaze. "That'll help, you know..." he said and looked at you in surprise when you started laughing. What he threw on the bench was a... bar of chocolate. One that also happened to be your favourite. You looked at him and gave him a huge smile that made his heart flutter. He looked away shyly and scratched his head. "Tough day, yeah... but this right here," you raised the chocolate bar, "this makes it all better, you're right about that. Thank you!" The stranger couldn't help but look at you once again. He almost felt compelled to it. It was like staring at the sun when it sets, you know that you shouldn't stare at it directly, but it's so breathtakingly beautiful that you can't help but look. He intently watched you while you happily munched on your chocolate and smiled to himself. "What's your name?" he asked you. "Y/N! How about you?" - "I'm Seokjin. You can call me Jin..." - "Nice to meet you, Jin. I wish it would have been under different circumstances, though. I'm actually quite embarrassed about that, but chocolate helps with that, too." You two smiled at each other. "You know what, Y/N? Sometimes good things happen at weird times. Don't be embarrassed about crying earlier. I'm the last person who'd judge you because of that. I know that library witch, by the way... That Yubaba comparison was spot on!" You laughed out loud - he very much wished to hear this sound more often now. "Y/N, I gotta get ready for work now. But I'm gonna share one last bit of wisdom with you. I know a good remedy for bad days." - "Better than chocolate?" - "Oh, yes. Even better than chocolate. There's a café in XX street. There's a whole lot of lavender growing right in front of it, you can't miss it. That cafe has the best pancakes in the entire city." - Oh my god, pancakes are the best thing on earth!" - "(!!!) You must go there and try then! They're fluffy and come in 5 different variations and the sweetest maple syrup! I'm telling you, if you have a bad day like this again, go straight to that café." He already got you at pancakes, so you definitely would go there. "I'll finish this damn paper and then go reward myself with pancakes! In one or two weeks I'll get like 2 plates of pancakes then!" - "That sounds perfect!", he laughed. Shortly after, he excused himself and you two bid farewell. He disappeared from his window and your troubles had disappeared from your soul. You went home with a smile on your face, thankful for the kindness he had shown you and hoped that you would see him in the café some day. "Who knows... Maybe he's a regular there. It sounded like it."

~

Roughly one and a half weeks later, many all nighters and a whole lot of take out food, you finished the paper and handed it in. Liberated from this massive pain in the ass, you went straight to the café that your thoughts circled around during the times you weren't busy with your paper. "God, I hope he's there...", you thought and thought of Jin, who you thought about as much as you dreamed of the huge plate of pancakes you were going to get now. The café was not very far from where you lived, you walked there in about 15 minutes and recognised the place by a very accurate description Jin has given you. The smell of lavender bewitched you as soon as you stepped into the alley the café was in. Lots of flower pots were in the front of it, not only was there lavender but also gardenias and petunias. The flowers were all around the tables outside. "Of course, the flower boy loves the flower café" you said to yourself and smiled. The café wasn't too busy, as you came by at a rather early hour, when there were still lectures for most students and older people were busy at the local market place. You were greeted right away when you entered the café, by a younger man, probably also a fellow student, who was wearing an apron and gave you a warm welcome with his bunny smile. He showed you to your table at the window side from where you could watch bees hurdle at the lavender pots outside. You ordered shortly after, it didn't take much thinking when you saw the "Eat the stress away" menu, with regular pancakes, hashbrowns and a tea/coffee option. "Excellent choice! It's my personal favourite~", your waiter added. You glanced at each other. "Fellow student?" you asked and laughed when he suddenly looked at you with a gloomy look, but joined you in laughter right away. "Shared struggle", he said laughing, leaned over real quick and whispered: "I'll get you some blueberry pancakes, too. I'll tell the chef you're a friend of mine." - "Oh my god, thank you!" He winked and went straight to the kitchen, while humming a tune. Well, this was certainly the sweetest waiter you'd ever encountered. But you had your eyes on the door, hoping for a divine intervention that would lead to Jin coincidentally walk into the café when you were there. Around 15 minutes later you finally sipped on your coffee and were about to devour the fluffiest pancakes you'd ever had on a plate in front of you. The hash browns were a tad bit disappointing, as they had a slighty burnt taste and weren't spiced very well, in your opinion. But the pancakes were absolutely amazing. Their soft and fluffy texture was  complemented with butter and the sticky-sweet maple syrup that as truly as good as Jin said. And the blueberry pancakes were so good that you feared losing control over your facial expressions. Your waiter came along to your table, after he got the newest customer orders to the kitchen. You invited him to sit with you, which he gladly accepted. "How do you like it? They're really good, right?" - "I think this is what the kids call 'foodgasm'...", you answered and the two of you giggled. He looked at your plate and noticed the hash browns that you put at the edge of your plate. "Oh? Didn't like the hash browns?" he asked with wide eyes.

"They're slightly burnt, I think..." you said shyly. You were never one to criticize the cook when you didn't like your food in a restaurant. The only time when you actually complained was when you once found hair in your soup in a restaurant, and even back then you apologised for the trouble whereas it was clearly the chef who was at fault. "Please don't tell anyone, this can happen sometimes, I accept that." you quickly added, but your waiter shook his head ferociously. "You paid for this, so it is our duty to bring good food to your table. Our chef is a perfectionist, I don't understand how this can happen anyway. I'll get it sorted out, but not without teasing him. Can you wait a little until the customers are gone here. We close for lunch time. So people are gonna leave soon." You agreed and waited, while befriending the waiter - Jungkook, a 2nd year student who was currently doing a side job at "Café Smeraldo". After the last customer left, Jungkook decided to call the chef by yelling across the café. "He's also the manager you know. We're a bit short-staffed, you know... This is gonna be funny~~ JIN-HYUNG!" You almost spat out your coffee and started coughing as soon as you heard that name. "JIN-HYUNG COME OUT OF YOUR BUREAU! YOU BURNT A CUSTOMER'S FOOD!" He cackled after he heard noise coming from inside, while you sat there mortified. The door from the staff room slammed open and you instantly wished to turn into dust, as said manager/chef was the guy who consoled you on one of the worst days you've had in your academic life. The two of you stared at each other in shock, but before he could say anything to you he started scolding his younger co-worker and the two of them started bickering, while you continued sipping on your coffee, because this whole situation was soon more entertaining than it was mortifying. At some point Jin shushed Jungkook who shut up right away when he realized that this wasn't playful bickering anymore. Jungkook bowed deeply and went to the kitchen where he started cleaning. "You're friends with the boy?" Jin asked and sat down at your table. He looked tired, you thought. "No, actually we met earlier, but I suppose we just clicked very fast." - "So this kid got you my famous blueberry pancakes on the house, huh?" - "...I guess so. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you trouble. I really didn't want him to say anything about the hash browns either." He quickly glanced at them and grabbed one to take a bite, but put it down again before doing so. "I can see it already", he said "you don't need to apologise, it's my bad." He sat there with a gloomy expression and sighed. "Tough day, huh?" you asked and smiled at him when he laughed at your reference. "Tough week is more like it. We're a bit short-staffed at the moment. But enough of me and my manager melancholy. Finished your paper?" You were surprised by his sudden change, but you went along. "Yeah, I turned it in earlier and came here right after. I gave you my word after all." You smiled at him, and he felt the same rush that he had experienced the day he first met you. You continued: "You were right, by the way. These pancakes are everything!! Especially the blueberry ones. Is that your recipe?" He laughed and nodded. "I'm glad you liked them!" he said. "I'll serve you better hash browns the next time, pinky promise. I got a phone call while preparing 3 orders, yours was the only one that suffered from it." - "It happens sometimes. Don't dwell on something so minor." - "Says you, who cried beneath my balcony because of some witch!" The two of you giggled. He looked at you with a look, that made your cheeks burn. His gaze was fond and soft, it was the kind of look you have whenever the sky looks pretty, or when a bird lands near you and sings a little song. Neither of you could break the look you shared, as neither of you could describe a bond that was apparently now formed with chocolate and pancakes. It was him who spoke up first: "Got room for more pancakes?". This question took you by surprise, but pancakes are always a welcome surprise. "Hell yeah, you can never have enough pancakes." - "I need more proof for that, but based on that sentence alone I can say that we may be soulmates, Y/N." You started laughing, as did he. "But why? What do you have in mind? Also, I'm surprised you still remember my name." His cheeks got a very apparent pink hue after your remark and you noticed how grossly you were endeared by this man. "Y/N... How could I forget..." he said with a low voice that made your heart flutter. "How could I forget someone who made me believe there was a banshee at my door for a solid minute!" He broke out in his loud and squeaky laughter as soon as he saw the pure offence and shock on your face, after he said that, because *that* was certainly not what you expected to hear.  "You're mean, oh my god!" you exclaimed but had to laugh, too. You guys needed two minutes to calm down again. The pink hue on his face was still there and you felt the rush of confidence in you. He noticed you looking at him and spoke up:

"Y/N... How could I forget someone who has made me smile on a day I didn't feel like smiling at all? I got the news my cook had to quit on the day we met. I thought this was the end for my café. But then, I met you, shortly after I got the news. And seeing you going from crying to happily munching on some chocolate despite having issues that made you cry in public in the first place... Seeing you forgetting your troubles with something so small as a chocolate bar. I don't know... I felt hopeful for some reason. And I love this feeling. And, god... I really hoped you'd take my advice and come here to have my pancakes! (he chuckled) But I have to admit something... I so regretted not asking for your number. For the past week I jumped through the kitchen door everytime a customer came in...". You were pretty sure your heart was soon gonna explode through your chest. He hid his face with his hands and sighed. "I'm not like this at all~" he whined, before facing you again. "But... How about I make us some more pancakes now? And hash browns, if you like. I haven't had breakfast yet and well... I really want to make you pancakes. Can I?" His voice became thinner with each sentence he added, since he came shyer with each bit. You chuckled, in disbelief about how your rapidly beating heart became so calm, yet so full when this man told you he wanted to make you pancakes. No nervosity whatsoever, no second thoughts, nothing. An epiphany over pancakes... Who would have thought? This was safe. This was a safe place for both of you, and both of you felt it.

"A breakfast date then?"

"Breakfast date it is."

"I like the sound of that."

💕

epilogue:

-you two enter the kitchen after you insisted on watching him cook for you-

jk: hyu- oh, hi y/n! you guys know each other? ah hyung, i cleaned up everything and tidied up in the bureau. i'm sorry about earlier. (bows again and stands there shyly)

jin: (sighs very deeply) come here, you dodo.

the two of them shared a short but sweet hug, after which jungkook had a huge smile on his face again. jin and you shared a look and the same thought as you looked at jungkook after.

jin: jk, you wanna have pancakes with us?

jk: huh? yeah sure, i'm actually pretty hungry... (he smiles at you two) I'll go clean up inside real quick and prepare the table! yayy, pancake brunch with friends ☺️ (he leaves you two in the kitchen)

you turned to jin and smiled. "don't even start." he said quickly, while he started getting the ingredients out. "AWWW~~" - "NOOO!"

-the end-

[strawberrytheduck]

Belle Quacks-Chapter 13

(TW: Mental breakdown/self-esteem issues)

Quackerjack and Bushroot walked the girls home, Quackerjack still feeling protective and Bushroot just wanting to get to know Camellia better. “Thank you guys, for helping us.” The fox said, squeezing Bushroot’s leafy hand. Quacky gave a simple ‘no problem’ where as Bushroot stumbled over his words, saying how he was happy to help and that he was glad they were safe. “You certainly talk a lot, it’s cute. You’re sweet too.” She hummed, looking at the plant mutant. He blushed, his face turning a dark green. A smirk was present on the demented jester’s cheerful face, telling them to ignore him. Camellia asked him what plant he was and to tell her more about it, spurring a lecture that caused Belle to zone out and fall asleep. Quacky happily carried her, tuning out the plant nerds. Camellia seemed happy to talk to him, smiling warmly and running a hand through his petals once in a while. Bushroot never really got to talk like this for so long, not even with Rhoda. Camellia was a lot like her in some ways, smart, pretty and kind. She was also so different, being pagan, a mammal, multiple piercings, confident and strong. The florist was honestly the most beautiful person he’d ever seen and she didn’t mind him, she liked his company. “I really love your passion Reggie, it’s something I admire. This whole thing has been fast paced and chaotic but you’re definitely a highlight.” The mutant unlocked the door and opened it for her, opting to help with Belle. Camellia was fascinated to say the least, who could blame her? Bushroot was the closest being she ever met to a pagan deity, he was incredibly sweet and he was smart, she wanted more time with him.

Belle barely stirred when she was placed on to the bed, letting out a tiny yawn. Jack had to hold his beak shut to avoid squealing at his sister. Bushroot simply ‘awww’ed as he put the covers over her. She had a long day, she was entitled to some sleep. Quackerjack then pulled something out of his pocket, a plush version of himself and a note. He placed the note on the bedside table and the plushie in her arms. “I’m giving her a little me, that way she’ll always have a piece of me or something to cuddle during a breakdown or panic attack.” He stated, kissing her on the forehead. The small, sleeping duck pulled the plush closer to her, nuzzling it slightly. The taller woman chuckled fondly, smiling at the guys. Belle seemed happy and sleeping peacefully. Quackerjack then asked where she’d sleep, instantly pushing her closer to the bed when she said the couch. “I’m sure you’ve shared the bed before, just go to bed.” He insisted. She rolled her eyes, giggling. Bidding them goodnight, she kissed Bushroot on his forehead before joining Belle. The plant had to be dragged out by the other duck, who put the keys on the side, and shook him by the shoulders. “Earth to Reggie, I know you’ve been kissed by a woman you likely think is a goddess but get yourself together.” He said, tapping his friend. The botanist mumbled something, little flowers growing from his petals and around the base of them in a flower crown like formation. ‘Goodness, he’s helpless.’ The toymaker thought, giggling at his friend. Once Bushroot snapped out of it, he looked like a full on floral arrangement. “Well, you fell for her quick. So did Morgana when it comes to Belle. Come on, let’s go.” And with that, they left.

Camellia was already awake and gone when Belle woke up, not that she minded. She was admiring the Jacky plush in her hands, giggling to herself. It looked just like him, complete with a hat secured with Velcro and a very small Mr. BananaBrain in one of his hands. Naturally, she loved it, hugging it close and kicking her legs in the air. “My own little Jacky! Now I can ask you for advice! Cammy’s great but sometimes I think I overwork her.” She said to the cuddly jester. Her eyes caught sight of an envelope on the bedside table. She grabbed it, carefully opening it to retrieve the note. ‘Belle, I thought you’d like a cuddly version of me! A special, one of a kind toy from Quackerjack Toys, just for you! This way, I’ll be there when you need me, even if I’m not there in person. Little Jacky and his tiny friend are guaranteed to light up any dark times. Love Jackson.’ It read. The message was short but sweet, making her happier and love the little doll more. She never had toys growing up, then again, neither did Jack, making this one her first one. Belle swore she’d never part with it, it was her brother after all, just small and available. “So, I’m hanging out with Morgana later, does she actually like me?” The plush fell foward, which she took as a yes. The duck giggled happily, rocking side-to-side. She got up, flapping her hands a little before rushing over to her clothes in order to pick something nice to wear. Belle felt she had to impress Morgana and she didn’t understand why or why she always felt warm or that she had butterflies in her stomach when she was around the sorceress. Maybe she was coming down with something. But how could she from just standing in front of someone and be fine until she thought about them? “Is something wrong with me?” She whispered to herself, picking out a red dress with a black belt that she forgot she had. Morgana would love her in that outfit.

It was a little out of her comfort zone but she didn’t mind, it would impress the sorceress and that was what she wanted. She looked her new doll, a little confused. “Should I wear this? Would Morgana like it?” Jack fell forward again, cementing her choice. Maybe some red makeup? A little eye shadow would draw attention to her eyes Camellia would say. Once she had the dress on, she walked up to Camellia’s mirror and just stared. What is she thinking? This dress doesn’t look good on her at all, her hair is to childish and vibrant to make it look good. The dress was also more low cut and fitted than she was used to, drawing attention to her thin frame and collar bones. She looked sick. ‘This is a mistake, I can’t wear this. But nothing would be better, it’s too hot for my usual outfit. Morgana would want me to wear something like this, surely.’ Belle held back a sob, staring at herself still. ‘My arms look like sticks. Ugly sticks, not the cool ones. My ribs are visible, that won’t do.’ She was a little thinner than average, but not as thin as she thought. Her ribs didn’t stick out a lot, only slightly. But she couldn’t help but notice them and almost every detail of her body. Soon, Camellia came running in, asking what was wrong. The fox saw her friend, fists clenched, palm and fingers down on the desk. Tears spilled from her eyes as she bit her beak, her gaze on the mirror. “Oh Belle, come on, you look great.” Belle heard as she was pulled into a hug. “E-Easy for y-y-you to say, y-you always l-look beautiful.” She sobbed out. Camellia walked with her to the bed, sitting them down. She stroked her friend’s hair, whispering to her. Belle struggled to calm down, reaching for the plush of her brother.

Camellia handed it to her, kissing her forehead. “Hey now, you’re beautiful, wipe those gorgeous eyes, Sweet.” She cooed, tilting Belle’s head upward. The look on the duck’s face broke her heart, it was pure and utter despair. “M-Morgana would w-w-want me t-to wear this, r-r-r-right?” The poor, sweet little thing, she tried so hard. Camellia wiped Belle’s eyes for her, shushing her softly. “Oh Sweetheart, she’d want you to wear what you want, you shouldn’t wear something you don’t like.” She stood them both back up, holding Belle’s hand and bringing her to the mirror. The duck looked at her reflection, still slightly hazy due to left over tears. Camellia was out of the mirror’s frame, leaving her in it. She didn’t know what Camellia wanted her to see. “Tell me what you don’t like here.” Came the soft voice from next to her. “M-My arms, t-they’re twig-like. A-A-And my r-ribs are visible.” Camellia smiled sadly at her, explaining that it was on the inside that counts. That she, Morgana and the Fearsome Four absolutely adored her. That anyone staring was just jealous of her. She was gorgeous, inside and out in their eyes. “It is important, however, that you think you’re beautiful. Tell me, what do you think?” Belle took a deep breath before focusing on her reflection. ‘I shouldn’t wear form fitting clothes.’ A voice at the back of her mind said. “It’s different, that’s good.” She said, trying to ignore that voice. ‘You’re arms are sickly, you could snap them in half. And goodness, you look like a corpse.’ That was sort of true, she didn’t look all that healthy. Still, she didn’t look as bad as she thought. “I look kinda pretty.” She whispered. “I look pretty and confident in this dress. Does it go with my hair? No, but hey, I look good.” Belle said, steeling her resolve.

“See? You always look great, remember that.” Camellia said, hugging her. Belle hugged her back, giggling. She opted to skip the eye shadow, feeling it would spur another crying session and that she didn’t need it. She did put her hair in a ponytail though, putting on some obsidian and ruby earrings to match the dress. Morgana would love her regardless, she told herself. She walked into the main room and pouring herself some cereal, Plush-Jack sitting in her tote bag comfortably. Belle listened to the music from the TV as she ate, watching Camellia set up a spell of some kind. Apparently one that’s meant to bring happiness and overall good vibes if she remembered correctly. She picked up one of Camellia’s various romance books in order to not distract her friend from her daily meditation and also to stimulate herself as she ate. It was surprisingly easy to get into and the book was well loved, clearly one of Camellia’s favourites. A calming aura came over her, making her feel that despite the rocky start, today would be a good day.

[johannas-motivational-insults]

For the DVD commentary ask, my first thought was the BDE/“no toasters” scene from Chapter 3 of Satisfaction, because the idea of a “making of” commentary over that is very funny to me for some reason. But since that probably falls quite a bit too far on the NSFW side, my fallback was the scene from Chapter 20 of Demons where Catra decides to leave the Horde. That one is probably my favorite of the story so far.

omfg, that would be hysterical but I don’t even know what I’d say about that. Your easy pick is an excellent choice though so I’ll do that! (Commentary is bolded.)

I was so excited to finally release this chapter after so much buildup of Catra becoming disillusioned with the Horde and her identity in it. It was clear to me that Catra would not leave just because something bad happened to her, that would only make her more determined to stay and prove herself, so she’d have to see people she cared about getting hurt to make that mental leap. And so, this scene was born.

Eyes scrunching shut, Catra covers her mouth in an attempt to suppress a yawn. It leaks out through her fingers all the same, high and squeaky and embarrassing. Blinking the focus back into her eyes, she flicks them around in search of witnesses. Seeing no cadets looking her way, she sighs in relief and folds her arms back together. She scowls into the sparring circle, watching but hardly paying attention. Is she really supposed to give a shit about any of this?

Don’t forget this happens the morning after Catra has her big breakdown when it hits her that she’ll never have another chance to earn Shadow Weaver’s love or approval. She’s finally at a tipping point.

A few more moves and Lonnie is victorious, slamming her opponent on his back before rolling and dragging his wrist into a devastating arm bar. He taps out and Lonnie gets a modest amount of applause as she stands. Grinning with a sweeping bow, she offers a hand to her opponent, who takes it grudgingly. Kyle and another boy take their places in the circle and Lonnie shares high fives with a few cadets on her way out. She’s nursing a sprained ankle from a couple days ago, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she struts.

When Lonnie’s eyes lock onto hers, Catra groans internally. Of course Lonnie can’t just ignore the folded ears, crossed arms and twitchy tail that very clearly say ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ No, that’s like a homing beacon for Lonnie. She’s always gotten a kick out of getting under Catra’s skin.

Well, Catra won’t give her the satisfaction. As Lonnie sidles up to her, she extends a congratulatory fist. “Nice armbar, dipshit.”

Lonnie grins, bumping it with pride. “Thanks, bitch.”

I love these two so much. Anyone who reads my fics can probably tell but I am Invested in Catralonnie. In my head this ship falls under the category ‘brotps who hate fuck.’

She turns to the circle and they stand silently side by side, watching as the next fight gets underway. In theory, anyway. Catra’s zoning out, her lips sinking into a frown as she settles back into the numb, dark, heavy place she’s been inhabiting today. Grief, she supposes, though not in the usual sense of the word. She’s not grieving that abusive witch who tormented her all those years, body and soul. No, what she’s grieving is the end of their relationship, how it’s encased in stone forever, how she’ll have no more chances to make things right. No more chances to make Shadow Weaver proud, to earn a gentle touch and kind words, to earn her pride and her trust. But that’s bullshit, and she knows it. Those things were never earned, never given fairly.

Oh, she’s starting to get it...

Catra grits her teeth, glaring straight ahead. Today’s numbness has been punctuated by occasional bursts of anger, rage so blinding it makes her wants to tear her own skin to shreds to purge the feeling from her body. (*thousand year stare into the camera*) She rides out this latest wave of fury in silence, clenching her fists but keeping her claws sheathed to avoid making a scene in public. She takes a few deep breaths, pushing them out until the sensation releases her and she sinks back into the depths.

Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra will never get what she needs. It’s over.

Girl, you need to get you some therapy.

“What’s eating you?”

Catra jumps slightly at the invasive words, turning to find Lonnie watching her with those infuriatingly smug green eyes. Licking her lips, Lonnie cracks, “I know it isn’t Adora.”

Me @ y’all:

Catra’s eyes narrow and she gives Lonnie a weak shove, prompting a laugh. “Nothing’s eating me,” she growls. “I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you sparring?” asks Lonnie. “Usually you love the chance to beat the shit out of some dumb human.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Catra answers flatly, mouth twitching only slightly. She doesn’t have the energy to be indignant. She doesn’t give a shit.

Damn that’s when you know Catra’s really got it bad.

Nodding with an exaggerated hum, Lonnie remarks, “You’ve been weird all day, dude. Broody, like more than normal.” (Have I mentioned how much I love Lonnie??) Catra summons the strength to shoot her a withering glare, but she’s undeterred. “You snuck into the barracks after midnight last night, then you woke me up again with your snivelling at four in the fucking morning,” she says with a glare of her own. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, assface,” retorts Catra, jamming a threatening claw against her chest. “And I was only snivelling because I inhaled something weird up on the rooftops.”

Lonnie tips her head with a condescending smirk. “Sure, Catra.”

Yes, this is in fact a hat tip to ‘Sure, Jan.’

“I’m serious,” insists Catra. “There must’ve been some kind of spill in one of the factories.”

“Uh huh.”

Catra turns away with a glower, shaking her head. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“You wish,” snickers Lonnie.

“Ughhh!” Catra smacks her forehead with a huge sigh of exasperation. “Fine, I’ll fight you if it will get you to shut up. For fuck’s sakes, Lonnie.”

Lonnie’s preferred method of therapy is to piss people off enough that they’ll fight her and I think that’s very sexy of her.

Chuckling deeply beside her, Lonnie slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder and gives her a playful shake. “That’s my girl.”

Catra would usually shove Lonnie away in this situation, but she doesn’t this time. She’s too tired to fight the contact and needs to save her strength for the actual fight. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. Lonnie’s arm is beefy but not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The pressure is actually kind of soothing in a way, clearing Catra’s mind and lulling her into a state of calm. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, let alone Lonnie.

BROTPS WHO HATE FUCK Y’ALL. Okay but honestly I love that I have this relationship to work with because having someone who’s really good at getting under Catra’s skin is another way to open up her character. Lonnie is not only a loveable character she’s a very useful one for a writer who tells stories primarily through character work and relationships.

A loud thud and a howl of pain pierce the air, snapping Catra back to the moment. Her ears prick up at the familiar sound and she moves toward it on instinct, only to realize she’s half a step behind Lonnie. Humans like to say that cats aren’t pack animals, she’s heard that one many times as a reason she can’t be trusted. Catra is no more an animal than anyone else here, but she thinks Magicats must be different from their feline relatives in that way. The urge to protect her pack is overwhelming and immutable. One of her squadmates is hurt, and she needs to be there to help. Now.

Anyone who says Catra doesn’t care about other people can fucking fight me and that’s a fact.

She and Lonnie arrive at the edge of the circle to find Kyle sprawled on his stomach, moaning and writhing, pounding the floor as he tries to hold back wails of pain. It’s not immediately apparent what the problem is from Catra’s vantage point, but Rogelio is already kneeling on Kyle’s other side, telling him to breathe and that he’s going to be fine.

Okay so I fucking went 16 chapters never specifying whether the rest of the squad understood Rogelio’s language because it wasn’t clear in canon and I wanted to see if they would confirm it one way or the other, and of course as soon as I posted chapter 17 (where I specify that they can) season 4 came out and implied that they know him well enough to understand via his tone and gesturing but they don’t understand the language. So mark me down as annoyed over that. Anyway that wasn’t something I wanted to retcon so I kept it for the rest of the fic.

The instructor, some lower tier officer Catra doesn’t really know, steps into the ring. Pushing Kyle’s worried sparring partner aside, he shouts, “Enough theatrics! Get up and fight!”

Oh boy, Shadow Weaver likes to use that word on Adora too. I don’t remember if this mirrored that intentionally.

Catra feels Lonnie tense beside her, hears Rogelio snorting at Kyle that his leg is broken and he’d better stay the fuck down. Cringing in anticipation, Catra peeks over Kyle’s body and immediately wishes she hadn’t. The sight of his unnaturally bent shinbone sends a shudder of sympathy through her bones.

The instructor must not have any reptile friends (likely) or he understands and is a complete and utter asshole (also likely), because he keeps yelling at Kyle, “Come on, don’t be such a princess! I said get up, you coward!”

The boys’ wailing and snorting is getting them nowhere, so Lonnie intercedes. Gesturing down at the deformed limb, she shouts over the din. “His leg’s broken! You really think that’s a good idea?”

The instructor’s mouth falls open and he peers down at Kyle and then back up at Lonnie, his face turning red. “Don’t talk to me that way, Cadet!” he barks. “You’re running laps for the next half hour.”

Okay, Shadow Weaver Lite.

Lonnie blinks, purging her face of emotion. “I’m just trying to help. You needed a translator.”

“The next hour!” he shouts. “Wanna push it more?”

Scowling, Lonnie shakes her head tersely and begins to push her way out of the circle of cadets. Watching her go, the instructor puffs out his chest and waves a dismissive hand down at Kyle.

“Someone take this weakling to the infirmary,” he orders.

Rogelio glares up at the instructor, though to be fair the asshole probably can’t read reptilian expressions either. Lucky Hel. Rolling his whimpering boyfriend to lie on his back, which results in another howl of pain, he grunts out an apology. Then, supporting the injured leg with one massive arm and the rest of his body with the other, he scoops Kyle up and carries him away.

Okay but the bridal carry is *chef’s kiss*

As the crowd reforms around the sparring circle, the instructor claps Kyle’s partner on the shoulder and declares, “Alright, let’s get a real soldier in here to fight this guy!”

I feel really bad for this kid tbh.

The cadets erupt into cheers and several rush forward to take Kyle’s place, which results in a couple of impromptu fights as they try to push each other out of the circle. Catra is knocked back into the crowd in the process, but she doesn’t react with her usual bared teeth and claws, too busy staring slack-jawed at the chaos. Never in her life has she felt more disconnected from her surroundings, not even when she wanted to be.

At one point in her life (okay, many points), Catra would have been clamoring along with the rest of them. For a chance not just to prove herself, but to avenge her injured squadmate. But she feels no need to prove herself to this incompetent asshole of an instructor, and it’s not that kid’s fault they’re compelled to fight each other like this. He clearly felt terrible about Kyle, anyway.

As Catra watches the scene play out, watches the instructor continue to egg the cadets on, only one clear thought forms in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously. How is it weak and cowardly not to stand and fight on a broken leg? That’s not how the body works. Then again, they also like to say that deserters are weak and cowardly. Maybe they don’t know what those words even mean. Maybe weak and cowardly just means having a mind of your own.

Catra’s eyes track Lonnie as she hobbles around the room with a red face and clenched fists. Though she isn’t visibly fuming in the same way, a similar heat smolders deep in Catra’s belly, filling her mind with treasonous thoughts. The whole thing is so fucking unfair. But that’s hardly some grand revelation. Nothing that happens in the Fright Zone is fair.

So what is she even doing here?

That thought in particular makes Catra blink. Hard. She knows why she’s here, she’s been saying it over and over, clinging to these words, this need. She needs to show them they were wrong, she needs to achieve what everyone thought her incapable of. If she leaves, she’ll never do that, and everything that happened here would be for nothing. But if nothing is fair here, rising to the top says nothing about her qualifications, only her ability to work the system. A system that’s absolute bullshit.

And who does she need to prove it to, anyway? These mindless idiots submitting to an incompetant authority figure? Her temperamental former boss who put blind faith in her one day and took it away the next? Her deceased sorry excuse for a mother? Her ex-best friend who left her alone to suffer, but has since come to understand her wrongdoings? No… the only person Catra really needs to prove it to is herself. But if the system is bullshit, there’s nothing to prove, only a painful void to fill with… something.

Honestly this is a rough feeling to deal with but at least now that the illusion has been broken she can go about trying to find that thing to fill it. And no that’s not a sex joke lmao, though I suppose it could be.

Scorpia’s words from last night filter into Catra’s brain through the distant sounds of cheering and shouting. If it feels like everything is for nothing, she needs to find a way to make something of her suffering so she can be at peace. Her eyes fall on Lonnie again, her ears recalling Kyle’s sounds of agony. If she can stop other people from being hurt the way she was, would that make something of it? Would that be enough to satisfy the longing deep inside her, to heal the yawning, yearning chasm Shadow Weaver created with her rejection and cruelty, with her refusal to provide validation and affection? Catra doesn’t know.

All Catra knows is she’s done with this shit.

Catra I am so proud of you bb I love you and you deserve better.

Anyway sorry I had less coherent thoughts for this commentary but this scene makes me emotional so I got a little meme-happy. I have had many experiences like this where I was just holding, holding onto something that was unhealthy or a lost cause and then something happened and a switch flipped in my brain, releasing me from that mind trap. I really wanted to get the feeling of that experience across and I’m proud of how it turned out. It’s a great payoff scene for that whole ‘return to the Horde’ arc for Catra. I didn’t want her to leave for Adora but I also knew she wouldn’t leave for herself until she witnessed the brutality and inequality hurting someone else.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twelve) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twelve: After finally opening up to each other, Dean is having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. But the flirting is soon interrupted when one of the horses gets caught in a dangerous situation. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘How Far This Road Goes’ - Gareth Dunlop, ‘Seven Riders’ - James Horner & Simon Franklin (second scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With a grin wider than the horizon, Dean puts the rolled-up mattress on Ted’s back, attaching it behind the saddle by tying the leather strings around it. He barely slept last night, but he doesn’t feel tired, not in the slightest. Nothing will get him off this high cloud, because last night, he kissed Y/N.        The head wrangler hums a Led Zeppelin tune as he tightens Ted’s cinch a little, patting his four legged friend on the shoulder when he’s done. Joplin is waiting next to him, rather impatiently, tied up to the strung rope between a boulder and a tree, like the other seven horses. Her female rider moves in between the dark mare and Ted, causing Dean to fight back an amused scoff. Y/N could have tacked up Joplin from the left side, which is the usual protocol when handling a horse. But instead, the cowgirl chose the small space between the two large animals, the space Dean already occupied, making it a tight fit.     “Morning, Yankee,” he teases, still with his back towards hers as he secures his lasso.     “G’morning,” she greets back. “Were you humming ‘Whole Lotta Love’ just now?”      Dean chuckles now, “I’ve got a reason to be cheery.”

     Y/N presses her lips together, very much aware why her supervisor is in such a good mood. She is also very much aware that he’s only inches away, the two almost touching. The chemistry is evident and she needs to remind herself that the others are also readying their horses; they are not alone like they were last night. Giving her hands something to do, she checks the saddle bags again, even though she has done so already.       “Did you sleep well last night?” Dean wonders casually, but she caught the lower tone in his voice. That tone that makes her heart beat faster and has her closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself.      “I did actually. A little short, though,” Y/N returns. “What about you?”      “Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”

     She can hear Dean’s boots crunch the gravel underneath them as he turns around. He comes closer and Y/N forgets what she’s doing, one hand holding the stirrup, might she need the support. She feels his hand on her hip, the touch so featherlight that she could be imagining it. Holding still while he moves in, she fights a shocked whimper when his breath fans past the junction between her neck and her shoulder. How contradicting; the warm breeze leaves goosebumps over her entire body.      “How come?” she manages to utter, her voice close to failing.      Y/N feels his lips against her hair, but he doesn’t kiss her there, even though she silently begs him to do exactly that. She moves into his touch only slightly.      “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers in her ear.

     Before the others notice, he moves away and his hand slips from her hip, leaving a burning sensation where his fingertips gently pressed into her skin through the fabric of her jeans. The cowboy who has clearly found his way into her heart and her mind, shoots her a wink over his shoulder when she follows him with her gaze. Chuckling, she shakes her head in response. It’s a good thing she held onto the saddle, because her knees feel weak. God, the things he’s doing to her.      “Y’all ready to mount your ponies?” Benny checks, before he gets on his horse himself.      When all the wranglers have untied their horses, Dean rolls up the rope that functioned as a makeshift fence and adds it to the load carried by one of the pack-horses. He then puts his left foot in the stirrup and swiftly moves his leg over the saddle, the fringes of his chaps whipping when the breeze catches them. The others follow his example.

     “Alright. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. We ride to the next spring, but it will be roughly six miles from here. That’s more ground to cover than yesterday. It will be rocky terrain, so stay sharp and keep up.” Dean turns his horse with the reins in one hand. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the herd. They were last seen in Marsh Valley by hikers, but that was four days ago, so they could be long gone by now. If we don’t find them by the time we reach White Rock Spring, we’ll set up camp there and continue the search tomorrow. Y’all good with that?”

     The rest of the company agrees, both wranglers and horses excited to get moving. Joplin especially; the waiting has made her impatient. She rears, lifting her front hooves a couple of inches from the ground, repeating the action several times. Y/N rides it out, her hand reaching to pat the hot blooded mare on the neck in order to calm her down. In perfect balance she gives her horse enough freedom of reign, but controls the movements with her seat.       “Joplin certainly is,” she laughs, amused with the mare’s enthusiasm.      “Alright then,” Dean returns grinning, admiring her riding skills for a moment longer. “Let’s ride.”

     It’s past midday and there is no sign of the herd so far. The group of riders passed Weavers Needle hours ago, a thousand foot column of rock that forms a distinctive peak, visible from many miles away. Y/N felt so tiny when she rode through the landmark’s shadow, like an ant on the forest ground. She quite possibly strained a muscle in her neck from looking up, but the young woman from the North couldn’t help herself. The landscape, created by volcanoes ages ago and molded by wind and time, leaves her in complete awe. The further they travel into the Superstitions, the more surreal the scenery becomes. 

     Benny told stories last night about the mountains. About the legend of the Lost Dutch Gold Mine, and the hundreds of other abandoned tunnels, hidden in the volcanic stone. About the Indians, how some of them believe that the hole that leads down into ‘the lower world’ is located somewhere in these valleys, and that winds blowing from it create the severe dust storms in the metropolitan area. It’s a magical environment that, despite having a desert climate, seems alive. The way the wind plays with her horse’s mane and whispers as it breathes through the canyon. The way the mesquite bushes rustle and the Saguaro cacti reach their arms for the blue heavens above. This land has a personality of its own; unpredictable, layered and rich with wisdom.

     “Enjoying the view?”      Dean held up his horse as Y/N was staring up at the renmands. She didn’t even notice she fell behind.      “Sorry…” she mutters apologetic. “It’s just… everything here is so beautiful.”      “Sure is.”      The cowboy smirks at her, not just complimenting the landscape. Joplin’s rider is unable to hide her flattered smile.      “You can stop trying to win me over,” she returns jokingly, resting her hand behind her on the cantle of the saddle.      Dean side eyes Y/N, triumph in the way he holds himself, “Because I already did, right?”      “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warns. “Last night was amazing, but it was just a kiss.”      “Oh, I didn’t plan to stop,” he makes clear, copying her action without noticing, gripping the back of the saddle with his free hand as well. “Next chance I get, I’m gonna kiss you again.”      “Is that so?” she teases.      “Unless you’d rather not have me.” Dean observes her, eager to pick up on her reaction.

     His lower leg brushes against hers, the metal of the stirrups jingling when they collide. He stares into her eyes longer than he should, breaking through the resistance with more ease than Y/N wants him to. Honestly, she has never been an easy catch. She pictured she would at least let him work for it, prove to her that this isn’t just a fling. But her defense crumbles with every connection, no matter how small. The intern can’t help but crave for her supervisor to touch her, to kiss her right here and right now. Both of them being on horses complicates things, however, especially since one of those horses is Joplin, who is getting anxious now that she is a few hundred yards away from the group.       “I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N admits, on a more serious note.      Dean smiles, delighted at that, looking down at his horse for a brief second.       “You oughta catch up then.”

     The wrangler moves his hand forward and pushes his heels to his horses flanks simultaneously, the aid triggering Ted to shoot forward like an arrow from a bow. Without giving Y/N  a chance to respond, Joplin’s instincts kick in; she needs to stay with the herd. In a blink of an eye she bolts, surprising her rider, who can only just prevent a squeal from escaping her throat. The experienced rider is quick to recover, though. She moves her weight forward, allowing her horse to move under her freely, giving her all the reins she needs. Within five strides, Joplin is at full speed. Y/N can’t recall that she ever galopped this fast. The wind pushes the tears from the corner of her eyes, dust blocking her view. Her hat falls back, but she’s quick enough to catch it and push it tighter on her head. She doesn’t care, though, because she feels like she’s flying.

     Before they reach the others, Dean sits back in the saddle and pulls the reins, telling Ted with a ‘ho!’ to slow down. Joplin is next to him within a second, her rider laughing out loud. The cowboy watches her, laughter erupting from his throat as well.       “You’re crazy!” Y/N accused, a wide grin on her lips nonetheless. “What if I had fallen off?”      “You’re too good of a rider,” he returns, never worried she couldn’t handle herself. “And it’s about time you let go.”      “I usually don’t like losing control,” she returns, trying to be stern.       He cocks his eyebrow. “You didn’t mind last night.”       “Underlining ‘usually’,” she repeats with a tone, shaking her head at the up-to-no-good grin on his face.

     “Well, you—” He points his finger at her accusingly before he pushes his hat up a bit. “— should loosen up a bit. Picture it like riding.”      Y/N frowns at the wrangler next to her. “I thought we were talking about riding.”       “It doesn’t matter. What does, is if you hold onto the reins too tight, your horse will tense up. You will tense up. But if you relax at the right moment…” He moves his hand forward, giving Ted enough space to drop his head and the gelding blows out a satisfied sigh. “So will your horse. You allow things to be. And those are the best rides, ain’t they? The ones where the balance is perfect, and everything just clicks.”

     Y/N agrees to that without words, smiling at the comparison. Dean lets the true meaning of his message sink in as well. It’s good advice he’s giving. Maybe he should take it himself. In silence they take each other in. She has rolled up the sleeves of her dusty shirt for the warm breeze to caress her bare skin. Not so long ago, Y/N came walking into the Saloon, ironed button up, polished shoes, hair band and clips not allowing a single stubborn strand to spring free. Look at her now, like she couldn’t care less about appearance. Look how beautiful she is.       “By the way,” the woman next to him recalls, her voice softer so that the tourists can’t hear them.       “Hm-hm?”      “You were right. That was a lot more than just a kiss.”      With those words she canters away, and he’s only able to breath out again when she passes the other riders to lead the group. Don’t be fooled, he’s confident about how things are going, but that doesn’t mean that ‘allowing things to be’ is easy. Even he, the guy who doesn’t plan ahead and takes it day by day, is daunted by the possible commitment that this adventure with Y/N will bring. But one look at her, seeing the change she’s going through, the difference in her demeanor and her lifted confidence; she’s all the inspiration he needs.             “You better wipe that smile off your face, Chief, or the coyotes might start wonderin’ why you’re all giddy.”      A little startled Dean looks aside as Benny holds back his horse until he’s next to Ted. Caught in the act the head wrangler glares at his friend from under his Stetson, but the smirk doesn’t die down. No need to respond in words, because both know why Dean is on top of the world. And so the two companions ride next to one another for awhile in silence. Dean’s eyes never leave her, though, watching how she handles the bubbly mare, who’s excitement got peaked by the little race. Joplin isn’t for everyone, but she’s taking his advice and gives the dark horse free rein, trusting her, and eventually the mare transitions to a walk.

     “Well, now you’re just embarrassingly gaping,” Benny notices, clearly amused by the sight of his lovestruck friend.      Dean snaps out of it and eyes him again. It’s not so much the fact that Benny is mocking him, more the fact that he himself can’t get a grip.      “Shut up,” Dean mutters, shaking his head chuckling. “You were the one gaping when you interrupted us last night.”      “It was 3 AM and I wasn’t even close to awake, and what do I find?” Benny lazily points his finger at the intern, then at the man next to him. “You two, giving each other one hell of a Yankee dime. I mean, don’t get me wrong, brother. I’m proud of ya, but excuse me that I was a little taken aback.”      The Southerner pauses, his piercing blue eyes brassy and up to no good. Clearly he enjoys taunting his pal.             “Took ya quite a while to notice me too,” he comments, adding fuel to the fire.      “I was kinda in the middle of something!” Dean exclaims.      “Hell yeah, you were.” Benny sniggers. “Good think I stopped ya right there. At least now you saved some for later.”      “I wasn’t gonna go all the way with her,” his friend declares.      It doesn’t convince the rider next to him, though, because he laughs out loud.      “Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’.”      “Dude, I’m serious!” Dean states. “I ain’t gonna rush this.”      “Ah-uh.”      “I said: shut up.”

     The farrier’s laughter is contagious, hiccuping as he takes in air, and his friend can’t help but chuckle as well. The head wrangler adjusts the ranch rope hanging over his horse’s shoulder, the broad smile never wavering. It’s not just the smile, though, that tells Benny that Y/N is the girl for him. It’s his eyes. He has never seen them shine so bright. He has never seen Dean so contented.      “You two go together like peas and carrots,” Benny vouches, looking from the cowboy to the cowgirl. “I’m happy for ya, brother.”      “You’re talking like we’re about to settle down and get a dog,” Dean scoffs skeptical, even though deep down he wouldn’t mind an outcome as such.      “Give it time,” the Southerner recommends confident. “After all, two months ago, you would have thought I was crazy as a soup sandwich, if I’d predicted you to be on cloud nine by now.”       He wiggles his eyebrows and Dean sighs in response. He’s not even going to fight his friend on this, Benny is enjoying this way too much to ever let go.

     “Dean!”      The call comes from the front of the group and it seems urgent. Dean snaps his head to the sound of Y/N’s voice and the clatter of hooves. The intern has turned Joplin around and ridden back to the tourists. One of the pack horses, Cash, who Macy was guiding along side, tries to flee away as he kicks violently to the ground. He spins in circles around the rider and her gelding Jimmi, who is starting to panic as well.       “Pull the knot, Macy!” Dean commands, pushing Ted towards the commotion.      Fighting to control her own horse, she reaches for the rope that ties Cash to her saddle, trying to yank the safety knot. By this time, however, the distressed animal has pulled on the cord with all its weight, and there is no way it will loosen.       “I can’t!” she yells back, fright evident in her voice.

     Trying to not get caught up in the line, she steers Jimmi to stay head to head with the anxious pack horse. Dean is with her in a split second, maneuvering Ted close to her and staying free from the web.       “Listen to me, Mace. When you’re on the other end, I’m gonna take over.” He takes the end of Cash’s rope, wraps it around the horn of his saddle four times and locks it in his fist, hooking it behind his hip for leverage. “I need you to get yourself to safety the second that rope unties, alright?”       He makes eye contact and she nods frightened, all while trying to calm Jimmi, who is getting more claustrophobic by the second. The experienced wrangler then backs up Ted, using his horse’s body weight to pull the safety knot. The second Cash feels the freedom, he bolts. Macy is clear, but the head wrangler and his four hooved partner are about to be catapulted by the horse on a rampage. 

     Thinking fast, Dean moves his reins towards Ted’s ears, triggering him to rocket forward. Three strides later Dean can feel Cash jerk at the saddle, Ted bracing himself, the well-trained cattle horse maintaining his balance. The rope slips from Dean’s fingers, but he is able to keep his ground, even though the rough material burns in his hand. With tension on the line, the wrangler tries to keep Cash away from a boulder that came rolling down Bluff Spring Mountain, but can’t prevent the panicked horse from slamming the water tank he is carrying into the large rock. Even though drinking water pours from the hole, it’s not Dean’s first concern. Cash is holding his hind leg up, still kicking the ground as the black horse halts, breathing out nervously. Dean spots a trace of blood, just below the fetlock joint.      “Shit…” He gets off, dropping Ted’s left rein on the ground, a signal for the horse to stay in place and wait. Shit, shit, shit.      Cash, who is shaking and breathing fast after all the commotion, turns his head into the wrangler, seeming to seek comfort from him. Dean gently rubs the gelding’s withers and slips his hand down the hindleg to take a better look. Two distinctive small holes are visible on the white sock, crimson drops rolling down. It seems like barely anything, but he has lived in this area all his life; he knows a snake bite when he sees one.      “He got bit,” Dean informs the five wranglers, who are waiting on the path in anticipation.      Benny curses under his breath, getting down from his horse as well.       “By what? A spider?” Y/N wonders, sticking with the tourists on a safe distance.      “Nope.” 

     The Southerner picks up a stick, poking at something in the bushes. Then he lifts the piece of wood, a snake hanging from the end of it. Macy squeals and Y/N inhales sharply, too. She has never seen a snake up close like that, at least not without thick glass between her and the reptile. God, that thing is huge!      “Is it dead?” Dean checks, still standing by the wounded horse.      “Dead as steak on the grill,” the Southerner confirms, taking a closer look.       “Is it a rattler?” 

      The head wrangler watches Benny examine the animal as he prays to God that it isn’t. Rattlesnakes in this area are highly dangerous. The amount of venom they possess might not be enough to floor a horse, but it will cause extensive swelling for sure, most likely followed by a bad infection that will cut off the blood supply. A bite inflicted by a venomous snake could be life threatening, even when treated by a veterinarian immediately. Miles from civilization with no access to medical resources, it becomes lethal.      “I think it is, Chief.”

     Y/N looks over at the head wrangler, who drops his head and swears. It slowly begins to sink in that the consequences of what seems like a small injury might have serious consequences. Dean looks up, making eye contact with the intern and motioning her to come over. She rides Joplin off the path and dismounts the mare, leading her to Cash, who she comfortingly pets on the nose.      “Listen to me carefully,” he starts, his voice toned down so that the others can’t hear him, as he instructs the intern calmly. “If that is a rattlesnake, I need you to take the tourists a half a mile up the trail. At the junction, you wait until me and Benny catch up.”       “Wait, what are you gonna…” she stammers, hesitant where Dean is going with this.

     He bites his bottom lip for a moment and looks deep into her eyes, the urgency apparent in his intense greens.      “You’ll be responsible for the guests, so be cautious. Don’t take any risks and keep them safe. I know you’re not familiar with the area and that this is a lot, but can you do that?”      “Benny could go with them, he knows these trails,” she suggests, but Dean dismisses it instantly.      “No. I don’t want you to see this.”      “See wh -” she pauses, his penetrating gaze and tensing jaw stopping her from forming words. Shocked she rakes her fingers through Cash’s forelock, only now realizing the difficult task that Dean is facing. “Oh my God, you’re gonna put him down.”

     He doesn’t answer, but swallows apprehensively. If Cash has venom coursing through his bloodstream, his chances of survival can be considered zero. A slow and agonizing death awaits him; a bullet to the head would be the most moral way to go. The head wrangler takes a deep breath, composes himself, and shifts his gaze to Benny. Seems like he’s going to have to use the Colt after all.      “I’m gonna check out the snake, make sure it’s a rattler. If it is, you know what to do?”       Y/N nods uneasy, but determined enough to assure Dean that she can do her part. He thanks her without saying anything, his eyes softening. Then he moves past her, heading back to the trail. Left stunned, she lets her hand glide down Cash’s nose, trying to ease the horse, who in his turn gently presses his large head against her chest. Even though Y/N barely knows the horse, tears prick in her eyes. Poor, poor thing. She looks over her shoulder, watching in apprehension, how the head wrangler crouches down next to Benny, who has the snake at the end of a stick. 

     Dean pokes the reptile to make sure it’s dead, taking a good look at the animal. The light brown color with dark blotches on its back and smaller dark spots on its side, are indications that Benny is right. He can’t tell much when examining the head, since Cash killed the snake with a fierce kick and smashed its skull. Dean picks up the animal by the tale. It looks different from the rest of its body, but there is no rattle at the tip of it, like he has seen before with the Western Diamondback that is common in the area. He sighs relieved.      “It’s a Gopher snake,” he states. “A Sonoran, by the looks of it. Smart fellas; they mimic rattlesnakes to ward off predators.”      “Could’ve fooled me,” Benny concedes.      “Not venomous?” Y/N checks.      Dean smiles her way. “Not venomous.”      A weight falls off her shoulders, and the female wrangler rustles Cash’s mane thankfully. She exchanges a look with Dean, silent conversation easing the both of them. Then the group leader turns to the tourists.       “Alright y’all, let’s take a break here,” he decides, beckoning at the shade near the big boulders.       “Is Cash gonna be okay?” Macy asks worried.      “He’s gonna be fine. We’ll rest up for half an hour, meanwhile fix that water tank. Benny? Let’s repack so that we can take the load off Cash.” Dean turns to look at the farrier, who nods in agreement.

     They leave the snake for the vultures and move away from the trail. While Benny and Brad tack down Cash and focus on repairing the tank with duct tape, saving the water that remains in the tank by catching it with their water bottles, Dean focuses on the black gelding’s injury. Y/N strolls past him between the horses, who have taken cover in the shade. She watches how the cowboy flushes the puncture wounds with water, despite the fact that Cash keeps lifting his hind leg.      “Do you need an assistant?”      He looks over his shoulder and nods. “Could you hold him for a sec?”      She takes Cash by the rope that he fought so hard minutes ago, rubbing the bay’s shoulder in order to distract him. It works, because the gelding puts his foot down, allowing Dean to press a gauze soaked with betadine on the small holes.      “There,” he says satisfied, when he’s done cleaning the punctures. 

     Y/N lets go of Cash’s halter, picking up the bottle of betadine from the first aid kit, together with a clean gauze pad.      “Your turn.” She nods at his hand.“Show me that.”      Dean brushes it off. “It’s nothin’.”      His intern isn’t having it, though, and after shooting him a glare she takes his right hand and turns it over. Despite that his palm is calloused from years of ranch work, the rope has burned off parts of his skin, leaving fiery blisters.       “I wouldn’t file that under ‘nothin’,” she returns stern, mocking his slang.      Dean can’t help but grin at that, surrendering to her care. The smirk turns into a grimace when she dabs the damaged tissue with iodine.       “Sorry,” she apologizes when she notices him tensing up.      “It’s okay,” he assures, looking at her fondly, despite the sting.            Y/N blushes at his expression, breaking away from his warm eyes and focusing on his hand again. She applies a clean gauze and dresses his hand, taping the end of the bandage so that it won’t come off.      He checks his hand from both sides, impressed with her work. “How do you know how to do that?”      The cowgirl shrugs. “I have three brothers who never failed to miss an opportunity to fall from their treehouse or trip while chasing each other through the woods. You do the math.”      Dean chuckles, testing the movement of his fingers as he turns towards the other men, who are still working on the tank. On his way over, he glances at the young woman again.      “Thank you.”      “You’re welcome,” she returns happily, walking past Joplin to pick her water bottle from the saddle bag.

     Joining Macy and Jon, she makes the most of what remains of the half hour break, while the other wranglers try to repair the tank. Having lost most of the water, they don’t waste too much time resting up here and decide to move on to White Rock Spring. The other horses take over Cash’s tack, who only has to carry the empty tank. The gelding already puts full weight on his injured leg, the wounds so superficial that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Twenty minutes later Y/N puts her left foot in the stirrup and hoists herself in the saddle. Her limbs are tired, her back is beginning to hurt. Day two of this trail is taking more out of her than she expected, not only physically, but also mentally, after the close call with Cash. Even though it’s early afternoon, she hopes that Dean and Benny will decide to call it a day, once the group reaches the spring. 

     It doesn’t take long before they pass the rock formation of Black Top Mesa and reach the T-junction Dean described earlier, left leading into Marsh Valley, right to Charlebois Canyon. The two Gold Canyon Ranchers leading the company have stopped just off the trail on the top of a hill. She catches a glimpse of Benny’s face, and he does not look pleased. Not sure if it’s her place to join them, since she’s the intern, she hesitates to ride up to the wranglers, but takes her chances a few seconds later. Dean did involve her when Cash suffered that possibly dangerous injury, afterall. Joplin halts next to Ted as her gaze jumps between the two riders.      “Something wrong?” she wonders.      “What’s missin’ here, Yankee?” Benny counters, without answering her question.

     Y/N looks ahead, down Charlebois Canyon. The land is dry and dusty, rocks and volcanic remnants more evident in the landscape. Now that she’s made aware that something is unusual about this picture, she remembers that the canyons east of Weavers Needle were much greener. More plants and bushes, more life.      “Water,” the female wrangler realizes. “There’s no water.”      “Yep,” Benny confirms. “That spring is supposed to be over yonder.”      “But how can there be no spring? It rained cats and dogs a week ago,” she wonders confused.      “Welcome to Arizona, where it can be raining like a cow’s pissin’ on a flat rock on one side of the road while the sun shines on the other,” the Southerner states.

     Dean is quiet, the gears in his head turning as he blankly stares ahead. He’s holding his reins with his unharmed hand, the leather feeling a little foreign, since he hardly ever rides left-handed. There are a few more springs close by, but since the whole canyon looks dry and dead, except for a few Saguaro cacti, he’s guessing that those ran dry too. Biting his bottom lip he glances over his shoulder in the direction where they came from, then north.      “What do we do now?” Y/N inquires, her eyes shifting from Benny to Dean.      “Chief?” the farrier checks with his friend, when he doesn’t respond.       “How far do you think it is to Eagle’s Nest?” he questions. “About six miles?”      “Give or take,” the Southerner affirms.      Dean ponders, but then turns Ted around to face the three approaching tourists.      “We’ve run into a bit of an issue,” he starts, updating the guests on the newly occurred problem. “White Rock Spring has dried up, and looking at the vegetation, I don’t think it’s wise to continue east. We’re not gonna find water there, which also means that the herd is most likely elsewhere. The way I see it, we’ve got two options: we either turn around and ride four and a half miles back to Willow Spring, or we move north to Salt River.”      “How far is that?” Brad asks as the dark haired student rests his wrists on the horn of his saddle.      “Six miles,” Dean declares. “If we leave now, we’ll hopefully make it by sunset. We need an inventory on water and food supplies. And I need y’all - and this is really important - to be one hundred percent certain that you’re up for another six hours in the saddle. If anyone ain’t, we will turn around to the Willow and cut our losses for today. No shame in it.”

     The leader of the company now turns to Macy, who has Cash waiting next to her. The black horse looks alert and calm, his weight on all four hooves.      “How’s he doing?” Dean wonders.      “He seems fine. He’s sound, even in a jog just now,” she returns, having kept an eye on the gelding next to her.      Dean nods, but not completely satisfied. He’s torn. Torn between pushing through and marching on to Salt River, or taking the safe route back to where they came from. Going back feels like giving up. It will be another day without a trace of the herd, another day of wasting time and energy. They have enough food with them for five days. Heading back might be a crucial setback, one that could lead to returning home without the group of young horses. He promised Ellen and Bobby to bring them in, but he also promised to keep everyone safe. 

     “How much water do we have left?” he checks.      After a quick count, they come to the conclusion that they have about 10 liters between the six of them, the horses not even included. The animals are used to these circumstances, though, and they can go without water for three to four days. Dean is confident they should be okay. It’s the riders he’s worried about: both the tourists and Y/N. Dean sighs, looking up the trail from Marsh Valley that leads into the mountains.       “Is there anyone who wants to go back to Willow Spring?”      No one steps forward or raises their hand. Dean looks the crew in the eye, one by one, trying to unravel them and detect even the slightest hint of doubt. His gaze lingers on Y/N, who doesn’t give him an inch and seems determined. He nods, his mind made up.      “Alright, then,” he decides. “We ride north.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part thirteen here

[twofacedharveydent]

Possible upcoming stories/ocs → Fandom: Gotham → Pairing: Victor Zsasz x oc (Victor x Tessa) → Story: Homicide Happy Hour; with Tessa Jane → OC: Tessa Jane & Ruby Dent

Roommate wanted! Fully furnished 2br/1ba - located close to downtown and nearby public transit. In unit washer/dryer. No pets allowed. Call/Text for more deets.

 Two years ago, Tessa Jane’s life had been in utter shambles when she’d answered an ad for a roommate and ended up meeting her now best friend, Ruby Dent.

 Tessa’s ex had insisted he made enough money that she didn’t need to work; and since he was the one paying the bills she never argued with his putting everything in his own name.

Which led to her having to build a life for herself at the age of 25 when he broke off their engagement. She’d been completely crushed. No money. No car. No roof over her head and no friends to rely on. All she had was the money she got from a cash advance off her ex’s credit card before he canceled it.

 Now, having just celebrated her 27th birthday, Tessa’s future is looking brighter.

What had started as an alcohol fueled discussion (rant) about the number of unsolved murders in Gotham from a live stream video she’d uploaded had garnered attention from all around the city, which she seized as a job opportunity.

(Even though Ruby’s older brother, a rising assistant district attorney, argued it wasn’t a real career)

Since that video went up, Tessa successfully launched a true crime blog and her fan base has been growing ever since.

She’s far from rich, but she makes enough from ad revenue and donations to pay her half of the bills, well, most months at least.

 Having taken it upon herself to do more digging into the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Tessa crosses paths with Victor Zsasz... leading Homicide Happy Hour; with Tessa to bring in the sort of attention she wasn’t asking for.

Meanwhile, her roommate and best friend (soul sister) Ruby, spends her days working as a records clerk for the GCPD.

A job that she hopes will be less taxing on her than her previous stint as a 911 phone operator; a job which got her a two week stay in the psych ward of Gotham General after she had a mental breakdown.

 She wants to do something to make a difference like her brother Harvey; but she just couldn’t find it in her to make through more than a single semester of college.

 She tested the waters at the academy to become a police officer; but dropped out of that too.

Always feeling like she’s living in her big brother’s shadow, Ruby is searching for a way to branch out on her own. A way to make a difference in Gotham for the better; even if it’s not entirely legal. But hey, someone needs to be out there cleaning up the streets and there’s too much corruption in the GCPD to trust them to do it.

[caps-lockdown]

Operation: Man Flu

Alright guys here it is the first part of my new series! I thought of this awhile ago but my life has been absolutely bonkers lately and I didn’t have a chance to get started on it til now! I hope ya’ll enjoy this insane and (hopefully funny) romp I’ve come up with.

Tagging @kaytizzle and @cuffski for now, let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged for future parts!

Summary: As a hacker nobody agent of S.H.I.E.L.D you get roped into what might possibly be your worst nightmare come to life. Will you survive the long weekend? Will you have a chance to get closer to a certain reserved Captain during this extremely stressful (and hilarious) situation?

Pairings: Steve x Shield Agent Female Reader!

Words: 3,397

Ratings/Warnings: I’m going to put hard R here for the whole thing because there’s going to be cussing, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, physical fights, mental breakdowns. Jealousy, love triangles (sort of), angst, drama, and lots of crude humor. Just strap in.

Also no Beta so my mistakes are my only thing to claim, I don’t own any characters either, with the exception of the reader, a doctor, and some random characters here and there.

It is in Y/N (Your Name) L/N (Last Name) format. Enjoy!

 Part One

“Y/N I need more water!”

“Y/N my eyes hurt!”

“Y/N can you tell Bucky and Tony to shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep off this headache!”

“Shut up Wilson!”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, nostrils flaring, you released a slow and irritated breath. The shouting was coming from the makeshift quarantine section in the Tower. Never in a million years would you be able to guess that this was going to be your job at some point. In fact, you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you that at some point in your life you would be stuck in Stark Tower taking care of a bunch of sick and over dramatic man children. This was supposed to be your weekend in. You were supposed to be comfy and cozy surrounded by happy things, not a bunch of sick cry babies. You were so getting a raise when all of this was over.

You looked to the ceiling praying to anyone upstairs for just a small moment of peace. The moment of peace could come in the form of a giant mallet to knock all of the whiny men in the next room unconscious. Perhaps a dart gun with Nyquil loaded ammunition? Anything to help you cope with being stuck with this lot of ill idiots for the next 48 hours. Why of all people did it have to be you? You were not someone that saw The Avengers in close quarters, you were sort of work friends, but you never thought your friendship would be put to the test quite like this. Who were they to ask this of you anyway? It’s not like you have any medical experience. Hell you get squeamish just thinking about blood. You rarely got sick. You cried watching Grey’s anatomy for cripes’ sake! You must have been cursed by some otherworldly power. Loki was messing with you. That had to be it. You were sure that had to be the reason behind this cruel and unusual punishment.

“Y/N BUCKY KEEPS STARING AT ME!”

“Well you keep sounding like you’re gonna puke Stark! And if you puke I puke! So don’t puke!”

“Damn I need a drink.” You uttered before squaring your shoulders and heading back into the fray. When did it all go to hell in a hand basket?

~~Friday Morning~~

0600

The crisp early autumn air made its way into your room from your half opened window. The birds chirping slowly woke you from your slumber as your eyes opened to take in the leaves changing colors on the trees outside. The smell of coffee starting to brew at your small desk invaded your senses and you smiled out to the rising sun in a good mood.

Your alarm clock went off which caused you to scream and nearly throw it out the window, groaning as you heard the rumble of the Quinjet touching down a few floors up. So much for a quiet, easy day. They were back early.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you hastily threw on your uniform and secured your hair up, reaching for your travel mug to hold your life juice as you sloshed it into the container and headed out the door.

Life hadn’t always been this fast paced for you. You were never a morning person, and even though it had been years that you have been with S.H.I.E.L.D, these caffeine fuelled mornings were something that never got easier with time. Being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D just wasn’t a picnic for you most days, but you certainly had it better than some of the others in your line of work. You weren’t one of the people willing to put their life on the line out in the field. In fact it was the complete opposite. You were behind the scenes, knee deep in technology. Hacking files, constantly bypassing security, you name it. You never had to leave the comfort of your own country. It was hard work, but it was also your calling. It had been since you were a teenager in high school. It was a habit that got you caught several times breaking into the school security systems, changing when the bell would ring so you and your friends could get out a few minutes early. Especially during Geometry with Miss. Wilkins.

You had been given a scholarship to New York City College of Technology after you graduated high school and you packed your bags and moved from your small town in Ohio to the beautiful state of New York. After graduating in record time with high marks you were recruited by Agent Coulson to join S.H.I.E.L.D. You accepted without any hesitation (Along with constant reassurance to your always worried mother that you would not actually be in the field. Ever.)

After a few years, and more importantly the battle of New York, Nick Fury created a small unit specifically trained to work alongside The Avengers. It was truly amazing getting to move into the Tower, always being there in case of emergencies. Which there often were plenty of. You were under the command of Agent Keaton, your unit possessing a mere ten agents total. No one knew who you were, or what you did, except The Avengers and a small number of others. You were shadows, able to breach the toughest security, get what you needed, and get out without a trace. Or in most cases, get Earth’s Mightiest Heroes into places they previously didn’t have access to. Everyone called you “The Ghosts of Stark Tower”. The hours were sometimes long, missions often stressful, but it suited you just fine. One of the many upsides was knowing that you were making a difference in this messed up world.

The down side was these way too early mornings. At least it was Friday and you could look forward to the three day holiday weekend ahead of you. It was Labor Day weekend which meant that after today you wouldn’t have to return to work until the following Tuesday, unless an earth shattering catastrophe happened. Trudging your way down the hallways your mind drifted to the future that awaited you at 1800 hours. All you had planned was a giant fort of blankets and pillows to call sanctuary as you caught up on the six books that sat unloved in a box by your bed. They were feeling extremely neglected since you had gotten most of them as birthday gifts, which had been some time ago now.

Stepping into the elevator you let out a wistful sigh as it began to climb the few floors leading to the floor that held the landing pad for the Quinjet. Smiling to yourself as you day dreamed about being nestled in a blanket cocoon and not seeing a soul for 72 hours, you couldn’t stop in time and ran smack into Sam Wilson as you exited the elevator and took a sharp turn. His back of toned muscles acted as a wall as it threw you backwards and onto the floor with a loud and ungraceful oomfph.

“Shit. Sorry Y/N. My head isn’t on straight today.” He offered a hand to help you up which you gladly took, pulling yourself up and pretending to brush yourself off.

“It’s fine Sam. Ya miss Bucky that much?”

“Ha. Ha. Ya I missed him like a hole in the head.” You snickered as the two of you made your way down the hall together.

Sam Wilson and you went way back. Back to before you were working (usually) with the Avengers. Back when you were just starting out and he wasn’t cleared for all the “fun” missions, as he called it. Those were the days when you trained together, ate together. Hell you even shared a bed together. It was only once, and nothing romantic happened, but you two only got closer because of it. You didn’t know where you would be without him in your life. He always seemed to know what to say to make you feel better after a hard day, and he always had you laughing. It usually bummed you out when he went along for missions, so you were extra thankful he opted to stay behind this past week when they announced a new mission would take place. It had been nice spending time with each other outside of work hours, catching up, shooting the breeze.

He was one of the only people here that seemed to see you for everything that you were. With the exception of today of course.

“Any issues with the mission? Why are they back two days early?”

Sam raised an eyebrow as you reached the double doors that lead outside to the landing pad.

“Now how did you know they were supposed to be back in two days? That was classified information L/N.” You quickly shot your eyes to the ground, releasing a heavy sigh.

“I…I may have hacked into the mission details…”

The look Sam gave you made you bite your lower lip in embarrassment before he merely shook his head in response.

“Damn Y/N, you should have come with a warning label. If you missed Steve that much you could have just called him.” You swatted his arm as he pushed the door open for you, the fresh air hitting you in the face and causing your eyes to water.

Sam had known about your small crush on Steve Rogers, otherwise known to many as Captain America, since the first time you had met the larger than life super soldier. He pegged you as a giddy school girl from the gate and you found yourself threatening his life on a weekly basis to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing. Steve and you had a professional work related friendship, nothing more. It’s not like what you and Sam had, and you had come to accept that it never would be that. Or more, no matter how often you caught yourself thinking about it.

“Why would I miss Steve Rogers when Sam Wilson has been here to keep me company?” You batted your eyelashes at him, causing the man to chuckle as you neared the group of fellow agents that were gathered around the jet.

“Nice try slick, but I’m still telling Tony you broke into the mission files. Again.”

You pouted at him but he only clicked his tongue at you.

“I swear Tony just needs to give you a raise already and put you in charge of that tech stuff here. His old ass mind is clearly slipping.”

“You suck Wilson. I was only worried.”

“Worried ol’ Blue eyes was gonna take a dirt nap? Come on Y/N,  he’s stronger than that.”

“Actually I was worried for Tony and his,” you made air quotations “Old ass mind”

You and Sam’s laughter was quickly silenced as the jet ramp lowered and you watched Steve Rogers exit, a deathly pale Tony leaning on him as they disembarked.

“Shit. He looks worse than normal. Pepper is gonna pitch a fit when she sees him.” Sam remarked, the team headed towards you.

Your eyes couldn’t help but dance across the Team’s faces. They all looked beat. Thor and Bruce seemed deep in conversation, their hushed voices angrily biting at each other. Clint kept quiet, focusing his vision forward and not looking at anyone. You noticed Nat and Wanda were missing, only for a moment before you realized they were on a separate mission elsewhere. They were slated to come back sometime next week.

Your vision drifted over to Tony, taking in his sickly appearance. The color was drained from his face, the area around his eyes dark and his body too weak to walk very far. Bucky walked to his left, his worried expression evident as they neared you and Sam through the crowd.

You quickly snapped your line of sight to Captain Rogers, your pulse picking up just a little at the sight of him. His uniform was still in really good shape considering how ragged he was looking. Apparently he had forgotten his razor or something because his facial hair had grown a considerable amount since they had been gone. His strong jaw was set tightly, his lips in a thin line while his large intimidating frame effortlessly helped the injured billionaire along.

“Why do I have a feeling my weekend plans just got cancelled?” You grumbled, clearing a path for the Captain as the rest of the team followed behind him, none of them sparing you a look. You were used to it by now.

“Wilson, debrief. Now.” Rogers’ voice boomed with authority and you couldn’t help but grimace in Wilson’s direction.

“Sorry Sam, tough luck.”

“L/N you too.”

Jumping at the acknowledgement you cast a worried glance to Sam who merely shrugged before picking up his pace to catch up to the group headed into the building. That could not be good at all. You followed after him, struggling to keep your mind calm with all the questions currently swimming in it. It didn’t take you long to reach the small conference room, paramedics cutting off your journey about halfway to take Tony into the medical bay to run tests.

You quickly took a seat next to Sam, everyone at the table looking to Steve for answers you were fairly certain he didn’t have. It didn’t mean you couldn’t admire his tall, gorgeous body though as he stood in front of all of you. Nope, you’d drink in the sight of him any day and any time you could. It wasn’t illegal to look after all, even if most of the time he saw right through you. Just like a ghost.

“Look L/N, I’m going to give you the extremely short version,” Steve started, blue eyes staring into yours and you could only bring yourself to nod. His voice was hard, short, he was clearly on edge with worry.

“Might as well shorten it even more Rogers, L/N here already hacked the mission files. She knows the mission.”

You could only give Sam a “What the hell?” look, trying not to let the disappointed sigh that came from Steve’s lips sink into your stomach like a boulder of guilt.

“As much as I want to be angry with you L/N, I need to know how much you know. It might help speed things up so we can get to work faster.”

All eyes seemed to shift to you as you began to fidget with the edge of the table, training your eyes to stay focused on the smooth wood surface as you recalled the details you briefly scanned last week.

“You were all sent to Tal-q’eiek to retrieve an energy source for another planet…Mon…mon something..who’s current environmental health is unstable. The planet’s self defense measures made most of the planet toxic to keep predators from other neighboring worlds away.” You started, looking up at the people around the table as they all nodded in agreement.

“ You were made special suits and would split up into teams to search the planet for the energy source. You were sent out of your element considering Danvers was unavailable to join you, as well as Quill and his team being currently MIA as well.” Taking a deep breath you couldn’t help but notice the smallest of smiles on Steve’s face as you finished divulging what you knew.

“Correct L/W, I’m always impressed by your sharp memory.” Steve complimented you and you had to grasp the chair to make sure you wouldn’t fall out of it. It was the first and so far only time Captain Rogers had made a positive comment in your direction. Usually he was far too busy to pay you or any of the other Ghosts of Stark Tower any mind. Not that you could blame him. If you were being honest, you didn’t even think he knew your first name for the first two years you worked together.

“So based on your knowledge, what conclusion can you come to on your own?” Thor pried, your gaze moving to catch his.

“ My assumption is that Tony was simply  in the wrong place at the wrong time and managed to inhale some of the toxic air of the planet, and that’s why you had to come back early. Because he’s showing symptoms of a sickness and you didn’t know what to do.”

“Two for two L/W, well done.”You felt a swell of undeserving pride at Steve’s words, wondering if this was to be your Christmas gift or something. Two compliments in one day? Within minutes of each other? You most certainly weren’t complaining but it did make you a bit nervous, especially when those beautiful blue eyes weren’t leaving yours.

“So now what? We just wait for the doctors to come back and tell us Tony is going to be ok?” Sam’s voice broke you out of your trance, Steve clearing his throat and Thor nodding in agreement.

“Unfortunate, but until we know more there isn’t anything to be done.” The other blonde’s deep voice boomed and you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I don’t understand why I was needed here…” You trailed off, Bruce chuckling at your statement causing you to blush with embarrassment.

“You never know when we may need a Ghost on our side Y/N.” Bucky smiled at you, giving you a small wink.

“Yea besides,” Clint continued, “We actually like you. You’re not some stuck up, loud mouthed, cocky know it all like some of the others.”

“You shouldn’t talk about Tony like that, after all he’s the one sick right now.”

Your comment earned you a chorus of laughter.

“I’m gonna put that in Stark’s Christmas card this year.” Sam got out in between laughs, patting you on the back.

“That’s my Y/N, always one with the fast quips.”

His statement caused you to beam in response, allowing yourself to be grabbed in a small side hug. The expression on Steve’s face was a bit puzzling to you as you looked at him, but no sooner had it appeared, it was gone.

What seemed to be hours passed, but your eyes shot up at the sound of one of the doctors on standby walking into the conference room, her HASMAT suit creating a hideous scratching noise against the floor as she moved. You recognized her as Doctor Kelly Hooper, she had been working for Stark for years. She was a short and stout woman, with dark blonde hair that was always up in a tight bun on top of her head.

“What’s the diagnosis Doctor?” Clint tried, his voice humorless despite the poor attempt at a joke.

“Firstly, you should know that Mister Stark is going to be alright.”

The entire table collectively sighed in relief at the Doctor’s news, a huge weight seemingly being lifted off of everyone’s shoulders. You and Tony didn’t always see eye to eye on things, but you still respected the hell out him, and definitely didn’t want him dying anytime soon.

“However, there is some bad news.” The older woman continued, turning her attention to Steve.

“He’s going to be sick the next forty eight to seventy two hours, and will need constant care. He’s going to experience the worst equivalent of the flu we’ve seen in years. Fever, vomiting, dehydration, chills, extreme pain, and maybe even hallucinations. What’s also troublesome is we don’t have the proper staff to take care of him, as most of the day and night crew have left for holiday, and we can’t risk taking him to a hospital where it might spread.”

“Got it, can it get any worse than babysitting a sick Tony?” Bucky groaned out, his head hitting the table.

“Actually it can Mister Barnes. I’m afraid the illness he has contracted from the foreign planet is very peculiar in the fact that it only seems to attack beings with the combination of XY chromosomes.”

“Doc, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Bucky suddenly looked up at Doctor Hooper, who had now locked eyes with the winter solider before nodding her head.

“That’s right Mister Barnes, any male who has come within contact with Mister Stark within the last twenty four hours has a seventy five to eighty five percent chance of falling ill as well.”

[kiiiiiim]

No Going Back

Category: Gen Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015) Relationship: Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor

AO3 link if you feel so inclined

Summary: The conversation leading up to the clip in the SDCC trailer where Lena walks away from Kara after the secret has (supposedly) been blown.

She'd tried acting like nothing was wrong, that she was ok with being repeatedly lied to by everyone, but tonight had been the final blow to her frail mentality. As she sat there on the floor she came to the grim realization that she was simply too tired to continue clinging to something that had never been real, and her beaten and battered heart couldn’t take it anymore.

_____________________________________________________

Applause filled the ballroom in a thunderous wave as Lena weaved her way through the crowd, fading into the sea of expensive dresses and impeccable suits that surrounded her. She heard nothing except the sound of her own heartbeat, pounding an erratic rhythm deep within her eardrums, and the labored breaths that tightened in her chest like thick cords across her lungs.  Her hands were ice cold, but her stomach burned with white-hot anger threatening to burst from her lips like dragonfire. She was barely acknowledged by those in her path, and Lena knew that Alex and the others would be too focused on the stage, on Kara, to notice her sudden absence. She just had to get out of there, now, before she exploded. Kara’s speech, spoken mere moments ago, was ringing in her ears, each word crystal clear and sharp as knives, etching themselves in her memory with precise clarity.

“ - couldn’t have done it without the help of one of the most intelligent, trustworthy people I know, whose selflessness, bravery, and constant drive to be a force for good proves that no matter who you share blood with, it does not make you the same. I’m proud to say that there is no one in this city who deserves your trust more than her, and proud to call her my best friend - Lena Luthor.”

It should’ve been a wonderful moment. It should’ve made her feel warm and loved and happy, but Lena had barely managed a smile at this public praise of her character and stiffened when Alex squeezed her shoulder, and Brainy nodded in agreement, and J’onn serenely bowed his head, and it was all Just. Too. Much.

Lena finally reached the back of the ballroom and squeezed through the double doors without a sound, away from the din of the crowd. The air was much cooler once she emerged on the other side, but she needed more than that right now; she needed quiet, silence, solitude. Lena had attended more than a few events at this hall in the past - various LuthorCorp galas and the like, so she knew the layout well, and immediately set off down an unused corridor on the opposite side of tonight's main event. No one was around to stop or even question her, not that she would’ve let them. One of the very few perks of having a name that carried weight in the world was getting to use it when the world pushed back. All she had to do was utter that disyllabic title and the crowds parted like the Red Sea.

Lena tried a few doors, searching for an empty space where she could collect herself. All of them were locked, and she was about to give up completely and have her breakdown right there in the hallway when finally, one yielded to her, opening smoothly and silently. She had enough of her wits still about her to take one last cursory glance down the corridor before slipping inside the room, quiet as a shadow.

An involuntary sob broke from her throat the moment the door closed behind her and she was suddenly back in time, standing over Lex’s body, watching the video footage play before her on an endless loop while his blood pooled at her feet. She closed her eyes and felt hysteria rise in the pit of her stomach at the vivid picture in her mind’s eye. Lena desperately tried to force it down through sheer force of will, but her panic attack was so strong that she couldn't concentrate on anything else. She leaned her back against the thick wooden door and slowly slid down to the ground, resting her forehead against her knees as her legs tented beneath her.

Lies. All of it was lies. She'd tried to keep up the game, playing and pretending for a month now, desperately hoping the charade would come to an end. She had vainly, foolishly believed Kara would eventually confess her secret - and if only she had, maybe they could've worked past it, despite how crushed Lena felt at being kept in the dark for so long. But tonight, watching Kara on that stage, hearing her speak of trust and loyalty, Lena knew without a doubt that everything about their friendship had been a sham. To be so hypocritical, so unashamedly false to broadcast such deceit for her and the world to see and hear? For the first time in her life, Lena felt like the Luthor name had finally been eclipsed, and a new moniker poised to take the prize for most vile of them all, and for once she was not a part of it.

She'd tried acting like nothing was wrong, that she was ok with being repeatedly lied to by everyone, but tonight had been the final blow to her frail mentality. As she sat there on the floor she came to the grim realization that she was simply too tired to continue clinging to something that had never been real, and her beaten and battered heart couldn’t take it anymore.

She sat there for what felt like hours, focusing on her breathing, on keeping her emotions in check, putting each one into a row of boxes that she mentally locked and threw away until she finally felt calm enough to open her eyes again, and Lex’s voice no longer echoed in her head. Finally, she decided she was calm enough to stand, and did so. She took a few steps deeper into the room, crossing her arms over her chest in an unconscious effort to hold herself together. Her head was still foggy, her thoughts disorganized and slow, but it felt good to let her overworked mind rest, even for just a few moments. Anything was better than crippling panic.

Her moment of peace didn’t last nearly as long as she'd hoped for. She heard the doorknob click open behind her and Lena didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Kara. Who else could have found her here, or would even think to look?

“Hey, what happened? You missed cocktail hour - the reception is getting ready to start.” Her voice was light and cheerful; she was clearly still riding the high that came from having her work recognized by the public. Lena closed her eyes, willing her to go away, to leave her alone, knowing that she wouldn’t. Kara’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor in a steady rhythm as she walked towards Lena’s turned back, unaware that her friend was preparing to say goodbye. A soft hand touched the back of her arm and Lena's muscles tensed in response. Kara must have noticed, because her next words were softened with concern. “Lena? What’s wrong?”

And just like that, Lena felt her whole self, body and soul, turn to solid, impenetrable stone.

She turned around to face Kara, whose face was so earnest, so kind and caring and completely oblivious that it made Lena’s blood boil. Slowly, deliberately, she pushed Kara’s hand away from her and took a step backwards. “Take off the glasses.”

Lena saw the flash of fear in Kara’s eyes, like an animal who has just realized it’s been cornered. “What?” She voice rose an octave as she chuckled, tilting her head in mock confusion, and Lena couldn’t believe she had fallen for her half-baked fabrications time after time - but Lena knew Kara had been caught off guard by her frankness and wasn’t about to let her talk her way out of it this time.

“Take. Off. The glasses.” Lena repeated. The sound of her own voice was unfamiliar to her, dangerously low and full of malice. They had fought in the past, as friends sometimes do, but Lena had never taken this kind of tone with Kara before - she’d never had a reason to. Her body hummed with energy and she felt like she was towering over Kara, a force to be reckoned with despite having no powers of her own to fall back on. The pureness of her anger transcended the fragility of her humanity, even in the presence of a god.

For a moment it seemed like Kara was going to refuse, but then her face fell in a look of nervous resignation as she realized Lena was not going to yield. She reached for her lenses, slowly grasping the edge of one eyepiece with trembling fingers and hesitated for just a moment before tilting her head down and averting her eyes. She lifted the frames from behind her ears and slid them forward until they were completely removed from her face. Only then did she slowly raise her head to meet Lena’s cold gaze. “Lena, let me explain -”

“No,” Lena raised one finger and silenced her. “No, you don’t get to make excuses for yourself now - God knows you've used enough of them.”

Kara checked herself, taken aback. Her eyes widened and she stuttered, “You… how long have you known? How do you know?”

Lena scoffed, further exasperated by her naivety. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that? After all the lies that have come from your mouth, you think you deserve a straight answer from me in return? I never pegged you for being the selfish type before, but here you are, thinking first and foremost of yourself.”

Kara bristled and tried to find the right words to challenge her claims, but her entire vocabulary seemed to be fading with each passing second and she knew she was floundering in the face of her accusations. “I’m not… that’s not… Lena -”

“How could you?" Lena all but whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "All this time?"

"I was going to tell you, I swear -"

"When? When were you going to tell me? Because you sure as hell had some great opportunities over the years that you could've taken advantage of!"

"It - I - there was just never the right moment -"

"Three years, Kara!" Lena yelled. She flinched under her wrath and Lena felt a sick joy in her stomach at the sight. “And there wasn’t one spare moment where you thought you could clue me in? God, all those times you disappeared, all those excuses you pulled out of your ass, and me, like an absolute fool, believed every one of them.”

“Lena - “

“I really thought you were different,” Lena went on. “I don’t let a lot of people get close to me, but there was something so refreshingly honest about you and,” She laughed aloud, tears blurring her vision. “And it turns out, it was all just another lie. What’s the old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? You had me right where you wanted me to be: close enough to keep tabs on but far enough away so that you never had to risk having a Luthor know your secret.”

Kara stepped forward, her eyes wide and pleading. “That’s not true! Who your family is had nothing to do with it! I didn’t tell you because I knew you would take this as another betrayal, but that’s not what this is! I swear to you, you have always been my friend!”

Lena slowly shook her head, feeling nothing. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Kara swallowed; her throat was tight and ached with emotion. She had never seen Lena look at her this way before, like she was a stranger, and Kara knew that Lena must be analyzing every second of their friendship and every interaction with Supergirl, trying to connect the two personas with nothing but the lies they had told her.

“I’m still me,” She said softly. “I’m still Kara, your best friend, and I know - I made a huge mistake, I should’ve told you a long time ago and however you found out, I’m sorry that it didn’t come from me,” She gripped both of Lena’s forearms firmly in hers, feeling her recoil under her touch. “But I’ll tell you everything now. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you. Please, just tell me what you want to know.”

Lena’s face was hard and unmoved, but her eyes were red-rimmed with sorrow. “Give me one good reason why I should believe you now, when you’ve lied about everything else.”

There was a brief moment of silence. The sounds of a string quartet began to play in the distance and a soft murmur of voices could be heard as the reception reached full swing. Kara dropped her hands, releasing Lena from her grip with a look of pure remorse. Her chin began to quiver as she searched Lena’s eyes for something she could hold on to, some clue that their friendship wasn’t crumbling at their feet, but there was nothing warm or inviting looking back at her.

“Whoever you are, let me make one thing crystal clear -” Lena leaned in and her face twisted into a look of pure loathing. “I never want to speak to you again. You may be able to bend steel with your bare hands, but never forget that I know how to make kryptonite.”

Kara shook her head, undeterred by the malicious intent in her voice. “I know who you are, Lena, and you would never do that to me.”

Lena raised her eyebrow. “And I never thought you would hurt me like this, and yet, here we are.” She felt her stomach turn sickeningly - of course she would never use kryptonite on her, but she knew how terrified Kara was of it and hoped she would be wary enough not to call her out on her bluff. Lena didn’t want to kill her, but this was the last time she would let herself be made into a fool.

“I’m not giving up on our friendship, Lena.” Kara said adamantly through her tears.

Lena cocked her head and worked her jaw back and forth. Her shoulders shook slightly. “You should, because I already have.” With that last stabbing remark, she took her leave. She set her gaze straight ahead as she passed Kara, only letting her tears fall hotly down her cheeks once she had reached the door and left her former friend standing there alone. She had expected to feel a weight lifted after releasing her pent-up emotions, but found that the burden only felt heavier and her heart more broken than before. But that would fade with time. She would make it so.

Kara’s face crumpled as she closed her eyes, tears spilling over as her worst fears came to pass. She was a powerful woman, possessing strength and abilities far beyond those of the people she had vowed to protect, and yet she had failed one who was among those who meant the most to her. Bitterness rose in her throat as she thought of how this could have been avoided, and how she had no one to blame except herself. For all her powers and everything she was capable of, Kara would give them away in an instant for the chance to choose a different path, where her actions had not led them to ruin and her best friend didn’t hate her. Unable to change the past, uncertain in the present, Kara only knew that no matter what happened next, nothing would ever be the same.

[onebadwinter]

*(V1, Undeviating)After some years his lifeless corpse was eventually found frozen in ice like Steve had been, with his left arm severed however, and more than likely having not been frozen and rotting away. God knows what else could have happened to it. However, he was brought back to life by Soviet Scientists and had suffered from brain damages as well as amnesia, from being blown up for the most part. And probably from being dead, for...who knows how fucking long. Long enough.  The years that followed had him being frozen and unfrozen for missions, repeatedly. However he did manage to meet and befriend Natasha (Black Widow), before again being frozen another time. Also during these years he killed a hell of a lot of people and caused a lot of mediocre problems he would later come to feel extremely guilty about. Eventually he would also have a mental breakdown and abandon Hydra for a time while he tried to sort out his 'problems'. In this time he managed to run into Steve once again, who triggered his memories and the years of guilt for all the pain and suffering he had caused as the Winter Soldier, for years to come.

It can also be said that his 'youthful appearance' isn't because of any serum, but being frozen. Also probably because he's a little bit of an alien, shh. Anyway, Bucky had also been suffering from being tortured, prior to dying from the explosion and for many years after. Which he spent a lot of his time wrapped up in because of sever PTSD. He had basically been an empty slate throughout most of his years as the Winter Soldier, and being used to train other Russian experiments for Department X's Red Room and otherwise. He had begun to crack and his programming had started to become weak to his 'waking up'.  This lead to him often disobeying his orders, especially while he visited the United States, which often triggered memories for him in his youth. Spotting this the Russian's put him in cryo-sleep once again, just before the Soviet Union had begun to fall apart. Only to be unthawed years later by the prodigy of Karpov, the original man who revived him. The prodigies name being Aleksander Lukin and had ordered James to kill the Red Skull. This lead to James killing hundreds of people in Philadelphia, which had powered up the Cosmic Cube.

This also lead to James kidnapping Sharon Carter who recognized him as Bucky, at least she had thought. She then, once rescued, would bring it up to Steve who would want to see for himself if the mass murderer had really been his best friend. This let to a confrontation between the two of them finally after so many years. During their fight, James could not recall who Steve was. That was until Steve had gotten a hand on the Cosmic Cube and forced James to remember his entire life, with it, the good and the bad. Thus triggering the years of guilt and pain for all the wrong he had done to others. Not long after this Barnes sought Nick Fury and asked for jobs from the other, the other doing so and having James work on different threats against the super heroes who were gearing up for the Civil War. Which James had spent most of this event hiding away in the background. As he was still doing missions for Fury. Though James soon grew wise to the situations seriousness. Only for Steve to surrender against the Registration. James had been close by as Steve was taken into the courthouse for his trial, after having opposed the Registration.

James however could not have foreseen what was to happen next, as before Steve could even make it into the court, Red Skull's plans had taken their affect. Crossbones assassinated Steve, along with Sharon who was being controlled by the doctor, Faustus. James and Sam had quickly taken out Crossbones before letting the entire moment finally settle in him. When it did, a he had found himself mourning in isolation over his lost brother. This, on top of still being ostracized from the public had been quite a blow to his emotions at the time. Having still not fully gotten over everything else he had come to do since dying the first time. James however did not bother with staying in this state of mind for long. As he had been out, continuing to take missions and try and stop Lukin. This however had come with him finding out that Lukin was being controlled by Red Skull. It is during these days that James comes to realize his programming involved secret codes. Like the ones that could knock him unconscious when uttered. When Lukin used them on James, he was taken by Faustus who had tried using brain bending mad science on James.

It didn't work all that well however, and this lead to Agent 13 tossing James out of a fucking plane!  YEET! After this James returned back to America, I assume. And had started to trusting Tony Stark, who was then the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D.  After some time James decides he's just going to hope onto a Helicarrier and steal Captain America's Shield, as one does, you know. Because that's sane. But it's for a good reason, he didn't believe that Tony was going to pour one out for the homies and was going to disrespect Steve's honor. You know.  That was until Tony was like " hey, moron! Here's a letter." And so he was suggested by Steve personally to become the next Captain America. Which of course made the entire incident embarrassing for practically everyone involved. Especially James who was quite embarrassed about his acting like a fucking wild man over this misunderstanding...of course. *Squints at Tony, still* ANYWAY, so James ends up becoming the next Captain America and is doing that for some time. Also now doing the hero thing like all the other cool kids were doing. At first it's quite uncomfortable to him.

But as time goes on and he completes more missions, the people have begun to accept and love him. Which he also begins to accept himself in this transitional stage of his life. Being praised and adorned with the affection he had always wanted, and finally accomplishing being the Hero he had dreamed of being in his youth. James starts opening up a little more and becoming more like his old self once again. It is also during these days that he is deprogrammed, at the behest of Tony of course. It was also during these days that James had dealt with a virus destroying half of the earths population because a man had used the original Human Torches body to create it, you know, as one does. He fights against Red Skulls Machinations and eventually learns about Steve being stuck in a time loop from Sharon, and then Red Skull had managed to bring Steve back, unsticking him from this time loop, or whatever in the fuck. It is during this time that James decides to fight Red Skull, in Steve's body. Because why the hell woouldn't he do that. He's..not very smart. So anyway, super tough man over here just decides to fight a fucking god for literally shits and giggles.

He's got a good heart, this is clear. James what one could call the 'mother goose' of friends. Always worrying about and taking care of others. He's the protector. So James tries his best to try and save Steve, even then. This fight had gone on long enough for Steve to begin regaining control over his body. Bucky however sustained a great deal of damage during the fight, having his left hand severed from his arm and being shot in the back, between his shoulders. After the battle with Red Skull and the danger that James was under from it, Steve began to worry that retaining the Captain America title could ultimately lead to James being killed. However James continued being Captain America for a while after, spending the next fight, fighting alongside Steve as they had in the early days of their heroics. Fighting then with the Dark Avengers and Thunderbolts and attempting to stop Norman Osborn's seige.  Afterword, Steve had returned the shield to James before moving on. Even after this time James was offered to team up with others. Though had not exactly thought he was 'teamwork' material. But did serve alongside the Avengers from time to time, to help the after affects of Red Skull.

After James killed an imposter he began to act a bit more suicidal over time. Which lead to concerns from Steve and Sam. During this time Helmut Zemo had taken advantage of James' suddenly deteriorating state of self preservation, putting a plan of his into action. Which lead to James being lured into a trap set by Zemo. Once he got James to where he had wanted, Zemo proceeded to taunt James about basically being in Captain America's shadow. Then Zemo goes on to tell Bucky that he should make his own name as a hero, instead of Captain Americas. With this, he released evidence of James' Past as the Winter Solder to media. Following this incident and getting free of Zemo, James decides to turn himself. During the trial, a few nonentity villains threaten to harm James' friends, those being Sam and Natasha. Which, being the protector that he is, James threw out any suggestion to ignore this and ran to help out his friends. Only to turn himself in again afterward. Pleading guilty and being sentenced then to twenty years in prison, which was commuted to time served. As they had wanted to keep him from going to prison.

This however did not turn out the way the United States had planned as Russia tried him and found James guilty for his crimes, extraditing him back to the country and sending him to a Siberian prison. While there James was subjected to more harsh realities. He struggled greatly to survive under other prisoners hatred toward him, who had held grudges against him for his days as the Winter Soldier. While James was there Steve tried to get him released in a diplomatic way. But on the other side, Natasha and Sharon were planning to break him out of the prison. First, gathering information on the 'innocent' people James was accused of murdering as the Winter Solder. The two found that these citizen has been working for Department X and the Red Room. During all of this James had decided to break himself out of the prison. At conveniently the same time Natasha showed up to do the same. The two then escaped, with Bucky coming to the realization that he had needed to dispatch the agents he helped to create.  However some other shit goes down and James has to help the earth stop being a mess, again.

It was during this latest battle for earth that James was again injured, and dying, more or less. This had pushed Steve, who was doing who fucking knows what at this time, back to being Captain America. As well as allow James to restart his own life.  While still dead, not dead, but heavily injured, he is given the last vial of Infinity Formula which revives him once more. It is after this that James take on his restored role, working from the shadows to complete his personal mission to you know, kill the sleeper agents, and whatever.  Taking Natasha with him the pair go and do that. Fighting all kinds of villains, James even teamed up with Hawkeye for a few moments of 'I'm just resting my eyes' time.  Where the last sleeper agent, who went by the name Leo managed to brain wash Natasha because how else is he going to team up with Hawkeye, Captain America and Wolverine(MY BOI!!) otherwise, you know. In the end they managed to get her back, mostly. All her memories of James had been utterly and entirely erased from existence. Because FUCK YOU, that's why. You wanted a WinterWidow?! Fuck you! You better work!

One thing then lead to the next and now James is in space, and shit. Doing whatever one does in space. Jump around and talk about how gravity is fake, I guess. There they get into yet another fight because someone has murdered Watcher. I wonder who it could have been, Nick. I wonder who it could have fucking been...So James then comes to another realization, because he loves those. Attacking Nick and telling the other their will be no more secrets since Nick was being a very devious little shit head. Being as he's the one that murdered The Watcher as well as was doing some dark shit behind the scenes that the heroes weren't aware of to 'protect earth' he says. James has had enough of Nick's shit.  After this Nick becomes the new Watcher to replace the murdered on, and passes on his secret defender responsibility to James. Because okay.  

After this James runs into and gets into some trouble with Daisy Johnson and then falls in love before going to an alternate universe where Loki is being a little bit of a shit.  Steve has also returned to being Captain America at this time and lost his super soldier serum granted youth, because the writers were high on some SHIT, I guess.  Steve then passed the title once more onto Sam Wilson, before rejoining S.H.I.E.L.D.  Some more shit happens but our boi James here ain't really doing nothing because he's off being a fucking rabbit, I bet you. I bet you!

Apparently some more fucked up shit happens with Maria Hill, the Cosmic Cube that's now sentient and called Kobik, now. Whose going around rewriting Villain Backstories and giving them new lives because sure, why not. Why the fuck not.... Which leaves Steve pretty god damn confused when James shows up being all Winter Soldier on S.H.I.E.L.D's asses. Though when James had then revealed Maria didn't destroy the Cosmic Cube shards it became clear to Steve what was going on. Then all the bad guys just brain out of jail, because of course. That's what has to happen, guys, come on!  James then works with Sam to go find Kobik who has FOR SOME FUCKING REASON, restored Steve to his 'proper age and implanted him with Hydra memories. Okay? You get all of that? Okay. MOVING ON!

Anyway James then decides to help Kobiks and...This plot couldn't be more drawn out, I swear. *Yawns* Kobiks' then also brings her friends,...whatever...this leads to the mall being a Band of 'Shield up' around the earth, to watch out for outside high level threats to earth? I don't know. Honestly. But that's what's going on here. Unknown to Bucky however that Kobik's has rewritten Steve's mind until far too late Steve comes to somehow take control over the entire fucking country, turning it into his Secret Hydra Empire. This fffucker. AAAH! Anyway, so Steve, does that and Zemo's then trying to kill James, in the exact same way as his father did, Pappa Baron Zemo *Kisses middle finger and flips it up to the air.* Bless him. By, guess what, trying to blow James up with another god damn plane.  However this time James manages to escape and hella not die. Splashing successfully into the water, this time. Splish Splash, you're not going to freeze your ass, James.  HE SURVIVED! *Throws confetti* Yay. Thanks to Namors people that is. You know, Fishy people, the fishes, he slept with the fishes...heh. Heheh.

During his time with the fishes...James...becomes a...royal adviser...Hold, the fuck, up....What?! WHAT?! Am I reading this right-Erm..I mean. Yeah. He becomes a merman, of course. You know, it just be like that.  This gave James the time to come up with a new strategy. Maybe he becomes Aquaman and calls a massive tidal wave and washes all of Steve Rogers and his fucking bullshit away....Right? Right?! Probablywouldhavebeenabetterplotatthispointtobehonest. So Hydra Captain America is tralalalaing along, as evil people tend to do when they are unchallenged by anyone.

Since Steve is a literal fucking god reborn, ain't no one dumb enough to stand up to- James comes in with his new plan, dragging Sam and Scott Lang into the mess and is like " Hey Steve, catch this shard, bitch!"  And stabs a shard of the Kobik into Steve's body. Then he jumped a newly reformed Cosmic Cube saving Kobik herself as well as his old friend and escaped with them.  Apparently while James was away being a merman and coming up with a plan to defeat Steve, Steve straight up just fucking murdered Natasha in front of everyone in the entire world, guys!  But don't worry, she's back now. Kobik made it aall better.

*(V1, Undeviating End)In the present day James often teams up with Hawkeye as they both try to find out what has happened to Natasha, and when finding her wonders how much of her former life she had remembered. That concludes this portion of Bucky's life from the beginning until now. It was a crazy journey but it's over now and it can't hurt you any more. *Points accusedly at Steve* Take that...fucker out of my sights! ...pfft. Anyway, for real, it's over. Now a days James is doing Winter Soldier shit and being a mysterious man of Shadows. But I don't know, I might want him to be evil,...for...ev...er.